Seyyed of Quarters 15 (15)
Memories of Iranian Released POW, Seyyed Jamal Setarehdan2017-01-21
Seyyed of Quarters 15
Memories of Iranian Released POW, Seyyed Jamal Setarehdan
Edited and Compiled by: Sassan Nateq
Tehran, Sooreh Mehr Publications Company
2016 (Persian Version)
Translated by: Zahra Hosseinian
The evening on the 27th July 1988, it was sixth days we were displaced and in the state of siege. I decided to return to the location of brigade. Turning to others I said, "If we want to survive here we have to provide food and water for ours. Who is ready to go with me to the brigade?"
They looked each other. Ten people were separated from the rest. The clothes of more of them had been torn and they all were disheveled. We were like starved. "Right now it’s better to know that we may come across with Iraqis. Also we may be killed and captured." I said to that them.
They accepted we stay together whatever happened. I was strangely anxiety. We didn’t gained distance much when I saw one of Turkish fighters among the group. He was bigـboned. He said he has married and has a child. "You'd better get back. The rest help me out." I said.
Consciously or unconsciously he accepted. When I turned toward him, saw he still has stood there looking our going away. We climbed up and down a few hills. We would reach to the brigade if we crossed only one other hill. I said to myself: "there is no need we go all together. Along with two of them I can find our supplies."
Behind the hill I told them, "choose two ones among the group and the rest come back."
Two of the Mashhad fighters volunteered. The name of one of them was Mohammad Reza Saberian. I had worn a checkered shirt underneath my tunic. I took it out and gave it to Aliashraf Nazarabadi. He looked at it dumbfounded. "I’m worried badly. Please give… if possible… this to my parents, provided that something happened for me." I said.
We saw them off and a few minutes after their leaving, we went up the hill. Suddenly a tank shot passed over our heads. Its shock wave made all three of us confused. A jeep stopped before we could regain our consciousness. A few Iraqis got off and started shooting. Then they ran toward us and kicked us with punch and rifle butt. One of them said something in Arabic. Two or three of them talked together. A soldier came to us and asked in Turkish, "Where are you from? Turk, Fars, Arab?"
- "We’re Turk." I said.
He pointed to one of the Iraqis and said: "he asked where you’ve come from? How many are you? Where are your battalion and company?"
I pretended that I’m confused as if I have been shell-shocked. The Tikrit soldier once again repeated the questions. I thought they probably kill us there. "Our company has left here and we three have been lost for six days." I said.
He translated. One of the Iraqis nodded and said something. Two soldiers came forward. They untied the laces of our boots and tied our hands up with them. They took us and forced us to ride an IFA truck. Two armed soldiers sat in cab and one soldier sat with us in the bed. The car moved off. The wind blew and took my ranger cap from my head. As far as my eyes could see I looked at it. The wind blew my cap toward our territory and I went to Iraq.
Iraqi soldier, who had sat with us, looked at our face. There was a regret and pity look in his eyes. Finally he said: "are you Shia or Sunni?"
I said, "Shia."
He nodded and said: "I’m Shia."
I began to recite the Throne Verse for him. He continued it. I recited another verse and he continued it too. He sadly shook his head and said something I did not understand their meaning.
An hour before sunset, we stopped in one of their headquarters. They asked us to get off. Two young officers came to us; one of them had blue eyes and the other one was mustached and ugly. I heard the mustached one said to that one in Arabic, "Iranians are the enemy of Arabs."
The blue eye officer stared at me shameless and angrily. He put out his pistol from its cover and placed it on my temple. I thought that he wanted to scare me, but I said The Shahada when he went to pull the trigger. The ugly officer stopped his friend and said: "don’t kill him."
They talked together and I heard the blue eye officer said: "Iranians are fireـworshiper."
Listening the ugly officer’s talking, the blue eye officer put his pistol in its cover. He spat on the ground, kicked my feet and stepped aside. The soldier, who was with us in the bed of IFA, came and pointed us to sit down. We sat down. The lace of boot had caused the stung point of my hand swelled. The soldier went and brought us water and bread. He was careful the officers don’t see them. He stood next to us until we ate the bread and drank the water. They asked us to ride the truck again and then moved off.
One of the two Mashhad soldiers asked, "You think what they want to do with us?"
I shook my head and said, "I don’t know. Trust in God."
To be continued….
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