Thirsty Sands (Part 7)
2019-08-21
Thirsty Sands (Part 7)
Jafar Rabiei
Design: Ali Vaziri
First published in 1991
Publishing House, Islamic Propagation Organization
Printed at the Aryan
I thought then that everything was finished and was sure he would fire. The imagination that I would be in another world after some moment was difficult for me to some extent. I thought what state it would be dying. To relieve and encourage myself, I started reciting aloud the Quranic verse “Al-Qarea”:
The others, too, said their own Zikhrs. The counting ended. I had closed my eyes so as not to see the fire. A moment after the counting stopped the rain of fists and kicks of the Iraqi soldiers showered on our heads. Like mads, they had no control over their movements. They beat us up as long as they finally collapsed. While we were wriggling from severe pain caused by heavy blows a vehicle stopped in front of us. The driver got out and ordered the soldiers to load us in. They threw us into the If a as if we were only chunks of inert mea t. The front part of the vehicle was piled by scrap iron. When they put us four on at the back of the IFA, the door behind us ref used to close for lack of space. For them the solution to this was simple. One of them came up and with the sole of his boot pressed us forward like full gunny sack to be forced somewhere to close the door and finally succeeded. Then calmly they spread a cloth around the vehicle to prevent us from being seen. In that severe cold, being covered in a piece of cloth was a Divine favor. They drove us in this way to Al-Amareh Hospital.
It was nearly 12 A. M. when we reached the hospital. The Iraqi doctor of the hospital appeared after a while and immediately ordered the surgical ward to be readied. The preparatory actions were taken and we four were taken into the operating room.
When I opened my eyes I found myself in a place like a saloon. Post-surgery dizziness and physical weakness was so intense that as soon as I tried to cast a glance around I would almost become unconscious. After some time I began to feel better and looked curiously about. It was a saloon of about 5 to 6 meters wide and about 12 meters long in which ten hospital beds had been placed. My bed was near the entrance door, which looked like prison bars. The entrance area had been all fenced up in a way that turned the area more into a group prison than a hospital. Besides this saloon there was another small room in which the injured Iraqis had been hospitalized. They made a lot of noise. At first I didn't know why they had been brought there but later on found out the matter after explanations from an Iraqi who was responsible for looking after us.
We (POWs) were 10 in number at the beginning; and only one of us could slightly move. We were not so much pressed given the medical treatment because we had prepared ourselves for numerous harassments and never expected a treatment even at this level. The big problem was that they closed the gate of the saloon from 5 P.M. till 8 A.M. and nobody came to inspect us during all these 15 hours. In view of the fact that there were no toilet facilities in the saloon and that our brothers were incapable of moving, these 15 hours long, tough moments passed to us very badly and we waited for them to end.
In our room an old woman, a resident of Al-Amareh, was responsible for changing the bed clothes and our clothes. Whenever she came to us, her eyes were filled with tears! She tried very hard to satisfy us. Sometimes she looked around to make sure of nobody’s presence there and then asked in Arabic: “Are the people of Ira n Muslims?”
We were surprised at this question here. Even though her wrinkled face and calloused hands spoke of her simplicity, her repeated questions in this regard made us more surprised. Every one of us tried speechlessly to make her understand that we and the! People of our country were Muslims. Finally, as a result of her repeated questions we were so curious that we asked her the reason for such constant questioning. Her eyes filled with tears as usual; she said her son was taken captive in Ira n for the past eight months. Then we realized what the matter was and why she was trying to keep us satisfied. She would say, “You are like my son; and if I treat you well here, your people will also look after m y son; won’t they?...” Henceforth we tried by whatever mea ns to explain to her the Islamic affection and kind ness of our people and our authorities towards Iraqi POWs. Our.1ssuranccs gave her courage and then remote from the sight of Iraqi guards she provided us with greater comforts and attention unseen by the Iraqis.
We asked the old woman about the Iraqis who were in a small room next to our saloon and it became clear that they were among those refusing to go to the battlefields on the pretext of being ill.
Of course, their authorities did not believe them and sent them here. They were expected to go to the Iraqi Defence Ministry to answer within three or four days. We didn’t really understand whether they were incapable physically of staying on at the fronts,, or whether they were scared, or like many others did not have any real motivation for fighting at the fronts in the Iraqi Army.
One week passed. On the afternoon of the 8th day Iraqi agents came to prepare us for being transferred to another place. We were put on special buses meant for injured and moved to an unknown destination. Swift, nerve-wracking Arabic songs blared from the bus loudspeakers. We protested and asked that instead Quranic verses be played. The Iraqis, who were six in number, started making fun of us. They turned up the volume even louder. Our insistence came to naught, and we had to bear the conditions. It was gradually getting darker, and since we were sleeping at the end of the bus we hardly were able to discern the situation and could only see the tops of electric poles, trees and the top floors of apartments which passed by us in quick succession. In two places the bus made a somewhat long stay. The Iraqis had their meals and continued with moving. It was about 11 P.M. when the bus stopped, after two inspections by the gendarmerie forces who entered the area. After a stay they brought u down the bus on stretchers. Passing through several corridors, we entered a big hall the two sides of which had been set by beds. On the beds were lying injured people who looked at us in some amazement. As they passed by the beds, each injured said something. One said, “How are you?” The other said, “Don’t be worried..., trust in God...” We realized they were Iranians and involved in a condition similar to ours. Due to lack of space they were laid on the bus speaking and laughing. Pressed by intense thirst and hunger we demanded water and food from them. One of them culled to an Iranian POW and asked him what we wanted. We told him that since we had not had any water since noon, we would like to have food and water and since the floor was cold, we would at least like to be given blankets. He told us calmly not to ask anything from the Iraqis and then translated our re quests for the Iraqis. They only gave permission for water to be given to us and said this was a military hospital and under Army regulations and they could not give us food and blankets.
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