I learned to swim with a lot of practice in the Karun River. Later, the demolition unit sent us to Ahvaz to learn freestyle swimming under a coach’s supervision, and then we were dispatched to Isfahan to learn the breaststroke. After that, in an intensive course, they taught us diving in the Arvand River to prepare for Operation Karbala-4.
After the war, I also learned lifeguarding and underwater diving, obtained a lifeguard certificate and an international diving certificate from the federation, and for a while, I was a lifeguard at pools, teaching swimming to teenagers.
In the years following Operation Karbala-4, whenever the night of the 5th of Dey [December 26] arrived, I would sometimes find a quiet corner and fall into deep thought, remembering the solitude of the martyr divers of Operation Karbala-4 and repeatedly recalling the beautiful faces of each of my martyred friends from this operation. In my opinion, they were all angels.
◀ In Aban 65 [October-November 1986], when we went to Isfahan to be trained in swimming, the water in the indoor pool was cold most days. There was no other choice but to endure it. Gradually, the boys got their bodies wet with the cold water to get used to its chill. I did this a few times too, but later found a better way. I would take a plunge into the cold water all at once. Face death once, lament once. This way, my body accepted the cold water better.
⬅ During Operation Karbala-5 in the Shalamcheh area, we had a mission where we had to pass our own earthworks and head towards the enemy’s and defuse the Iraqi anti-personnel and anti-vehicle mines, creating a wide passage so the others could use it in the next operation. We had to do this work at night, in complete darkness, when the moon wasn’t in the sky.
Upon passing our own earthwork, we would instruct the guards not to shoot at us upon our return, thinking we were Iraqis. Every night we went, a code word was agreed upon between us and the guards.
One night, accompanied by a group of five led by Majid Atefi, we set off to create a passage. I was 17 years old at the time, and Majid was 19. That night, as we were returning towards our earthwork, one of the guards was not briefed and started shooting at us.
Everyone in the group quickly lay flat on the ground. One of our comrades, a cleric from Khomeinishahr named Ahmadi, was hit in the thigh by the friendly fire and got wounded.
The guard was shooting at us from a distance of about thirty meters, thinking we were Iraqis. Perhaps the guard shift had changed, and the previous guard hadn’t informed him of our departure.
That night’s code word between us and the guards was “Ya Zahra,” but if we shouted the code from that distance, the Iraqis behind us would hear it and rain hellfire on us.
I told Majid that this guard would kill us all, allowing me to run in a zigzag towards him and convey the code word. If we didn’t do this, we would all be killed.
Majid, frustrated, told me to sit tight. Majid was contemplating a way to resolve the issue without any casualties.
In the end, it didn’t take long for the situation to be resolved peacefully, and the guard realized his mistake, or perhaps others made him aware of it.
Apart from Majid, who later became a martyr in Operation Beit ol-Moqaddas 7, the only other person from that group I remember is Alireza Nasiran from Najafabad, who is still alive today.
May God preserve him for his children.
⬅ Today, about thirty years after the war, I advocate for moderation and tolerance in political behavior, but I also believe that fear should not be justified in the name of tolerance, expediency, or prudence.
Sometimes, it’s necessary to take a leap into the unknown. We should do now what we would eventually have to do later.
Our enemy might not be the one who directly points the hostility and animosity of machine guns at us. Perhaps they mistakenly see us as the enemy.
The real enemy is within us. Our enemy is fear.
Fear diminishes the power of reason. It is a factor of self-censorship, oppression, and regression, preventing progress.
It is not right for us to witness injustice with our own eyes yet, out of fear for our lives or excessive attachment to worldly possessions, support the oppressor with our silence and be the enemy of the oppressed.
In judging cases like that of Sattar Beheshti, Saeed Zainali, the chain murders, the Kahrizak incident, the attack on the University dormitory, and hundreds and thousands of other incidents, as Imam Hussain (AS) said, if we don’t have a religion, at least be free-spirited.
If we have a scale of fairness and stand in the court of conscience, can we hear the cry for justice of the oppressed and pretend not to hear it?