During Operation Karbala-4, I was close to 17 years old.
I was a deminer diver, accompanying the vanguard of the Anbiya Battalion from the 8th Najaf Division.
At a quarter to ten on the night of the 4th of Dey [December 25, 1986], we entered the water from the direction of the Khorramshahr customs. Opposite us was the island of Umm al-Rasas.
We were preparing to attack the enemy as we had been trained.
Before we could move toward the Iraqis, our right flank had already engaged in combat. I think the 41st Sarallah Division was on our right.
Logically, the machine gunners opposite us should have been alert and fired upon us, but it seemed as though they were in a deep sleep. But was this really the case?
In fact, they had orders not to open fire until the divers were close to them.
Their unexpected silence indicated their full readiness.
After about half an hour of consultations with Mr. Nasr (the battalion commander), the deputy battalion commander issued the order to move.
Since I was a deminer and supposed to clear the obstacles, I was among the front group.
After crossing about one-third of the river’s width, the machine guns in front of us opened fire.
The order came to turn back, and we returned the way we had come and took refuge behind a ship.
This ship had run aground early in the war and served as a haven for us that night.
We stayed with our diving suits in the water for about four hours. No order to attack or retreat was issued.
The group we were with consisted of about forty people. The operation had started incompletely.
Most of the passages had not been opened. Most of the diving groups had either returned or been decimated.
Some divers who had returned and whose passage had not opened were being sent back to the island by boat.
Many of the comrades were martyred in the boats. We stayed in the water, taking refuge behind the ship I mentioned for about four hours. It was somewhat safe there, but every now and then, shrapnel would appear.
A few of the comrades were wounded right there. We couldn’t do anything for the wounded. Some endured, while others suffered and groaned in pain.
Due to staying too long in the cold water, one by one, the comrades fainted. Whoever fainted was held up by the next person to prevent them from sinking and drowning.
Out of our group of about forty people, approximately ten fainted. Even though I was thin, I did not faint until the end but was greatly troubled.
We still had no order to retreat.
The radio operator’s communication with the back was cut off. His radio was out of tune. The deputy battalion commander (Shafiei, who was martyred in a later operation) did not dare to order a retreat without Mr. Nasr’s permission.
On the radios, there was a knob that the operator had to turn with his finger to tune the frequency, but his fingers were numb from the cold water and couldn’t move.
Someone in the group announced if anyone could turn the radio knob! Everyone’s fingers, like the radio operator’s, were numb from the cold.
There were a few people between me and the radio operator, and I don’t know how he managed to connect.
The order for retreat was given, but retreat was not easy either.
After about four hours, the tide had shifted to ebb.
About two meters of water had receded. Someone had to stand above and help pull the comrades up onto the dock.
The edge of the dock was in the enemy’s line of sight. It was exposed to direct fire and shrapnel.
Mr. Shafiei went up and crouched, using his weapon strap to pull up the first or second person when a shrapnel hit his hip.
I was light and agile. Somehow I dragged myself onto the dock. As soon as I reached the dock, I lay flat on it. The dock swayed like a cradle from the bomb waves.
The Iraqis had started bombing with airplanes in the very early hours. It was clear the pilots were fully prepared.
Even though it was night, the pilots did not make mistakes in hitting their targets because flares had illuminated everything like daylight, and the planes flew parallel to the river’s water, dropping bombs and rockets only on one side of the river, knowing their own forces were not on this side.
It was a two-hundred-meter distance to the customs building from where we had started.
I ran through the bullets and shrapnel to the building. A few others besides me were there as well. I found some chickpeas and raisins there, grabbed a handful, and ate.
I fell asleep out of exhaustion.
When I woke up in the morning, I heard the news of the operation’s definite failure.
Linking the operation’s disclosure to groups, individuals, and satellites are all irrelevant talk.
Firstly, our accommodation in the Khosroabad area and our exercises were not hidden from the Iraqis.
Secondly, the formula of this operation was exactly like the previous operation (Valfajr-8).
This time, the Iraqis were not deceived.