The bitterest memory of a pilot like me might form when I dismounted the injured combatants. It was how ever very good work before God and valuable that I saved the life of a combatant who had become ready to be martyred and had come to the battle fields sincerely; but it was really annoying when I saw the cut hands and legs or torn bodies of these combatants.
Meanwhile, one of my valuable memories – that I never forget –goes back to this period of time of the operation:
“They had prepared places for dismounting the injured combatants in the southern region. These places were Boat 1, 2, 3 and 4. We took the injured combatants from one of these places. And we transferred them to hospitals in Ahvaz, Dezfoul, Mahshahr and other cities by helicopter. Once, a large number of injured combatants were carried to these places. And they asked us to dismount them within several flights one after each other. Within the first flight, a young “Basiji” combatant attracted my attention. His body was covered with a piece of clothe. His face could be seen. With his innocent – and maybe requesting look – he asked us to dismount him as soon as possible. One of the managers of the hospital was sending the injured combatants to different wards based on priority and considering their injury. I showed that young combatant to that manager. I asked him to have him cured soon; but he answered: “He will be sent in the next flight.”
And during the next flight, we took a number of other injured combatants. And the same manager said again: “He will be sent in the next flight”.
And in the third flight they took a number of injured combatants; but he was not one of them. This time, I got angry and said: “This young combatant should certainly come with us this time.”
And following my insistence, they took that young combatant to the helicopter as the last person. And I thought that the young injured combatant was not able to speak. Before beginning the flight, I went to the cabin in order to control the injured combatants. And I realized that there was no more space even as small as placing a sparrow. I was going to the pilot cabin of the helicopter that they announced that an Iraqi injured combatant had come and he should be transferred to the hospital. I took a look at him. He was a pilot of fighter plane. And his fighter had been hit. His face and head were wholly in blood. His teeth had been broken. His clothes had been torn. And he was in a very terrible situation. I went into the helicopter again in order to find a place for another stretcher. Suddenly, I felt that one hand was touching my leg. He was pulling my uniform to him. I saw the same teenager combatant when I turned back. He opened his mouth very hard and said: “Please put me down and bring that injured pilot into the helicopter. His situation is worse than me.”
I took a loving look at him. He did not say any thing any more. I read from his eyes that: “Be kind with the captives! They are our guests. Behave like Hazrat Ali [The first imam of Shiite people].
And unconsciously, I told my assistant to put that teenager combatant down and bring that Iraqi pilot inside the helicopter instead of him. And while my eyes were full of tears of seeing this much self sacrifice, I flew the helicopter towards the hospital.