Bombs, bombs, bombs. They are what now fill my life. I know Allah has my fate decided. Tonight we launch an assault on Basrah, and I know Allah will keep me safe. I’m no longer in fear, I feel safe in my assured fate. My friends, and family feel like a distant memory. I can remember my father pulling me aside after dinner for a “talk”. He sat me down on our dusty back porch. My father said, “Our country is in the midst of its greatest struggle, and I now realize that my own child is now old enough to fight.” I remember nearly falling asleep to his constant droning on and on until he said, “Your mother and I have decided to send you to join the Basij Force tomorrow.” I sat there in shock, unsure if I was ready. I had turned fourteen just the day before. I knew I had a duty to my country and god, and that my parents knew what was best.
The next day I walked to the local Basij office in town with my parents. There was a small line as we got closer to the tan colored, rundown square barracks. Inside I saw smiling military looking guys looking right at us. One of them motioned to me and said, “Welcome to the revolution.” He handed me a red headband with warriors of god sketched on it. I waved to my parents as the man led me down a dark dusty hall. When I looked back at my parents they looked as motionless and numb as a mannequin. At the end of the hallway he sat me down at a desk. The man handed me a form where in my own chicken scratch I wrote down my name, age, family, and my address. The officer glared at it for half a second before nodding his head and motioned me towards a larger and darker back room. He pulled a small metal key out of front pocket and said, “this is your key to Paradise, it will guarantee you the good graces of Allah after martyrdom.”
After dressing in my newly given olive drab uniform, I was hauled off in a white pickup with three other kids that we had picked up on the way. As we made our way out of the city, the small decrepit road widened as the desert expanded and the city disappeared. Within an hour we took a hard right on a dirt road. As we reached the end we were greeted by massive rows of tents dimly lit by the moon. The four of us were shoved into an already overcrowded tent and we tried to fall asleep.
The next morning we started our training. We were taught how to fire an AK-47, throw grenades, and of Allah’s teachings regarding war. There is no greater purpose than to give yourself completely to god. After a week we were sent to the front. On the way the booms of Iraqi artilley became louder and louder. The person that had sat next to me was quietly singing to themselves. As the sound of artillery got closer and closer my hands started to involuntarily shake more and more. As night crept in everyone’s faces became pale and emotionless. Then we got on a paved freeway and joined a convoy of other chattering diesel vans that carried other worried and proud faces.
Within an hour we were all taken to a muddy flat area and we all got out and started marching north. Within yet another hour, we reached a vast system of trenches filled with eager and lost faces. The entire area smelled like a mix of rotten meat and lead. The commander stood upon a knoll and said, “At exactly midnight we will cross the Fish Lake with our combined might and with Allah by our side we will finally take Basrah.” Soon an old man with a thick long dusty beard was standing over a large pile of AK-47s. He stood there tossing the weapons to all of us and to every person he exclaimed “With god willing to victory!”
After I was lucky enough to get one of the last guns I saw one of my best friends sitting alone in a corner. I had not seen Mehrdad in nearly a year. I walked over to Mehrdad and asked him, “How has it been?” He sat there near motionless and he slowly moved his head towards me and said, “I can no longer see the glory in any of this, all I see now are confused faces hoping to help something greater than themselves, just to get mowed down by anything Saddam can throw at us.” I tried to persuade him in the great war we are fighting, but to no avail. So as I started to walk away I said “At least I’m confident that I will die honorably.” I walked over to a random brother in our cause and asked the time and he said “11:30.” I sat myself against a hill and started vigorously rubbing the key the officer gave me. The bombs at this point were right over head and every boom felt like a stampede of elephants were stomping on me, and all around me.
Bombs are what now fill my life. I know Allah has my fate decided. I am ready now. I am sitting here waiting for the inevitable. I will be the part of the first wave to bravely defend Iran. I hear somebody yell “Five minutes!” Now my hands are shaking uncontrollably. I don’t know if I am really ready or I have just attempted to convince myself that I am. It longer matters. I just heard the whistle blow and I will charge the enemy. I just got over the hill and I realize that they have a machine gun nest staring right at us. I hear the rattle of what sounds almost like gravel over and over. I keep running and suddenly I am numb. I can’t feel anything, I try to yell for help, but no one is there. Everyone else has joined my fate.
