Part 17 (2/2)

While I was waiting to hear about her condition, an explosion jolted the hospital violently. Another missile had hit somewhere close by. Screams and howls filled the hallway. Nurses rushed from one room to another. People in waiting rooms hurried to leave. I just sat there on the floor and covered my face with my palms.

What has happened to us? Is this the kind of life we deserve? What is going to happen to Mom? I broke her heart and now she's suffered a heart attack. What if she does not make it? G.o.d, please save her and I'll do anything!

”Is somebody here for Fataneh Kahlili?”

I turned my head toward the deep, husky voice. I wiped my face with the end of my sleeve and raised my hand, still too choked up to talk. A man in light blue hospital garb approached. I felt his hand on my shoulder as I tried to get up.

”Please stay seated. Are you Mrs. Kahlili's son?”

I nodded.

”You know, pesaram, pesaram, since last night we have had several patients with heart attacks. These missiles don't just destroy where they hit; you have to have a strong heart to survive the effect of their impact.” He pushed his cap away from his forehead. ”I am sorry to say that your mother did not make it.” since last night we have had several patients with heart attacks. These missiles don't just destroy where they hit; you have to have a strong heart to survive the effect of their impact.” He pushed his cap away from his forehead. ”I am sorry to say that your mother did not make it.”

Carol had also told me in her message that things would get ugly but that there would be peace in the end. Was this the kind of peace she was talking about? Would she consider my mother ”at peace” now? I couldn't continue to live like this. By the time I buried Mom on a cold winter day in 1988, while Tehran was still under attack by Saddam Hussein, I had made the decision that would alter the course of my life.

The international phone lines had been jammed since the attacks started. Since we couldn't reach each other by phone, Somaya sent a telegram: Reza, we are so worried. We are not able to call. Please let us know how you are. Please, Reza, call us ASAP.

I rushed to send a telegram back to her. I wished I could let her know about what I'd decided in the telegram, but I had to be sure I could follow through on this decision before I said anything. I did not even mention what happened to Mom and how devastated I was, how I was racked with guilt over her death and how much I regretted not telling Mom that I was not who she thought I was.

Somaya jon, I am safe and sound. Please do not worry so much. It is not as bad as it sounds in the news. I will be sending a telegram every other day until the phone lines become available again. I love you so much and I miss you. Please kiss my Omid for me and take care of yourself. Love, Reza.

”Are you sure you want to put in all these words?” the dispatcher at the phone company said. ”You can delete 'I miss you' or 'I love you so much' to cut the cost.”

”That's okay, I will pay for those.”

”How about 'kiss my Omid'? Do you know how expensive every word is?”

”Don't worry about those. I will pay more to make sure they know I love them.”

The dispatcher rolled his eyes and took the paper.

The always bustling Tehran had turned into a ghost town. Hundreds of thousands fled as soon as the first few missiles struck. Many took shelter in cities to the north by the Caspian Sea, as these places were too far away for the missiles to reach from Iraq. A three-hour drive had become an eighteen- to twenty-hour crawl because of the number of cars fleeing the capital. Others who could not afford to travel camped out in the outskirts of Tehran, feeling that this was somehow safer. Many people died in car accidents or from snakebite while camping in remote areas. Business in Tehran came to a halt.

I needed to talk to Kazem, but the timing wasn't right for a personal discussion. The base was chaotic. I had never seen Kazem so angry and rattled. Not long after the attacks started, I encountered him in the hallway and he asked me to follow him to his office. He slammed the door behind him and hurled himself into his chair. He mumbled some words and picked up the phone, but instead of dialing, he banged the handset back to its base.

”We'll teach this b.a.s.t.a.r.d Saddam a good lesson. These filthy Americans think they can force us to surrender by giving him missiles and a green light to attack us. The Iraqis claim the missiles are their own. They think we are donkeys.”

”What is the plan, Kazem?” I asked. ”We cannot just sit here and let this motherless plunderer destroy us like this.”

”The U.S. has planned this. Imam just ordered us to expand the mining of the Persian Gulf to put pressure on American forces and oil s.h.i.+pments. And we are going to fire missiles at Iraq's major cities in return. They can take their dreams to their grave if they think they are going to demolish our Islamic movement.”

It took several minutes for Kazem's fury to recede long enough for him to tell me how sorry he was to hear of my mother's death. This was an opening for me to discuss my decision, but remembering his tirade just moments before, I let it pa.s.s.

Later that night I wrote a letter to Carol: [Letter #-]

[Date:---]

Dear Carol,1-The Iraqi missile attacks have caused chaos. Innocent people are being slaughtered.2-People are leaving the capital for safer ground.3-Kazem told me that Imam has ordered a swift response to Iraq and to the American forces in the Persian Gulf.4-The Guards will expand the mining of the Gulf in retaliation for Saddam's attacks.5-The Guards don't know how Saddam has acquired these powerful missiles but they doubt they were built by the Iraqi army. They blame the U.S. for giving Saddam the green light for this action.6-I will try to stay in touch, but the situation is very volatile.

Wish me luck, Wally Almost two months after the first strike by Iraqi missiles and while most of Tehran still looked desolate, the missile strikes stopped. But the war continued. After Imam Khomeini ordered the mining of the Gulf, a guided-missile frigate, the USS Samuel B. Robertson, Samuel B. Robertson, struck an Iranian mine on April 14, 1988. The mine blew a fifteen-foot hole in the hull and flooded the engine room, injuring ten sailors. I knew that America would not take this lightly, and I prayed that the retaliation would not hurt innocent civilians. Four days later, the U.S. Navy attacked two Iranian oil platforms. The ensuing battle caused at least six Iranian speedboats and two navy s.h.i.+ps to be destroyed or damaged. struck an Iranian mine on April 14, 1988. The mine blew a fifteen-foot hole in the hull and flooded the engine room, injuring ten sailors. I knew that America would not take this lightly, and I prayed that the retaliation would not hurt innocent civilians. Four days later, the U.S. Navy attacked two Iranian oil platforms. The ensuing battle caused at least six Iranian speedboats and two navy s.h.i.+ps to be destroyed or damaged.

The tension in the Gulf was later responsible for an ill-fated incident that ended the life of nearly three hundred innocent people. On July 3, 1988, while I was in the cafeteria at our base with Kazem and some other Guards, news came out that a U.S. Navy cruiser had shot down an Iran Air jetliner. Apparently, the USS Vincennes Vincennes mistook the civilian jet for an attacking F-14 fighter. The news repeatedly showed footage of bodies of men, women, and children floating in the Persian Gulf. mistook the civilian jet for an attacking F-14 fighter. The news repeatedly showed footage of bodies of men, women, and children floating in the Persian Gulf.

The uproar among the Guards was immediate. ”Death to America,” the Guards chanted in the cafeteria. As always, this mob denied any culpability in the tragedy.

Later that month, Khomeini accepted peace with Iraq. But he did so with searing words that revealed the true hatred he had for his enemy.

”Making this decision was more deadly than taking poison. I submitted myself to G.o.d's will and drank from this cup of poison for his satisfaction. To me, it would have been more bearable to accept death and martyrdom, but I made this decision in the interest of the Islamic Republic.”

After eight years of suffering, more than half a million people dead, injured, or wounded, and a great cost in economic damage, our Imam still held to the belief that he was sacrificing for the sake of the Islamic Republic. I could not feel more shame for what I once believed.

Now that the war was over and conditions on the base were less chaotic, I thought this would be a good time to talk to Kazem. I went to his office on a Wednesday afternoon. It was Somaya's birthday. I had called her earlier that day and she was in tears.

”Reza, it's been three years. Omid has started first grade. I cannot pretend everything is okay, because it's not. He needs you. I need you, too. I understand your love for your ... whatever you love about that country, but I am sick and tired of this. You belong with your family.”

She did not give me a chance to wish her happy birthday, but I told her that I would call her back later that night when she'd calmed down. I was hoping that I'd have things straightened out with Kazem by then and that I could offer her the birthday present she truly wanted.

I was surprised to find Rahim in Kazem's office because I hadn't seen him for some time. He hugged me when he saw me, saying, ”Salam aleikom, Baradar Reza. It is so nice to see you again.” Baradar Reza. It is so nice to see you again.”

”Salam, Baradar Rahim. It's nice to see you, too.” Baradar Rahim. It's nice to see you, too.”

I hoped Rahim would leave soon so I could talk to Kazem. Apparently, they were in the middle of a discussion about Khomeini's acceptance of peace. Kazem, who had earlier stated that the only acceptable end to this war was the destruction of Saddam and his allies, now acknowledged Khomeini's decision. But he was still furious with America.

”I wish that we had taught America a lesson and responded to its bullying,” Kazem said.

”Rest a.s.sured, Baradar Kazem, that time will come,” Rahim said. ”But the Americans had sent a strong message that if we didn't accept peace with Iraq, they would use all their power, including nuclear bombs. Hajj Agha Rafsanjani has promised to retaliate for their downing of our civilian jetliner and much more. I know from many high commanders that if we had the atomic bomb, we would have used it against them. But there is a time to step back, get stronger, and then confront the evil powers of imperialism and Zionism. Inshallah, Inshallah, we will destroy them both.” we will destroy them both.”

Kazem looked at me and nodded. I could see he was satisfied with Rahim's response.

”I believe our Imam's decision was spiritually inspired,” I said, playing the role I always played in the office. ”As Imam said himself, we have to submit ourselves to G.o.d's will and Allah will empower us to defeat evil.”

At some point, Rahim asked about my wife and son living outside the country away from me for such a long time. I remember telling him that they were with my in-laws in London.

”They are fine. My father-in-law, Moheb Khan, has a big apartment in the Mayfair district, and I am happy that my wife and son are safe and living with her family.”

”Moheb Khan? I know this name. Is his last name Hadidi?” Rahim asked. I nodded, shocked that he knew my in-laws.

”Moheb Khan is a great Muslim and his contribution to the London mosque is well regarded. I was not aware you were related to him.”

I did not know how to feel about having this connection. Would I earn more respect and credibility or be watched more closely? I knew Moheb Khan had a good reputation among Muslims in London, as he was a righteous man and a trustworthy businessman. But Moheb Khan was also openly against the crimes and unjust rule of the Iranian government. Would this put my family and me under more suspicion?

Rahim glanced at his watch and told Kazem that they should be going.

”If you are not busy, Baradar Reza, you should come with us, too,” Rahim said. ”You should witness justice in action.”

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