In 1944, I reached the age of conscription. One day, while I was in the field, the son of the village headman came to me, saying his father needed to see me. In the afternoon, I went to the headman’s house; there were a few others there as well. He informed us that we were conscripted and that he would take me to Tehran the next morning to hand us over. I knew at that time that he wouldn’t hand over any of those people; they worked for him, in farming and livestock and such; I didn’t go there, didn’t greet him, nor were I helpful to him; he also didn’t get along with my father; I realized I was his only target. The next morning, we went to Karaj and then to Tehran; he handed me over and returned; it was the 19th of Mehr.
There, about 150 of us were transferred to Mehrabad. All these people came from mountainous areas, from villages like Shemiran, Baraghan, Kamalabad, and the like; I was the only one from Dorvan. Those who didn’t come would face problems later. We spent about twenty days in Mehrabad; then we were transferred to Bagh-e Shah, First Regiment, Artillery Division.
The army headquarters had ordered the conscription office to transfer mountain people to the artillery, because the work there was demanding, and mountain boys had high strength and endurance; we didn’t know this, we found out later.
At that time, the army had three types of cannons; one was the short 105 that was pulled by horses; this is often shown in movies; each carriage was pulled by six sturdy Hungarian horses. About a hundred horses were kept in the Artillery Division; we had to take care of them, the cannons, and our rifles. It didn’t take long to realize that it was the hardest place; we had no choice; after all, it’s the army, and everything proceeds with strict discipline and order. Besides the hard work, there were specific rules and regulations, for example, when they gave orders or asked questions, we had to raise our hands first, if they permitted, then we could respond. Besides, the officers in charge of the artillery were very harsh; sergeants, warrant officers, and others seemed to only be able to advance the heavy artillery work through brutality; they were very ill-tempered and constantly swearing.
The hard work was bearable, but not their swearing; so, one day, I gathered a few of the boys to complain. We had to find a secluded place; we gathered in the stable and started writing a complaint about how this sergeant was behaving, that warrant officer was corrupt, and so on; I wrote it, and everyone signed. The army headquarters were located somewhere behind Bagh-e Shah; I went out through the water path; I delivered the complaint to the army headquarters and quickly returned. A few days later, a colonel and a captain came for an investigation; they ordered everyone to line up; in line, the colonel began to inquire, and we told everything; they conducted their investigation and left. The next day, the commander, sergeant, warrant officer, and many others were replaced, and we were very happy. A few days after this incident, an officer came looking for those who had complained; there was an office about a hundred meters below Bagh-e Shah, we went there and lined up; there were six or seven of us; they called us one by one to go inside the room; they called everyone’s name but mine; the officer there asked, “What do you want?” I said, “You called for us!” He said, “We don’t need you, the ones we called for are these”; I again said, “Sir, I have a complaint too”; finally, he said, “No need to complain, get out of here.” The issue was that I hadn’t signed that paper; since writing that complaint was hurried and secretive, I forgot to sign it, everyone else did but not me. Those few were sent away to different places so they wouldn’t be together anymore; they were scattered; the reason was that collective complaints were forbidden in the army, and we didn’t know that at the time.