A few months were left until the end of my service when they took us to Lashgark; it was the month of Ramadan. There, I was in charge of security, meaning anyone going out or coming in had to have their card stamped by me; for this purpose, a tent was set up at the entrance of the area, and I was stationed there.
One day, noise was coming from outside; a group of sergeants were beating someone. I approached them asking, “Why are you beating this poor man? Are you sick?” One of them said, “What’s it to you? Who are you to ask?” Eventually, things escalated, and we got into a fight; however, since I was in charge of security, they were somewhat cautious around me. During the altercation, one of them said, “God bless Reza Shah; if he were here, he would’ve disciplined these worthless soldiers.” I replied, “During Reza Shah’s time, when war broke out, all of you put on women’s veils and fled; where was Reza Shah then, and what was he doing?”
Angry and enraged, they went to the commander, shouting and causing a commotion, saying, “This soldier has insulted us and the Shah,” and so on. Immediately, a sergeant was sent for me; he didn’t give me a chance to dress properly and took me to the commander’s tent. The commander did not spare me either, throwing me into the tent and beating me with a whip he usually held; during the scuffle, I grabbed the whip. He was pulling on one end, and I on the other, and the whip tore in half. He ordered me to be taken to solitary confinement; I was imprisoned in a tent. This was very bad for me; they had caused a commotion, filed a complaint, and implicated me with the Shah; in the military, these things are important. Eventually, I laid down in that tent and fell asleep; after a while, an officer came, woke me up, and took me to a field court. In that area, there was a walnut tree; they had set up the court under that tree.
By a twist of fate, a few days before, the head of the French Workers’ Confederation had visited Tehran; they linked these two events in their court and accused me of associating with foreign agents. They started investigating my background, asking, “Where are you from? Where have you lived? What’s your occupation?” and so on. I saw the situation was very bad; I said, “I’m from a village called Dorvan; a mountainous village near Karaj; currently, my occupation is being a soldier, but before I was a shepherd, herding flocks.” They asked again, “Have you never been to Tehran?” I replied, “No. Never.” Since party activities and such were prevalent at that time, they wanted to know if I was a member of any party; the investigation continued, and I answered in a way that made it seem like I was just a villager who knew nothing. The session ended, but it wasn’t long before another court was convened, and the questioning resumed.
The commander was at a loss about what to do with me; based on my file, I was just a simple villager, and the accusations against me were baseless. On one hand, they had filed a complaint, and he had to address it.
The commander decided to inquire about Rostam’s story; he was the guard at the commander’s tent and was aware of the altercation. Coincidentally, Rostam was my service buddy; we knew each other from the first day of service. He was a very simple Turk villager; initially, he couldn’t tell his left from his right. I used to tell him that if the phone rings and you answer it speaking Turkish, it will explode; he didn’t know how to use a phone and was so simple that he believed it. I had always been kind to Rostam and looked out for him; when they wanted someone for the command post, I introduced him; sometimes, I bought him food, and so on.
So, when the commander inquired from Rostam, he said, “These sergeants are thieves; they are upset with Narimani because he doesn’t let them take out blankets, sugar, and tea”; he said, “I know him, we have served together; he’s a good man, he’s fasting right now and prays all night long.” Rostam’s words seemed to have an impact on the commander, and he decided to release me.
I was taken back to the commander’s tent, this time without any soldier or guard; this surprised me. The commander had everyone in the area, from the guard to the sergeant and soldier, leave and said, “I am certain that you said those words; I am also certain that you are a nationalist and biased person, and I know that you said those words out of national pride, not malice, and indeed, you were right. At that time, we all fled, but our flight had a reason. You’ve said during the investigation that you were a shepherd; let me ask you, if a lamb is left in the wilderness and two wolves attack it, what should it do? Should it stay or flee? At that time, we were in the same situation as that lamb; if we had stayed, we would have been destroyed, we didn’t have the capacity to fight against the Russians and the British simultaneously, if we had stayed, our country would have been divided, and today, neither you, nor I, nor this country would exist.” After saying this, he then discharged me, saying, “Go! Go in peace!”
After this incident, the commander ordered our unit’s officer to send me to Tehran; my officer took me out of the security section, but kept me in the squadron and made me responsible for bread and food. There was a problem with the bakery; the bread that was supposed to be half a kilo was only three hundred grams; I complained several times, but it was no use; finally, one day, I wrote a letter explaining the situation; in that letter, I concluded that two or three kharvars of flour were being stolen daily. When I took the letter to deliver it, the commander was surprised to see me; he asked, “Didn’t you go to Tehran?” I said, “I was supposed to go with the battalion.” He didn’t say anything more, and I left. I was having dinner when a command car with a few soldiers came for me; I was surprised they were looking for me; in short, they didn’t even let me finish my meal; they put me in the command car and took me to Tehran; there was a place in Abbasabad belonging to the army artillery; they handed me over there and left.