115: Chapter 112 Aftershocks

February 24, 1981, Baghdad.

Saddam Hussein smashed three things in his office at the Presidential Palace—a teacup, an ashtray, and a chair.

Basra was lost.

A garrison of thirty-five thousand men was gone in sixty-one hours. Lieutenant General Shangshale had signed the instrument of surrender. The vanguard of the Republican Guard had been ambushed, and twenty-eight T-72 Tanks were scrapped. The Fao Peninsula was lost, and Iraq's only outlet to the sea was gone.

"Someone explain this to me," Saddam's voice was low, so low it made one's skin crawl, "why did it turn out like this?"

Five men stood in the office—Minister of Defense Adnan Khairallah, Chief of General Staff Abdul Jabbar, Air Force Commander Hamad, Republican Guard Commander Republican Guard Commander Maher, and Intelligence Chief Barzan.

No one spoke.

"Khairallah," Saddam looked at the Minister of Defense, "tell me, why did the Basra garrison surrender in sixty-one hours?"

Khairallah swallowed hard: "Mr. President, the Iranians' attack caught us by surprise. They didn't attack from the north, but took the Fao Peninsula first, and then from the south—"

"I know where they attacked from! I'm asking why you couldn't hold it!"

"The water source was cut off. The water treatment plant is in the north of the city, and the Iranians—"

"You didn't know the water plant was in the north before the war? You couldn't build a few more reservoirs in the city? You couldn't strengthen the defenses around the water plant?"

Khairallah's lips moved, but no words came out.

Saddam turned to Intelligence Chief Barzan: "What about intelligence? The Iranians moved forty thousand people to Khuzestan and prepared for two months, and you had no news at all?"

Intelligence Chief Barzan said: "Our intelligence showed the Iranians were moving troops, but we judged their main direction of attack to be the north—"

"You judged wrong."

"Yes."

"The price of that wrong judgment is thirty-five thousand men and Iraq's second-largest city."

Saddam sat back in his chair, tapping the tabletop with his finger.

"Republican Guard Commander Maher, the vanguard of the Republican Guard was ambushed, what happened there?"

Republican Guard Commander Maher stood straight: "The Iranians buried two thousand Anti-tank mines on both sides of Highway 6 and used MILAN missiles to hit our tanks from a kilometer away. Our troops had no reaction time."

"MILAN missiles? French goods?"

"Yes. The Iranians got the production line for MILAN missiles from France and are manufacturing them themselves in Ahvaz."

Saddam's eyes narrowed: "The French are selling weapons to Iran?"

"Not just selling," Intelligence Chief Barzan said, "the French are helping Iran build a military-industrial system. Missiles, air defense systems, and possibly technical data for fighter jets."

"That bastard President Mitterrand," Saddam cursed under his breath, "betting on both sides."

He stood up and walked to the map on the wall.

Basra was marked on the map with a red circle. Red meant it was already lost.

"Retake Basra," Saddam said, "I don't care what method you use."

"Mr. President," Khairallah said cautiously, "a counterattack on Basra in the short term is unrealistic. The Iranians have already established a firm foothold in the Fao Peninsula and the Basra urban area. We need to assemble at least five divisions—"

"Then assemble five divisions."

"Five divisions need at least two months for mobilization and deployment. Furthermore, the forces in the Northern Military District cannot be diverted—the Kurds are starting to stir."

Saddam was silent for a long time.

"Two months," he finally said, "In two months, I want to see a counterattack plan."

He walked toward the door, paused for a moment, and said without looking back: "Lieutenant General Shangshale, military tribunal. Trial in absentia. Treason."

February 25, Tehran.

All of Iran was celebrating.

After the news of Basra spread, the streets of Tehran were flooded with people. People held photos of Reza—no one knew where they had gotten them, perhaps they were reproductions of old photos—and marched in the streets. Some shouted "Long live Reza," some shouted "Long live Iran," and some even shouted a slogan that made Ayatollah Khomeini quite unhappy: "Pahlavi, the pride of Iran."

Rafsanjani immediately called Reza.

"Your Highness, the situation in Tehran is a bit complicated. The Ayatollah is very happy about the victory in Basra, but he is not very happy about the slogans on the street."

"What slogans?"

"'Pahlavi, the pride of Iran.' This slogan is taboo in the Islamic Republic."

Reza was silent for a few seconds: "I did not organize any marches."

"I know. But the Ayatollah doesn't think so. He believes you are deliberately creating a cult of personality."

"I didn't have time to create a cult of personality while I was fighting in Basra."

"I know," Rafsanjani said, "but you need to do one thing to calm the Ayatollah's suspicions."

"What is it?"

"Issue a public statement attributing the victory to the Ayatollah's leadership and the spirit of the Islamic Revolution. Do not mention your own name."

The corner of Reza's mouth twitched slightly.

He had fought a sixty-one-hour blitzkrieg, annihilated over thirty thousand Iraqi troops, and taken Iraq's second-largest city—and now he had to give the credit to an old man who hadn't participated in any operational decision-making.

"Fine," he said, "I'll issue the statement."

He hung up the phone and said to Karimi: "Send a statement to Tehran. The content is: The victory of the Battle of Basra is attributed to the brilliant leadership of Imam Khomeini, the heroic fighting of all officers and soldiers of the Islamic Revolutionary Guard, and the correct decision-making of Commander-in-Chief President Bani-Sadr."

Karimi looked at him: "Add Bani-Sadr as well?"

"Add him. Give him enough face. The more face I give him, the more he owes me."

February 26, Basra.

Reza stayed in Basra for three days to handle post-war affairs.

The city's recovery was faster than he had imagined. Water supply was restored on the second day. The markets reopened—Rajai had transferred ten truckloads of grain and daily necessities from within Iran, selling them at Iraqi Dinar prices without a markup. Patrols circulated day and night to maintain order.

The reaction of the residents exceeded Reza's expectations.

Most of Basra's residents were Shia Muslims—the same as in Iran. They had long been oppressed by Saddam's Sunni regime and had little loyalty to the Baghdad government. When the Iranian army entered the city, many residents even took the initiative to help—helping to clear the streets, helping to repair power lines, and helping to care for wounded Iraqi soldiers.

"Your Highness," Rajai said, "these people do not hate us."

"What they hate is Saddam, not Iraq. Remember that. We are not here to occupy Basra; we are here to liberate our Shia brothers in Basra."

"But Tehran's side—"

"I will handle Tehran. You just focus on governing Basra well."