The carnage was unimaginable, and the completely indiscriminate slaughter enraged Hesarak Buzhazi. But he knew he could not stand out here in the open and fight. He hated the idea of rushing across the avenue into the dense shops and homes north of the airbase, but he had no choice — soon the troops set to ambush them from the south part of the base would be rushing north to engage. The attack helicopters had set up a slow orbit over the avenue, their slower rate of fire showing that they finally decided they had better start conserving their ammunition until the rest of the Revolutionary Guards entered the battle. If he was going to make an escape, now was the time.
“All units, take cover inside the strongest looking buildings you can find!” Buzhazi radioed. “Tell anyone you find inside to get out as fast as they can! Once they’re away, get away from the area and rendezvous at point Gazelle as planned. Out.” He turned to the dozen men surrounding him. “This way. Keep down and keep your weapons out of sight — those helicopter gunners are firing at anyone who looks like they’re carrying weapons.” He then dashed off into the most modern-looking building he saw in front of him, a branch of the Bank Sepah.
It was a good defensible spot — unfortunately it was also a good place to get trapped in, since access was limited in any other direction except out the front door. Buzhazi immediately radioed for other platoons to spread out around the bank building to help defend it from different directions and to provide cover fire in case they needed to escape. Setam-Gari Avenue was choked with cars and obscured with smoke, with people running in all directions trying to cover their mouths with belongings, scarves, or hankerchiefs. Every few moments he would see another horrifying sight of a woman carrying a bag of groceries or a child holding a soccer ball get gunned down by the attack helicopter’s cannons. He swore loudly, trying desperately to squeeze the images out of his consciousness. He lifted his radio: “All Lion units, Lion One, report! Lion…”
Suddenly the entire front of the bank office was blasted apart by rocket fire, sending clouds of brick, stone, and glass inside. One soldier standing beside Buzhazi caught the full brunt of the explosion, his lifeless body plowing into the Iranian general. Buzhazi’s vision was gone — the only thing that told him he was still alive was the terrible ringing in his ears from the blast and the feel of the young soldier’s blood and tissue covering his face. Someone lifted him free of the wreckage and body parts. The soldier asked something, but Buzhazi couldn’t hear him, so he just nodded and patted his arm to tell him he was okay.
A few minutes later, with the volume on the radio turned up all the way, Buzhazi was able to hear the reports coming in from his battalion: “Lion Two is about a half-block away. Are you all right, One? Anyone there?”
“I’m okay, Two,” Buzhazi radioed. “One casualty so far. Lion Three, report.”
“Lion Three doesn’t have you in sight, but…stand by…” There was another loud explosion not far away, with more screaming and panicked citizens running in every direction.
“Lion Three, what’s your status?” No reply.
“This is Two. Looks like Three got hit pretty bad.”
“Copy. Lion Four.” No reply. “Lion Four, report.” Still no reply. “Lion Five.” Again, no response. “Lion Four and Five, key your mikes if you can hear me.” Buzhazi thought he heard the coded clicks on his radio, but he wasn’t sure if it was real or just wishful thinking.
“One, this is Two, armored personnel carriers advancing from the west,” the leader of Second Company reported. “I see one…no, two, two of them. Traffic is slowing them now…One, I see dismounts! Six…eight…ten dismounts, approaching each side of the street.”
“Copy, Two.” Buzhazi turned to the men behind him. “Listen up, men. Who do I have behind me?”
“Lieutenant al-Tabas, sir,” a terrified, high-pitched voice responded. “I’ve got Sergeant Ardakan and most of the members of Kush platoon with me.”
“Weapon status, Lieutenant? Anyone with a grenade launcher and some HE rounds?”
There was a long, uncomfortable silence; then, Tabas and Ardakan moved beside him, crouching low. The sergeant was carrying an AK-47 assault rifle along with a “blooper,” a thirty-millimeter grenade launcher, and he wore a bandolier of grenades. The lieutenant carried an AK-74 assault rifle. “What do you need, sir?” Tabas asked.
“I need that launcher and your grenades, Sergeant,” Buzhazi said. Ardakan looked confused, but gave the general his “blooper” and grenades. Buzhazi loaded a smoke round into the launcher.
“Sergeant, I need some cover fire.”
“Are you all right, sir?”
Buzhazi’s vision was still a bit blurry but there was no time to wait any longer. “I’m fine, Sergeant. Lieutenant, there are two armored personnel carriers off to the right down the street, with dismounts heading our way on the sidewalk on both sides of the street. I’m going to lay down some smoke, and then you and I are going to head down the street in between the cars and trucks and see if we can get close to those armored vehicles. They may be our way out of here.”
“I’ll go, General,” Ardakan said. “When was the last time you led such an assault?”
“Negative, Sergeant, I’m doing this,” Buzhazi insisted. “When we pop the smoke, I need you and your men to engage the dismounts and get them before they get us, then follow us down the street so we can take those vehicles. If we don’t make it, I need you to link up with Lion Two — I think he’s a half-block to the east.” He handed the sergeant his radio. “After that, try to link up with as many of the battalion as you can and get out. Understand?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good. Lieutenant, stay down and under cover in between the disabled cars as much as you can. I’ll be firing the grenade launcher, so you cover me the best you can. When we get to the armored vehicles, keep an eye out for security gunners in the turret or on the passenger side. I’ll pop smoke and frags on them, and then we’ll try to take them. Ready?” The lieutenant gurgled something that vaguely sounded like a “yes.”
There were a hundred other things to think about, a thousand other things to consider, and he hadn’t asked anyone for their advice — there was simply no time. The lieutenant looked young enough to be his grandson. He knew he shouldn’t think about that, but he still said, “Let’s go, son,” as he raised his grenade launcher and headed off toward the exit.
He almost instantly regretted not getting more advice on a plan. The second Buzhazi stuck his head out to look for the Pasdaran dismounts, he was met with a hail of gunfire that made him cry out in surprise and nearly fall over backward into the bank lobby, thankful he wasn’t hit. They were a lot closer than he anticipated! He heard more gunfire and saw a few of his men, probably from Second Company, advancing across the avenue, trying to distract the Pasdaran infantrymen.
Buzhazi motioned to Ardakan, and the sergeant stuck his AK-74 out the doorway without aiming it and fired down the street at the approaching Revolutionary Guards. The return gunfire abruptly stopped. “Now!” Buzhazi yelled, and he and Tabas scurried out of the bank building and into the street, hiding behind disabled and abandoned cars. Buzhazi took aim and fired at the first squad he saw, nearly hitting the squad leader in the forehead with the smoke grenade. The exploding grenade burst right in the midst of the Pasdaran infantrymen, knocking one unconscious and scattering the others. Buzhazi quickly loaded another smoke round, tracked the direction Tabas was shooting, and found the second squad. His second grenade round sailed over their heads and exploded behind them, but it frightened and confused them long enough for Tabas, Ardakan, and the soldiers from Second Company to dispatch them.