I began to think about my family during those weeks of January and February.

My wife Nasin and our two children were living in Riyad, Saudi Arabia.

I had sent them there 3 years earlier for their safety and to give them a better life away from the oppression and danger of Iran.

Nasarin was from a merchant family in Riyad and she had wanted to move back to her hometown for years.

I had finally agreed and used my connections to arrange for them to live there while I remained in Thran as part of Kam’s inner circle.

We spoke on the phone every week, but it was not the same as being together.

My daughter Amir was 17 years old and my son Hassan was 15.

They were growing up without their father being there to guide them.

I had missed so much of their lives because of my work.

And now with the threat of American and Israeli attacks becoming more and more real, I began to wonder if I would ever see them again.

In the second week of February, I made a decision that would change the course of my entire life.

I began secretly making plans to escape Iran and flee to Saudi Arabia to rejoin my family.

I told no one about these plans, not my colleagues in the IRGC, not Kam, not even my closest friends.

Uh I knew that if anyone found out what I was planning, I would be arrested for treason and executed.

But I also knew that something terrible was coming and I did not want to be in Iran when it happened.

I used my access to classified information to make arrangements.

I obtained travel documents through a contact and the intelligence services who owed me favors.

I gathered money and valuables that I could take with me.

I made notes of the best routes out of Iran and into Iraq and Kuwait.

I planned every detail carefully because I understood that any mistake would cost me my life.

By February 27th, everything was ready.

I had packed a small bag with the essentials.

My travel documents were prepared.

I had arranged for a car to be waiting for me at a safe location outside of Thran.

I was planning to leave on March 1st, giving myself a few days to put my affairs in order and to make it look like everything was normal.

I would tell my colleagues that I was going on a routine inspection of military facilities in the provinces.

I would make it look like I was still loyal and committed to the regime.

And then I would simply not come back.

I would drive across the border into Iraq and then into Kuwait and finally into Saudi Arabia where my my family was waiting for me.

I had thought through the plan a 100 times and I believed it would work.

I believed I could escape the trap that was closing around the Iranian leadership.

But on February 28th, everything changed in an instant.

I was scheduled to be in Kamir’s private compound that morning for a security briefing.

I had attended dozens of these briefings over the years.

They were routine and mundane.

We would discuss the security arrangements around K&A’s various residences.

We would review intelligence reports about threats to the Supreme Leader.

We would make sure that all the protocols were in place to protect him from assassination attempts.

I was on my way to the compound at 8:00 in the morning when my phone rang.

It was Colonel David Muhammadi, one of my closest friends in the IRGC.

David was panicked and his voice was shaking as he spoke.

He told me not to go to the compound.

He told me that something terrible had happened.

He told me to get out of Thran immediately and not to look back.

I pulled my car to the side of the road and demanded to know what David was talking about.

He told me in a rush of words that American and Israeli warplanes had just launched a massive strike against Iran.

The attack had come earlier than intelligence had predicted.

The bombers had targeted military installations across the country and they had also targeted key government buildings in Thran.

Kam’s compound had been hit directly.

Multiple buildings had been destroyed.

Dozens of people had been killed.

Kam’s fate was unknown.

The government was in chaos.

The military was confused about what to do.

No one was giving clear orders.

Everything was falling apart.

The wood told me that this was my chance.

This was my opportunity to disappear before the government collapsed completely.

and I became trapped in the middle of whatever was coming next.

He told me to go to the safe house we had talked about in the past.

He told me to get out of Aaron tonight.

He told me that I might never get another chance.

I felt my hands shaking as I gripped the steering wheel.

I could already hear the sound of sirens in the distance.

I could already see smoke rising over the city from where the bombs had hit.

I turned my car around and drove away from the compound.

I drove toward my apartment to pick up the bag I had already packed and prepared.

My mind was racing with a thousand different thoughts.

Was Kame dead? Would the government survive this attack? Would the military launch a counterattack? Would the Americans and Israelis come back for another round of strikes? Was I making a terrible mistake by running away? Should I stay and try to help defend the country? But no, I
had made my decision weeks ago.

I had planned my escape.

And now fate had forced my hand and given me the opportunity I had been waiting for.

When I drove through the streets of Thran as the city descended into chaos around me.

By that evening, it was confirmed that Kame had been killed in the strike on his compound.

He was 87 years old and he had ruled Iran for 37 years.

His death sent shock waves through the entire government and military.

No one knew who would take over.

No one knew what would happen next.

And most importantly for me, no one was paying attention to whether I showed up to my duties or not.

The government was too busy trying to organize a response to the American and Israeli attacks.

In the middle of the night on February 28th, I received word that Iran was preparing a massive retaliation against the Gulf States.

The government had decided to launch missile and drone attacks against American military bases in Saudi Arabia.

uh the United Arab Emirates, Qatar and Kuwait, they were also going to target energy facilities and other economic infrastructure in these countries.

The goal was to punish these nations for allowing the Americans and Israelis to use their territory for the strike against Iran.

This retaliation changed everything about my escape plan.

I had been planning to fly out of Thran on March 1st using commercial airlines.

But with the attacks about to happen, all the airports were being shut down and all civilian flights were being cancelled.

The borders were being sealed.

The military was mobilizing.

It would be impossible to leave Iran by air now.

So, I made the decision that would prove to be the most important decision of my life.

On March 1st, I would not fly out of Iran.

Instead, I would drive.

Okay.

I would take a car and drive overland through Iraq and Kuwait to reach Saudi Arabia.

It was a dangerous route story that would take me through war zones and past military checkpoints.

It would expose me to the chaos and violence of the regional conflict that was erupting around me.

But it was the only way out that I could see.

I left Thran on the evening of March 1st, 2026.

I drove a simple gray sedan that I had borrowed from a colleague who did not know what I was planning to do.

I told no one where I was going.

I left no note explaining my departure.

I simply put my packed bag in the trunk and drove out of the city heading west toward the Iraqi border.

My heart was pounding in my chest as I drove through the streets of Thran.

Soldiers and military vehicles were everywhere.

The government was mobilizing for war.

The checkpoints had been set up throughout the city to check the identification of anyone who was traveling, but I had my military credential and my official identification as a brigadier general.

The young soldiers who stopped me at the checkpoints saluted me and waved me through without asking questions.

They did not know that the man they were saluting was a deserter who had just abandoned his post in the middle of a national crisis.

The drive from Thran to the Iraqi border took about 12 hours.

I traveled through the night on highways that were nearly empty of civilian traffic.

Most normal people were sheltering in their homes, waiting to see what would happen next.

The border regions were tense because everyone knew that Iran was about to attack Saudi Arabia and and the other Gulf states.

The military convoys passed me on the road heading toward the western part of the country where they would launch their missiles and drones.

I kept my speed steady and my attention focused on the road ahead.

I knew that if I was stopped by a military patrol, my story about being on an inspection mission would not hold up to serious questioning.

They would check with headquarters and discover that I had not reported in.

They would realize that I was running and they would arrest me or shoot me on the spot for treason.

When I finally crossed the border into Iraq in the early morning hours of March 2nd, I felt a moment of relief wash over me.

I was out of Iran.

I was no longer in the country of my birth.

I was one step closer to freedom and to my family waiting in Saudi Arabia.

But the relief was short-lived because crossing into Iraq in the middle of a regional conflict was trading one danger for another.

The roads in Iraq were chaotic and unpredictable.

There were military checkpoints controlled by various armed groups.

There were areas where the government did not have control and where lawlessness reigned.

There were checkpoints manned by Kurdish militias and Shia militias and groups affiliated with the Americans.

I did not know which groups controlled which areas.

I did not know which checkpoints would let me through and which would try to arrest me or rob me or worse.

I drove south through the Iraqi desert heading toward the Kuwaiti border.

The landscape was barren and empty with nothing but sand and rock stretching in every direction.

The temperature was cold at night, but I knew it would become scorching hot during the day.

The roads were rough and full of potholes.

My small sedan bounced and rattled as I drove.

I had a map and a general sense of direction, but I was not entirely sure of the safest route.

I had studied maps in my apartment in Tan and memorized the general geography of the region.

But being there in person was completely different.

The roads did not always go where the maps said they should go.

Some routes were blocked by military positions.

Other roads simply disappeared into the desert with no clear destination.

I had to make decisions about which way to go at crossroads where there were no signs to guide me.

I did not stop to rest.

Even though I was exhausted, I knew that if I stopped for too long in one place, I might draw attention from local people or military patrols who would wonder why a stranger was sitting alone in a car in the middle of the desert.

I drank coffee from from a thermos that I had filled before leaving Thran.

I ate some bread and cheese that I had packed.

I took small pills to keep myself awake and alert.

The hours passed slowly as I drove through the night.

The road ahead of me was illuminated only by my headlights cutting through the darkness.

The sky above me was filled with stars that seemed to mock me with their beauty while I was running for my life.

I thought about my wife Nasarin and my children Amir and Hassan waiting for me in Riyad.

I thought about how they would feel when I finally arrived and told them everything that had happened.

everything.

I thought about the life I was leaving behind and the life that was a royalty that was waiting for me ahead.

As the sun began to rise on March 2nd, I could see the landscape starting to change.

The desert was becoming more populated with small villages and towns.

I was getting close to the Kuwaiti border.

I knew that I would need to find a way to cross into Kuwait without being detected by border patrols.

The official border crossings would have records of everyone who crossed.

They would check my identification and discover that I was an Iranian military officer traveling without proper authorization.

They would arrest me immediately.

So, I had to find another way.

As I drove through a small town, I saw a man standing by the side of the road.

He looked like he was trying to hitch a ride.

I pulled over and asked him where he was from.

That he told me he was a smuggler who helped people cross the border illegally into Kuwait and Saudi Arabia.

I made a decision in that moment that could have could have gotten me killed.

I told the smuggler who I was and what I was trying to do.

I told him that I was an Iranian brigadier general who had deserted and needed to get to Saudi Arabia.

I showed him money and offered to pay him to help me cross the border safely.

He looked at me with suspicion and fear.

He could see that I was desperate.

He could see that I was willing to pay large amounts of money, but he could also see that I was dangerous.

a brigadier general and the IRGC who had deserted would be hunted by Iranian uh intelligence and by the military.

Helping me could get him killed or imprisoned.

But he also saw an opportunity to make more money than he could make in a year of ordinary smuggling work.

So he agreed.

He told me to follow him to a camp where he worked with other smugglers.

He said they would arrange for me to be transported across the ver the border at night when the patrols were less active.

The smuggler’s camp was located in a remote area of the desert about 50 km from the Kauaii border.

It was a small collection of tents and crude shelters where men lived who made their living helping people cross borders illegally.

Some of them were human traffickers who moved refugees and migrants.

Some of them were drug smugglers.

Some of them were arms dealers.

It was a dangerous place full of dangerous men.

But it was also the place where I could get the help I needed.

Uh the smuggler introduced me to the leader of the camp, a man named Rashid, who was in his 50s and had a scarred face that suggested a life full of violence.

Rashid looked at me carefully and asked me why he should trust an Iranian military officer.

I told him that I had money and that I was willing to pay whatever price he asked.

I told him that I was running from the Iranian government and that I had no choice but to keep moving.

Rashid agreed to help me cross the border that night for a price that was outrageous, but which I paid without complaint.

I spent the day hidden in one of the tents while the smugglers made preparations.

They obtained documents that would help me pass through the Kuwaiti border.

They arranged for a truck that would carry me hidden in a compartment in the back.

They coordinated with other smugglers on the Kuwaiti side of the border to make sure I would be received safely on the other side.

As the sun was setting on the evening of March 2nd, I was loaded into the back of a truck along with several other people who were trying to escape from the chaos in Iraq and Iran.

None of us spoke to each other.

We were all lost in our own fears and desperate hopes.

The truck began to move toward the border in the darkness.

The border crossing was tense and dangerous.

I could hear voices outside the truck arguing in Arabic.

I could hear the sound of weapons being cooked.

I thought at any moment that we would be discovered and that I I would be dragged out of the truck and arrested or shot, but the smugglers had paid off the border guards on both the Iraqi and Kuwaiti sites.

The soldiers waved the truck through without conducting a thorough search.

After what felt like an eternity, but was probably only a few minutes, the truck began to move again, and I knew that we had crossed into Kuwait.

I was one step closer to Saudi Arabia.

I was one step closer to my family.

I was one step closer to freedom.

But I did not know what was waiting for me on the road ahead.

I did not know that my entire life was about to be turned upside down.

By the afternoon of March 2nd, I was on a road heading south from Kuwait City toward the Saudi Arabian border.

The truck had dropped me off at a small town where I found a taxi driver who was willing to take me toward Saudi Arabia for money.

The driver did not ask me any questions about who I was or why I was traveling.

He simply took my money and drove me south through the desert.

The landscape was the same as what I had seen in Iraq, but somehow it felt different now.

I was in a new country.

I was closer to my family.

I was making progress toward escape.

But as I watched the desertus passing by outside the window of the taxi, I felt a strange uneasiness growing inside me.

It was as if something was waiting for me on this road.

Something that I could not see or name, but which I could feel approaching.

The taxi driver dropped me off at a small settlement near the border between Kuwait and Saudi Arabia in the late afternoon of March 2nd.

He said he could not take me any further because the roads ahead were dangerous and unpredictable due to the military conflict happening in the region.

I paid him extra money and thanked him for his help.

Then I was alone again with nothing but my bug and my desperation to reach Saudi Arabia.

I could see military vehicles and the distance and smoke rising from somewhere beyond the horizon.

The Iranian attacks on Saudi Arabia had already begun.

Missiles and drones were raining down on the oil facilities and military bases throughout the country.

The entire region was erupting into chaos and violence.

But I had no choice but to continue moving forward.

I could not turn back.

I could only go ahead into the uncertainty that was waiting for me.

I decided that I would try to walk across the border on foot rather than waiting for another vehicle that might never come.

The border between Kuwait and Saudi Arabia is not heavily militarized in all places.

There are vast stretches of desert where the border is unmarked and unguarded.

I had studied maps and I believed that if I walked south and slightly east, I would eventually cross into Saudi Arabia without having to pass through an official border checkpoint.

I began walking in the late afternoon as the sun was starting to move lower.

in the sky.

The desert was vast and empty and silent except for the sound of my own footsteps on the sand.

I walked for hours without seeing another human being.

The temperature was dropping as the sun descended toward the horizon.

My leg were aching and my feet were starting to blister inside my shoes.

But I kept walking because I could not afford it to stop.

As the night fell completely and darkness covered the desert, I found myself utterly lost.

I had no compass and no way to navigate by the stars because I did not know how to read them.

I was walking in a direction that I thought was south, but I could not be certain.

For all I knew, I could have been walking in circles or walking back toward Kuwait instead of toward Saudi Arabia.

The darkness is was complete and total.

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