On June 13, 2025, Israel launched air strikes on nuclear and navy websites in Iran. Over the 12 days that adopted, the Israeli marketing campaign expanded to incorporate vitality and different infrastructure; Iran retaliated with drone and missile strikes inside Israel; and america entered the battle with strikes on Iranian nuclear amenities on June 22. Alireza Iranmehr is a novelist and an essayist who lives within the north of Iran however returned to Tehran to witness and doc the bombardment. He despatched the next sequence of quick dispatches to his translator all through the battle.
June 16, 8:30 p.m.
The huge roundabout at Azadi Sq. was stuffed with vehicles, but nonetheless felt by some means abandoned. Then it dawned on me: People—they have been principally lacking. The place usually tens of 1000’s of pedestrians thronged, now there have been solely a scattered few. Even most of the vehicles sat empty.
Azadi Sq. is usually the primary place one sees upon arriving in Tehran and the final upon departure; a number of main expressways move by way of it, and it’s not removed from Mehrabad Airport, which serves home flights. The airport reportedly had been bombarded a few days earlier than, however I couldn’t discern any signal of destruction from the place I stood—simply the odor of burned plastic slicing by way of the standard metropolis smog.
Earlier that day, in Bandar Anzali, on the Caspian shore, I had been fortunate to discover a cab driver keen to convey me all the best way to Tehran. The motive force instructed me that he’d made the other journey with three younger girls in the midst of the night time—and charged them 25 instances the going charge. “You’ll be able to see what’s happening,” he stated. “There’s no fuel. All of the vehicles are caught on the highway. It is a five-hour journey, and it took us 15 hours.”
He wasn’t mendacity: The stream of vehicles making an attempt to get out of Tehran appeared countless. Some automobiles have been stranded on the perimeters of the highway, having run out of gasoline. Males banded collectively to maneuver big concrete limitations out of the best way, in order that they might flip their automobiles round to go again into town. My driver pointed to the rear of his automobile and stated, “I had an additional 4 20-gallon cans of gasoline simply in case. I didn’t need to get stranded.”
I requested why he didn’t simply keep in Bandar Anzali after dropping off the ladies.
“And keep the place? My spouse and children are again in Tehran,” he stated. “And also you? Why are you going to Tehran?”
I wished to inform him that I used to be going again to Tehran to witness crucial occasion in Iran’s latest historical past, in order that I might write about it. However that immediately appeared ridiculous and unbelievable. I stated as a substitute, “I’m going to see a few of my pals.”
He nodded. “Watch out,” he stated, with a word of suspicion. “There are a whole lot of spies round today in Tehran.”
Was he suggesting that I is perhaps a type of spies? It rubbed me the unsuitable means, however I didn’t say something.
Now, practically alone in the midst of Azadi Sq., I used to be seized with doubt, after which worry. The streets and sidewalks appeared wider than earlier than, and newly ominous. I began to stroll towards Azadi Boulevard when an ear-splitting sound threw me immediately off stability.
I appeared up on the sky: Anti-aircraft hearth and tracers appeared, clusters of little dots that ascended after which changed into flashes of white. There was nothing else in that sky. No airplanes. Down the highway, I noticed one other man standing, trying up with intense curiosity, as if mesmerized.
No sirens sounded. No crowds ran in search of shelter. There was solely the vacant expanse above, and an eerie noise just like the buzzing of flies after the anti-aircraft weapons went quiet. I’d heard someplace that this was the sound of Israeli drones looking for their targets. Someplace far-off, an explosion boomed, after which got here the anti-aircraft hearth once more, even farther away.
Unusual to say, however my worry lifted. I felt calm as I headed for the house of a pal on Jeyhoon Avenue—one who had determined to stay in Tehran and stated I might spend the night time. So I strolled, realizing the sky would mild up once more earlier than lengthy.
June 19
At 2 a.m., after a protracted break, explosions got here, one after one other. I had left Jeyhoon Avenue and was now staying with Mostafa and Sahar, two of my greatest pals, in an condominium on the highest flooring of a constructing on the Ghasr Crossroad. This space of town was filled with navy and safety websites that made possible targets for bombardment.
Mostafa labored for the Tehran municipality. Sahar, after years of making an attempt, was lastly pregnant. After I’d known as to ask if I might keep the night time, they have been delighted—ultimately, firm of their nervousness. They’d remained in Tehran as a result of Sahar had been prescribed strict mattress relaxation.
“If we keep, we might or might not get killed,” Mostafa instructed me. “But when we go away, our little one will certainly not make it. So we’ve stayed.”
By 2:30 a.m., the sound of anti-aircraft hearth was relentless. I noticed a shadow shifting within the hallway: Mostafa. He requested if I used to be awake, then made for my window, opening it. Now the sounds have been exponentially louder, and a pungent odor of one thing burning entered the room. He’d are available in right here to smoke a cigarette, and within the effort to maintain the smoke away from Sahar and their bed room, he had allowed your complete condominium to be permeated by the scorching odor of battle.
“Sahar isn’t afraid?” I requested him.
“Sahar is afraid of every part for the reason that being pregnant,” he replied.
A flash brightened the sky, and some moments later, the sound of a distant blast swept over us. Mostafa left his half-smoked cigarette on the sting of the sill and hurried to examine on Sahar. I noticed a vibrant orange flame to the east of us exterior. Apropos of nothing, or every part, I considered “The Wall,” Jean-Paul Sartre’s quick story set in the course of the Spanish Civil Warfare: A number of prisoners huddle in a basement, ready to be shot and questioning in regards to the ache to return—whether or not it could be higher to take a bullet to the face or to the intestine. I imagined myself within the midst of that explosion, questioned whether or not shattered glass or falling metal beams and concrete can be what killed me.
Mostafa reappeared. I requested how Sahar was doing.
“She’s nonetheless studying,” he stated. “I feel it was the Tehranpars district they simply hit.”
“No, it appeared to me prefer it was Resalat,” I stated. Then, after a pause: “You bear in mind how in the course of the battle with Iraq, if anybody ever smoked in entrance of a window they’d say the man is suicidal? For years, my father had blankets nailed over all our home windows, to ensure our lights weren’t seen from exterior.”
“They are saying the identical factor now,” Mostafa stated. “‘Don’t stand in entrance of home windows.’ However I feel it makes no distinction. The extra superior know-how will get, the much less room you need to disguise. Window or no window means nothing.”
June 20
I’d imagined that getting inside Shariati Hospital with out a press ID can be inconceivable. However as with nearly every part else in Iran, entry was a matter of getting a contact.
The hallways have been filled with injured individuals, workers operating each which means—multiple TV crew appeared totally misplaced on first coming into the constructing. At one level, somebody introduced that the hospital was full and must redirect the newly injured elsewhere.
I caught my head into rooms, as if in search of somebody I’d misplaced. That was believable sufficient beneath the circumstances that nobody paid me any thoughts. After some time, I started to really feel as if I actually had misplaced any individual. The hospital had turn into a discipline of haphazard physique elements, the odor of Betadine infusing every part.
A person sat fairly nonetheless within the hallway, most of his face seemingly gone and wrapped in gauze. One other man had misplaced a hand. He stared quietly on the ceiling with a unusually beatific look, as if his face was fabricated from clay that was now drying with the impression of an previous smile that wouldn’t go away.
In a single room, a TV crew interviewed a girl. She described the second her dwelling exploded. First, she’d heard a number of blasts within the distance. She instructed her husband and little one to get away from the window. Then a flash, and your complete constructing trembled. Their condominium had been on the third flooring, however when she opened her eyes, she was within the first-floor parking zone. Rescue staff nonetheless hadn’t discovered a hint of her husband or little one. She started to cry, and I retreated again into the hallway, the place an previous man sat on his knees, praying. He was sporting a thick, black winter skullcap regardless of the warmth. He appeared up at me and stated, “Half the home is gone. The opposite half stays. My son and daughter-in-law have been within the different half.”
“Are all of them proper?” I requested him.
The previous man didn’t reply and went again to his praying. After some time, he began to weep. A half minute later got here the sounds of air defenses. A girl screamed, pointing on the window, whereas a number of others tried to calm her down.
Exterior, an ambulance wailed into the lot. Two days earlier, ambulances had been directed to show off their sirens in order to not add to the overall nervousness. However at present, the alarms have been again. I used to be in no particular hurry to get to my subsequent vacation spot, however by some means I discovered myself speed-walking, even operating, towards the tackle.
The girl individuals had been calling the “cat woman” stood at her door, trying previous me as if right into a burning forest. I adopted her to the kitchen, the place she handed me a glass of lemonade. There needed to be a number of dozen cats in that home—perhaps 60 or extra. The girl tiptoed amongst them like somebody strolling in a shallow pool of water. “Solely 12 are mine,” she stated. “The remaining—their homeowners have been dropping off right here the previous few days.”
“How come they don’t battle with one another?” I requested. I’ve had my share of cats and know that they don’t readily share area with their very own variety.
She stated, “In regular instances, sure. They’d battle. However it’s as in the event that they know what’s happening. After they first get right here, they take one go searching after which discover a nook and sit quietly and wait.” Throughout explosions, the cats would huddle collectively or disguise beneath the furnishings.
I requested her whether or not she was additionally afraid. She smiled. “When you need to deal with this many cats, you don’t have time to be afraid.”
A tabby with huge, orange eyes rubbed in opposition to her ankles. She bent down to select up the animal and caress it. Some individuals had deserted their home pets on the streets once they left town, she instructed me. They’d little probability of surviving. She’d turn into the cat woman by posting an advert: For completely free, she was keen to deal with anybody’s cat.
“My greatest drawback proper now’s discovering sufficient litter and dry meals for them,” she instructed me. “All of the pet outlets are closed. I attempt to give them moist meals that I prepare dinner myself. However a whole lot of them aren’t used to it and get diarrhea.”
She instructed me that one pet-shop proprietor she knew had promised to return again to Tehran that night time with provides. I contemplated that as I completed a second lemonade: A pet-shop proprietor returning to Tehran beneath bombardment to ensure these cats have litter and meals.
Again exterior, the sky was quiet. Transferring by way of the again alleys of the Yusefabad neighborhood, I discovered myself hurrying once more, though I had no thought why.
June 24
A seemingly steady flood of vehicles was returning to town. Right here and there, an anti-aircraft gun would go off for a second, however nobody appeared up on the sky anymore. Taxicabs have been nonetheless uncommon and really costly, however the metro and buses had been made free for everybody, in any respect hours.
I made a decision to go to my writer, Cheshmeh bookstore, on Karim Khan Avenue. My newest e book got here out only a month in the past, however the battle froze every part, e book launches particularly.
Cheshmeh had hung a white banner exterior. It learn: Our shelter is the bookstore. The phrases gave me a heat feeling after days of worry. Inside, the shop smelled of paper. A number of of my previous author pals have been there, amid a crowd speaking about politics.
A younger man with drained eyes was exhibiting his cellphone display screen to 2 others and saying, “Have a look at what they’re writing about me. ‘He’s within the regime’s pay.’ Have a look at all these horrible emojis and feedback. And why? Simply because I posted one thing saying, ‘I pity our nation and I’m in opposition to any foreigners attacking it.’”
“They write this form of rubbish about all of us,” a middle-aged man supplied. “Don’t take it severely. For all we all know, they’re simply stress teams and bots.”
The younger man didn’t need to hear it. “If I used to be within the pay of the federal government, don’t you assume I ought to personal a house by now a minimum of? I’ve misplaced rely of what number of pages of my books they’ve censored over time. People like us, we take beatings from each side.”
A gray-haired lady with a blue scarf over her shoulders stated to him, “Do and say what you assume is true, my son. Some individuals need to combine every part collectively.” She had a kindly voice that appeared to calm the younger man down somewhat bit.
From behind me, somebody stated, “I worry this cease-fire is a hoax.”
One other voice replied, “No, it’s actually over. America entered to ensure they wrap it up.”
I purchased a newly translated e book by a Korean creator, chatted somewhat extra with pals, and left, taking one final have a look at that miraculous white banner: Our shelter is our bookstore.
I had hardly slept for the reason that U.S. assault on Iran’s nuclear websites two days earlier. At my pal Nasser’s home, in the course of the lengthy night time of explosions, I’d fastened my gaze on a small chandelier that by no means stopped quivering. The final night time of the battle was absolutely the worst. A couple of hours after the world had introduced an imminent cease-fire, Nasser’s home windows have been open. The acquainted flash, the following rattle and jolt. Nasser ran out of the kitchen with moist palms, shouting, “Didn’t the fools announce a cease-fire?”
The explosions got here in seemingly countless waves. I used to be within the rest room when one shook the constructing to what felt like the purpose of collapse. The lights went out, and there was a sound of shattering glass. I noticed Nasser in the lounge. He was making an attempt to face up however couldn’t. That chandelier had lastly damaged into 100 little items. Nasser stated nothing, which was unusual. I turned on my telephone’s flashlight and shone it at him. He didn’t look proper and stored his hand over the facet of his stomach. I turned the sunshine to that space and noticed blood.
“What occurred?”
“I’ve little items of glass inside me.”
“We’ve to go to the hospital.”
“We are able to’t go now. Let’s go sit beneath the stairway. It’s safer there.”
The constructing was empty. Everybody else appeared to have left town. Nasser couldn’t: He was {an electrical} engineer for the nationwide railway and needed to stay at his put up.
Beneath the steps didn’t really feel safer. The constructing was previous and flimsy. I had the sensation that yet one more blast would ship the entire thing crashing down on us. I examined Nasser’s wound beneath the flashlight. It was about eight inches lengthy, however not very deep and never bleeding an excessive amount of. I closed my eyes and tried to think about that we have been some other place when, from exterior, I began to listen to laughter and voices. I checked out Nasser to see whether or not I used to be imagining issues. His face was chalk white, however he, too, had heard them.
I opened the door to the skin. 4 youngsters have been standing proper there, in the midst of the road, watching the fireworks within the skies over Tehran with pleasure. One of many boys was holding an enormous sandwich, and the ladies have been decked out within the regalia of younger goth and steel followers the world over. If it hadn’t been for the sound of explosions, I might have imagined I’d been thrown into one other time and dimension altogether.
The children appeared thrilled to have run into us. One of many boys requested, “What’s taking place, hajji?”
“My pal’s been injured.”
“Harmful?”
“I’m unsure. I’m considering I ought to take him to a hospital.”
“You need assistance?”
I backed Nasser’s automobile out of the storage. It was caked with mud and bits of chipped wall. The children helped us, and two of them even volunteered to trip alongside to the hospital. The sounds of explosions retreated as we drove, however the silence that adopted was deep and by some means foreboding.
Nasser obtained stitched up pretty rapidly. Daybreak mild was filtering into the emergency-room ready space as we ready to go away, individuals murmuring to at least one one other that the cease-fire had begun. I appeared round for the children who’d include us to the hospital. They have been gone. I thought of how, years from now, they’d assume again on that night time, and I questioned how their recollections would evaluate with Nasser’s and mine.
That was the final night time. Now, leaving the bookstore, I went to the bus terminal at Azadi Sq.. Tehran was again in full swing; coming and going have been simple too. I purchased a ticket to Bandar Anzali and, as I boarded, took one final have a look at the Azadi Sq. monument—a chic testimonial to the lengthy struggling of contemporary Iran. The very subsequent day, June 25, the Tehran Symphonic Orchestra was set to carry a free live performance within the sq.. It was already laborious to consider that this metropolis had simply skilled a battle.
*Photograph-illustration by Jonelle Afurong / The Atlantic. Supply: PATSTOCK / Getty; duncan1890 / Getty; fotograzia / Getty; natrot / Getty; Morteza Nikoubazl / NurPhoto / Getty; Getty.
