A week of fire and marches: Iran counts its dead as US-Israeli war shapes daily life

Last week, Iran lived inside a war it cannot escape.

Airstrikes and missile exchanges have carved through the country from north to south, from the industrial outskirts of Ahvaz to the residential squares of central Tehran.

By the end of this week, the Iranian Ministry of Health reported more than 1,300 dead—among them hundreds of women and children—and roughly 10,000 wounded, thousands of them critically. At least 25 hospitals have sustained damage; several have gone entirely out of service.

The week began where the previous one left off, with sirens.

'We no longer talk about small numbers'

Dr Behrouz Mohebbi, 50, an emergency physician at Rasalat Hospital in Tehran, has not slept a full night in weeks. "This has been the hardest period of my entire professional life," he said. "At first, we received scattered casualties. Then, as the days passed, we were dealing with continuous waves of injuries from airstrikes and missile attacks on Tehran."

The hospital's wards are overwhelmed. Beds are full, equipment is running short, and the triage decisions that doctors are forced to make carry a weight that Mohebbi describes in plain, devastating terms. "Some victims we could not save because of the shortage of equipment and the sheer volume of injuries," he said. "Every day I see families who have lost loved ones, parents searching for their children amid the rubble and the chaos."

His estimate—more than 1,300 dead or critically wounded in this week alone, with a notable rise in child casualties as strikes hit schools and residential neighbourhoods—matches the ministry figures, though he acknowledged that precise numbers remain difficult to confirm in real time.

Across the city and beyond, at least 25 hospitals have sustained damage ranging from minor to severe. Some took direct hits; others lost power or ran dry of fuel, forcing patients to seek care at facilities further afield. The pressure on medical staff working in dangerous conditions amid critical shortages has become its own humanitarian crisis within the larger one.

Strike by strike: what the week brought

The week's military picture was relentless. Israeli forces, operating with what Israeli and American officials described as intelligence support from Washington, conducted sustained strikes on what they characterised as priority military targets across multiple Iranian cities.

In Tehran, large explosions were heard across several districts. Residents reported air-raid sirens and the sound of missiles breaking through the capital's airspace, leaving significant damage to electricity and communications networks and causing civilian casualties in densely populated neighbourhoods. However, exact official figures have been difficult to obtain.

The strikes extended well beyond the capital. In Shiraz and Ahvaz industrial and economic centres, the Israeli military said it targeted sites linked to Iran's defence and missile infrastructure: weapons storage depots and logistical support facilities. The attacks triggered massive fires, sending thick columns of smoke across the sky that, on some days, blocked out the sun and measurably degraded air quality. Emergency responders worked to control the blazes under the threat of explosive drones and falling debris.

A separate, intense wave of strikes hit oil storage and refining facilities in and around Tehran and other cities, destroying key fuel storage tanks, temporarily shutting down supply lines, and spreading pollutants through surrounding urban and rural areas.

Iran's Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps did not stop firing. Throughout the week, the IRGC continued launching ballistic missiles and drones toward targets inside Israel and Gulf states in an effort to maintain military deterrence, even as Iranian air defence systems and missile launch sites absorbed heavy losses. In some border areas inside Iran, unexploded missile fragments fell in residential zones, causing property damage and civilian injuries among people with no connection to the military exchanges.

The most lethal single incident of the week came when a missile strike hit Rasalat Square in the heart of Tehran, killing at least 40 people and wounding dozens more.

The week also brought reports of escalating cyber operations. Iranian security authorities reported repeated intrusion attempts targeting government platforms and critical institutions, causing periodic disruption to digital services and official data systems, another front in a conflict that has long since outgrown the conventional battlefield.

'The fear didn't stop me from walking'

By Friday, Tehran's streets held two realities at once.

International Quds Day—the annual Iranian observance of solidarity with Palestinians—fell on 13 March this year, and the Iranian leadership chose to mark it visibly. Foreign Minister Abbas Araghchi, National Security Council Secretary Ali Larijani, and President Masoud Pezeshkian were among the senior officials who joined marches in Tehran and other cities, in what read as a deliberate display of state cohesion amid external pressure. Ministers, senior government officials, and members of the judiciary also attended.

Millions poured out into the streets.

Ali Rezaei, 42, a government employee from Tehran, was among them. He had left his house at dawn carrying a Palestinian flag and a sign reading "Jerusalem is ours."

"The atmosphere in the street was completely different," he said. "Thousands of citizens coming out despite the threats—some carrying children on their shoulders, others raising photos of the martyrs. All of this made me feel that we are one community, and that our collective voice is louder than any threat or fear."

He had been genuinely afraid. "I was tense about the possibility of any targeting," he said. "But the fear didn't stop me from walking with everyone. With each step, I felt I was part of something larger."

Zahra Hosseini, 21, a university student who travelled from Qom, described the moment she entered the main square and saw the crowds. "I felt something I had never felt before," she said. "The scene was extraordinary, the colours of flags flying, national chants rising, the sound of slogans filling the space. Every person around me seemed determined to send a clear message to the world."

She had followed the news about the strikes before leaving home. "The fear wasn't negative; it was a motivator to be present with full awareness," she said. "Just to be a witness to this event."

Hussein Kazemi, 65, a retired Tehrani, had prepared since the day before, gathering an old Palestinian flag and pamphlets he had kept from years of supporting the resistance.

For him, the march was addressed not to the world but to his own children and grandchildren. "I felt with every step that I was carrying a message to future generations," he said, "that steadfastness and adherence to values do not erode with time."

Fatima Mousavi, 34, a housewife from Tehran, attended with her husband and child. "The participation was an experience full of contradictory feelings, pride at being part of this event, and fear for my safety and my family's safety," she said. "But I couldn't stay at home."

She watched children running between the crowds, young people raising banners, and older women encouraging those around them. "I felt that all this movement was not just a march, but a collective act with human and political meaning together," she remarked.

An explosion at Ferdowsi Square

Then, as the main Tehran march was underway, a powerful explosion hit Ferdowsi Square, near the central gathering point. One woman was killed. Others were wounded; there was material damage in the surrounding area. No official confirmation of the source or nature of the blast had been issued by the time of this report. Still, the expectation, given weeks of military escalation between Iran, Israel, and the United States, is that it was connected to that conflict.

The explosion transformed what was meant to be a public act of solidarity into a scene that crystallised the week's essential contradiction: a state staging its largest annual commemoration while a war plays out on its own soil.

Beyond the strikes and the marches, daily life in Tehran this week bent under the accumulated weight. Schools and businesses suspended operations or shifted to remote arrangements. Residents in some suburban districts packed essentials and moved temporarily to areas further from the large cities, fearing repeat strikes. Food prices are rising; basic goods are increasingly scarce.

The city has learned to live with the sirens. It has not learned to live with what follows them.

Dr Mohebbi, still at his post as this week ended, put it plainly: "This war has not only affected the military fronts. It has struck at the heart of Iranian civil society, and revealed the fragility of daily life in the face of sudden violence."

This story was published in collaboration with Egab.