The Blue-Eyed General, Father of Iran’s Modern Air Force

In every corner of Iran, we still witness the memory of thunderous jet engines once cutting through its skies with pride, marking the height of Iran’s aerial power. At the center of that time in history stood Sepahbod Nader Jahanbani (1928–1979), not just a military officer, but the driving force behind a generation of pilots and the architect of a modern air force. He built it with discipline, precision, and pride. From the runways of Shiraz and Bushehr, F-4 Phantom IIs lifted into the air, each flight a declaration of national strength. But in the upheaval of 1979, his service became his sentence. Arrested without charge, tried without justice, he was executed by the very country he had served. Still, his legacy refuses to fade. For many, his name stands for what was and what could be again.

Born on April 16, 1928, into a distinguished lineage of Qajar princes, Jahanbani known as Blue-Eyes General, inherited a martial legacy from his father, Lieutenant General Amanullah Jahanbani, a stalwart under both Reza Shah and Mohammad Reza Pahlavi. When the Shah fled in 1979, family and friends begged him to escape. He refused. “I am a soldier of this land; my duty is to stay,” he declared, steel in his voice. On February 11, revolutionaries seized him. Denied counsel, thrust into a sham trial alongside other Pahlavi officials, he stood accused of “waging war on God,” “spreading corruption on earth,” and serving the deposed Shah—labels scrawled on a placard around his neck: “Agent of Corruption.” With no evidence offered, the verdict was death. At dawn on March 13, 1979, age 50, he faced the firing squad in Qasr Prison’s courtyard. His final breath carried one defiant phrase: “Long live Iran.” His estates vanished into state hands. His son languished in custody for six months, released only when the courts produced no charges. 

Decades later, on July 25, 2025, in Munich, His Imperial Highness Crown Prince Reza Pahlavi summoned 50,000 exiles, defectors, and reformists to the Convention of National Cooperation to Save Iran. Against a backdrop of banners and fervent applause, Jahanbani’s daughter rose to speak. Addressing current and former military officers, she invoked her father’s legacy as a moral imperative: “Above loyalty to regimes, the loyalty of military officers must remain to the innocent people of Iran. Stand by the nation, not the institution. Reclaim your historical role.” Her voice rang like a clarion call—service to Iran transcends politics. 

During the reign of Mohammad Reza Shah, Iran’s Imperial Air Force earned a place among the world’s most advanced military aviation programs. Pilots trained on U.S. soil alongside American squadrons. Iran became one of only three nations to deploy the F-4 Phantom II at full strength, and the sole country beyond America to field the F-14 Tomcat with its AIM-54 Phoenix missiles, an aerial shield over the Persian Gulf. But it was more than machinery. It was discipline, precision, and a shared conviction that each pilot wore not just a uniform, but the honor of a civilization. 

The Islamic Republic inherited this titanic force and systematically tore it down. Veteran aviators were purged. The vaunted Golden Crown squadron dissolved. High-level training ground to a halt. Those who remained served under ideologically selected commanders, their skills sidelined. Today, Artesh pilots keep aging Phantoms aloft by scrounging spare parts, while the IRGC, loyal only to the regime, commands vast military and economic empires devoted to internal repression, not air defense. 

Sepahbod Nader Jahanbani’s life stands as a testament: true loyalty lies with the nation and its people, not with transient regimes. What he built in the skies became more than military might—it was a reflection of Iran’s spirit and reach. Long after his execution, Jahanbani’s memory lives on the conscience of a nation still searching for men like him.