bout de papier, Vol. 29, No. 2 (2016), pp. 16–19
invaded and annexed the o
When I was assigned to Kuwait City in early January 1989, my first posting, the Iran—Irag war was just beginning to wind down after eight grinding years.
By mid-July 1990, a belligerent Iraq had begun to buildup force along its southern border with Kuwait. Most in the diplomatic and intelligence community considered this mere sabre rattling, an act of intimidation, or a method to settle Baghdad’s long-standing financial and territorial claims. Iraq said it wanted Kuwait to cut it some slack on more than $60 billion it owed to the Kuwaitis for war debts and to reduce its oil output — or at least so it was thought.
The new Canadian Embassy in Kuwait had a rooftop terrace and was located close to the Persian Gulf, within sight of the Iraqi Embassy. A view of the central business district, with the emir’s palace in the distance, made the mission ideally situated to observe the Iraqi invasion force.
What follows is an account of the uncertain life of a young foreign service officer taken from a rough, personal journal of sorts, written during three weeks spent under Iraqi occupation, and from my recollections twenty-five years later.
Week 1 (2-8 August 1990)
Thursday’s headlines seemed a bit incongruous as we arrived at the office “Jeddah Talks End… More Needed.”
night before I had watched the Crown Prince of Kuwait, Sheikh Saad, return from talks with Iraq in Saudi Arabia. The arrival of the Sheik’s entourage was fascinating to watch, particularly at a time of heightened tension. Everyone of importance arrived at the airport to greet the returning Sheikh with a kiss on the shoulder, a touch of noses, or a simple handshake — each signifying rank, kinship and loyalty.
I rag said it wanted Kuwait to
cut it some slack on more than $60 billion it owed to the Kuwaitis
for war debts and to reduce its oil output — or at least so it was thought.
I awoke at 5:45 on August 2, 1990, shortly after the call to prayer, to the sound of low flying fighter jets. Soon after, the gate buzzer rang. It was the Duty Officer, Ron Waugh. “Let’s go” he said, “it’s begun”. Standing outside, glinting into the early morning sun, you could hear a low rumble in the distance of what turned out to be artillery fire.
Late summer in the Gulf meant that most of Kuwait’s leadership, senior officials and Embassy staff were all on leave, including Canadian Ambassador Larry Dickenson. We held our first extended briefing session with Bill Bowden, the Chargé d’affaires; Michel Tétu, Senior Trade Commissioner and his spouse Ingrid; MCO Ron Waugh and his spouse Sharon; Communicator Brian Friebel and his spouse Louise; Marianne Kurjata, the Ambassador’s Assistant, and myself, Second Secretary and Vice Consul.
The Iragis had crossed into Kuwait around 2 a.m. and were shelling what appeared to be the Dasman Palace at the edge of the central business district. We could hear the artillery in the distance and see black plumes of smoke drifting upward, mixing with the summer haze. The often conflicting information received that day made for considerable confusion: the Emir was dead; no, the Emir was in Saudi Arabia; his palace was on fire; the government had fallen, a new provisional government of Kuwaiti revolutionaries opposed to the ruling Sabah family had been formed.
“Luton to the roof.” Bill said to me. “T want reports every 15 minutes on what’s happening out there.” “Start calling all local staff, we need the translator and at least two Arabic speakers”. I reached Mohammad first. “It looks like we will have to postpone our tennis game for another week Mohammad.” “Why?” he asked. “The Iraqis have entered the City and are coming our way.”
Rosie, the Ambassador’s maid, had been fielding calls since early morning. Our primary concern was that Canadians, other foreign nationals and possibly even Kuwaitis might seek refuge at the Residence. The decision was made to bring her to the Embassy along with the Ambassador’s driver, Houcine, his wife and four young children. I was designated to get a Canadian flag onto a car quickly and to go and get them. No cameras, no getting out of the car. We were taking no chances.
The Canadian Embassy is on the third ring road — one of a series of six concentric roads emanating from the city centre. While these modern four lane highways made the city easy to move around in, they also made it surprisingly easy for the Iraqis to control the capital in less than a day. By 10 o’clock the invasion force was already in control of the second ring road.
I overheard a telephone conversation with the British Embassy on my way out the door. Their Chancery had taken some close hits due to its proximity to the emir’s palace, which was still under fire, and where some of the heaviest fighting took place.
The roads were relatively empty en route to the Residence. I saw a white flag on a nearby medical clinic and a pile of bloodied uniforms littered the ground nearby. An ambulance rushed by in hurried silence.
On our return to the Embassy, we passed a convoy of more than a dozen tanks on the Gulf Road, tracks clattering on the pavement — an eerie, mechanized, rattling sound I still recall. The Commander was standing erect in the lead tank. We came at him from behind and held our breath. His mustache, jet black hair, revolver and imposing demeanour made him look like Saddam himself. (Had the tank commander seen Donald Sutherland in Kelly’s Heroes, or was I imagining?). He let us pass by, slowly, without incident. We start to breathe again.
I woke up on day two of the invasion having slept on the floor of my office and feeling saddened by it all. From the Embassy rooftop, the sky is clear and, the temperature surprisingly moderate. The street remains quiet for that hour and the sun creates a trough of light on the stippled waters of the Gulf, like a child’s painting of an imagined sunrise. On the second floor of the Embassy, the BBC is sounding its sombre tone from the inner sanctum of the Coms Centre: the CIA had missed the threat; stringent UN sanctions have been put in place; no one thought Saddam would actually invade the entire country, which is why the US Ambassador in Baghdad was on holidays.
By Saturday, day three, there were already alarming changes to be seen. Several dozen tanks had dug-in and soldiers filled the median of the Gulf Road. Tank barrels peered out from under soiled
The Commander was standing ere
him from behind and held our bre: revoiver and imposing demeanour m (Had the tank commander seen Doi
or was I imagining?). He let us pe We start to br
and tattered canopies, put there to shelter the soldiers from the intense August sun. Incongruous colours adorned the tanks showing off goods pilfered en route. Iraqi tanks and troops were also consolidating their positions in the south, close to the Saudi border where most of Kuwait’s oil fields are located.
At the brief morning meeting, Bill asked me to follow-up on a consular case. “Call on that guy at the Sheraton. I understand he’s been released.”
Driving to the Sheraton roundabout was one of the few areas we ventured into within the battered “war zone” of the city centre. Jammal, our most gregarious of drivers said a prayer while buckling up. “You scared?” he asked, flashing a silver tooth. “Me too,” he said, without waiting for an answer.
Burnt out vehicles littered the side of the road as we approached the Sheraton. A water main had been shattered and we plowed on, axle deep in muddy water. Plants were already beginning to die everywhere under the scorching sun. We pass the Yemeni Embassy where large crowds of impoverished guest workers have formed since the beginning of the crisis. Very large Iraqi missiles sit on a tractor trailer stationed in the roundabout in front of the hotel, pointing out to sea.
Sitting in my darkened villa in Bayan, I feel incredibly alone. On day five I get up in silence, shower and leave my house. The Gulf Road is open from Messila to Salmiya. Troops looked ready to make a move further south as they were already up and packed. Further on, soldiers slept everywhere — in the shadow of walls and along the hedges of the median. A number of tanks were still in place, along with some heavy anti-aircraft guns and a few pieces of artillery. At Salmiya I am turned back. For a second day the Gulf Road to the Embassy has been closed, likely the
result of Kuwaiti armed resistance nearby.
rect in the lead tank. We came at sath. His mustache, jet black hair, nade him look like Saddam himself. onald Sutherland in Kelly’s Heroes, ass by, slowly, without incident. reathe again.
I report my findings when I arrive at the Embassy and learn more about last night’s consular-related phone calls. The whereabouts of 35 western hostages still remain unknown. Luckily, none of them appeared to be Canadian.
On August 6, UN Resolution 661 imposed stringent sanctions on all trade to and from Iraq except for medicine and in humanitarian circumstances. While things had been relatively calm previously, the Iraqis now appeared to be toughening their stand and consolidating their annexation of Kuwait. Hussein was quoted as saying that “the Iraqi and Kuwaiti people prefer death over humiliation.” Since a so-called Arab solution to the crisis did not appear imminent, we wondered aloud when some kind of joint military action by our allies could be expected.
The air is grey. A man stands on a corner not far from the Embassy in a haze, half crazed, directing traffic which does not respond to his rants. A summer dust storm is brewing and the palm fronds outside our window are lashing around in a gentle frenzy. Suddenly, calm falls over the street and light flickers from a nearby mosque due, in part, to lingering dust and smoke from the invasion.
By day six, we all feel increasingly vulnerable. I have moved to the Embassy. I do not expect to return home to Bayan until the crisis is over. For the first time I begin to wonder seriously what it would be like to be taken hostage by the Iragis or to have to take some form of direct action in our own self defence if conditions deteriorate further.
Later in the day, the news, finally is a bit more encouraging. Turkey has cut off shipments of oil by pipeline from Iraq. Saudi Arabia has deployed missiles on its borders, while naval reinforcements are en route through the Suez Canal. More than 50 warships were reportedly approaching the crisis area. The Americans were sending troops to Saudi Arabia, to arrive the following morning, “in defence of US bases.” This later became known as Operation Protective Shield.
Week 2 (9-15 August 1990)
We are now into week two and, incongruously, the Embassy finds itself providing temporary shelter for a parrot named Basel. A blue and white macaw, he is soon able to imitate the sound of the heavy door opening and closing into the secure zone. This provides an unnerving distraction for the watch officer who thinks each time it occurs that a late night visitor has unexpectedly arrived.
We learn that Irag has made peace with Iran — giving in on a number of issues which had stalled peace talks for years. On August 9th, UN Resolution 662 unanimously declares Iraq’s annexation of Kuwait is null and void and the BBC speaks of the rogue state possibly using chemical weapons. Hussein is now calling for Jihad — a holy war of revolution and insurrection throughout the Arab world, including the holy shrines of Mecca and Medina.
Coming north on the fourth ring road, a car has rammed an army truck and both have exploded and caught fire. In my former neighbourhood, a large crowd of Kuwaiti women are demonstrating loudly. Smoke plumes are seen around the city as abandoned cars are lit on fire. Tracer bullets stream late into the night. Two Kuwaiti resistance fighters who were sniping from a rooftop are killed. Meanwhile, the British Embassy calls to say that there has been a public execution of what we later learn to be an Iraqi soldier, hanging in a square near the Meridian Hotel.
On the afternoon of August 9, the BBC announces that Iraq’s borders are closed to all except diplomats. Later in the day, Baghdad Domestic Service in Arabic, in parallel with Baghdad Voice of the Masses, announces that a decree by Saddam requires all Embassies in Kuwait to relocate to Baghdad before August 14th. Following the announcement, calls begin in rapid succession from distressed Canadians as food supplies were running short and mobile phones no longer worked. People wondered what they should do, and if they should try and get to Baghdad by land. The phones also ring with no one on the other end, or with the sound of someone’s disturbed laughter before hanging up abruptly.
By Friday, day nine, we had called local staff not to come in. Heavily armed Iraqi soldiers arrive at the gate of the Embassy saying they have come to stand guard or, perhaps more accurately, to keep a better eye on us. They are wearing combat dress, the red berets of an elite unit and red braid on their shoulders.
A British citizen is reported shot while trying to assist Kuwaitis who were fired upon while trying to cross the desert into Saudi Arabia. The Bedouin are charging approximately 375 KD (approximately $1,500 CDN) to smuggle people across the Saudi border by way of the old camel routes that their fathers once travelled. The Embassy advises Canadians not to try “unconventional” routes to escape from Kuwait.
Week 3 (16-21 August 1990)
By mid-August it was all a bit of a blur really, with long periods of tedium and odd moments of sheer adrenalin. Some Iraqi soldiers were reportedly beginning to trade their guns for clothes and cigarettes. An ammunition truck exploded on the fifth ring road, the cause of explosion unknown, although the remains of a white Cadillac could be seen among the tangled wreckage.
Iraq announced that the time was to be moved to coincide with “Baghdad time” and to advance our clocks one hour. Hospital names were also changed — Amir Hospital was renamed Union Hospital while another was named after Saddam Hussein. Clinics and hospitals were now staffed with Iraq: doctors and nurses, apparently picked up at night by the military in Baghdad and driven to Kuwait, not knowing where they would eventually end up.
Turkish and other favoured nationals were allowed to begin an evacuation by bus. Iragi TV reported the only other countries permitted to leave at that time were Austria, Switzerland, Sweden, Finland, Norway and Portugal.
A Canadian reported Iraqis collecting British and American men when they went to petrol stations and food cooperatives. As a result, he said he and his housemates had gone “underground.” Other Canadians continued to go in convoys to the border each day to try and cross into Saudi Arabia, only to be turned back.
On my way to the warehouse district to continue our search for food and bottled water supplies, burnt-out military vehicles lay scattered about wherever they had stalled. I saw a purebred Holstein cow heavy with milk in the back of a truck. Its companion dead, legs in the air, heavily bloated in the mid-morning sun. A fistfight broke out in an office adjoining where I was trying to make some purchases. The military, also tense from increased attacks by the resistance, now rode “shot gun” with at least one heavily armed soldier watching vehicles that followed too closely to try and stave off any attacks.
The meeting in the Ambassadors’ office on Thursday, August 16 was a decisive one. We all report on our activities with the usual quips and camaraderie, however, that day we were particularly quiet with the thought of going to Baghdad weighing heavily. Those who will remain in Kuwait, we think, are in for a long haul.
I am not the only one unconvinced about making the 650 km trek to Baghdad when a prolonged war with Iraq seemed imminent. Ottawa was calling it an “evacuation” but it felt a more like flying to Berlin in 1939. In the end, it is decided that Ron and Sharon, Brian and Louise and, of course, Bill would stay. The rest of us would go to Baghdad.
What would be our fate in Baghdad? It would either be relatively straightforward and we would proceed to our final destination, or, if our worst nightmare came true, we would be detained in Iraq as bargaining chips. Diplomatic immunity, as we had seen, meant nothing to Hussein.
Bill read out a telex message from Ambassador Dickenson to raise our spirits. The Ambassador had tried to return to Kuwait several times from both the Saudi and Jordanian borders but was turned back each time. He sent us his very best wishes along with a bit of a pep talk. This we found quite poignant, as we moved quietly into the final hours before our departure.
On August 18, UN Resolution 664 unanimously demanded that Iraq allow foreign nationals to leave Iraq and Kuwait and rescind its order to close diplomatic missions in Kuwait. The following day, Saddam in a TV message noted how Baghdad had ruled Kuwait in the past. “If the US and UK pull out their forces from Saudi Arabia and the Gulf and cancel the embargo, or if Bush sends a clear notice saying he has the intention of doing so, then foreigners will be able to travel with no hold-ups.” The European and American people “should advise their governments to pull out, or abide to the above points, or else we will suffer together.” If a war starts, Hussein ominously declared, “we are both going to have thousands of orphans”.
On August 19th BBC news announced that westerners in Kuwait were requested by the Iraqi military to report to the Meridian, Kuwait International and Regency Hotels.
The stated aim was to protect them. The Military Authority said it would not be responsible for the safety of those who did not comply. The British First Secretary called soon after saying Iraqi soldiers had rounded up an additional 50 British citizens and put them in military installations and that consular officers were not allowed to see them. The British later called back to report that the Iraqis had taken other westerners and possibly Canadians from the University Apartment Complex in Shuwaikh. Luckily, our wardens reported no Canadians had been detained.
Iraqi TV announced on August 20th that all foreigners in Baghdad must report immediately to the Immigration Department. A speech by Saddam the following day again focused on his detention of foreign nationals and argued that this practice was “averting a greater harm by doing a lesser harm”. He noted that America had interned people during WWII and, while he regretted banning travel for some people, “it is to prevent the crime of aggression which would be committed by the US.”
By Wednesday August 22, 1990, we are left few choices by the Iraqis. Six Canadian diplomats and spouses reluctantly leave for the airport, each with a single piece of hand luggage to catch a flight to Baghdad.
Epilogue: After three weeks living in occupied Kuwait, the Embassy was forced to downsize and the author flew to Baghdad on an Iraq Airways flight. Following his journey to Baghdad he spent three months detained in Iraq as a “guest” of Saddam Hussein. Stripped of diplomatic immunity, the Iraqi authorities did not allow western diplomats from Kuwait to leave Iraq until December 9th 1990 when they and other westerners were released.
Gary Luton is currently Director of the Treaty Law Division. His most recent postings abroad were as Head of Mission in Doha, Qatar and, prior, as Consul General in Mumbai.
Originally published in bout de papier, Vol. 29, No. 2 (2016), pp. 16–19. Read the rest of this issue →
