Anniversary of Iraqi Invasion of Kuwait

Twenty-six ago today I woke up in Kuwait to a country just invaded. Shirley and I are writing a memoir of the time, and an excerpt follows.

I had been downtown shopping for a new TV, and I had never seen Kuwait City so quiet. After Shirley’s call from Augusta, I switched on the news. The August 1, 1990 report on the evening TV was even blander than it had been on preceding days, and I should have been suspicious. The Ministry of Information Station, KTV-2, was known for its commitment to boring news, often featuring videos of the Emir greeting his guests of the day, and that evening the station was at its tedious best. The young Kuwaiti woman with no hair covering and the British accent said, “Kuwaiti and Iraqi ministers continue to discuss grievances in the peaceful setting of Jeddah. Hosni Mubarak, mediating the conference on behalf of the Arab League, remains confident in a peaceful resolution.” There was no mention of troop deployments or any intention of hostilities. Kuwait was safe.

But what the Kuwait TV gal didn’t say was that the problem was a big deal. It was a giant cat against a little mouse. Kuwait had supported their northern Arab neighbor, loaning the Iraqis nearly twenty billion dollars in their war against Iran. The Iraqis didn’t want to pay it back, maybe they couldn’t, and they wanted the northern Kuwaiti oil fields, perhaps as far south as Mutla Ridge, the highest point in Kuwait. Mutla was the rocky escarpment north of the city running parallel to the Subiya Motorway.

The Iraqis had accused the Kuwaitis of “slant drilling,” meaning the Kuwaiti drillers aimed their oilrig drills under the border and into Iraqi oilfields in order to steal Iraq’s main source of revenue. The Iraqis claimed it was their land anyway based on old maps, which existed prior to the British re-drawing the map of the Middle East. All these accusations had been in the news for months, and there was nothing new in the Iraqi demands.

But the two sides were talking and making progress, at least that’s what the news lady said. In fact, by the time of the news broadcast, we later learned, the peace conference had pretty much dissolved.

A week earlier, the Emir had offered his poetic description of the negotiations, a “Summer Cloud.” A summer cloud in Kuwait has no antecedent and no consequence. There is no rain before it and none after. Thus, the remark was designed to reassure the populace, at least the small number who remained in Kuwait during the summer heat. The Emir had said all was well in Kuwait. I had no reason, other than Shirley’s concerning phone call that evening, to worry about Saddam.

And I had even convinced Shirley of the peace of Kuwait. “Well, ok Jimmy, I guess we’ll see you soon at the airport in Kuwait.”

At 2 AM the first explosions began, and I woke up. Because of Shirley’s warning I hadn’t slept well anyway, and as soon as the jets roared over the city, I knew. Commercial jets never sounded like that, and they never flew so low over the city. All the explosions were in the distance at first but they were repeated with only brief interruptions. The booms moved closer to our home.

And the great experience began. What followed was the longest siege of a US Embassy in American history, and I was privileged to be there for the show.