Saddam's Secrets Read online

  Saddam was glad to know that he wasn’t the target of his own pilots, but he nevertheless ordered the commander at that base to relieve the pilot of his duties. He didn’t want him in the air force anymore, so the young man was retired. But, given the options, which were death by hanging or retirement, I’m sure he felt this was a more than satisfactory solution. Later, when I was asked to help form the new Iraqi Ministry of Defense in 2003, I proposed that this man be brought in as deputy to the air force commander. So Col. Attayeh was promoted to the rank of general, and he even served for a time as deputy commander of the air force.

  There were many short-term assignments of this sort during my four years of retirement, but by 1990 I could see the storm clouds rising on the horizon. By all rights, I shouldn’t have been surprised by the next call I received from Saddam. What he had in store for me this time, however, would bring an end to my farming career and would turn out to be one of the biggest challenges of my life.

  PART II

  CHAPTER 5

  A SUDDEN CHANGE OF PLANS

  On August 2, 1990, when I received an urgent phone call from the air force headquarters in Baghdad, I was told that Saddam had just ordered the army to invade Kuwait. They said that Gen. Georges Sada was the first officer Saddam had recalled to active duty. I was also told I was going to see the president, and that I would likely be called as an adviser for the air force.

  What was I to do? The law in Iraq said that if you were recalled to active duty and you didn’t go, you would be hanged. No questions asked. So I went. I went to the headquarters of the air force and met with Gen. Muzahim Hassan al-Tikriti, who had been a student of mine at one time. I was his flight instructor and squadron commander, and I gave him his first solo in the MiG-21 in 1971. At that time I had been his commanding officer, but now he was chief of the air force—in part because he also happened to be a cousin of Saddam Hussein.

  When I reported for duty, Gen. Muzahim said there were three things he wanted me to do. First, I was to find out the capabilities of the coalition air forces—that is, America, Britain, and any others who would be coming against Iraq. Second, he wanted to know the destructive capability and accuracy of the cruise missiles used by the United States Navy. And, third, he wanted to know the combined capability of the five American aircraft carriers that were being deployed in the Red Sea and the Persian Gulf, which we refer to in Iraq as the Arabian Gulf.

  Of all the assignments Muzahim could have given me, I was fortunate he had given me this one. I had taught all of this for ten years in all three military colleges—the Staff College, War College, and National Defense College—where I served as director of staff. Part of my responsibility in those days was to teach these very things, so I already had some of the material and I knew I could easily get the rest.

  The only thing I asked for from military intelligence was a current assessment of the number and distribution of American and coalition aircraft in the region. They told me which squadrons were in Oman and how many fighters they could deploy, how many were in Saudi Arabia, and so on, and they gave me an estimate of how many of each type of aircraft were in the region—Tornadoes, Harriers, Black Hawks, Jaguars, F16s, and so on. It eventually turned out to be about 2,700 combat aircraft, fully armed and ready for action.

  My task then was to do the analysis and report on how much damage these aircraft could inflict. It wasn’t a difficult assignment: this had been my daily bread for so many years. If all those aircraft were sent up, I could report on their exact capabilities, and I could do the same sort of assessment for the cruise missiles that, more than likely, would be launched either from the four carriers in the Persian Gulf or the USS Saratoga anchored in the Red Sea. In addition to missiles, some carriers could send up seventy or eighty aircraft, so that’s the kind of analysis I was asked to do.

  In addition to statistical data I had several videos that described all these weapons in detail and showed their destructive potential. The sad part was that I was given this assignment on August 2, 1990, after Iraqi tanks, helicopters, and aircraft had already crossed the border into Kuwait. Nevertheless, I began preparing the report, confident that I would be ready to make the presentation whenever I was called on to do so.

  A Dangerous Scheme

  Meanwhile, tensions continued to mount in the international community concerning the invasion and likely repercussions, and all sorts of resolutions were being passed by the United Nations. It seemed clear also that America and Britain were preparing to lead an offensive to drive the Iraqi Army out of Kuwait. In November 1990 I made a frightening discovery: Saddam had ordered the air force to begin planning for a major aerial assault against Israel. If the Americans were going to attack and force him to give up Kuwait, he said, then our pilots would be ready to attack Israel as soon as the first rockets hit, and they would extract a heavy price. They would attack in two massive, back-to-back assaults, with three types of chemical weapons: the nerve gas Tabun, as well as Sarin 1 and Sarin 2.

  The mission was to deploy ninety-eight of our best fighter aircraft—Russian Sukhois, French Mirages, and the MiGs—fueled and equipped to penetrate the Israeli borders through Jordan and Syria, but without telling either of those countries that we were coming. Clearly this would be an unauthorized invasion of Syrian and Jordanian air space, with payloads of deadly toxins. I was shocked that such an order could have been given; but I knew that if this mission ever took place, crossing restricted air space would be the least of our worries.

  A few days after I first learned about the plans, I got a call from the palace. They told me that Saddam was asking for me personally, and he wanted to see me in his office right away. So, again, I went to meet with the president, and I was surprised to see that the entire general staff was already assembled in the conference room when I arrived.

  Saddam had checked me out many times, and I think he respected me. I know why he trusted me: he couldn’t trust most of his generals to tell him the truth because of their fear of him and their allegiance to a religious or political agenda. Either they would say whatever Saddam wanted to hear, or they would say what was politically advantageous to their own people. So he would often say to me, “At least Georges will tell me the truth.” And even Saddam occasionally needed to hear the truth.

  I didn’t know why he had called me that day, but I knew it was going to be something very important. Several of the officers in the room were of higher rank than I was, but it was prearranged for me to sit right in front of Saddam. By right, my place should have been on the second row, but he had instructed his aides to put me on the first row, so that’s where I sat.

  When everyone was seated, Saddam made a few remarks and then he looked at me and said, “Georges, do you know why you’re here?” I said, “No, sir, but it’s a great pleasure to be here.” He said, “I’ve decided that the air force will attack Israel.” Suddenly I knew what this was all about. Although I had no idea where the conversation would end up, it was clear that Saddam was looking for justification for a decision he had already made.

  So I asked, “Attack Israel, sir?” and he said, “Yes, that’s right.” He gave me a moment to reflect on that, and then he began asking me all sorts of questions.

  The first question he asked was surprising. He said, “Georges, who’s stronger, Israel or Iraq?” I knew what he wanted me to say, but I had to be realistic. After all, the reason Saddam had called for me was because he knew I would answer him honestly and correctly. So I paused for a moment and said, “Sir, what you’re talking about is the difference between men who are blind and men who can see.”

  He looked at me quizzically and said, “What do you mean, Georges?” I said, “Sir, there are two groups, one which is blind and one which can see, and they’re preparing for battle.” “Yes,” he said, “and which is which? Which ones are blind and which ones can see?” “Unfortunately, sir,” I told him, “we’re the blind ones, and the Israelis are the ones who can see.” With that, Saddam erupt
ed. “Why!?”

  Believe me, I knew I was on shaky ground. Many good men had died for words less offensive than the ones I’d just spoken. Saddam had personally shot and killed high-ranking officers on the spot, and he had ordered men to be executed for thoughts or actions he only imagined. So before I answered the question, I decided to make one more defensive maneuver, and I said, “Sir, if I speak the truth to you now, will you, according to the custom of the Arabs, give me permission to speak freely, with immunity?” In other words, I was saying, Will you promise not to shoot the messenger?

  Saddam’s eyes were threatening, but he knew what I meant. What I was asking for was a centuries-old tradition among the desert Arabs, an oath sworn by tribal leaders to allow a messenger to speak freely without fear of being killed. As he folded his arms across his chest, Saddam said, “Yes, I give you immunity.” Then, more forcefully, he said, “Now tell me what you mean!” I had no choice but to answer him. I knew full well that he had given immunity to others in the same circumstances and they were hanged, but I was honor-bound to tell the truth. So I breathed a silent prayer, Lord, give me the courage to speak, and I spoke.

  Answering to Saddam

  From beginning to end, my answer took one hour and forty-one minutes. When I served as air vice marshal in the air force, I studied all these things in detail, so I had extensive knowledge of the military capabilities of the forces in our region, as well as those in Europe and North America. So I was able to cover those topics in detail. But the minute I finished, Saddam erupted once again in anger. Fortunately, this time the anger wasn’t directed at me but at the others who had not told him the truth about these things.

  Most of these men were eager to assure Saddam that two plus two is nine, because they knew that’s what he wanted to hear. But, thank God, Saddam listened to me, and that was a miracle in itself. He never listened to anyone. He had his own ideas, and he never wanted to be confronted by the facts if they would prevent him from doing whatever he had already decided to do.

  As an example of how far he would go, on one occasion Saddam sent me on a mission to England, the purpose of which was to persuade the English and American people to change their minds about him. He didn’t want to change himself in any way; he wanted to change England and America. Saddam was the kind of man who believed he could do whatever he wanted. After all, in Iraq Saddam could create generals and commanders and government officials with the wave of his hand, and he was sure he could command the English and Americans to believe he was a good and generous leader, and that they would actually do it.

  On another occasion, I was speaking to Saddam about the strength of our military and I remarked casually that America was the only remaining superpower. He immediately interrupted me and said, “Georges, don’t ever say that again. I never want to hear you say that.”

  And that’s how it went. If the facts didn’t please Saddam, he would just shut them out. It wasn’t only military matters; it was the same with the economy, with government statistics, or with numbers of any kind. He would deny realities so obvious they were common knowledge, often by saying that these things were just matters of mind over matter, or that they were spiritual facts. Of course, he was anything but a spiritual man. But Saddam lived each day in a fictional world of his own making.

  At one moment he would pretend he was the most ardent Muslim in Iraq, and he would have photographs taken of himself praying, kneeling on his prayer rug, or wearing the ihram, which is a pilgrim’s robe. In reality he was far from being a good Muslim or anything else. He used and abused his power, and he wouldn’t think twice about doing something forbidden by Islam if it pleased him. And his sons were immeasurably worse than he was.

  This is why it was so hard to speak to Saddam, to tell him important information. If you spoke openly and honestly to him about any subject, you never knew what the consequences might be. Scores of men had died for simply speaking the truth.

  Discouraging Words

  When I told Saddam that attacking Israel would be like the blind attacking the sighted, we were surrounded by all of the members of the general staff, and Gen. Amir Rashid Ubaidi, who was deputy air force commander for technology and engineering, leaned over to his colleague and whispered, “Georges is going to be killed, now, right on the spot. His head will be separated from his body.” I didn’t hear the remark, but they told me later what he’d said.

  Gen. Amir, incidentally, was a true genius. He had been number one in his class at the University of London, where he earned his Ph.D. in engineering. After the Gulf War, he was taken into custody by the Americans and imprisoned in Iraq. He had been in charge of the “superweapons” program but claimed that Iraq never had chemical weapons or WMDs of any kind, and of course that wasn’t true and he, of all people, knew it.

  In any event, I told Saddam that the reason I had used that expression is because Israeli aircraft have very advanced radar with the capability to see more than 125 miles in any direction. On the other hand, 75 percent of Iraqi aircraft were Russian-made, and the range of the radar on our fighters was only about fifteen miles. This meant that the Israeli fighters could see our aircraft at least 110 miles before we would even know they were there. And that’s not even the worst part. Their laser-guided missiles could lock on our fighters while they were still sixty-five miles away, and we’d have no idea that enemy fighters were anywhere around. Then the Israeli pilots could fire their rockets at a range of at least fifty miles and our pilots would never even know what hit them.

  At that point I asked Saddam, “Sir, don’t you agree that this is a fight between men who are blind and men who can see?” Saddam just sat there for several seconds, looking straight ahead. Then he turned sharply to his left where Gen. Amir was sitting and he yelled very loudly, “Amir, what is Georges saying?” In other words, Saddam was asking his weapons expert: Why haven’t you told me this before now? This is your area, and I hold you personally responsible for telling me these things.

  I didn’t change my expression but continued to look at Saddam. But then I realized, Oh, no! Gen. Amir is not that brave. I’m afraid he will not tell Saddam the truth, and he’ll try to put the blame on me or someone else. So I turned quickly and looked Amir straight in the eye, and he could see that I was very serious. After the meeting he came to me and said, “I knew, Georges, when you turned to look at me that way that you were sending a message.” And that’s exactly what I was doing. Without saying a word I was telling him to speak the truth because we were both speaking directly to Saddam Hussein. If he disagreed with me or tried to lie his way out of it, I would have defended myself in the strongest terms, and Gen. Amir knew exactly what I meant.

  Well, God was with me that day because Gen. Amir said to Saddam, “Sir, what Brother Georges is saying about the difference between the Israeli aircraft with sophisticated American and European technology, and our Russian-made aircraft with Russian technology, which is not so sophisticated, is right.” And then he began explaining it to him in very detailed engineering terms, telling Saddam everything about the technology of the different fighter aircraft. Amir knew that Saddam didn’t care in the least about any of those details: he was just covering his own backside. But what it came down to was that he told him, Brother Georges has told you the truth about our fighters, and we’re no match for the Israelis.

  When he finished, Saddam just sat there, silently, staring straight ahead. For more than a minute you could have heard a pin drop in that room. And, believe me, a minute of silence in the presence of Saddam Hussein could seem like eternity. There were at least ninety people in the room, all generals and high-ranking commanders, and there wasn’t a peep out of them.

  War Games

  It was obvious that Saddam was angry, and it struck me that he may be thinking that I was painting a negative picture because I’m a Christian. On more than one occasion my Muslim colleagues had said that Christians are weak, and maybe Saddam was thinking that I was afraid of going to war. Whenever
another officer would say something like that, I usually pointed out that there have been a few good generals I could name—such as Gen. Montgomery, George Washington, Douglas MacArthur, and even Erwin Rommel, the Desert Fox—who were all Christians, and most people would say they were pretty good fighters.

  Nevertheless, Saddam’s expression hadn’t changed for a long time, so I said, “Sir, what I’ve just told you is all true. But that doesn’t mean we will not fight. A good military man will fight whenever he receives orders from his commander. If you still want us to fight, then I assure you we will fight, and who knows what will happen? As a good officer, I can only give you my best advice and prepare the commander for the decision he will make. My job is to tell you the truth, to the best of my ability, and then wait for your decision. And, sir, that’s what I’ve done.”

  At the end of the meeting, the only thing I could be sure of was that Saddam had listened to me, and he knew that to the best of my ability I had told him the truth. I had no idea what decision he would make, but at least he had heard me and he understood what I’d said. Then in mid-December 1990, less than a month from the deadline that had been set by the United Nations for Saddam to pull his forces out of Kuwait, I was told that the president was ready to announce his decision.

  On December 17, we received the message we’d been expecting. Saddam’s message was worded very deliberately, almost poetically in Arabic, to give the impression of a decree of great solemnity and importance. It said, “Uwafiq Tunafath Ala Barakatalah,” which means roughly, “I agree to the attack, and we shall attack with the blessings of Allah.” It was as if Nebuchadnezzar had spoken. But what he was saying was that we were being ordered to proceed with a massive chemical-weapons assault on Israel, in two waves, one through Jordan and the other through Syria.