Free War Stories by Oliver North

matter of minutes, the sun will be casting long shadows over the confluence of the Tigris and Euphrates rivers, 120 miles to the northwest—in Iraq.
    Â Â Â  OPERATION IRAQI FREEDOM SIT REP #2
    Â Â Â Â Â Â  Ad Dawhah Port Facility, Kuwait
    Â Â Â Â Â Â  Saturday, 8 March 2003
    Â Â Â Â Â Â  1300 Hours Local
    It is clear that the people here are worried. Ali, our driver, lent to FOX News Channel by the Ministry of Information to “facilitate” getting around the emirate, talks about little other than the imminent onset of hostilities. “It has to start soon,” he opines. “There is no more space in the hotels here for reporters.”
    He’s right about that. In the Marriott, where the FOX News Channel bureau has been set up, every room is occupied. It’s the same in every other hotel in Kuwait. The Sheraton and the Inter-Continental—just down the street from where FOX has its headquarters—have now taken on the appearance of network affiliates. Commercial Humvees, brand new 4×4 Ford Excursions, and GMC Suburbans with satellite dishes secured to their roof racks line every hotel parking lot. Many of them have “TV” emblazoned on their sides with duct tape. Some are even painted to match the military’s flat desert tan. There are so many U.S. and European reporters, producers, writers, and technicians here that the streets outside every hostelry look like those of a major American city.
    As we approach the port area, Ali has to negotiate a series of military checkpoints. At each, Kuwaiti soldiers and interior ministry police inspect the inside and outside of the vehicle, using a mirror ona long wand to peer beneath the van. Ali produces his license and a yellow travel pass for the vehicle, and Griff and I hand over our passports, visas, press credentials, and a sheet of paper signed by the Ministry of Information official at our hotel, giving us permission to visit the port area.
    Ali endures this ritual three times without complaint before we actually arrive at our destination. “Yesterday they caught an Iraqi spy trying to get into the port,” he says. Then he adds with a sigh, “It’s going to be this way until you finish Saddam. I hope you go all the way and do it right this time.”
    I ignore Ali’s iteration of the frequently repeated Kuwaiti gibe at the United States for leaving Saddam in power at the end of the 1990–1991 Gulf War. Instead I press him on the apprehension of this Iraqi spy. I had not heard about the arrest, and it’s precisely the kind of story we want FOX to break—if we can confirm it. But Ali claims he doesn’t know any more about the spy and changes the subject.
    â€œWere you afraid during the missile attack last night?” he asks, referring to the sirens that had gone off all over Kuwait City at about one in the morning.
    â€œNot especially,” I answer, instantly concerned that my reply sounded foolhardy. The fact is, I had grabbed my network-issued gas mask and lightweight chemical suit and raced for the FOX rooftop “studio,” not out of bravado but because I knew that it was a safer place to be than the hotel basement bomb shelter if the Iraqis were firing chemical-laden Scud missiles at the city.
    â€œI understand that one of your new Patriot missiles shot it down before it hit. Is that true?” Ali asks.
    â€œThat’s the way it sounded to me,” I reply, recalling the deep boom off to the north of the city. “According to the news this morning, it dropped into Khalj al Kuwayt,” I add, referring to the bay just northof the capital—and falling into the trap of providing a recycled story I’d heard on the radio earlier in the day.
    â€œBut is that what really happened?” Ali presses, once again reflecting the uncertainty he and his countrymen are feeling as the allied buildup in Kuwait enters its fourth