Residents who refused to leave during Desert Storm
▶ In the first of a two-part series to mark 30 years since Kuwait’s liberation, John Dennehy speaks to people who lived here at the time
In the early hours of January 17, 1991, the phone rang at Christine Rendel’s Abu Dhabi home. “Ms Rendel,” a grave voice said. “The war has begun.” The call came from her manager at the city’s Al Jazirah hospital, where Ms Rendel was director of nursing. Things would never be the same again.
Thirty years on from Desert Storm – the US-led air war to drive Iraqi regime forces out of Kuwait – UAE residents have been reflecting on the uncertainty, fear and resilience that pervaded the country then. Some left, others kept the car full of petrol with a supply of water in the back should events turn serious, but many stayed.
“The build-up was very intense,” says Michelle Brown, a resident from the UK, who was a singer at the now demolished Hilton Hotel beside Dubai World Trade Centre. “The big fear was that the trade centre could be targeted.”
The punishing aerial campaign quickly put Saddam Hussein’s regime on the back foot. Within a week, Iraqi forces were dumping Kuwaiti oil into the Gulf and torching hundreds of oil wells as they retreated.
“Shamal winds blew the smoke in a haze down to the Gulf,” says Harry Bonning, another British resident who lived here then. “The sky had a thin, dirty brown appearance and you could smell the smoke. What made it worse was when it rained – your car ended up with oily spots all over it.”
Abu Dhabi TV and Dubai TV began relaying CNN, which was covering the war 24 hours a day. CNN’s coverage was fronted by Bobbie Battista and the news anchor became a household name in the UAE. “We all bought short-wave radios and listened to the BBC with its advice to UK citizens in the Gulf region,” says David Sutton, a British resident who lived in Abu Dhabi from 1984 to 2019. “Short-wave radios disappeared from the market because everyone was buying them.”
As Saddam lashed out, Scud missiles rained down on Saudi Arabia and Israel, and Ms Rendel recalls attending a Ministry of Health briefing on how to deal with the scenario of chemical attacks. “I remember US officials meeting the medical chief and myself in the hospital grounds [now Sheikh Khalifa Medical City] to explain how a decontamination unit would be set up outside.”
Authorities took the threat seriously and this reassured many residents.
“Sandbag emplacements appeared at many locations and around government buildings,” Mr Bonning says. “Security guards we had known were now wearing blue camouflage uniforms and carrying rifles. Military pickups with heavy machineguns were parked at most road junctions.”
A huge military build-up in the region had thousands of troops pass through the UAE. Ms Brown performed a two-hour concert in January, 1991, on the helicopter deck of the USS Portland, which was berthed in Dubai. Photos of the concert show men in military fatigues relaxing on the deck, with Ms Brown serenading the contingent set against the backdrop of Port Rashid. Pizza Hut and ice cream from Baskin Robbins was laid on. “I posed for pictures with each of the crew who asked for a photo with me; the queue stretched as far as I could see.”
Tens of thousands of Kuwaiti refugees streamed into the UAE. Sheikh Zayed offered financial support and refuge. Abu Dhabi’s Sheraton Hotel housed hundreds of Kuwaitis and Kuwaiti number plates became a common fixture on the roads. The UAE lost six soldiers in the battle to liberate Kuwait and sent urgent medical aid in the aftermath.
Ms Rendel was among the first on the ground, leaving Abu Dhabi for Kuwait on March 18 as part of a UAE medical team. Aboard the military transport plane were four doctors, nurses, medical supplies, gas masks and dozens of Kuwaiti families who wanted to return.
“The skies were dark and grey with plumes of orange from burning oil wells all around,” Ms Rendel says. “Coming out of the plane, the air was thick and noxious with the smell of burning oil. I could see the fires all around me in the distance – uncapped wells set on fire and burning continuously. Everyone was directed to a burnt-out building that was, apparently, the airport arrivals hall. It was black as night and destroyed.”
Ms Rendel was assigned to the burns unit at Ibn Sina Hospital. The work was hard and unrelenting. Water and electricity supplies were intermittent. Staffing was minimal, and the sole provision of care was by the remaining Palestinian nurses. Back in the UAE, Ms Brown and many others were determined to stay.
“Most who lived there in the 1980s or 1990s left their hearts there. You don’t turn your back on that.”
Rory Keelan, who worked for National Bank of Abu Dhabi, points to the war as a moment when the world intruded.
“It was the beginning of the end of a sort of ‘age of innocence’ during which international affairs were something that happened to someone else far, far away,” he says. “Security became more of a concern.”
Security guards we had known were now wearing blue camouflage and carrying rifles
HARRY BONNING
Resident from the UK