THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Monday, August 7, 1995 TAG: 9508070040
SECTION: FRONT PAGE: A1 EDITION: FINAL
SOURCE: BY CHARLISE LYLES, STAFF WRITER
DATELINE: CHARLOTTESVILLE LENGTH: Long : 117 lines
There were relics - an American flag, a 4-pound can of tuna - and there were recollections of a survival ritual in the Kuwaiti sands.
And, of course, there was a cake: vanilla with icing flags and nuts. All were meant to remind those gathered here of their role in defending the American Embassy for four long months in 1990 when Iraqi soldiers invaded.
On the invasion's fifth anniversary, members of that crew trekked from as far away as Utah for a weekend of remembering. The former ambassador to Kuwait, Nathaniel Howell - a Portsmouth native - opened his home here for the gathering just as he had opened the embassy.
``People get together for family reunions,'' said B. George Saloom, a Salt Lake City businessman who had arrived in Kuwait just days before the Aug. 2 invasion.
``It became like a blood situation because we either survived together or we perished together. We created a family. It made me see the importance of selflessness and support.''
Shortly after declaring Kuwait a province of Iraq, Saddam Hussein ordered the U.S. Embassy closed and all occupants out. Howell refused. Saddam cut off water and electricity. His troops patrolled the walls of the 5-acre compound in Kuwait City.
Howell, who had been appointed ambassador in 1987, helped evacuate about 3,000 people safely. Finally, 27 remained. ``President Bush asked us to stick it out,'' Howell said. And they did, with great humor and gusto.
Five years later, nine who were trapped in that embassy picnicked in the sun-dappled shade of a maple tree in Howell's back yard with their spouses and children. Memories came pouring out.
Virginia's sweltering heat? It didn't bother them. They had survived Kuwait's 120-degree-plus temperatures without air conditioning.
``I told everybody who wanted to stay that they could, but it wasn't going to be a democracy,'' Howell recalled, shaking with laughter under the brim of a green ``Camp Kuwait'' cap.
``Yeah, at first we all called him the boss. He was the ultimate decision maker,'' said Jack Rinehart, who came from Stover, Mo., for the reunion. ``But after a while, he was more like a mayor.''
The group possessed an uncanny array of survival skills, like the crew from ``Gilligan's Island'': chemical, civil and electrical engineers, a doctor and a minister. ``Thank goodness we didn't have a lawyer,'' Howell joked. ``That's the reason we probably all survived.''
The reunion-goers recalled the daily routine Howell organized. It included water supply maintenance, latrine digging, trash burning, rotating watch duty, three square meals, evening prayer and some pretty satisfying recreation.
At 7:30 a.m. each day, Saloom, vice president of an information services company-turned-cook, served breakfast. He worked miracles with the embassy's staple of canned tuna. But in the end, few tuna lovers emerged from the ordeal.
``I got my training from the Boy Scouts and the U.S. Army,'' said Saloom, a serious, welterweight-sized man. ``They would get a little upset with me about the clean-up duty. But I wanted the dishes cleaned to prevent dysentery.''
``If one dish was dirty, he would send it back,'' remembered El Miloudi Hamid, a 50ish businessman from Chattanooga. He became known as ``Mr. Green Jeans'' for planting a garden of tomatoes, chick peas, greens and radishes. ``I just happened to keep some seeds on hand,'' Howell chuckled.
Early on, Paul Brown, a horticulturalist from Columbus, Ohio, and engineer Ronald Webster, from Champaigne, Ill., dug the well that irrigated the small crop. It took 10 days of shoveling sand under a blazing sun before they struck water. They used embassy fire hoses to fill water tanks and 10 gallons of chlorine bleach from a laundry closet to purify it.
Most days, they swallowed water hot enough for tea. But every two or three days, they turned a generator on, and everyone crowded around for a cool sip that had to last 72 hours.
They learned that invasions bring out ingenuity. ``I made reading lights out of baby food jars, Marine uniform belts and kerosene,'' said Rinehart, a 42-year-old electrical engineer. To keep the group cool, he made fans from car engine fans hooked up to car batteries. He transformed a Honda engine into an additional generator.
When the day's work was finished, the homemade generator powered a VCR for evening movies: ``The Alamo,'' ``The Great Escape,'' and ``Steel Magnolias.''
``I'm waiting for them to make a movie about us - Buddy Hackett will play me,'' said Rinehart, a portly man in a striped short-sleeve shirt.
``I've already talked to Charlton Heston about playing me,'' joked Howell, a tall, silver-bearded man puffing on his pipe. That pipe stayed lit during the siege, because he had bought a hefty stash of tobacco on the eve of the invasion. It became a coveted item around the compound.
There was happy hour with home-made beer and wine made from dates. At Halloween, they threw a costume party. For Thanksgiving, Saloom managed tuna lasagna, pumpkin pie and greens.
They had mastered the routine of survival but were growing weary of the siege.
Sometimes they felt sorry for the Iraqis who appeared to go reluctantly into war. ``Once one of the soldiers patrolling outside said to me, `I don't know what I'm doing here. I have eight children at home,' '' said Hamid, a Moroccan who speaks Arabic.
At times they were frightened, especially when Saddam's troops began constructing strange brick barriers outside the embassy. ``We thought they might be for chemical weapons,'' Hamid said. They heard showers of shots fired. ``The American press didn't print enough about the Kuwaiti resistance,'' Howell said.
In those times, the Rev. Maurice Graham provided powerful prayer.
``We prayed every day, twice a day,'' said the Richmond minister, who had arrived in Kuwait to work at a Protestant church four months before the invasion.
In December, it was over. Saddam backed down. In groups of four and five, the self-imposed hostages left the embassy for America. Howell was the last to go.
Coming home, they recalled, was not what they had expected.
``It was almost as hard when I went home as it was when I went into the compound,'' Rinehart said, leaning back in his lawn chair as the others listened. ``For a long while, I really missed the place.'' ILLUSTRATION: [Color Photo]
Associated Press Ambassador Nathaniel Howell opened the American
Embassy's doors when Iraq invaded Kuwait, and he opened his home
this weekend.
by CNB