صبي التوحيد ، أنا أخو من طاع الله ياويل عدو الشريعة منا.
(أنشودة حرب . عبد المحسن الفرم)
Armed with my belief in the one, true God, I am the comrade of those who respond to His call. Woe to the enemies of the Sharia’h; let them beware of our wrath.
(Abdul Mohsin Al-Firm’s war-cry at the battle of Sibillah)

The King’s grief on hearing of the death of Fahd Ibn Jelawi was nothing compared to his distress when he learnt of the circumstances in which it had occurred. At about the time of the battle of Sibillah, Fahd had been guarding the King’s eastern flank against rebellious Ikhwan from the Ajman tribe in Al-Hasa. When the Ajman heard of the outcome of the battle, they decided that the time had come to negotiate and Dhaidan Ibn Huthlain, chief of the Ajman, sent word to Fahd that he wished to see him. A meeting was agreed and Ibn Huthlain came by arrangement to Fahd’s camp at a place called As-Sarar. The two men talked for the best part of the day but by nightfall had not reached agreement. Fahd asked the chief to stay the night but Ibn Huthlain declined, saying, ‘Please do not keep me, for I have left word with my people that if I do not return by midnight they are to come for me.’ Fahd took this as a threat and lost his temper. He ordered his servants to put Ibn Huthlain in chains and hold him prisoner for the night in a tent. Again the chief warned Fahd that he was acting unwisely, saying, ‘The whole Ajman tribe will descend upon you, for they will think something has happened to me.’ Fahd replied, ‘Let them come.’

Shortly after midnight the Ajman did indeed come. They were in a wild and savage frame of mind, dressed only in loincloths, and were ready to die for their chief. Rudely awakened by the sound of firing as the tribesmen invaded his camp, Fahd dressed rapidly for battle and in a fury gave orders that Ibn Huthlain be unchained and beheaded. The order was instantly carried out. This was the worst possible thing he could have done, for his own force contained a large contingent of Ajman tribesmen whose loyalty to him was already uncertain. When they learnt that Fahd had treacherously killed Ibn Huthlain, they immediately joined the rebels and turned on the remaining members of Fahd’s army, killing them all. (Fahd himself had leapt onto his horse and ordered his servant to unchain it. Instead of obeying the order, the Ajman servant turned on Fahd and shot him dead.) As a result of this disastrous battle, the King now had nearly the whole of the Ajman tribe in open revolt against him, and was without forces in the area to contain them.

It was not long before further bad news reached His Majesty. Fasil Ad-Dawish had not died of his wound as everybody had expected. Instead, he had made a miraculous and speedy recovery and was now up in arms once again, leading the Mutair in fresh raids against tribes loyal to the King. He had again been joined by the Utaiba tribes, now led by Chief Ad-Duhaina. After the battle of Sibillah, Ad-Duhaina had fled to Iraq and taken refuge with King Faisal. On his way back to Najd he had conferred with Ad-Dawish, and it had been agreed that Ad-Duhaina would incite the Utaiba to revolt against the King; Ad-Duhaina himself was to guide and lead the tribe. The Utaiba controlled the whole area between Mecca and Riyadh, so the king was effectively trapped in Hejaz with no means of returning to his capital. The situation was extremely serious. Large areas of the country were now hostile to the King, and those tribes and townspeople who remained loyal had neither the strength nor the inclination to take on the rebels in battle. But His Majesty was not a man to be overwhelmed or daunted by difficulties of this sort. By this time he had developed friendly relations with the British government. He arranged with them that they would sell him about four thousand rifles and ship them from Madras to Bahrain in order to supply the few tribes in Al-Hasa who had remained loyal. The price quoted by the British was very high, and the King was sceptical. He was quoted as saying, ‘I could get all the necessary arms and transport them from Jeddah to the Eastern Province on four hundred camels, at no extra cost.’ However, it would have been impossible for such a convoy to pass through all the tribes in open revolt on the way.

The King decided to gather together what forces he could and attempt to force his way back to Riyadh through the rebellious tribes. His Majesty never lost his confidence or balance. He was poises and relaxed as ever, and although the situation appeared desperate, he was quite confident of victory. He had, of course, a number of advantages over his enemies. With thirty years of successful warfare behind him, he knew that there was nobody who could match his skill as a desert general. He had the benefit of British assistance, access to better arms than the rebels, and money with which to buy the loyalty of the tribes who might not otherwise support him. He also had the major asset of recently installed radio links with all the biggest towns in his kingdom. By using the radio, the King could obtain up-to-date intelligence and speedily direct his forces where they were needed. The rebel tribes were without this facility; they did not know what was happening outside their own areas, and were unable to co-operate effectively.

As His Majesty made his crucial march across the desert from Mecca to Riyadh, he gathered a substantial force of friendly tribesmen and irregular soldiers and supplied them with camels, arms and provisions. The King and his retinue rode in cars, accompanied by a large escort of men on camels. As usual the Court staff, including myself, were with him. We encountered no serious trouble until we reached Afif, a water well which was situated midway between Mecca and Riyadh and was on our usual route. It was a stronghold of the Utaiba and we therefore approached it with caution. We were not attacked, but the Utaiba had polluted the well by the traditional and very effective method of dropping into it a dead man and a dead donkey. His Majesty ordered that his son Mohammed and a group of three or four hundred men should clean the well, and we waited for a period of three days until the water was considered safe to drink. Even so, many suffered serious attacks of diarrhoea after drinking the water, and the King’s doctor treated a number of men by giving them injections. Unfortunately, tough as these warrious were, they were quite unused to medication of any sort and the reaction from the injections only added to their discomfort.

Ahead of us, on the direct route from Afif to Riyadh, was a mountain pass which was ideal for ambushes and where a few resolute men could hold off an army. His Majesty was certain that the Utaiba tribesmen from Afif were waiting for us in the pass. He therefore decided to skirt round it and proceed to an oasis called Al-Qaiyah, some one hundred and fifty miles to the north-east. Al-Qaiyah was also inhabited by the Utaiba tribe and the King sent emissaries ahead ordering all the men of fighting age to leave. Only the women, children and old men were allowed to remain. The king travelled to Al-Qaiyah by car and stayed there for four days to allow all his camel force to catch up with him and permit everybody to rest for a time. Then we struck north to the oasis of Dawadimi. The going was slow and troublesome; the cars became badly stuck in the sands of the Wadi Ar- Risha, and extracting them proved quite difficult. At Dawadimi His Majesty met with chiefs of the Rawaga section of the Utaiba tribe, which occupied that area and whose loyalty was to him. The King was well aware that, despite their loyalty, the chiefs were harbouring cousins and other relatives who had joined the rebels. He lost no time in telling the chiefs that he disapproved of the sanctuary being granted and that it should end. After this meeting he went on to Riyadh, having travelled all the way from Mecca unmolested.

During the following few weeks the situation became steadily worse. Riyadh was not under siege but it because an island in a sea of rebellion. The city itself was overrun by bedouin tribesmen, and no one could be certain where their loyalties lay. We were encircled by enemy tribes and it became a risky business to venture far from the town. Ibn Saud had no intention of letting matters rest. As a first countermeasure be ordered his son, Crown Prince Saud, to go to Al-Hasa to take charge of matters there. Saud was to replace Abdullah Ibn Jelawi, the Governor of Hufuf, who had fallen seriously ill after hearing of the death of his son Fahd. Saud and his man immediately set off in a convoy of cars. Unfortunately, the Ajman tribe had anticipated that Ibn Saud might do something of this sort. They were waiting in ambush in an area of soft sand known as the Dahna, about sixty miles to the east of Riyadh.

The Dahna is one of the most remarkable geographical features of Arabia. From the Nafud desert in the north, it runs in a continuous narrow strip down to the Rub‘ Al-Khali in the south. Never more than sixty miles in width, it is literally a river, for down it the prevailing winds blow fine, powdery sand continually southwards towwards the vast sea of the Empty Quarter. For this reason I always describe the Dahna as the ‘river of sand’, a phrase I think I can claim to have coined personally, as I know of no other historians or geographers who have used it. It resembles a river in another way, too, for a traveler comes across it all of a sudden, and the transition from hard to soft going occurs instantly, just as if he had plunged in from a river bank. The sand near the surface of the Dahna is often found to be damp, but however deep you dig, you will never reach water. For this reason, a man who fails to keep his promise is often described by the bedouin as being ‘like the Dahna’.

The shifting of the Dahna made it a splendid setting for an ambush and the Ajman were successful in surprising Prince Saud. They killed a number of the Prince’s followers and took many others prisoner. On this occasion the speed of the cars was of little use, for most of them became bogged down in the sand and were easily captured and burnt by the rebels. Luckily, the Prince had borrowed his father’s powerful custom-built Mercedes, which was well suited for the sandy conditions, and in this he was able to escape capture and proceed to Hufuf as planned. Those of his men who were captured were taken to Kuwait, which was adopting a neutral position at the time, and they were later released. As it happen, my brother was attempting to make his way secretly to Hufuf with a small caravan at the same time as the Prince was travelling there. The caravan was passed by the Prince and his entourage the day before the ambush, and the following day my brother and his men were the first on the scene. The bodies of the Prince’s servants were still lying where the Ajman had left them, and the cars had been stripped of trophies such as horns and lights before being set on fire. In Hufuf, my brother went to see the Prince and told him of what he had seen. He found himself being berated for failing to bury the corpses. Unfortunately, it had been impossible for him to do this as he had brought no tools with him suitable for digging.

Having sent Prince Saud to take charge in the east, the King dealt with the situation in the west by sending from Riyadh a powerful force of bedouin and townsmen under the command of Amir Khalid Ibn Mohammed Ibn Saud to attack the Utaiba on their eastern flank. At the same time he sent instructions by wireless to Prince Faisal in Hejaz to launch an assault from the west, thus subjecting the Utaiba to a co-ordinated two-pronged assault. Although the Utaiba fought bravely, they were for the most part dispersed in small bodies and the King’s forces were able to mop these groups up one by one. Within two months the Utaiba were subdued and the route from Mecca to Riyadh was again open.

It was as well that the King had  dispatched his son Saud to strengthen the defences of Hufuf, for it was there that the redoubtable Fasil Ad-Dawish was playing his own part in the revolt. With large detachment of the Mutair and Ajman tribes under his command, he was determined to capture Hufuf from the King. But before he could do so, it was necessary for him to overcome the small tribe of the Al-Awazem who inhabited the area and were loyal to the King. The Al-Awazem were not highly rated as warriors, but on this occasion they were fighting to defend their homes and villages, and for once they had an ample supply of arms and ammunition which was part of the consignment shipped by the British from Madras. Ad-Dawish was unable to defeat them, and in the end suffered the humiliation of having to retire from the area of Hufuf altogether.

Before commencing operations in Al-Hasa, Ad-Dawish had sent his son Abdul Aziz, together with Faisal Ibn Shiblan of the Mutair tribe, on a massive raiding expedition to the north of the country; they had orders to harass all the tribes which were loyal to the king. The raids were successful and the rebels caused a great deal of havoc and damage, as well as seizing large numbers of camels. But when it came to deciding which way to return, Abdul Aziz Ad-Dawish and Ibn Shiblan fell out. Ad-Dawish wished to travel to an oasis called Um Urdhuma (which means ‘water well’). Ibn Shiblan had heard that a large detachment of the Shammar tribe, loyal to the King, were heading in that direction. He thought it would be very dangerous to risk an engagement with them, and wanted to take an alternative route. Abdul Aziz Ad- Dawish’s temper was as short as his beard was red. He flew into a rage, accused Ibn Shiblan of cowardice and insisted that the force should proceed to Um Urdhuma. Ibn Shiblan, who was a giant of a man, lost his temper too at this point. After a furious argument he left with a hundred and twenty-five of his followers, crossing over the borders of Iraq to the water wells of As-Salman. From there he turned south and returned in safety to Artawiya.

Abdul Aziz Ad-Dawish continued on his way to Um Urdhuma, which was march of some six or seven days. It was the height of summer and there was no water on the way. His men were near death by the time they arrived and their camels were equally exhausted. The warriors had pushed a kerchief into the anus of each camel. This was a traditional device to prevent air from entering the animal’s stomach when its belly was empty, since this was considered dangerous for the camel. As Ibn Shiblan had feared, a large and well-armed detachment of the Shammar tribes, under the command of Nida Ibn Naheer, was waiting at Um Urdhuma grouped in defensive positions around the water wells. (Nida Ibn Naheer had sent for help from Abdul Aziz Ibn Mussaud, who was the Governor of Ha’il and a cousin of the King, but the troops did not arrive until the battle was over.)  Although heavily outnumbered, Abdul Aziz Ad-Dawish had no choice but to attack Ibn Naheer’s troops, for to carry on without water would have meant a certain and horrible death for him and his men. The confrontation was a total disaster for the Ikhwan. Ad-Dawish attacked with seven hundred men. They managed to kill many of the Shammar group, including Nida Ibn Naheer himself. But in the process Ad- Dawish and four hundred and fifty of his men were killed; the remaining two hundred and fifty, who were too exhausted to continue fighting, were captured. Shortly after the battle Abdul Aziz Ibn Mussaud arrived on the scene. He had the prisoners publicly beheaded on the spot. Ibn Mussaud took a considerable risk in ordering these executions without having first sought the King’s authority. In the event His Majesty approved of Ibn Mussaud’s action, feeling that the time had come when an example had to be made of the rebels who were hindering the building of his kingdom.

In the meantime Faisal Ad-Dawish, having failed to achieve anything in Al-Hasa, moved swiftly and secretly into Najd. He was hoping to mount a surprise attack on the King’s forces, who were camped at the water well of Al-Gaiah, near the town of Majam’a to the north of Riyadh. After crossing the Dahna, Ad-Dawish succeeded in making his way undetected into Najd. The day before the attack was due to take place his men held the war parade which, by tradition, always took place whenever possible before a battle. While the parade was in progress a messenger arrived, bringing Ad-Dawish the news of his son’s death at Um Urdhuma. The old warrior was stricken with grief at the news and, in a mood of desperation, ordered his servants to empty his men’s water-bags. This was a strategy similar to that made famous by Moorish leader Tariq*[1] who, having burnt his boats, cried to his men, ‘Before you is the enemy and behind you is the sea!’ In this case the desert took the place of the sea, but the effect was identical. When Ad-Dawish’s men went into battle the following day, they had no alternative but to press home their attack on the water well. The King’s men were outnumbered and taken by surprise, and the Ikhwan attack was a total success. Those of the loyal tribesmen who were not killed fled back towards Riyadh. On their way they encountered a convoy of trucks loaded with arms and supplies destined for Al-Gaiah which had unfortunately been dispatched too late to reach the garrison before the Ikhwan attacked it. (Even if it had arrived in time, would have made no difference, for the garrison was no match for the Mutair.

Flushed with success, Ad-Dawish crossed the Dahna area and returned to the north of Al-Hasa. Ibn Saud headed north in pursuit about a month later; as always, the Court staff, including myself, went with him. When we came to cross the Dahna, the weather was becoming tolerable as winter was approaching, but water was as always extremely scarce. We headed for the wells of Al-Lisafah and Al-Lihaba, strategically situated and very well-known watering places, which had not long before been heavily bombed during one of the RAF raids against the Ikhwan. I remember well an evening two days later when we were encamped in the Dahna, still many miles from the nearest water. It was approaching sunset, and the King was waiting for the sun to go down so that he could commence his evening prayer. Suddenly a scout appeared from the desert and whispered something in His Majesty’s ear. The king took note of what he said but showed no outward sign of emotion. The sun slipped slowly down beyond the horizon, painting fantastic picture in the sky and sharply silhouetting the dunes round about. His Majesty placed his prayer-mat on the sand and faced towards Mecca, his features calm and thoughtful. I sensed that some matter of great importance was occupying his mind, but as always with His Majesty, it was quite impossible to guess what it might be. After his prayers, the King returned to a carpet which had been laid out for him on a small dune and called some of his soldiers and servants to him. Clearly and confidently he gave the orders which had been forming in his mind during his prayer. His instructions were passed on by his servants to the various tribal groups in his army; each group was told precisely what it needed to know and no more. This combination of decisiveness and discretion singled out His Majesty as an outstanding general, who gave us all complete confidence in his leadership.

I was soon able to guess what message the scout had brought, for when we got to Al-Lisafah we found that the well had been poisoned with the usual dead man and dead donkey. His Majesty had obviously known this, because he had sent ahead a detachment of five hundred men to clear the wells and empty them of water in order to prevent further pollution. In spite of this, it was two days before the wells started to fell again, and even then the water turned out to be unfit to drink. We had no alternative but to press on, although by now we had been five days without finding water. Further on, at a place called Wafra, we found water in large quantities, but it was brackish and fit only for the camels to drink. That night we camped at a place called Ma’araj Ussoban, at some distance from Wafra. We had about fifteen thousand camels with us, and the King issued an order that they should be sent to drink at Wafra in groups of five thousand at a time. This was typical of His Majesty’s attention to detail, for it ensured that it would not be possible for the enemy to make a sudden raid and capture our entire herd while it was watering.

The area around Ma’araj Ussoban is well known for the millions of tiny sea shells mixed with the sand, which points to the area having been under water at some time in the past, although it is now at least sixty miles from the sea. In any event, this was the least of my worries for our thirst was now becoming a real problem. We had stopped drinking water altogether and were making do with small quantities of tea and coffee. That night, as darkness fell, our weary bodies seemed to shrivel in the cold desert air and our mouths were parched and dry. Our very saliva had taken on a glue-like consistency. Not only were the Court staff without water; we had no food either. We asked the Chief of the Court to see what he could arrange. He went through the camp and found that the King’s son, Prince Mohammed, was able to give us something to eat. We were invited to his tent, where we found a large plate of rice awaiting us with some meat in the middle of it. The meat was very soft; although I did not recognize the taste, I was too hungry to worry about it. After I had taken a few morsels, Prince Mohammed asked me with a grin if I knew what I had eaten. When I said I did not, he told me it was wild cat. I would greatly have preferred not to know, but I was glad of the food all the same. It would normally have been against our religious rules to eat such meat but it was permissible in time of necessity. In fact, the bedouin are often known to eat wild cat when they can find nothing else.

The lack of water was now becoming very serious, and unless some was found immediately, we were in grave danger of dying of thirst. At the very least our force would have had to split up in search of water, and this would have rendered it ineffective as a military unit for many days. But as dawn broke the following day, our prayers were answered by a sudden cloudburst which awoke us from our restless sleep. The heavens seemed to open up with rain. The downpour filled the wadi nearby with pools of water and the air with a beautiful scent of freshness. The rain lifted everybody’s spirits. Since His Majesty had now decided that we should stay where we were for a time, and there was nothing for the Court staff to do, we decided to have a shooting contest on top of a nearby hill. One of the clerks erected a small paper target and we all started shooting at it. Suddenly we found to our alarm that we appeared to have become targets ourselves, for bullets fired from our camp were flying around us and ricocheting off the rocks nearby. We were very frightened and returned immediately to the camp. There we met one of Prince Mohammed’s servants, who asked us to come at once to the Prince’s tent. The Prince gave us tea and then informed us calmly that it was he who had been shooting at us. He explained that the King did not approve of ammunition being wasted on shooting matches and felt that if his son fired off a few rounds in our direction it would be a suitable method of expressing his displeasure. We protested to the Prince that he might have hit one of us, but he replied that he had been shooting to miss and that he had confidence in his marksmanship even if we did not. I asked him, ‘What would have happened if one of us had moved as you fired?’ ‘Ah,’ said the Prince with a reassuring smile, ‘the bullet would have gone past by then!’

Two days later we struck camp and continued north. Shortly after we left, the momentous news reached us that Ad- Dawish, whom we had been nervously expecting to encounter at any time, had already been utterly defeated. It appeared that he had been encamped on the banks of the Wadi Hafar Al-Batin, near the borders of Kuwait. There he had been attacked by a contingent of the Harb tribe under Abdul Mohsin Al-Firm, aided by the local Dhufir tribe under Chief Ajmi Ibn Siwait. Al-Firm had achieved total surprise by making his assault when the Ikhwan were fast asleep and their camp was wreathed in an early morning mist. Ad-Dawish’s tents had been burned, his supplies and camels looted, and his men killed or scattered. For the old warrior, this was the end. Throwing his bravery to the wind, he had fled the camp on an old camel which the Harb tribe had not considered worth taking. None of us had known that Al-Firm was planning an attack on Ad-Dawish, although I am sure that it had been arranged by the King. This was a good example of the way His Majesty devised and executed his plans in complete secrecy.

After the battle of Hafar Al-Batin there was no more fight left in Ad-Dawish. With a few of his followers, his immediate family and his wives, he fled across the border and into Kuwait. There he sought refuge with the British Consul, Colonel Dickson. Dickson was at first reluctant to help Ad-Dawish, knowing that he would be bound to incur the displeasure of Ibn Saud if he did so. But when Ad-Dawish took off his turban and placed it on Dickson’s head, Dickson took pity on him and agreed to help. (This was a custom dating back to ancient times; it symbolized complete helplessness and a request for protection.) Dickson’s wife took personal care of Ad-Dawish’s womenfolk, who were in a pathetic state of hunger and misery. As Colonel Dickson had anticipated, Ibn Saud was very angry when he heard that the British had given sanctuary to his old enemy. The King must also have been displeased with the Kuwaitis themselves, for letters taken from the looted camp of Ad-Dawish proved that the rebels had been receiving supplies and ammunition from Kuwait. Messengers were sent to Kuwait and Iraq and it was speedily arranged that His Majesty would meet a British representative at Ar-Ruqai – a famous meeting- and watering-place, situated at the point where the frontiers of Kuwait, Iraq and Saudi Arabia converge.

Our journey to Ar-Ruqai was not without incident. On the way, our scouts spotted a splinter group of the Mutair tribe. This group was led by Ibn Ashwan, whose name was not unfamiliar to me. In 1928 Ibn Ashwan and his bedouin followers had tried to launch an attack on Kuwait, but were driven off by Sheikh Ali Al Subah and few companions in their cars. During the pursuit, the handful of cars got stuck in the sand. The bedouin circled back and fought a small pitched battle, during which Sheikh Ali was killed. Sheikh Abdullah Al-Niffisi, the King’s agent in Kuwait, sent a telegram to His Majesty, giving him the news. Since the telegram came in Arabic, but in English script, I was asked to translate it.

At the time we were travelling towards Ar-Ruqai, Ibn Ashwan’s group was known to have deserted Ad-Dawish and to be moving towards the interior of Najd. Although the rebellion had now been effectively put down, no treaty or agreement for sale conduct had been made between His Majesty and this section of the Mutair, and there was no way of knowing what their intentions were. His Majesty therefore ordered that they should be attacked. Prince Mohammed came forward and asked to lead the attack, but the King was concerned for his safety and refused. Mohammed was determined. He took out his pistol and pointed it at his head, saying, ‘Either you let me lead the attack or I will kill myself.’ The King relented and Mohammed led the assault, which was a complete success.

The Mutair were routed, and forced to abandon their women and children and many of their camels. Their leaders, Ibn Ashwan, was killed, although his brother and many of the tribesmen escaped. Among the women who were brought back to the King’s camp was Ibn Ashwan’s mother, who was prostrate with grief at the death of her son. His Majesty questioned her as to why Ibn Ashwan had joined Ad-Dawish. Wailing and crying, she fell down and cursed Ad-Dawish, saying that he had come to their camp and entwined himself like a serpent around her son, and with lies and false promise had persuaded him to join the rebellion. The King made sure that the captured women and children were treated with the greatest possible consideration, and they were released as soon as we reached a place where they could be left safely.

When we reached Ar-Ruqai it transpired that the British had decided to grant Ad-Dawish political asylum. They had also given sanctuary to two other rebel chiefs, Ibn Lami of the Mutair tribe and Naif Ibn Aba Al-Khalab of the Ajman tribes. This move baffled Ibn Saud, who could not see what advantage the British sought to gain by harbouring his enemies. At Ar-Ruqai the British were represented by Sir John Bagot Glubb (known to the Arabs as Glubb Pasha), Inspector of the Southern Desert and later Commander of the Jordan-Arab Army (better known to the British as the Arab legion). The King remained camped about five miles south of Ar-Ruqai. He sent Yusuf Yassin, director of the political section of his Court, with myself as translator, to negotiate with Glubb Pasha about Ad-Dawish and the other chiefs. At our first meeting with Glubb Pasha, we greeted him and I immaculate Arabic. We questioned him about Ad-Dawish but it soon became obvious that he would not be able to give us a satisfactory reply. Although he was extremely courteous, he would only undertake to send a cable to London at once, and assure us that the matter would be given immediate attention. While we were at Ar-Ruqai, a number of Iraqi bedouin arrived and Glubb Pasha went to visit them. I was impressed by the close rapport which he immediately established with the tribesmen. He was completely familiar with their customs, gestures and dialects, and joined easily in their conversation, sipping coffee with them in the manner of the desert. When we asked him what the bedouin wanted, he replied, ‘These crazy fellows say they want to join the King’s flag!’

The next day we had another meeting with Glubb Pasha. He suggested that His Majesty should travel to Khabary Waddaha, where further discussions could take place with the British and the Iraqis. The talks were not only to be about the rebel leaders, but would also cover a number of other disputes between Saudi Arabia and its neighbours, particularly the outstanding issue of the Iraqi border forts. His Majesty agreed to the proposal and we set off south-east on the long journey to Khabary Waddaha. The terrain which we had to cross was particularly harsh. One area which we travelled through was known as Gara, or ‘bald’, so called because it was barren of any type of growth or vegetation. It was covered with very soft, greyish sand, which had a consistency like mud and was very difficult for the camels to negotiate. The bedouin never stayed in this region as there was no grazing for their camels or fuel for their camp-fires. After struggling through it, we rested for a time at Wadi Hafar Al-Batin, an extension of Wadi Ar-Rumma. The river flowing through Wadi Hafar starts at Medina in Hejaz; flows across to Ha’il and Buraida in Al-Qasim; crosses the Dahna; goes on to the Hafar Al-Batin and Ar-Ruqai; turns north-east to Zubair in Iraq; and finally ends in the Arabian Gulf, flowing through Wadi Assba’y near Basra. Wadi Ar-Rumma is also known as ‘the wadi of carcasses’ because it is prone to fill up very rapidly in times of heavy rain, and many sheep, camels, horses and men have been known to drown there in its strong currents. In the days before the Suez Canal existed, these carcasses were a useful source of food for the lions and tigers which travelled from Africa up into Iraq.

We were all very weary from travel and every part of my body ached. I remember that when I dismounted from my camel and stood on the ground, I was so exhausted that I had the distinct impression that the ground itself was moving under me. Before we set off again, His Majesty asked me how far it was to Khabary Waddaha. Our bedouin guide said that it was about thirty miles, but I had a map with me which had been drawn by Philby on one of his expeditions and which showed the distance to be about eighteen miles. The guide proved to be more accurate than the map, for the journey turned out to be at least thirty-five miles. We did not reach Khabary Waddaha until well after midnight, by which time we were all quite exhausted.

I was only allowed a short time to recover, because early in the morning the negotiations with the British started and I was required to act as interpreter. The British had sent their Chief Political Representative in the Gulf area, Colonel Biscoe, to lead their delegation. Colonel Dickson was also present, as were some RAF commanders from Iraq. Our side consisted of the King himself and two of his advisers, Yusuf Yassin and Hafiz Wahba, later appointed Saudi Ambassador to London. Before discussions began, there was an exchange of courtesies in which the British praised His Majesty and the King responded pointedly by speaking of his regard for British trustworthiness and good faith. Then the talks started in earnest. It transpired that Ad-Dawish and the other chiefs were being held at Shaibah, a military camp near Basra. (It is perhaps worth making the point that neither the Kuwaitis nor the Iraqis had any say in the matter, since both their countries were under British control.) His Majesty insisted that Ad-Dawish was a wanted criminal who should be handed over and brought to justice. The British were politely adamant that he was a political refugee, and refused to surrender him. The subject of Ad-Dawish was not the only matter in dispute. Large numbers of men had been killed, and camels and other chattels captured, in the numerous raids and counter-raids which had taken place over Iraqi border during the Ikhwan disturbances. It was generally agreed, according to Arab custom, that whichever side had lost more should receive compensation. The Iraqis confidently asserted that they had suffered more heavily than the Saudis. But Yusuf Yassin had with him files which gave full details of the very severe casualties suffered by the Ikhwan during the attacks and also details of losses caused to Saudi tribes by Iraqi counter-raids and RAF bombing.

The files were regarded with the greatest suspicion by the Iraqis and the British but know them to have been entirely accurate. His Majesty could always rely upon a steady stream of reliable information reaching him from all corners of his kingdom, for whenever something happened in any part of the country which the local bedouin knew would be of interest to the King, they immediately dispatched a messenger with the news. There was never any shortage of volunteers for the job of messenger, as the King’s generosity to those bringing news was well known. It also became common knowledge that His Majesty preferred his intelligence to be as detailed as possible, so whenever a battle had taken place the local tribesmen would record meticulously the casualties which had occurred on each side. The arrival of these messengers at Riyadh was a common sight. If they bore particularly momentous news, they would sometimes fire in the air to attract attention. As they approached the town, the entire population would be waiting for them at the gates to find out what had happened and whether a victory had been won.

Yusuf Yassin did not subscribe to the British idea that negotiations should take place in an atmosphere of courtesy and restrained understatement. He made his points in a direct and forceful manner, and did not mind if this upset the other side. In addition, the wealth of information he possessed and his obvious familiarity with the circumstances surrounding the raids was a considerable embarrassment to the British and Iraqis; it contrasted sharply with the total absence of statistics on their own side. After the first day of talks, Colonel Biscoe took me aside and asked me to request the King not to send Yusuf Yassin to any further discussions. I did not pass on the message. I felt it was an insult to the King that the British should try to dictate who should and should not be in his negotiating team. Furthermore, I knew that Yassin was the only person we had who was familiar with all the details of the losses caused by Iraqi raids, and I was sure that this was one reason why the British wanted him out of the talks. The following day Yassin went with Wahba to the British camp in the usual way and I followed. One of the British spoke to Yassin who instantly became very angry. Wahba came over and asked me if Biscoe had requested that Yassin should not attend. I said that he had, but that I had ‘forgotten’ to tell the King. I then went to see Biscoe and apologized for my omission. Biscoe was obviously annoyed but seemed to take the hint. Yassin continued to attend the conference. That night the King invited me to eat with him in his tent. Hafiz Wahba was also there. Neither of them said anything to me about the incident, but I am sure that they were making a gesture of thanks to me for my loss of memory concerning Biscoe’s message.

The negotiations lasted another week, during which time most of the disputes with Iraq were settled. The fate of Ad-Dawish, however, was not resolved. The British made all kinds of bizarre attempts at a compromise. They suggested keeping Ad-Dawish in Iraq or on a ship in the Gulf, or sending him in exile to India or Ceylon where he would have no chance of causing further trouble. But the King held his ground and refused to make any concessions. He finally became so exasperated with the British attitude that he exclaimed, ‘All responsibility rests on your shoulders if you do not do the right thing.’ Although the British did not agree immediately to the king’s demands, they eventually had no alternative. After a few days, they escorted Faisal Ad-Dawish, Ibn Lami and Naif Ibn Aba Al-Khalab to Khabary Waddaha to be handed over to the King. It is perhaps ironic that in order to save time the British brought the Ikhwan leaders to Khabary Waddaha by means of that supreme invention of the infidel, the aeroplane. Once again Ad-Dawish met his King, but this time His Majesty had no soft words for the rebel leader. ‘So,’ he said derisively, ‘you thought you would scheme your way to safety by hiding with British!’ He harangued Ad-Dawish for several minutes, reminding him of the enormity of his crimes. We all thought that this time Ad-Dawish would be executed, but again the King was merciful. Together with his two comrades, Ad-Dawish was taken in chains and imprisoned in the fortress of Riyadh. The old man’s spirit was broken and, surrounded by rowdy common criminals who would steal even his food from him, he did not survive long. Within six months he had died from heart failure, some said of a broken heart. With his passing, his soul at last found peace.

After the King had arranged for Ad-Dawish to be escorted to Riyadh, he asked Hafiz Wahba and me to go back to Kuwait to see if any of the family of Ad-Dawish wished to return to Najd. Our mission was to be accomplished much quicker than we had expected. On our way we met Ad-Dawish’s only surviving son, Bandar, coming out of Kuwait with his relatives and womenfolk. They had with them all their remaining camels, including a unique herd of about two hundred jet-black camels known as the Ash-Shurf. These had been Ad-Dawish’s special pride and had been reserved for ceremonial occasions. The King had no quarrel with Ad-Dawish’s family; they were well treated and permitted to live in Riyadh. Bandar still lives there today. The herd of camels was given by His Majesty to his son Mohammed, who later returned them to the Ad-Dawish family.

During the conference at Khabary Waddaha, the British officials invited His Majesty to meet with King Faisal of Iraq in the Arabian Gulf as a gesture of goodwill and to cement the new friendship between the two countries. The King agreed, and the British arranged for a ship belonging to the Cable & Wireless Company to call at Ras Tanura to collect the King and accommodate him during the talks. The meeting was unusual in that it took place literally in the middle of the Gulf. King Ibn Saud came in the Cable & Wireless vessel; King Faisal in a ship called the Nearchus; and lieutenant-Colonel Sir Francis Humphrys. The British Consul-General for Iraq, in a sloop named the Lubin. The three steamers anchored near to each other. The first meeting took place on 27 February 1930 on the Cable & Wireless ship, where the Saudis acted as hosts. As King Faisal came onto the deck of our vessel, he was saluted by Ibn Saud’s personal guard. The sight of these magnificent warriors stirred in Faisal old memories of his great desert expeditions with Lawrence of Arabia and his first words were, ‘I feel honoured and elated to be among such great soldiers.’ With his ever-present quickness of wit, His Majesty replied, ‘While our two countries are friends, these soldiers are as much yours as mine.’ A lengthy and amicable meeting then followed. When it was over, Faisal invited His Majesty to meet him on the Nearchus the following day. The meeting was unexpectedly delayed because a sudden storm blew up, forcing all three ships to take refuge in Iraqi waters at the northern end of the Gulf. The third and final meeting took place on the Lubin and the two monarchs parted with mutual expressions of friendship and goodwill.

When the talks were over, Sir Francis Humphrys approached the King and asked if he would meet Glubb Pasha, who had requested permission to come aboard. His Majesty declined because Glubb had provided details of the whereabouts of the bedouin tribes on the Iraq – Najd border, and this information had enabled the RAF to organize their air raids into Suadi territory. The king felt that Glubb exerted an unhealthy influence over the Iraqis and it was also believed that he was working against the interests of the Arabs and frustrating their aspirations to gain independence from the colonial powers. When the King refused, Sir Francis said to him, ‘You hear stories about people, good and bad, but unless you meet them personally you cannot form a proper opinion.’ His Majesty reconsidered and Glubb Pasha was granted permission to come aboard. The two men spent some time in conversation but I do not think that they ever got beyond the stage of formal courtesies. There was certainly never any real rapport between them.

After this meeting, the ship carrying His Majesty set sail for Al-Hasa. On his way, the King decided that he would visit his old friend Sheikh Isa Ibn Ali Al Khalifa, the ruler of Bahrain (which was at that time still a British protectorate).

Sheikh Isa, it will be remembered, had given help and protection to Ibn Saud and his father during the period of their exile, and he had always been sympathetic to the young King’s aspirations. His Majesty therefore gave directions for the ship to sail to the port of Manama in Bahrain. On the way, he instructed me to send two telegrams, one to Sheikh Isa himself and the other to the British Consulate informing them of his intentions. At midnight, just as we were about to anchor, a reply was received from British Consul to the effect that Sheikh Isa was ill and not in Manama, and therefore could not receive His Majesty. The King decided reluctantly to stay on his ship and proceed to Uqair. But the message proved to be a lie. Early the following morning, the sons of Sheikh Isa heard that Ibn Saud was not proposing to land. They immediately came in several launches to his ship and implored His Majesty to come ashore as their father was waiting at the pier. They said to the King, ‘Either you land and see our father or we will all go to Riyadh with you.’ As they insisted, the King readily agreed to come ashore, but he said emphatically, ‘I have no wish to see the British Consul in Bahrain.’ His Majesty greatly resented the trick which the Consul had attempted, although he could easily understand the reason behind it. At that time there was a growing nationalist movement in Bahrain, which was causing considerable trouble for the British. In the circumstances, the Consul had obviously tried to avoid having the greatest independent Arab leader landing on his doorstep, for fear that this would stir up further nationalist demonstrations and riots.

Sheikh Isa was overjoyed at seeing the King again, for it was many years since they had last met. The Sheikh told His Majesty that he had been afraid he might die without seeing him again, but now he could die in peace. Ibn Saud replied, ‘Now that my father is no longer alive, I have no one to consult but you.’ The two men talked for several hours while the King told the Sheikh of his recent problems with the Ikhwan tribesmen and expressed his desire to establish a united Kingdom where all might live together in peace and prosperity. His Majesty then enjoyed a light lunch with Sheikh Isa and his family. Shortly afterwards the King arranged to visit the town of Ar-Rifah on the small island of Al-Muharraq, where he dined with his agent, the well-known Najdi businessman, Al-Gossaibi. When His Majesty came to leave Bahrain, Sheikh Isa’s son Sheikh Hamad came to the beach of Az-Zalack, where His Majesty’s boat was waiting, and bade the King farewell. Sheikh Hamad was already an old man, but – much to the disapproval of the King – he had never performed the hajj because of the prophecy of a seer that he would die if he were to do so. This was just the sort of idle superstition which any good Wahhabi would deplore, and His Majesty’s parting words to Hamad were, ‘I will not be pleased until I see you in Mecca.’

After a short voyage, the King landed at the port of Uqair. From there he travelled to Hufuf, where he met his old friend and cousin Abdullah Ibn Jelawi, now recovered from his illness, and Ibn Jelawi’s two sons Saud and Abdul Mohsin. (Abdul Mohsin is the present Amir of the Eastern Province.) Finally the King returned to Riyadh, after an absence of nearly two months.

His Majesty did not forget the insult paid to him by the British in Bahrain, and the following year an opportunity arose for him to pay them back in kind. A request arrived from the British government, through their Ambassador in Jeddah, for permission for the Earl of Athlone and his wife Princess Alice to visit His Majesty and cross Arabia from Jeddah to Uqair. His Majesty declined, and ordered me to send a telegram in reply expressing his refusal. The telegram read, ‘Regrettably conditions in the desert are not under control and there remain elements of rebel tribes that are still not subdued. At the present time it is neither appropriate nor advisable to cross the desert.’ Just in case the British thought that this was the real reason for his refusal, the King asked me to add an Arab proverb which translated as, ‘The instigator is to blame,’ meaning of course that the British themselves were responsible for his attitude towards them. The British authorities were shaken by this telegram as the King had never dealt with them in this manner before. They now realized the depth of his anger at the Bahrain incident. The whole situation was most embarrassing for them and they hastened to put matters right. A letter was immediately written by the British to His Majesty saying that all their consular officials in the Arabian Gulf, Kuwait and Iraq would like to pay him a visit and apologize for the actions of the British Consul in Bahrain. This meeting did indeed take place, and it showed the extent to which the British government respected the King and valued friendly relations with him. After this meeting, the King’s relations with the British were restored to their usual amicable state, and the Earl of Athlone and Princess Alice were given permission to enter the country.

The Earl and Countess came eventually in 1938. After crossing the peninsula, they were to visit various oil company officials at Dhahran. However, they first paid an official visit to His Majesty in Jeddah. The occasion was a memorable one; donning the Arab veil, the Countess of Athlone was the first woman ever to attend an Arabian state banquet. It was also the first time a Wahhabi king had ever dined publicly with a woman. I have always felt that the meeting symbolized the way in which the people of Europe were showing a gradually awakening interest in, and respect for, the new Arabian state. No longer was our desert land an obscure backwater, conspicuous only for its anarchy. Instead it had become almost overnight a great and united kingdom, under the leadership of an inspired monarch who was now clearly and unmistakably in complete control of all his people. The state of Saudi Arabia had now taken its final form. Ibn Saud was ready to put behind him the task of empire-building and take up his position as ruler of a world power.

[1] *Jabal Tariq, the mountain named after Tariq, is known to the West as Gibraltar.