Hammond Innes - The Doomed Oasis

‘My influence? What influence do you think I have now? Men have been killed and that’s something only blood can wipe out.’ And he added, staring into the distance, ‘If I’d gone with the Emir’s secretary, I’d have been held hostage for David’s submission — his life or mine. And when next the Emir sends an emissary, he’ll come in force. That was made very plain.’

He put his hand up to his head, covering his eye as though to shut out the desert and concentrate on what was in his mind. ‘It’s madness,’ he breathed. ‘Madness. He can’t achieve anything … ‘

‘How do you know?’ I demanded angrily. ‘Ruffini has the whole story now and … ‘

That Italian?’ He let his hand fall, staring at me in surprise. ‘How can he affect the situation? The authorities aren’t going to take any notice of him.’ He said it as though to convince himself, and then in a voice so hoarse it seemed to be torn out of him: ‘He’ll die up there and that’ll be the end of it.’ The look on his face was quite frightening. He turned and walked slowly to his tent. I didn’t see him again that evening, and the next day his manner was still very strange. We hardly exchanged a word and I was glad when Captain Berry arrived.

Looking back on it, I suppose I should have tried to understand his predicament. He hadn’t enough men to get David out by force and he was probably right in saying the situation had gone beyond the reach of his influence with the Emir. What I didn’t realize was that I was seeing a man in the grip of events, forced to a re-assessment of his whole life and the values by which he had lived — and being driven half out of his mind in the process.

It was late afternoon when Berry got in. A lean, bony-looking Scot with fair hair and a face that was almost brick-red in the slanting sun, he brought a breath of sanity into that sultry camp, for he was from outside and not emotionally involved in what was happening forty miles to the east. He had a message for me from Colonel George picked up on his radio that morning. ‘I’m to tell you that your Italian friend got his story out in time and that you’re not to worry. Everything possible is being done. The Colonel has been ordered to Bahrain to report to the Political Resident in person. Oh, and he said a Nurse Thomas sent you her love and is glad to know you’re safe. Okay?’

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. For the moment I could think of nothing but that message from Sue. Captain Berry was speaking to Whitaker, something about his son showing what one determined and resolute man could achieve. He was one of those soldiers that believe action is the solution to everything. ‘You must be very proud of him, sir.’ Colonel Whitaker’s face was without expression, but a nerve flickered along the line of his jaw and he turned away.

Berry watched him for a moment, a puzzled look on his face. ‘That’s a man I’ve always wanted to meet,’ he said.

‘But I’m surprised he left this to his son. After what’s happened in Saraifa, I should have thought he’d have been busy raising the desert tribes. It would have solved our difficulty if he had. We might be allowed to support a desert rising against the Emir.’

‘I take it,’ I said, ‘you’ll be leaving at once.’ It wasn’t only that I wanted to know what had happened since I’d left Jebel al-Akhbar. I wanted to get away from that camp.

But he told me it was out of the question. They’d been driving for over twenty hours. Both the wireless truck and the Land-Rover had to be serviced, the men needed sleep. He had a wireless operator with him and five levies of the TOS under a corporal. ‘Leave at first light. Makes no difference, I’m afraid,’ he added, seeing my impatience. ‘I can’t help Colonel Whitaker’s son. Mine’s only a watching brief. Anyway, it’s no good bashing these dunes in the dark.’

He’d brought spare kit for me so that I had the luxury of a camp bed that night. And in the morning I was able to discard my Arab clothes, which by then were very filthy, and put on clean khaki shirt and shorts. We breakfasted on bully-beef and tinned peaches, washed down with a brew of strong tea, and then we left.

Colonel Whitaker was there to see us go and as he said goodbye to me he gave me instructions that were to have considerable significance later: ‘If anything happens to me, Grant, I leave you to look after my affairs. I think you know enough about me now to understand what I want done if they find oil here.’ We drove off then and I remember thinking he looked a very lonely figure standing there with the clutter of the rig behind him. We went north, taking the shortest route across Hadd territory and driving fast. Keeping to the flat gravel stretches between the dunes, we were clear of Hadd’s northern border by ten-thirty. We turned east then, and the going became much slower, for we were crossing the lines of the dunes.

At set times we stopped to make radio contact with TOS HQ. The only news of any importance was that Colonel George, before he left for Bahrain and therefore presumably acting on his own initiative, had ordered Berry’s Company south into the desert for exercises.

Shortly after midday the dunes began to get smaller and in an area where it had rained quite recently we came upon the black tents of a Bedouin encampment, and there were camels browsing on untidy bushes of abal. Berry stopped and spoke with some of the men. ‘Well, your chap was alive yesterday,’ he said as we drove on. ‘I thought they were Al Bu Shamis, but they were of the Awamir and they came up past Jebel al-Akhbar yesterday. They say they heard intermittent firing. They also told me that the people of Saraifa are beginning to return to the oasis, that two falajes are running again and Khalid’s half-brother, Mahommed, is calling men to arms.’

It was the first indication I had that what David had done had not been done in vain.

Soon after that we became bogged down for several hours in an area of small dunes so confused that it looked like a petrified tidal race. As a result we didn’t sight Jebel al-Akhbar until late afternoon. We stopped at sunset. The hill looked deceptively close in the clear still air, the colours of the rock almost mauve, the sky behind quite green. ‘It’s about six miles away,’ Berry said, handing me his glasses. I could see the fort quite distinctly then, the tower in silhouette against the fantastic sky. Nothing moved there. No sign of life.

I was tired after the long drive and I felt depressed. Darkness fell. We had our food and after the meal Berry disappeared into the back of the truck. He wanted to hear the BBC News. It kept him in touch, he said; but what he meant was that it brought home nearer and made the desert seem less remote.

Nature’s needs took me into the desert and when he called to me I didn’t hear what it was he shouted, but only caught the excitement in his voice. Back at the truck I found him seated with the earphones pressed tight against his head. ‘It was in the summary,’ he said. And then after a while, ‘Your chap’s made the headlines apparently. A big story in one of the papers this morning.’ He removed the earphones and switched off. ‘They even got his name right and the name of the fort… And the Foreign Secretary is to be asked a question about it in the House tonight.’ He rolled his long body over the tailboard and stood beside me. ‘Funny thing,’ he said. ‘If it had been a soldier up there on the Jebel al-Akhbar, they’d have taken it for granted, or more probably somebody would have raised hell because the fellow had disobeyed orders. But because he’s a civilian … ‘ He gave a quick, derisive laugh. ‘Not that it makes any difference. One newspaper story and a question in the House won’t change my orders. We’ll be left to sit here and watch him die. That is if he isn’t dead already.’