Fayeq Talal Abdu was nearing the end of a twelve-hour shift at the refinery when he heard a sound that chilled him to the bone. A sound he had not heard since the early days of the Iraqi invasion. The high pitched roar of the rocket engine sent him scrambling to the ground to take cover under a wooden table offering little protection from the explosion about to follow. When it came the explosion was distant, barely rattling the windows. The Scud must have missed but there were probably more to follow. Was this the start of another invasion or just an opportunistic strike at the refinery? Tensions at the Iraqi−Kuwaiti border had been rising in recent months but until now, the only things launched from the Iraqi side were rocks thrown at the guards. Fayeq thought of his family and the anguish they suffered during the occupation in 1990. His wife and his daughter had been kept under house arrest for months whilst he and his son managed to escape into neighbouring Saudi Arabia. Leaving his wife and daughter had been the most difficult decision he had ever had to make. But the alternative was death or capture for him and his boy. The Iraqi soldiers rounded up most of the men and many of them were never seen again.

Fayeq started to formulate a plan. He needed to get to his family in the city before the troops started to pour in. His son was away studying in America so it was just his wife and daughter he needed to get across the border. He climbed out from under the table and grabbed his jacket. It was almost daylight and soon his daytime relief would be showing up, but he had no time to waste waiting for him. Patting his jacket pocket to ensure he had his cars keys he ran for the door and left the building. Once outside he surveyed the scene. The rocket landed about 500 metres away leaving a trail of fire and smoke that scorched the desert landscape. He would have to drive past it to get onto the main road and there could be further explosions. It was a risk he would take to get to his family. By the time he reached his vehicle the car park was full of his co-workers rushing around and chattering excitedly in their bright red overhauls and white hard hats. He did not hang around to engage with any of them, he just wanted to get away from there as fast as possible. As he left the gates of the refinery and drove toward the impact site, he noticed debris on the road. He would have to slow down to avoid fragments of metal and stone but he could still get through. As he got nearer to the largest pieces of debris, he realised what he was seeing were not the fragments of a missile but those of a light aircraft. A large section of the tail wing and several seats were scattered around the area. He realised with some embarrassment he had made the wrong assumption and should not have left his post. He quickly gathered his thoughts. He would say he had driven over to see if there were any survivors. A few people had already reached the site and were shielding their faces against the heat as they tried to approach the smouldering wreck. He noticed blue flashing lights approaching from the distance so he pulled his car to one side so emergency services would have clear access. While he waited for them to arrive, he scanned the area to look for signs of life or human remains but there did not appear to be any trace of the passengers.

Within 30 minutes of the impact, the police arrived on the scene followed closely by the fire service. Finally, two ambulances arrived. The police soon took control of the area, ordering Fayeq and other workers back to the refinery to wait for questioning. They set up a roadblock about one kilometre either side of the wreckage so Fayeq had no choice but to stay until the roadblock was cleared and his relief could get through. While he waited for the police to visit him he had time to reflect on what had happened and how he had acted. He was elated by the fact he was not going to relive the horrors of 1990, but he was sad for the people who perished in the plane crash.

It was almost lunchtime before a police officer came to see him. Six hours had passed since the crash and the officer made it clear he was just going through the motion of taking statements. There was no mention of Fayeq leaving his post but he volunteered the information about checking for survivors anyway. The officer did not seem interested. Having completed the formality of the statement the officer passed him the papers to read over and sign. It was while he was doing this the police radio sounded and the officer suddenly became animated in response to the call. Fayeq managed to overhear some of the message but it did not make sense. According to the person on the other end of the radio, seven people had appeared at the crash site dazed and confused. The police officer ran outside to his car. Fayeq followed but this time chose to approach the crash site on foot. As he reached the crash site, he saw medics tending to a group of people. There were five men and two women. They were all pale skinned, clearly of Western origin. The two women had on police jackets while the men were wrapped in blankets. All were bare legged and bare footed. Without taking his eyes off the group of people he nudged one if his co-workers and asked who they were. Unfortunately, the man he nudged was Solomon the cleaner, an annoying little man who had a reputation for exaggerating everything and was incapable of taking anything seriously. He turned to Fayeq with an inane toothless grin on his face and told him that the people had suddenly appeared on the horizon just behind where the jet had crashed. He said at first he thought his mind was playing tricks on him as they approached through the heat haze. However, as they drew nearer he could see they were all completely naked, wearing, he joked, nothing more than a dazed and confused expression. Fayeq paid little attention to Solomon and turned his gaze back to the group being tended to by the medics. They did look confused but appeared otherwise unharmed. He dismissed immediately the possibility they were survivors of the crash, thinking instead they were probably passing by on the road when the plane had impacted. Or maybe camping nearby which would explain their nakedness. They regularly had groups of young people camping in the dessert, though this group did not seem that young.

Fayeq’s relief finally made it through the roadblock by 4 pm, just two hours before they were meant to change over for the night shift. His relief agreed to stay on shift until midnight so Fayeq could get some sleep. On his way home Fayeq turned on the radio to listen to the news. As expected the crash near the refinery was the headline story. He listened in disbelief as the reporter claimed the four passengers and three crew had miraculously survived the crash uninjured. Fayeq knew from what he had seen this was not possible. He thought back to the seven people who he saw at the ambulance. If they were survivors from the crash, having not sustained a single injury between them, that truly was a miracle. He reached over to the radio and flicked through the stations until he found one playing music. It had been a very strange day and despite everything that had happened, he was grateful to be going home to his family.