control to a new Iraqi health ministry.
One of the toughest questions was how to plan for a post-Saddam political system. Some in the administration suggested that we turn over power immediately to a group of Iraqi exiles. I didn’t like the idea. While the exiles had close connections in Washington, I felt strongly that the Iraqis’ first leader should be someone they selected. I was mindful of the British experience in Iraq in the 1920s. Great Britain had installed a non-Iraqi king, Faisal, who was viewed as illegitimate and whose appointment stoked resentment and instability. We were not going to repeat that mistake.
The other major challenge was how to provide security after Saddam. Some intelligence reports predicted that most of Saddam’s army and police would switch sides once the regime was gone. The top commanders—those with innocent blood on their hands—would not be invited to rejoin. But we would draw on the rest of the Saddam- era forces to form the foundation of the new Iraqi military and police.
In January 2003, I issued a presidential directive, NSPD 24, creating a new Office of Reconstruction and Humanitarian Assistance. ORHA was charged with turning our conceptual plans into concrete action. We based the office in the Pentagon, so that our civilian efforts in Iraq would run through the same chain of command as our military operations. To lead the office, Don Rumsfeld tapped Jay Garner, a retired general who had coordinated the military’s relief effort in northern Iraq in 1991. He recruited a cadre of civilian experts from across the government who would stand by to deploy to Baghdad.
By having our plans and personnel ready before the war, I felt we were well prepared. Yet we were aware of our limitations. Our nation building capabilities were limited, and no one knew for sure what needs would arise. The military had an old adage: “No battle plan survives first contact with the enemy.” As we would learn in Iraq, that was doubly true of a plan for the postwar environment.
By March 2003, the battle plan was ready. After more than a year of probing and questioning, Tommy Franks and his team had developed an operation that I was confident would overthrow Saddam Hussein swiftly and decisively, while minimizing the loss of American and Iraqi life. The one remaining uncertainty was the role of Turkey. For months, we had been pressing the Turks to give us access to their territory so that we could send fifteen thousand troops from the Fourth Infantry Division to enter Iraq from the north. We promised to provide economic and military aid, help Turkey access key programs from the International Monetary Fund, and maintain our strong support for Turkey’s admission to the European Union.
At one point, it looked like we would get permission. Prime Minister Abdullah Gul’s cabinet approved our request. But when the Turkish parliament held a final vote on March 1, it came up just short of passage. I was frustrated and disappointed. On one of the most important requests we had ever made, Turkey, our NATO ally, had let America down.
Don and Tommy held the Fourth Infantry Division in the eastern Mediterranean Sea, where it could deploy through Turkey if the government changed its mind or, otherwise, join the invasion from Kuwait. We also planned to deploy a thousand paratroopers from the 173rd Airborne to the Kurdish region of northern Iraq. This wasn’t our first choice, but at least we would have a foothold for a northern front.
In the south, we had more than 150,000 American troops on Iraq’s border, with some 90,000 more stationed in the Gulf region. I had made it abundantly clear that we would use them if necessary. Coercive diplomacy had brought us to our maximum point of leverage. The military and diplomatic tracks had fully converged. The choice between war and peace belonged to Saddam Hussein alone.
For months, the National Security Council had been meeting almost daily to discuss Iraq. I knew where all my advisers stood. Dick Cheney was concerned about the slow diplomatic process. He warned that Saddam Hussein could be using the time to produce weapons, hide weapons, or plot an attack. At one of our weekly lunches that winter, Dick asked me directly, “Are you going to take care of this guy, or not?” That was his way of saying he thought we had given diplomacy enough time. I appreciated Dick’s blunt advice. I told him I wasn’t ready to move yet. “Okay, Mr. President, it’s your call,” he said. Then he deployed one of his favorite lines. “That’s why they pay you the big bucks,” he said with a gentle smile.
Don Rumsfeld was not as definitive. He assured me the military would be ready if I gave the order. He also warned that we couldn’t leave 150,000 troops sitting on Iraq’s border forever. The logistical strain of supporting that many forces was immense. At some point, the buildup would lose its coercive value because Saddam would conclude we weren’t serious about sending the troops in.
Condi was careful to stay neutral at the NSC meetings, but she gave me her opinion in private. She had been a strong supporter of inspections. But after meeting with Blix and his team, she was convinced Saddam would do nothing but stall. She reluctantly concluded that the only way to enforce the UN resolution would be to use the military option.
Colin had the deepest reservations. In a one-on-one meeting in early 2003, he had told me he believed we could manage the threat of Iraq diplomatically. He also told me he was not fully comfortable with the war plans. That did not surprise me. The operation Tommy Franks had conceived would use about a third as many troops as we had in the Gulf War. It marked a stark departure from the belief that America could win wars only by deploying massive, decisive force—commonly known as the Powell Doctrine.
I was pleased when Colin told me he had shared his concerns about the plan with Tommy. Colin had been chairman of the Joint Chiefs during Desert Storm, and I was confident Tommy would take his input seriously. While I was still hopeful diplomacy would work, I told Colin it was possible that we would reach the point where war was the only option left. Neither of us wanted war, but I asked if he would support military action as a last resort. “If this is what you have to do,” he said, “I’m with you, Mr. President.”
On Sunday morning, March 16, I boarded Air Force One and winged my way to the Azores Islands, a Portuguese territory about two thirds of the way from Washington to Lisbon. I was headed to a last-minute summit on diplomatic strategy with Tony Blair, Jose Maria Aznar, and Prime Minister Jose Barroso of Portugal. With the French, Germans, and Russians opposed to the second UN resolution, and the Mexicans and Chileans unwilling to provide their votes, we all agreed the diplomatic track had reached its end. We planned to withdraw the second UN resolution Monday morning. That evening, I would give Saddam Hussein and his sons forty-eight hours to leave the country, a final opportunity to avoid war.
With three steadfast European allies at the Azores Islands, (
Tony’s critical vote in parliament would come Tuesday. He told me he would resign if the vote failed, meaning that Great Britain would withdraw from the military coalition. I never imagined I would be following a British parliamentary vote so closely, let alone pulling for the Labour Party prime minister. I shook hands with my friend and his team as we left the Azores. “I hope that’s not the last time we ever see them,” Condi said on the walk to Air Force One.
The flight home was long and quiet. After so much planning and waiting, the moment had arrived. Unless Saddam fled the country, we would be at war in three days. I was deeply disappointed that diplomacy had failed. But I had promised the American people, our allies, and the world that we would enforce the UN resolutions. I was not going to break my word.
For months I had solicited advice, listened to a variety of opinions, and considered the counterarguments. Some believed we could contain Saddam by keeping the inspectors in Iraq. But I didn’t see how. If we were to tell Saddam he had another chance—after declaring this was his last chance—we would shatter our credibility and embolden him.
Others suggested that the threat wasn’t as serious as we thought. That was easy for them to say. They weren’t responsible for protecting the country. I remembered the shattering pain of 9/11, a surprise attack for which we had received no warning. This time we had a warning like a blaring siren. Years of intelligence pointed overwhelmingly to the conclusion that Saddam had WMD. He had used them in the past. He had not met his responsibility to prove their destruction. He had refused to cooperate with the inspectors, even with the threat of an invasion on his doorstep. The only logical conclusion was that he was hiding WMD. And given his support of terror and his sworn hatred of America, there was no way to know where those weapons would end up.
Others alleged that America’s real intent was to control Iraq’s oil or satisfy Israel. Those theories were false. I was sending our troops into combat to protect the American people.
