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The next day General Franks was back in Amman. “We’re not looking at moving troops into Jordan at this stage,” he said. “But we would like to base some of our assets out of the Mediterranean. That would mean firing Tomahawk missiles and launching air strikes from our carriers across Jordanian airspace into Iraq.”

“Tommy,” I said, “why do you want to mess with a friend? If you want to launch over somebody, launch over a different country. Why put us in the line of fire? And can you even guarantee that Israel would not slip in and attack Iraq through our airspace?”

Eventually General Franks understood my concerns and agreed to shift everything elsewhere. To this day I owe General Franks a tremendous debt of thanks—in part because of our personal friendship forged over the years. During his visit he willingly listened to my objections and concerns and agreed to change his plans. If the United States had pushed to fly over Jordan, I would have continued to say no and that would have put Jordan in a tremendously difficult position.

Shortly after the debates over basing ended, the fighting began. On March 20, 2003, the war started with cruise missile strikes. As dawn broke over Baghdad, U.S. Tomahawk missiles slammed into a bunker where Saddam Hussein was thought to be staying. Later that day, around 8 p.m., the ground invasion began. American and British tanks poured across the border from Kuwait, heading for Baghdad and Basra.

The invasion was covered live on satellite television. Like many Arabs, I watched these images with a mixture of sadness and alarm. I was no friend of Saddam, who was the leader of a brutal regime, but I was saddened to see so many innocent Iraqis paying the price for his ambition. The Iraqis are a great people and Baghdad is one of the historic seats of Arab culture, famous for its House of Wisdom, which preserved and translated the works of many Greek philosophers. Iraq produced many famous Arab scientists, musicians, writers, and poets, including Al Mutanabbi, known as the “Arab Shakespeare.” It was heartbreaking to see this ancient city pulverized by American missiles. Many Arabs were alarmed at American forces invading a brethren Arab country. Across the Middle East, we felt plenty of shock, but little awe.

Knowing the concerns that were uppermost in many Jordanians’ minds, I spoke about the efforts I had made to stop the war, saying in an interview with the Jordanian press:

We have used all our relations with influential countries in order to avert the day in which we see Iraq exposed to this invasion with all that it entails of suffering of innocents and suffering of the entire region. . . .

The Jordanian people, and I am one of them, strongly condemn the killing of women and children. . . . As a father I feel the pain of every Iraqi family, of every Iraqi child and father.

I spoke my heart, yet the war had begun and my hands were tied. There was nothing I could do to reverse it. The best I could do was rely on my instinct that I was doing the right thing for Jordan.

Although the conflict was hundreds of miles away, it did not take long before its tremors were felt inside Jordan. I was sitting at home watching the news on television when the telephone rang. It was Saad Khair, the head of my intelligence services (who very sadly passed away in late 2009). “We have discovered an Iraqi plot to poison the water supply in Zarqa and other locations,” he said. “The leader is the military attaché at the Iraqi embassy, and he is planning to strike soon. What should we do?”

The poisoning of our main water supply would have killed hundreds if not thousands of innocent Jordanians. Dealing with the plot would not be easy—as “diplomats,” Saddam’s men had immunity, and arresting them could cause an international incident. I went through the evidence and decided it was too conclusive not to act.

I said, “If this is going to risk the life of Jordanians, forget diplomatic immunity. Go arrest them, right now.” The intelligence services burst into Iraqi embassy housing and