OUTSIDE a hotel in the centre of Baghdad last week, Abdul Nasser Zaatar was waiting for his bus to war. A Jordanian who had moved to Syria, he had left his family and fashion design business to fight the invaders in Iraq.

Zaatar’s elder son and daughter had driven their father to Baghdad to bid him farewell in his quest to fight “side by side with the Iraqi people and to seek martyrdom in the name of God and nation”.

Zaatar, 47, told them not to expect him back. As he milled around with scores of other volunteers last week, he seemed determined to die for the cause.

“I seek martyrdom. This means I am willing to laden myself with anything necessary and blow myself against the enemy’s convoys, tanks or troops,” he said.

He had much to lose: a wife in Syria, another in Jordan and nine children. “If I return alive, welcome me with ululations,” he said. “And if I attain martyrdom, celebrate my death with ululations, too.”

What of his wives and children if he died? “God will provide and my 14 brothers are already in charge of their future,” he said.

“They cannot be better or more precious than the Iraqi people here who have no choice, no hope and are being slaughtered in front of our eyes.”

A mixture of religious fervour and Arab nationalism, coupled with outrage at the daily scenes of civilian carnage broadcast from Baghdad, has driven hundreds, probably thousands, of Arab volunteers to flock to Baghdad. Among them are Yemenis, Sudanese, Jordanians, Palestinians, Lebanese, Syrians, Algerians, Tunisians, Moroccans, Libyans, Omanis and even Qataris.

They said they were eager to fight — though as they gathered at a hotel in Baghdad before being bused off to various frontlines, they may not have expected that only days later US troops would enter the city.

Bilal Abu Ragheb, 32, from Tripoli in north Lebanon, had left his wife and five young children behind to “stand by the Iraqi people in their resistance against the occupation”.

“This is a fight to the end,” he said. “There is no middle ground here. It will be either death or victory.”

Others were returning to Baghdad after fighting elsewhere. Ahmad Mohammed Idriss, a Syrian father of four, had spent nine days involved in skirmishes near Basra.

“I came for Iraq and because of my hatred towards the Americans,” he said.

“I came in response to Bush’s statement (after September 11) that this was a crusade. Since we are Muslims and he is speaking of a crusade, I came to show him that we worship death as much as he and his people worship life.

“We had the best evenings in our trenches watching the American and British planes fly above and we used to laugh at them knowing how fearful they are of this war and of incurring deaths while we, on the other hand, are lovers of death and cannot wait to attain martyrdom.”

He said he would defend Baghdad. “I will turn my body into shrapnel that will kill as many Americans and British soldiers as possible. I call on all Muslims to kill any American or British woman, child or the old, just as they have killed ours.

“They set the rules of this war and now they will reap its outcome for years to come and wherever they may be. Let them know they will never be safe anywhere in the world,” said Idriss.

Not everyone was so eager to see people die. In the midst of the commotion was Hajeh Samraa, 65, one of several women from Syria and Lebanon who mingled among the men, looking for their sons.

Her son, a university student called Adnan al-Maayssi, and her nephew had left home without her blessing, telling her they were heading for Iraq to fight a war of “liberation and to seek martyrdom”. She had travelled to Iraq to take the pair back home.

“If victory was certain I might not mind so much,” she said as fighters and Iraqi officers gathered around, promising to search for her boys.

Like their counterparts who went to Afghanistan a generation ago to battle Soviet communists, the Arab volunteers feel compelled to fight the infidel. Most Arab Muslims feel it is not only their religious identity that is under siege, but their political and ethnic identities as well.

They suspect that the United States plans to redraw the region’s map, starting with Iraq. It is a fear shared by Muslims across the Arab world irrespective of class, race and nationality.

Despite the enemy advance towards Baghdad, the overwhelming mood of the volunteers was one of determination and defiance, even among the young. Mohanad Almahmoud was only 15, yet his family in Syria, he said, had blessed him to take part in the “jihad against the murderous Americans and British”.

Another fighter from Syria said his wife had one request of him. She had told him: “Bring back from the battlefield as many ears cut off from the British soldiers as possible. Only this will avenge the death of the Iraqi innocent children and women.”

As the buses revved their engines, the volunteers chanted: “We are Iraq’s new fedayeens, craving to fight to liberate this Arab land from the tyrants.” Iraqi officers hugged and kissed the men, wishing them God speed.

Grabbing my hand before rushing off to his bus, Abdul Nasser Zaatar, who had once worked in Los Angeles, said: “Wish me martyrdom, not goodbye. Please wish me martyrdom.”

The flying medic

Squadron Leader Dave McLoughlin, an RAF doctor, leads a helicopter evacuation team for the wounded:

We picked up three US Marines from Umm Qasr, one badly injured in the face. It’s amazing how many of those big strong lads start to cry with relief when the helicopter touches down at the field hospital — they know then they’ll live. We go with the Geneva convention and move as many injured Iraqis as our own guys. When we go it’s because someone’s life is on the line, no matter whose life it is.