To get to Damascus he had dragged his brigade on a hellish six-day march through the arid Syrian desert. Their only means of transporting enough water for this march had been to force around twenty fat, old she-camels to drink massive volumes of water, binding the beasts’ mouths to prevent their chewing their cud, and then killing several of them daily to retrieve the water from their stomachs.3 Now, as Khalid stood outside Damascus, he was setting his arm against his most dangerous foe so far.
