Even after the Prophet ﷺ arrived in Madinah, peace remained elusive. The Quraysh, wounded in pride and restless with vengeance, refused to let go. The Prophet ﷺ bore their enmity with patience — until the command came from above. The time had arrived to take up arms in defense of the truth.

Thus came Badr — the first great battle of Islam.

Ibn ʿUmar, still a young boy on the edge of manhood, was stirred with longing. He had listened to the Prophet ﷺ speak of the nobility of fighting in the path of God. His heart beat for it. He wanted to be there — to take his place alongside the warriors of truth.

When the army set out, the young ones marched eagerly behind. Ibn ʿUmar was among them, eyes shining with anticipation. But there was still one final phase before the battlefield — a quiet inspection by the Prophet ﷺ, a final sorting.

He would look each fighter in the eye and decide: who was ready, and who was not.

Ibn ʿUmar would later recount the memory in his own words: “We reached Biʾr al-Suqyā, a valley about a mile from Madinah where clear water wells dotted the land. The Prophet ﷺ halted the army there, pitched his tent, and began to review the ranks. His eyes moved over us — the youngest among the hopeful. He paused. One after another, he turned us away, saying we were not yet of age for the sword.”

Among those dismissed were Ibn ʿUmar himself, Rāfiʿ ibn Khadīj, Barāʾ ibn ʿĀzib, Saʿīd ibn Suhayr, Zayd ibn Arqam, and Umayr ibn Abī Waqqāṣ.

The Prophet’s judgment was gentle, but firm.

Young Umayr broke into tears — and in the end, the Prophet ﷺ relented and allowed him to go. But Ibn ʿUmar received no such concession. That night, he could not sleep. His heart was heavy, his pillow soaked with disappointment. The dream of standing beside the Prophet ﷺ in battle had slipped through his fingers.

Then came Uḥud. Again the army assembled. Again the youth gathered. Ibn ʿUmar was among them. When they reached Shaykhayn, just outside Madinah, the Prophet ﷺ again began to inspect.

Many of the same faces returned — Saʿīd ibn Thābit, ʿAmr ibn Ḥazm, Usāmah ibn Zayd, Zayd ibn Arqam, Barāʾ ibn ʿĀzib, and others. Once more, they were turned away.

Only two were allowed: Samurah ibn Jundub and Rāfiʿ ibn Khadīj — both fifteen.

Even then, Rāfiʿ was nearly denied until someone vouched, “O Messenger of Allah, Rāfiʿ is an excellent archer.” That tipped the scale. When Samurah heard that Rāfiʿ was accepted, he demanded his chance. “He can shoot,” he said, “but I can wrestle.”

He proved it — and earned his place.

Ibn ʿUmar still waited. Still hoped. Still burned.

But the decree remained the same. His turn had not yet come.

Then came the Battle of the Trench — Khandaq. By now, Ibn ʿUmar had completed fifteen years of age — the threshold of eligibility. At Uḥud, he had been fourteen.

This time, the Prophet ﷺ permitted him. At last, his yearning met reality. He was now a soldier in the army of faith.

Khandaq was a test of patience, strategy, and fear. The Muslims suffered much in the early phase. But in the end, the tide turned. It was a victory born of perseverance. For Ibn ʿUmar, it was unforgettable — his first battlefield, the birth of his warrior soul.

The battle got its name — Khandaq, meaning trench — from the deep ditch the Muslims had dug to defend Madinah. It was a war of nerves and ingenuity.

The day after the victory, the Prophet ﷺ issued a sudden command:“Let no one who hears and obeys my voice pray the ʿAṣr prayer until they reach Banū Qurayẓah.”

The Jewish tribe of Banū Qurayẓah had betrayed their pact and sided with the enemy during the battle. Their treachery endangered the very core of Madinah’s safety. Justice had to be served.

Ibn ʿUmar was in that company of believers who now marched toward the tribe.

He later narrated: “Along the way, ʿAṣr time approached. We remembered the Prophet’s command. Some among us said, ‘We will not pray until we reach Banū Qurayẓah.’ Others said, ‘The Prophet meant we should hurry — not that we miss the prayer.’ So one group delayed their prayer, while the other prayed on the road.”

Later, the Prophet ﷺ was informed of this disagreement. He did not blame either group. Each had acted with sincerity and understanding. His silence was a lesson in mercy within difference.

The siege of Banū Qurayẓah lasted for twenty-five days. Tents surrounded their fortress. Nights passed in anxious stillness. Eventually, the tribe surrendered.

For Ibn ʿUmar, this was no mere military campaign. These battles formed the crucible in which his spirit was tempered — through hope and heartbreak, rejection and acceptance, sweat and faith. And in each of them, he was slowly becoming what the Prophet ﷺ had seen in him all along — a man whose heart would forever walk in the footprints of his Messenger.