by Tom Clancy
I arranged for a Marine helicopter to fly us out to Tel Aviv on the next night; it would then wait until the meetings were over and return us to Beirut before daylight. The meetings were held in Uri Labron's office, usually from nine in the evening until midnight, and were always cordial, frank, and direct.
At the first mecting, Abbas Hamdan detailed his government's concerns about the timing of the Israeli withdrawal, but indicated that three brigades were almost ready to relieve Israeli forces in place. Tannous's hoped-for plan: He would first relieve the Israeli forces in the Chouf Mountains overlooking Beirut, while keeping a brigade employed in the vicinity of Beirut. When all Israeli forces had withdrawn, he would station a brigade in southern Lebanon to provide a security zone for Israel's northern border.
Labron's reply was vague. In essence: (1) The Israeli forces had pretty well achieved their objectives in Lebanon by driving the PLO out. (2) He had no indication from his government of a timetable for withdrawal of Israeli forces. (3) We should continue the meetings next week. (4) The group should meet the commanders of the Israeli units in Lebanon in order to get to know them better and work out a plan for relief of forces in place.
The next afternoon, Hamdan, Quassis, and I met with the Israeli Defense Force director of operations and the chief of intelligence for the Israeli forces in Lebanon to discuss plans for the relief. Like Labron, they were not aware of a timetable for withdrawal, but would be willing to work with Lebanese army officials.
The message from General Tannous indicated a slight change of position: Though he desired more time to ready his units, he was now willing to risk an earlier employment in order to prevent a dangerous void that would likely occur after an Israeli pullout.
During the next meeting in Tel Aviv, Labroni seemed pleased that we were working with the Israeli officers to develop a plan for relief, but he was still not aware of a timetable. He did have something new to present, however: The Israeli government had decided to provide its own security force to man the buffer zone on the Lebanese side or the border. A mainly Jewish and Christian militia was already in the process of being formed, and it was headed by a former lieutenant colonel of the Israeli Defense Forces.
This was not exactly the news the Lebanese wanted to hear, but I could understand Israel's position relative to its own security. The Lebanese army was untested at this particular point. I communicated all this to my superiors.
Back in Beirut, Tannous was disappointed that Israel would not trust the Lebanese army to guard its northern border, but the news was not all bad. The Israeli decision would now free up another brigade for Beirut.
Around August 20, meetings with Israeli officers produced a detailed plan to position Lebanese army units to support the Israeli withdrawal. These meetings took place in the field along the route that most of the Israeli forces would be using in their withdrawal from the Chouf Mountains, and they concluded with an understanding that the plan was acceptable. Again, no definite timetable had been established for the withdrawal, but Lebanese army officials were to be notified when a date was set.
On September 2, 1983, General Tannous hosted a dinner for General Levy, the Israeli chief of staff, and General Ehud Barak, Israel's chief of military intelligence, to request more time to ready his forces and get his troops into position before a pullout by the Israelis.
It was at this meeting that Tannous learned that the Israeli government had reached a final decision on a pullout timetable: The withdrawal was to begin immediately, starting the night of September 3. According to Levy, the decision was a political one, and there would be no delay. Tannous himself was shocked and deeply humiliated. He felt he had been let down by the Israelis.
The following morning, Israeli Defense Minister Moshe Arens met with Richard Fairbanks, a senior member of the U.S. national security staff. Fairbanks requested a delay, but Arens indicated that the decision had already been made, and the withdrawal would begin as scheduled.
Around midnight, the rumble of tanks and heavy vehicles could be heard from Beirut and the Chouf Mountains. The Israelis were pulling back to Israel.
They had left the dangerous void that Tannous feared.
Chaos soon followed.
Because Lebanon had become a high-threat situation, Tannous became concerned about my personal security. I reluctantly mentioned this to General Vessey in one of my daily situation reports and was given an intelligence major to help me with my duties. He was a godsend; I already had about as much as I could handle — and besides, two have a better chance of surviving than one. Every two or three days, we moved, always at night, to a different sleeping location. And during the periods of heaviest fighting and shelling, we stayed with Tannous in the underground operations center at the Ministry of Defense — not just for safety. I could best fulfill my responsibility there. Twice, my major and I were caught in ambushes, and both times his driving skills and ability to do bootlegger spins saved us.
ESCALATION
Even before the Israelis withdrew, the Marines at the airport had come under fire from Druze positions on the ridge above the city. The Druze apparently hoped that the provocation would leverage the Lebanese government into greater power-sharing.
In late July, several mortar rounds had landed inside the Marine defensive perimeter; and again, late in August, heavier shelling resulted in the death of a Marine sergeant and a lieutenant. Though the Marines had considerable firepower available to them—155mm howitzers, five M-60 tanks, and all the firepower in the fleet — they had so far refrained from using it. But this time the provocation was too great, and the Marines returned fire, using their 155mm howitzers.
We also suspected that the Christian militia took occasional shots at the Marines, in order to trick them into using their massive firepower against the Druze and the Shiites — and to draw them into the fray.
Three days before the Israeli withdrawal, the leaders of the two main Muslim militias had issued separate statements, claiming that the Marines had turned against the Muslims — a situation made far worse, they added, because of the training assistance the Marines were providing the Lebanese army (actually practically nil). Though the Marines were trying to adhere to the tenets of their mission, and were firing only in self-defense, without taking sides, it was now obvious that the factions and their militias were not following the same rules of engagement, and were trying to link the Marines to the Christian-dominated Lebanese government in the eyes of the people.
The Israeli invasion had succeeded in ridding Lebanon of the PLO, but had done little to neutralize the Muslim armed factions, which were simply biding their time and strengthening their ranks until the Israeli withdrawal allowed them to rush in, fill the void, and resume their war against the Christian-dominated government.
Within twenty-four hours of the withdrawal, the militias began rushing to stake out their territories: The Amal Shiites controlled West Beirut (large numbers of Shiites migrated to West Beirut, taking over hotels and apartment buildings at will); the Druze PSP controlled the Chouf Mountain region; the Syrians controlled the Baalbeck Valley region and the large number of Shiites in that area; the Christian Phalange controlled East Beirut and attempted to take from the Druze the ridgeline above the airport and hold it until a Lebanese army brigade could reach it; and, in the south, Israel was establishing its own uniformed militia, designed to prevent Shiite and Palestinian raids against Israel's northern region. The Sunnis, who tended to be moderate and more affluent, opted to stay out of the militia business.
After the Israeli withdrawal, Beirut was an armed camp — totally unsafe. Soon, heavy artillery and mortar fire began raining down on Christian East Beirut and the Marines at the airport. Death constantly threatened everyone — from snipers, crossfires between factions, ambushes, and indiscriminate shellings by heavy artillery and rocket fire. This sometimes involved thousands of rounds that reduced sections of the city to rubble in less than half an hour.
And in general, all hell broke
loose — assassinations, hostage-taking, factional fighting, and massive shellings — designed to bring down the government, drive out the U.S., French, and Italian forces, and allow each outside sponsor (Syria and Iran) to obtain its own political and religious objectives.
Assad and the Iranians were sitting in the "catbird seats." No one had any control over them, and it was impossible to influence them — but their aims were not the same.
Syria's objective was to control Lebanon through its support of the Amal and PSP militias and of Iranian-sponsored terrorist activities, but to prevent the spread of the Islamic revolution in Syria and Lebanon.
Iran's objective was to use terrorist activities to drive Americans out of the region, while at the same time spreading in the region their brand of fundamentalist Islam.
Shortly after midnight, September 3, the night the Israeli withdrawal started, the Marines at the airport, now obvious targets, were hit once again by heavy Druze artillery and a rocket barrage of more than a hundred rounds, killing two more Marines. Colonel Tim Geraghty immediately dispatched a situation report through his chain of command: "The stakes are becoming very high," he wrote. "Our contribution to peace in Lebanon since 22 July stands at 4 killed and 28 wounded."
Support came three days later.
On September 7, aircraft from the carrier Eisenhower began flying reconnaissance missions over the Chouf Mountains in an attempt to locate the Druze artillery positions. On September 8, the destroyer Bowen fired its 5-inch guns at targets located by the reconnaissance flights, but achieved only minor results, due to the low apogee (flat trajectory) of the rounds, and especially since the fires were not observed and adjusted by U.S. forward observers.
On the same day, the Druze militia, backed by Syrian artillery fire, drove off the last of the Christian militia who'd tried to take the ridgeline south of the airport. Meanwhile, fighting among the militias within Beirut intensified.
Tannous was faced with a dilemma. Something had to be done to ease the situation in Beirut itself, but he also needed to take the Druze-occupied ridgeline, which was only five kilometers away from the Presidential Palace and the Ministry of Defense (MOD). He immediately ordered one of his brigades into West Beirut to "clean it out." He also sent the 8th Brigade, with approximately 2,400 men, to take the town of Souk al Gharb, located near the center of the ridgeline, to clear the Druze militia off the ridge, and then to hold it. Lebanese intelligence estimated that a force of approximately 3,000 Druze militiamen, reinforced by about 300 Palestinians and 100 Iranian Revolutionary Guards, now held the ridge; they were supported by about thirty Soviet-made T-54 tanks, and backed by Syrian heavy artillery.
During the next three days, some of the heaviest fighting of the war took place. For most of those days, the artillery falling on the 8th Brigade attacking Souk al Gharb and on the city — mainly on East (Christian) Beirut — was coming at a rate of about 1,200 rounds per hour.
The brigade that entered West Beirut successfully accomplished its mission with very few casualties. In a couple of days, it had captured approximately 250 militia fighters and supporters and collected eight two-and-a-half-ton-truck-loads of ammunition, weapons, and Soviet communications gear, including complete radio stations with fifty-foot antenna towers.
The 8th Brigade fighting for the ridgeline had a much tougher go. Pounded constantly by heavy artillery fire, the brigade suffered many casualties but performed well. The only way that it could advance under the artillery fire was by hugging buildings as it went up the ridgeline (parts of the area were urbanized). After two days of continuous fighting, it finally succeeded in driving the Druze militiamen from the town.
Tannous and I immediately went to Souk al Gharb to check the brigade and to ensure that its commander, Michel Aoun, was setting up his defenses across the entire ridgeline — which had to be held if Beirut was to be protected — not just in the town itself. Tannous wanted to see firsthand rather than trust Aoun's radio reports.
For some time, Tannous had had concerns about Aoun's ability to effectively lead the brigade. Although it had so far performed well, the brigade commander tended to be indecisive and panicky, and he was prone to "cry wolf." His panic did not indicate solid and daring leadership.
When we got up there, I was stunned. I have never in my military career seen such devastation from artillery fire. Even heavy power lines on steel towers were down — cut by shrapnel. The steel fragments were so thick on the ground you could rake it up in piles. Every one of the brigade's rubber-tired vehicles had shrapnel-caused flat tires, and virtually every soldier in the brigade had some kind of bandaged wound.
And yet, despite more than 200 casualties, the brigade was in good spirits. They had fought well together as a cohesive unit.
After we left, Michel Aoun began to report concerns about the brigade's ability to hold the ridge. He requested reinforcements and more artillery ammo.
On the night of September 10, he reported convoys approaching from Druze territory, and then unloading troops forward of his position.
Shortly thereafter, one of his companies was attacked. It suffered seven dead, forty-three wounded, and several missing, and its commander was hacked to pieces with axes. The attackers, who did not speak Arabic, were probably Iranian Revolutionary Guards from Baalbeck. Aoun was frantic.
Though the heavy fighting on the ridgeline slacked off over the next week, the Druze, with Syrian support, began targeting the officers with long-barreled sniper rifles. For obvious reasons, leadership suffered greatly, and the troops, losing confidence, hunkered down in their holes. This in turn greatly increased their vulnerability to Druze infiltration of their lines at night, which could eventually open an approach to the Presidential Palace and Ambassador Bartholomew's residence in the Yarze neighborhood of Beirut, only about four kilometers from the front. If the Druze forces could actually take the Presidential Palace and Yarze, that would likely mean the end of the Lebanese government — as well as the U.S. assistance program.
As the days passed, the Druze began to increase the pressure. Their main attacks came at night on the forward, southern slope, where the attackers were mostly protected from Lebanese artillery fire supporting the defending brigade. With each attack, Aoun became more panicky.
During this period, I was with Tannous day and night, making recommendations about tactical options and encouraging more aggressive operations.
We visited the brigade at least twice weekly — and once, as we checked frontline defensive positions, narrowly missed getting hit by sniper fire ourselves.
Meanwhile, pressure from the Lebanese government was daily growing more intense to get the Marines and the naval task force offshore to fire in support of the Lebanese army. Gemayel was becoming panicky himself. Any night now, he saw imagined hordes of Iranian Revolutionary Guards attacking the Palace and hacking everyone to pieces.
One night — I don't recall the date — Ambassador Bartholomew asked me to accompany him to a meeting with Gemayel. When we arrived at the Palace, Tannous was already there. Gemayel was in quite a state.
"How much longer do you think we can hold out?" he asked me, visibly alarmed.
"As long as your troops are willing to fight," I told him. "Except for the Syrian artillery, you've got the advantage. But you have to be more aggressive — you' ve got to have your units do more patrolling, and doing to them what they're doing to you. Even if you don't have a lot of artillery, you've got an Air Force and you've got bombs — but you haven't used them."
"Our pilots don't have experience dropping bombs," he answered. "And besides, we don't have the equipment that hooks the bombs to the planes."
"We just might be able to help with that problem," I told him.
By the time the meeting was over, he had calmed down.
Afterward, Tannous thanked me. "Gemayel just wanted to hear the truth from someone other than me, he told me.
I got together with Jerry Tuttle, and with the assistance of a couple of Navy ma
chinists, bomb mounts were made and bombing sights were fabricated (for daylight use only).
Within the next couple of days, the Lebanese Air Force bombed suspected assembly areas and buildings used by the Druze for fighting locations. Although the bombings were not greatly effective, they gave a great psychological boost to the army.
Meanwhile, Robert MacFarlane requested a change in the Marines' rules of engagement, to allow fire support for the Lebanese army on the ridgeline at Souk al Gharb. Washington okayed the change but reemphasized that the Marines' mission remained the same. The order left the actual authority to fire on Souk al Gharb to Tim Geraghty, who proved very reluctant to exercisc it. Once this was done, he knew, the Marines would be drawn deeper into the conflict. Because they were supporting the Lebanese army (though by this time it was nearly sixty percent Muslim), they would seem to be supporting the Christian government, and would therefore no longer be "impartial."
On September 19, the usual daily assault on the 8th Brigade at Souk al Gharb began at two in the morning with an artillery barrage. An hour and a half later, Simon Quassis, Lebanon's chief of military intelligence, amakened U.S. Colonel Gatanas, a member of MacFarlane's staff, in a panic: "Without American help," he told him, "Souk al Gharb will fill in half an hour." Gatanas called me with this report, and indicated that he was going to the 8th Brigade command post to check with Anoun personally.
This was a good idea, I told him, because I wouldn't put it past Quassis and Aoun to cook up something like this in order to get U.S. fire support.
Catanas reached Aoun five hours later. By then, Anoun was totally confused and distraught, and all but out of artillery shells. "Where is the main threat coming from?" Gatanas asked him.
"Everywhere."
Gatanas was later able to sort through Aoun's confusion enough to determine that hand-to-hand fighting was occurring on the brigade's southern flank, but the main threat was probably coming from the north. The Lebanese soldiers seemed to be holding, but the same could not be said for leadership at the brigade level, which was likely to come apart. It was clear they were ultimately going to require fire support. Without it, the leadership would surely break down, at which point the brigade would no longer be a capable force and could not defend the ridge.
