Monday, Oct. 31, 1983

Carnage in Lebanon

By William E. Smith

It was early Sunday morning in Lebanon, the beginning of an October day that promised even in that strife-riven country to draw crowds to the beaches and strollers to the corniches. Only the cooks were up and about in the reinforced-concrete Aviation Safety Building on the edge of the Beirut International Airport, used as headquarters by the Eighth Marine Battalion of the U.S. part of the peace-keeping force. Built around a courtyard, the headquarters contained a gymnasium, a reading room, the administrative offices and the communications center for the battalion. It was also sleeping quarters for some 200 Marines; most were still in their cots, enjoying the luxury of Sunday, the one day of the week when they were free from reveille. Suddenly a truck, laden with dynamite, on a fanatical suicide mission crashed into the building's lobby and exploded with such force that the structure collapsed in seconds, killing or wounding most of the Marines inside. By evening the toll, still incomplete as rescuers picked through the rubble, stood at 147 dead, 60 wounded.

For the U.S. Armed Forces, it was the worst disaster since the end of the Viet Nam War a decade ago. The terrorist attack illustrated in the most grisly fashion possible just how risky it is for the U.S. to venture, not just with its diplomats but with its troops, into a region that has been plagued for centuries by factionalism and hatred. The carnage in Lebanon was virtually certain to produce a political storm as members of Congress and ordinary Americans questioned the wisdom of a policy they do not always understand. For the fractious little country at the eastern end of the Mediterranean, whose government the American peace keepers were trying to uphold, the event marked another terrible setback on the seemingly endless path away from anarchy and chaos.

All across the nation on Sunday night, Marine Corps officers walked up to homes and apartments to inform Americans that their sons or brothers or fathers or husbands had died under the twisted, smoking debris in Beirut. It was the Marine way: personal notification, not an anonymous telegram or faceless phone call. Some of the bodies were already headed home; others still lay under tons of metal and concrete as the search team worked around the clock. It would be days before America could fully count its dead and wounded.

After hearing of the bombing in a 2:27 a.m. phone call from his National Security Adviser, Robert McFarlane, President Reagan broke off a weekend golfing visit to Georgia. Emerging from his helicopter on the White House lawn, he clutched his wife Nancy's hand in his own and returned the salute of a young Marine. The President then declared, "I know there are no words to properly express our outrage and the outrage of all Americans at the despicable act. But I think we should all recognize that these deeds make so evident the bestial nature of those who would assume power if they could have their way and drive us out of that area." The U.S. must be more determined than ever, said the President, to ensure that such forces "cannot take over that vital and strategic area of the earth."

After a three-hour meeting of the National Security Council Sunday afternoon. Presidential Spokesman Larry Speakes announced that the President had decided to dispatch General Paul X. Kelley, commandant of the Marine Corps, to Beirut to undertake a complete review of ways in which better protection could be provided for the Marines. Speakes said, "We also intend to respond to this criminal act when the perpetrators are identified." Asked what kind of retaliation the President may have in mind, Speakes answered, "That's for those who did it to wonder about and worry about." Reagan, he said, would consult with the French, Italian, British and Lebanese governments before announcing the other decisions that were made. That night, the President signed a proclamation ordering the lowering of American flags to half-staff until Oct. 31.

A continent away, another nation was in mourning. By no coincidence, a building used by French paratroopers, about two miles from the U.S. compound at the airport, was blown up several minutes after the attack against the Marines. The official toll by Sunday evening was 27 French dead and 12 wounded, but because so many soldiers were presumed to be trapped under the debris, as many as 100 French troops could have perished. Declaring the bombing "an odious and cowardly attack," French Defense Minister Charles Hernu immediately departed for Beirut. "What kind of insanity are we talking about?" asked Foreign Minister Claude Cheysson. "This is madness." For France, it was the worst military loss since the end of the Algerian war 22 years ago.

The attack began at exactly 6:20 a.m., when a red pickup truck approached the Beirut airport, where most of the 1,600-man Marine contingent in Lebanon is based. As the vehicle turned left into the parking lot, a Marine guard reported with alarm that it was gathering speed. Then, in a lightning move, the truck charged toward the entrance of the four-story building, hit the sandbagged guard post, burst through a barrier and vaulted another wall of sandbags into the lobby. It exploded with a deafening roar, destroying the building. Minutes later, the second blast rocked the French building in the Bir Hasan seafront residential neighborhood of West Beirut. The force of that blast was so great that it moved the entire building 30 ft.

Almost immediately, as shocked U.S. and French troops undertook the task of finding the dead and wounded, the casualty figures began to soar. The first reports said that at least 40 Marines had been killed, then 57; by noon Sunday the Pentagon put the toll at 120 dead and 45 injured--and still rising. Said Lieut. Colonel Thomas Jones, a Pentagon spokesman: "There are extensive casualties. It changes on a minute-by-minute basis." Before Sunday, six Marines had been killed in Lebanon by sniper fire or artillery explosions in the Beirut airport vicinity, and a seventh had died when a mine exploded.

At the airport, a cloud of acrid smoke hung over a scene of utter desolation. The dead and dying lay in rows along the runway, ready for evacuation. Personal photos were scattered among official docu ments. Marines looked frantically for their buddies. Said a young soldier who was standing guard at the time of the attack: "It was unbelievable. I saw the truck crash through the entrance, and then the explosion threw me against the wall. My God, I must be the last person left alive in my section. I don't know why I'm living." Standing amid the debris, his arms and fatigues covered with blood from the victims he had helped to carry out, a young French soldier shouted, "What beasts! What an insane country!"

The blast at the Marine barracks was so severe that it scattered fragments for hundreds of feet in every direction. "This is the worst carnage I have seen since Viet Nam," said the Marine spokesman, Major Robert Jordan, as he stood in front of the heap of twisted steel and stone that had been the headquarters building. The commander of the Marine contingent in Lebanon, Colonel Timothy Geraghty, 45, was not in the building at the time of the explosion but arrived shortly afterward to direct operations. Within an hour, a large team of Marines, Lebanese rescue workers and Italian soldiers were climbing over the glass and mortar trying to dig out survivors. Occasionally they shouted at soldiers, reporters and others in the area, asking them to be quiet so that the rescuers could hear any calls for help from people still trapped under the site. On one side of the explosion area, 15 bodies lay on stretchers. At the top of what was left of the building, a search team dug frantically through the ruins. Suddenly, a head appeared, then the arms and finally the rest of the body of a wounded Marine clad only in red shorts. Miraculously, he had survived. At about 1 p.m., the Marine headquarters zone came under sniper fire from a cluster of houses near by. The rescue work continued, but all onlookers and nonessential personnel had to take cover. The sniper alert lasted for two hours. The devastated building had been known to Marines as the Beirut Hilton. It served as the nerve center for the Marine companies stationed around the perimeter of the airport. The lethal pickup truck was estimated to have contained about 2,000 lbs. of high explosives. The blast left a crater 30 ft. deep and 40 ft. wide.

Shortly after the two huge explosions, ships of the U.S. Sixth Fleet, including the assault ship Iwo Jima, moved to within a mile offshore. The Iwo Jima is equipped with surgical operating theaters and other emergency facilities. Helicopters carried most of the wounded to that ship; others were taken to the American University Hospital, an Italian field hospital, British Royal Air Force hospitals on Cyprus, or were flown to U.S. military hospitals in West Germany and Italy. Whatever differences may exist between the U.S. and its allies over the Middle East, the various contingents of the

Multi-National Force were cooperating closely during the emergency. The Italians were providing medical assistance for the Americans, and the British took over from the Marines the guard duty on the airport boulevard. As the grim rescue operation continued, a state of shock prevailed in the city. On this day, which had followed a night of artillery duels in the hills, most people remained indoors, anxious and apprehensive.

From the President on down, the Administration reacted with sorrow and anger to what was undoubtedly the worst tragedy of the Reagan presidency. When he spoke on the White House lawn, the President did not use notes, because, as he said privately, he wanted "to do it from the heart." Reagan spent !-- much of Sunday morning in the White House Situation Room with Vice President George Bush, Secretary of State George Shultz, Defense Secretary Caspar Weinberger, McFarlane and General John W. Vessey, Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff. At a morning meeting, the National Security Council decided against any drastic shift in U.S. policy. Weinberger said that efforts would be made to reduce the vulnerability of the Marines in Lebanon, perhaps by moving them to more secure positions. The White House ruled out any increase in combat strength in Lebanon but planned to send replacements for the dead and wounded. In fact, by midafternoon, Marines at Camp Lejeune, N.C., were receiving their orders to replace the men who had been killed that morning. Declared Weinberger: "Our commitment to the cause of Middle East peace still remains." A top White House aide noted: "We're convinced that this was done by someone who wants us out, and we're not getting out."

Some Administration officials expressed fears that the bombing would stir a national debate on Middle East policy, creating pressures ranging from a pullout of the Marines to retaliation. All the unanswered questions aired when Reagan first asked Congress to approve the U.S. Marine presence in Lebanon seemed sure to arise again. Congress gave the President the necessary authority four weeks ago to keep the Marines in Lebanon--but with considerable reluctance; in the Senate the resolution passed by a vote of only 54 to 46. New York Democrat Samuel Stratton, a hawkish veteran of the House Armed Services

Committee, immediately renewed his earlier calls for a withdrawal of the Marines. "They're serving no useful purpose," he said. "If it escalates, we're deeper in the morass, and we've got another Viet Nam on our hands." Though there is little chance, at least initially, that Congress will reverse its decision, the Administration will almost certainly come under far more pressure to justify the peace-keeping mission. "What it all underscores," said Maryland Republican Senator Charles Mathias, "is, what is our Middle East policy? We need a policy." Asked House Democrat David Obey, who had opposed the President's request for congressional support: "What the hell are we supposed to be doing over there? What is the role?"

Senator Ernest Rollings of South Carolina, a Democratic presidential candidate, called on the Administration to draft a plan to withdraw the Marines within 60 days. "If they've been put there to fight, then there are far too few," he said. "If they've been put there to be killed, there are far too many." Meanwhile, Democratic Front Runner Walter Mondale cautiously avoided the issue Sunday, after making a brief statement of

sympathy. Said he: "Today should only be a day of mourning for those wonderful young Americans who have lost their lives serving our country in the cause of peace." Messages of condolence were arriving from around the world. In London, British Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher expressed her sorrow to Reagan, as well as to President Francois Mitterrand, and assured them that Britain would not withdraw its contingent of 100 soldiers from Lebanon. Said a Thatcher aide: "By attempting to bomb the Multi-National Force out of Lebanon, the extremists, whoever they are, have in a perverse way confirmed the success of the force in helping stabilize the country."

Pope John Paul II, his voice filled with emotion as he stood before a crowd of 80,000 at St. Peter's Square, declared, "A great sense of sorrow surges from the soul." Israeli Prime Minister Yitzhak Shamir called the bombing a "despicable crime that was undoubtedly perpetrated by those who want to prevent a peaceful solution in Lebanon and to increase bloodshed." In Moscow, the Communist Party newspaper Pravda observed: "It appears the Viet Nam story begins to repeat itself. The U.S. is getting drawn deeper into the fighting, while generals get more and more freedom of action." As usual in the Lebanese political maelstrom, there was no shortage of suspects for the bombing. Nor was there any certainty that the question would ever be answered satisfactorily. The primary effect of the Marines' presence in Lebanon has been to provide backing for the fledgling government of President Amin Gemayel. For this reason, the Maronite Christians have generally welcomed the peace keepers and in fact have attached an almost symbolic importance to the presence of the U.S. battleship New Jersey in the waters off Beirut.

Other Lebanese factions have resented the Marines for their backing of the Christian-dominated government. Among them are the Druze, members of a sect that broke away from Islam in the 11th century. They are angry both because they have never had a fair share of political power in Lebanon and because the Christian militias moved forcibly into their mountainous region as soon as the Israeli forces had staged a partial withdrawal from Lebanon almost two months ago. Equally resentful of the Marines' presence are the Shi'ite Muslims, who are also fighting for a greater share of political power. The recent sniping deaths of U.S. Marines are believed to have been the work of Shi'ites who live in the squalid neighborhoods near the airport. Many of the Shi'ites are refugees from parts of southern Lebanon that Israel invaded last year and still occupies.

Others who oppose the Gemayel government, and thus the Marines, are elements of the Palestine Liberation Organization who either managed to remain in Lebanon following last year's evacuation of at least 6,000 P.L.O. commandos from Beirut, or have succeeded in insinuating their way back. The Druze and several of the Muslim groups have been armed and aided by the Syrian government. The Syrians are determined to assure themselves of an important future role in Lebanese affairs, and have repeatedly called for the resignation of Gemayel.

Weinberger did not rule out that either Syria or its chief arms supplier, the Soviet Union, bore some responsibility. The Marines, he said Sunday, remained in Lebanon precisely because neither the Syrians nor the P.L.O. had withdrawn their forces from the country. The Soviets, Weinberger said on Face the Nation, "have a huge presence in Syria, and they love to fish in troubled waters."

To American policymakers, the latest bombings were all too reminiscent of the destruction of the U.S. embassy in West Beirut last April that killed 63 people, including 17 Americans. One of the groups claiming responsibility for that action was the Islamic Jihad Organization, an obscure pro-Iranian group made up of Shi'ite Muslims loyal to Iran's Ayatullah Ruhollah Khomeini. On Sunday evening the State Department received an unconfirmed report that a faction calling itself the Islamic Revolutionary Movement had taken responsibility for the terrorist attacks. An unidentified caller had apparently phoned the Beirut office of the French news service Agence France-Presse to say that two of the movement's fighters had died in the suicide attacks.

Weinberger said that there was "a lot of circumstantial evidence, and a lot of it points to Iran." Sunday's twin attacks against the U.S. and French forces were, just like the U.S. embassy bombing, carefully coordinated kamikaze missions. But the strongest indication that an Iran-backed radical Shi'ite group was involved derived from the fact that the French contingent was struck at the same time as the Marines. In recent months France has become one of Khomeini's most hated countries, partly because it granted asylum to former Iranian President Bani Sadr and other Iranian dissidents, and partly because it sold five sophisticated Super Etendard jets to Iraq. U.S. intelligence analysts note that the Iranians have pressed the Hizbolla, a radical Shi'ite group in Lebanon, to step up terrorist action against French and American targets. "The thing that clinches it for me is that the French got it too," says a senior intelligence official. "The Syrians would have hit only the Americans."

The Hizbolla, which means Party of God, is a rival to the Amal faction, the largest Shi'ite group in Lebanon. It receives guns, ammunition and money from the Iranian revolutionary guards operating in the Syrian-controlled Bekaa Valley and from the Iranian embassy in Beirut, which sees it as a vehicle for extending Khomeini's influence in Lebanon. The Hizbolla is widely assumed to have been behind the U.S. embassy bombing, but neither Lebanese nor U.S. authorities have been able to pin this down. A measure of the difficulty of identifying terrorists in Lebanon is that although two or three people confessed to taking part in the embassy bombing, nobody has yet figured out for certain what group was behind their act.

The current impasse in Lebanon has its roots not only in the country's fragmentation but also in Israel's 1948 war of independence and its 1967 occupation of the West Bank. In time, hundreds of thousands of Palestinians moved to Lebanon, eventually upsetting the country's fragile political balance between Muslims and Christians. When Lebanon erupted into civil war in 1975, Syrian President Hafez Assad sent in troops. But what began as the backbone of an Arab peace-keeping force eventually became a permanent occupation. After Menachem Begin became

Prime Minister of Israel in 1977, the situation became even more complex, first with Israel's occupation of a "security strip" in southern Lebanon in March 1978, then with the all-out invasion last year. The Israeli occupation of southern Lebanon forced thousands of Lebanese Shi'ites to flee to the slums of Beirut. The dispossessed Shi'ites, along with the Palestinians and the increasingly radicalized Lebanese Muslims--all of them egged on by the Syrians--have made for an explosive mixture.

One lesson to be drawn from the present turmoil is that Israel's refusal to compromise on the Palestinian issue has created a chronic and festering crisis in the region. Says William Quandt, a Brookings Institution fellow who served on the National Security Council during the Carter Administration: "Israeli military activity over the past five years turned a problem into a catastrophe." It is a situation in which so far the U.S. has not found much remedy, only trouble. Notes Quandt: "The Marines needed to be part of a political process that was achieving some progress in order to have meaning. In the absence of such a process, they became sitting ducks for people who had all kinds of reasons to want to disrupt and provoke. They became targets rather than symbols of future stability." Another lesson, judging by the experience of the Syrians and the Israelis, is that attempts by outsiders to dominate Lebanon tend to end in failure, if not disaster.

This need not apply to the U.S., whose aims in Lebanon are very limited, but it raises questions about the wisdom of a policy that is not precisely stated. The Administration has never really given a thoroughly convincing, coherent answer to the question of why the Marines are in Lebanon. Initially they were sent, along with French and Italian forces, to monitor the withdrawal of the P.L.O. and fill the vacuum that this would create. Then they were to provide stability as Syrian and Israeli troops pulled out of the territories they occupied. The U.S. assumed, or at least hoped, that if it could get Israel out of Lebanon, the Syrians would get out too. That did not work, although the Israelis eventually withdrew from the Beirut area and the mountains in order to reduce their own casualties. Gradually, the Marines' purpose was redefined as providing backing for the Gemayel government. But the young President proved to be slow in moving toward a reconciliation of Lebanese Christians and Muslims, and problems mounted. As Harold H. Saunders, a Middle East expert who is a veteran of several previous Administrations, said recently, "You can't use the Marines to put Lebanon together again. The worst contingency would be for the Marines to be there without a clear-cut mandate when the Lebanese government's own mandate is falling apart."

At various times this year, that is precisely what has happened. In the beginning, the Marines provided the American support for Gemayel that helped him contain the extremists in his own camp. But it can be argued that the Administration became so preoccupied with getting the Syrians and Israelis out of Lebanon that it neglected the task of trying to build up Lebanon's internal stability. Still, most Americans would probably agree with Colonel Geraghty, the Marine commander in Lebanon, who said after Sunday's attack: "We'll continue to do what we came here to do, and that is to provide assistance for a free and independent Lebanon." This is clearly the Administration's policy, and there is little the U.S. can do at the moment except follow it. The Administration is probably right in asserting that it has no choice but to maintain the Marine presence until the Lebanese have had a chance to put their country back together. There is, however, a necessary corollary: it should set a timetable, based on reasonable objectives on the part of the Lebanese, for withdrawal.

The most important effect of the car nage in Beirut may be to raise questions not only about U.S. policy in the Middle East but also about the wisdom of President Reagan's willingness to exercise U.S.

military muscle around the world. Said a White House aide: "Nobody has a fix on how badly it will hurt. It's the long-term consequences we're worried about." That is perhaps the most persuasive argument for the Administration, once and for all, to think through and explain its intentions in Lebanon.

As of Sunday evening, long after darkness had fallen over Beirut, Americans were left with the stunned knowledge that their young men, who had volunteered for duty in a faraway land that many of them would never understand, were gone. Whatever the details of duty and diplomacy, the Marines had been in Lebanon to try to hold that country together, to stand for peace and order in a place that has known neither for a decade. They had represented an antidote to fanaticism -- and fanaticism had brought them down.

-- By William E. Smith. Reported by Douglas Brew and Strobe Talbott/Washington and William Stewart/Beirut

With reporting by Douglas Brew; Strobe Talbott; William Stewart This file is automatically generated by a robot program, so viewer discretion is required.