A Fortress Under Heavy Fire

By William E. Smith

The fiery glow of exploding shells and rockets flared across the night sky, illuminating the ghostly city. From high ground behind the Lebanese capital, tanks and artillery pounded away at nearby strongholds of the Palestine Liberation Organization. The surrounding Israeli army had all but cut off food, water and incoming traffic to West Beirut. The 500,000 residents of that encircled area of the city could do nothing but anxiously hope for some resolution to the impasse.

But as the battle of Lebanon moved into its second month, what most engaged the world's attention during a week of unoptimistic reports was the surprising announcement from Washington that "under certain circumstances," the U.S. was prepared to send troops to Beirut to help arrange the safe removal of P.L.O. fighting forces from the country. First word of the U.S. plan came from Israeli radio, which had apparently been told of the top-secret offer by officials in Jerusalem. Annoyed by the premature disclosure, President Reagan promptly confirmed that he had agreed "in principle" to contribute a contingent of servicemen, most probably about 1,000 Marines, to a temporary, multinational force that would oversee the withdrawal of some 6,000 P.L.O. guerrillas from West Beirut. At week's end five ships from the Mediterranean-based Sixth Fleet, with 1,800 Marines aboard, were poised just over the horizon, about 60 miles from Beirut.

The announcement sent nervous tremors around the world. Soviet President Leonid Brezhnev fired off a letter to Reagan, warning vaguely that any move to put U.S. troops in the Middle East would influence Soviet policy toward the area. P.L.O. Chairman Yasser Arafat publicly scoffed at the U.S. offer, saying, "The weapons and the fleet that helped kill our women and children cannot protect us," although in private his aides hinted that they would welcome U.S. assistance in arranging a safe and orderly withdrawal of Palestinian forces from Lebanon to other Arab lands. In Washington, some members of Congress voiced doubts about the wisdom of sending American servicemen on a rescue mission to Lebanon for the second time in less than a quarter-century.* In Beirut, meanwhile, intermittent Israeli shelling and the blockade of West Beirut at times kept the leaders of the various Lebanese factions from meeting with one another, and indeed brought U.S. Special Envoy Philip Habib's delicate negotiations to a virtual standstill.

By midweek, TIME has learned, Reagan's enduring patience with the Israeli government began to crack. The President drafted a letter to Israeli Prime Minister Menachem Begin, accusing him of obstructing U.S. efforts to reach an agreement over Beirut and warning Begin that the U.S. could even be forced to deal directly with the P.L.O. if he did not stop making it so difficult for Habib to negotiate with the Palestinians through intermediaries. When U.S. Ambassador to Israel Samuel Lewis delivered the letter to Begin in person, the Israeli leader promised to cooperate, but he remained silent at the threat of U.S.-P.L.O. negotiations, especially at Lewis' news that Habib might be ordered to deal personally with the P.L.O.

The letter, described by Middle East sources as the toughest from any U.S. President to an Israeli leader in years, came at the height of a week of secret negotiations. The haggling proceeded at such intensity and on so many different levels that, in the words of a Lebanese diplomat, the whole jumble of ideas was beginning to resemble a Caesar salad. Military action, meanwhile, was relatively light, except for sudden artillery bombardments, primarily by the Israelis firing into P.L.O. positions, many of them in residential neighborhoods.

West Beirut remained a forlorn fortress, surrounded to the choking point by the Israeli army and dominated from within by roving gangs of left-wing militiamen. Throughout a week of anxious waiting, the people of West Beirut stayed off the streets as best they could, quietly enduring the water shortage and the continuing stench from the faltering sewage system and the mountains of accumulating garbage. To the last Lebanese, they wanted the Palestinians, the Israelis and the Syrians alike to go away and leave them alone.

From almost the beginning of the Habib negotiations last month, all parties realized that some kind of military force would be needed in West Beirut to separate the Palestinians and the Israelis. When the thinking of the various sides focused on U.S. troops, Habib replied that American servicemen could be supplied only as part of an international force. Then he went to work to convince the Administration of the wisdom of the plan. In making his decision, Reagan told aides, "If a brief, limited involvement of U.S. personnel is what it takes, I believe we must do it."

As the negotiations continued, it was obvious that one of the most important issues had already been settled: the twelve-year reign of the P.L.O.'s "state within a state" in Lebanon was at an end. In an effort to forestall an Israeli invasion of West Beirut, which would endanger thousands of Palestinian fighters as well as half a million Lebanese and Palestinian civilians, the P.L.O. had agreed in principle to withdraw from Lebanon. Although U.S. officials declared that they were "relatively optimistic" that a final Israeli assault could be avoided, a myriad of details remained to be settled. One of the uncertainties centered on whether the P.L.O. leadership would be able to impose any negotiated compromise on all members of its diverse and sometimes undisciplined factions. Said a Western ambassador in Lebanon: "It's a highly dangerous state of affairs. The P.L.O. seems to think that the Israelis won't come into West Beirut and therefore that they themselves have all the time in the world. Well, they don't."

The Israeli aim in cutting off all water and power to West Beirut was to force the Palestinian guerrillas to surrender, but the more immediate effect was to increase the distress and discomfort of Lebanese civilians. In addition, Israel refused to give the Lebanese any control over the checkpoints between Christian East Beirut and predominantly Muslim West Beirut. That left Lebanese Prime Minister Chafik Wazzan, one of the key Muslim intermediaries between the U.S. and the P.L.O., trapped inside West Beirut. Wazzan considered the Israeli blockade an insult to Lebanese sovereignty and refused to attempt to pass through Israeli lines.

The water and power cutoff sent Saudi Arabia's King Fahd into a rage at both Israel and the U.S. Early last week the pro-Western King fired off an angry message to Reagan, demanding that the U.S. force Israel to restore these essential services. If the U.S. could not deliver on such a small matter, Fahd wondered, how could Washington hope to move Israel on larger issues? The White House got the message and sent one of its own to Jerusalem, but the Israelis waited several more hours before turning the water back on.

The status of the secret negotiations appeared to shift almost from day to day. On Thursday the Israeli Cabinet discussed the nine-point U.S. peace plan that had previously been accepted in principle by the Palestinians and the Lebanese. According to diplomatic sources, the plan calls for: 1) Israeli troops to withdraw from the immediate Beirut area; 2) Palestinian forces to depart from Lebanon, carrying their personal weapons but leaving heavy arms behind; 3) U.S. naval units to guarantee the security of the evacuation; 4) Palestinian forces to be evacuated to the Syrian port of Latakia, and from there to the Arab states that agree to receive them; 5) a force of American, French and perhaps other troops to be deployed in Beirut temporarily; 6) Lebanese army units to enter West Beirut simultaneously; 7) a new and presumably stronger Lebanese government to be formed; 8) the P.L.O. to maintain a diplomatic mission in Lebanon; and 9) two small Palestinian military units to be attached to the Lebanese army until all foreign soldiers have been removed from Lebanon.

Israel's Foreign Minister Yitzhak Shamir later told a Knesset committee that his government rejected any notion of a continuing Palestinian diplomatic or military presence of any kind in Lebanon. To permit the P.L.O. such a presence, Shamir argued, would make it possible for the guerrillas to resume their activities after the evacuation. Privately, however, Begin was reported to have told colleagues, "The P.L.O. has political bureaus in Cairo, New York City and even in Washington. How could we reject a bureau in Beirut?"

The P.L.O. was insisting on a residual presence partly to save face, and partly to guarantee the safety of the 500,000 Palestinians--most of them refugees--who would remain in Lebanon. The P.L.O. was concerned that in the aftermath of its withdrawal, Christian Phalange forces might seek to exact their revenge against Palestinians who stay in Lebanon. But late in the week the P.L.O. reportedly dropped the two demands.

One of the most difficult unresolved problems was that of defining which Palestinians in Lebanon would be subject to expulsion. Many of the fighters are only part-time military men who could easily shed their uniforms and fade into the civilian population. Others are only marginally identified with the P.L.O. What would be the fate, for instance, of the nursing student, 18, who works at a P.L.O. hospital? Or the university professor who has an office at the P.L.O.'s Institute for Palestine Studies? Or the businessman who occasionally sat on P.L.O. committees and was often called upon for advice?

Similarly, no one could define precisely what in the future would constitute an official P.L.O. "presence." The Israelis, and indeed the Lebanese Christians, might not be willing to accept a P.L.O. diplomatic mission or information office. But what about Samad, the P.L.O. industrial organization that oversees the growth of Palestinian business enterprises? What about the P.L.O.-run schools and orphanages, and the social welfare organization that has a budget of about $400 million a year? To uproot these groups would cause severe hardship to the remaining Palestinian civilian population, as well as to the Lebanese economy.

Also unsettled was the question of where the P.L.O. guerrillas would go when they leave Lebanon. Although Syrian officials publicly denied it, they were reported to have agreed to a Saudi request that they provide the first haven for the dislodged Palestinians who, when their families are included, are expected to number around 50,000. Whether Syrian President Hafez Assad offered his hospitality spontaneously or was coerced into doing so by the Saudis was not known. But it was understood that as part of the deal, Hafez Assad wanted his forces to retain control over Lebanon's Bekaa Valley.

The ultimate destinations for P.L.O. groups would most probably include Iraq, Egypt, Algeria and Syria. Many Middle East observers expect to see Arafat and his mainstream Al-Fatah organization wind up in Cairo, though the P.L.O. leader is said to favor Tunis, headquarters of the Arab League. Egypt rejects any notion of a transfer of armed P.L.O. units to its soil, but would welcome a Palestinian government-in-exile. This idea in turn draws criticism from the Israelis, who argue that such a gesture of hospitality by Egypt would be contrary to the spirit of the Camp David accords.

While these complex discussions were continuing in Beirut and elsewhere in the Arab world, Israelis were engaged in something of a national debate over the wisdom and morality of the war in Lebanon. A peace demonstration in Tel Aviv two weeks ago drew a crowd that was estimated at 50,000 to 75,000. Bat-Ami Joffe, a social worker and housewife, spoke for many Israelis when she told TIME Correspondent Harry Kelly last week: "This war was not necessary. Israel was never in any real danger. As I weep for almost 300 young lives lost, I say this war should stop. I don't care about unfavorable world opinion, but if it helps to stop the war, then let it continue."

The views of the majority of Israelis were probably better summarized, however, by Margalit Sa'ad, a Jerusalem housewife and fifth-generation Israeli, who declared: "When we do anything, the whole world gets in an uproar. For us this was a holy war, a war for our survival. I don't care what the world thinks. Our lives are on the line, so I don't care." Even Hebrew University Professor Abraham Wasserstein, who had caught his countrymen's attention three months ago by speaking out against Israeli policy on the West Bank because he did not want to remain silent like the "good Germans" of the Nazi era, had little to say last week about the invasion of Lebanon. Said he: "There will be time for criticizing the government after the boys are home."

Opposition to the war effort has irritated the Begin government and its supporters. Knesset Member Meir Cohen-Avidov, who belongs to the ruling Likud coalition, complained about the "rampaging" criticism of TV editors and reporters against the whole "Peace in Galilee" operation. Deputy Agriculture Minister Michael Dekel asked the Defense Ministry to prosecute army reserve officers who, while on active duty, signed antiwar petitions and called for the dismissal of Defense Minister Ariel Sharon. He described their actions as "the first signs of mutiny" and "something we have never witnessed before." Acting Attorney General Meir Gabay named a team of investigators to decide whether Journalist-Politician Uri Avnery should be prosecuted for slipping into West Beirut to meet with Yasser Arafat.

Perhaps in response to criticism from overseas, Sharon once again justified the invasion on the basis of Israeli self-defense. Said Sharon: "Beginning with the cease-fire last July, the P.L.O. began preparing for the climactic stage in its war, open warfare. Everyone who visits southern or central Lebanon and learns of the artillery network of hundreds of units established there, of the huge weapons stores, can understand that the terrorist P.L.O. [intended] to bring great casualties to Israel."

In the Israeli-occupied West Bank and Gaza Strip, the Palestinian population reacted to the invasion of Lebanon with muted anger. Many, including former Mayor Bassam Shaka'a of Nablus, seemed convinced that Israel was determined to liquidate the P.L.O. and the Palestinian people as well, and were shocked by the failure of Arab states to come to their aid. The daily newspaper Al-Qudus, published in Jerusalem, denounced the Arab governments as "rotten regimes." On July 6, Israeli soldiers used bullets and tear gas to disperse a student demonstration at Bir Zeit University. Two days later, Israeli military authorities closed the university for three months. They also dismissed the mayor of Gaza, the patrician Rashad al Shawwa, 73, who thus became the sixth Arab mayor to be fired this year in the Israeli drive to curb Palestinian nationalism in the occupied territories.

In Lebanon, the war sputtered on. The fighting stopped quite suddenly on Monday after the Israelis called for a ceasefire, the fifth in the month-old crisis. The reason, it turned out, was that P.L.O. artillery had struck an Israeli armored personnel carrier on a hillside, and the vehicle in turn had fallen on top of two Israeli tanks, thereby trapping 14 Israeli soldiers in the wreckage and pinning them down under heavy fire. The Israelis called the ceasefire, which lasted for only 24 hrs., in order to extricate their men. After the resumption of fighting, there were clashes off and on between the Israelis and Syrian and Palestinian forces around the Beirut airport and in the hills east of the city. On Wednesday, a cloud of black smoke hung over West Beirut from a fire at a tire factory that had been hit by Israeli bombs.

At midweek, journalists in West Beirut were summoned to a press conference by a group called the High Security Committee. There they were introduced to three Lebanese Muslims who had confessed, under duress, to working for the Israelis in a series of car-bomb incidents that had killed 30 people and injured 100. One, an admitted addict, said he did it for drugs; the others claimed that an Israeli officer said their families in southern Lebanon would be imprisoned if they did not cooperate. A few hours later, the three men were executed at the sites of the explosions. The body of one man was set afire by spectators. Above the larger bomb crater a banner was posted: THIS IS WHAT HAPPENS TO THOSE WHO SET CAR BOMBS.

Water was in short supply for days. As taps were broken by angry crowds, the city seemed at tunes on the verge of panic. One evening, the manager of a West Beirut supermarket drove painstakingly along side streets through the no-man's land separating East and West Beirut. In East Beirut, where a sort of normality prevailed under Israeli occupation, he picked up a truckload of bottled water and returned with it after midnight to West Beirut. The next day he sold it at regular prices. As rumors of food shortages spread, people lined up for emergency supplies. Said the proprietor of one grocery store: "People are frightened. They are afraid that in case of a battle, they will not be able to leave their homes, and they are afraid that the Israelis will try to starve the city."

Most of the Syrian occupation forces pulled out of West Beirut during the first week of the fighting, and since then the quality of law-and-order in the streets has been erratic. Some shopkeepers complained of armed gangs demanding food or liquor, and rumors spread about car thefts and people forcing their way into gasoline lines at the point of a gun. On the bright side, as one merchant noted: "There is not much looting because there is nowhere to take the Loot. You can't steal it and go off to sell it elsewhere. We are all stuck here together."

Reported TIME Correspondent Roberto Suro: "Most of West Beirut's people have slipped into a sullen lethargy. There is nowhere to go and nothing to do. Rather than risk going out while the shelling continues, people are staying at home. They sit on their balconies playing cards, and they sit by the radio and listen to the various versions of the news offered by the Israelis, the Phalangists, the Palestinians and the Lebanese government. For most people, the big chore is getting water. Then they sit back and wonder when this will all end, and whether it can get any worse."

Far removed from the danger and discomfort of West Beirut, in both a physical and symbolic sense, was the residence of U.S. Ambassador Robert Dillon. The house, from which Negotiator Habib has been operating for almost a month, is comfortably situated in the hills outside East Beirut. The tough and tight-lipped Habib has had little to say in public about the progress of negotiations, but it is known that he sternly told the Israelis to remove their ring of tanks from around the palace of his neighbor, Lebanese President Elias Sarkis, who happens to live across the road.

For most of the week, Prime Minister Wazzan remained in West Beirut and refused to travel to the presidential palace at Baabda because he was not prepared to cross Israeli lines. The President and his Foreign Minister, Fuad Butros, did not cross Israeli lines either. Like jet pilots dazzled by the beauty of their air strikes but insulated from the effects of their actions, the two remained in the hills above and beyond the fray. At one point, when Wazzan telephoned the President from West Beirut, he wryly asked Sarkis if he was suffering from the shortage of water and power. The palace, of course, had not been affected.

As the week passed, the Palestinians and the Lebanese Muslims suddenly realized how vulnerable they will be once the P.L.O. forces have been withdrawn from Beirut. Sarkis and the other Christian Lebanese leaders do not particularly care whether the multinational peace-keeping force arrives before or after the P.L.O. withdrawal. But Wazzan, the leading Muslim in the Lebanese government, agreed with the Palestinians that the multinational force must come first. Otherwise, he feared, the Palestinian civilian population of about 100,000 in West Beirut would be left to the mercy of their enemies the Phalangists and the Christian-dominated Lebanese Army. Finally on Friday, as the Israelis withdrew from their checkpoint to let him pass, Wazzan crossed into East Beirut and proceeded to the hills to press his point with, his Christian colleagues and the American negotiators.

After so many years of living uneasily together, the Palestinians and the Lebanese have discovered that their fates have become deeply intertwined. However expertly the evacuation of the P.L.O. fighting force is handled, its removal from the scene will pose dangers to at least one of the Lebanese communities, the Muslims, as well as to the Palestinians who are left behind. Untying this knot, without undue risk to the parties concerned, is perhaps the trickiest part of the task that still confronts the negotiators on the hill above Beirut. --By William E. Smith. Reported by Johanna McGeary/Washington and William Stewart/Beirut

* In July 1958, responding to a request from Lebanese President Camille Chamoun, President Dwight Eisenhower sent a force of more than 14,000 Marines and soldiers to Lebanon to strengthen the Chamoun government against dissidents and to guarantee free elections. Those elections resulted in Chamoun's defeat, and the U.S. troops were withdrawn in October.

With reporting by Johanna McGeary, William Stewart, Harry Kelly, Roberto Suro

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