The Marines Leave Lebanon

By William E. Smith

A shaky cease-fire gives Gemayel a respite

Suddenly the withdrawal of U.S. Marines from Lebanon began to gather momentum, and by the end of last weekend it was just about over. Wave after wave of Sea Knight and Sea Stallion helicopters ferried equipment and supplies from a coastal landing pad near Beirut International Airport to the waiting ships of the U.S. Sixth Fleet outlined, gray on gray, on the horizon. Nudged by a forklift truck, a long-barreled 155-mm howitzer trundled slowly down a jetty and disappeared, like Jonah into the whale, inside a landing craft; it was followed by a procession of Jeeps and other vehicles until finally the landing craft pulled away to make room for another. At one point an armored personnel carrier manned by Shi'ite Muslim militiamen rattled past a U.S. observation tower. The driver raised his fist, seemingly in defiance; the two Marines on the tower just stared back. The 18-month assignment of the Marines in Lebanon, a mission that few could either define or explain, was at an end.

Compared with the withdrawal of the Italian force, which took place in the streets of the city and had an elegant, professional quality, the departure of the Marines was casual and at times almost furtive. The difference was not merely of style; throughout their stay, the Italians were able to maintain their role as peace keepers, while the American force came to be seen as an active supporter of the government of Lebanese President Amin Gemayel, a Maronite Christian. With the departure of the British, the Italians and the bulk of the American contingent, the 1,250-man French unit was the only component of the Multi-National Force left hi Lebanon. French officials said again last week that they hoped to stay on until some different kind of inter-I national force replaced them.

The Marines spent their last days in Lebanon doing routine chores like reinforcing the sandbag bunkers they were about to leave behind. They also played football and watched the play-by-play artillery exchanges between rival Lebanese forces. Using sophisticated electronic equipment for pinpointing artillery targets, some passed the time making a sweepstakes of the hits and misses, as Lebanese shells exploded in the nearby mountains. Watching the Shi'ite residents of a Beirut suburb, Second Lieut. John La Torre remarked ruefully, "I guess they're just like other people, except that they've had a civil war going on for most of their lives."

The Marines were to take most of their equipment, leaving behind only tiny amounts of ammunition and the elaborate network of underground bunkers in which they had sought refuge. A final problem was to whom they should bequeath the closed airport, though the choice of legatee was not theirs. The Lebanese Army was supposed to take over, in the name of the Gemayel government. At the end, however, the Marines were set to be replaced by members of the Lebanese Sixth Brigade, a predominantly Muslim army unit that had generally remained in its barracks during the recent fighting.

Most of the departing Marines were dejected and a bit confused by what was happening. They were glad to be leaving an assignment whose ambiguity had plagued them from the first and to be leaving a place where their lives were constantly hi danger. But they were not enthusiastic about duty offshore. "I hate sitting on ships," said one. "I'd rather be on land." The haunting question was whether the 265 servicemen killed in Lebanon since August 1982 had died for a purpose.

Typical were the feelings of the men of the 22nd Marine Amphibious Unit's "Hotel" Battery, whose guns had not fired a shot since their arrival in Lebanon last November from Grenada. "I felt our job was done here," said Corporal John Bartos, 22. "There was not much more we could do." Concluded Sergeant Richard Grimm, 22: "To me, our job was to help stabilize the Lebanese government. But all of a sudden, part of the army defected to the Muslim militia. If they're not going to fight for themselves, we're not going to fight for them." In the end, Staff Sergeant James Degenhardt, 31, decided, "We didn't do any good being here. Too many people want a piece of the pie."

At a news conference Wednesday night President Reagan defended his abrupt change in policy two weeks ago. Earlier in the month Reagan had said congressional Democrats were advocating "surrender" by calling for the removal of the Marines from Lebanon, and that there was no reason for the U.S. "to turn our backs on our friends and cut and run." Now he was asked repeatedly about his decision to "redeploy" the Marines to the ships off Lebanon. Snapped the President: "We're not bugging out. We're just going to a little more defensible position."

Reagan did acknowledge that "things [in Lebanon] don't look as bright as they have at some times in this last year and a half." Asked under what circumstances he might order the Marines to return to the mainland, he hesitated, then said, "If they could improve the possibility of carrying out their mission, then yes, that would be a reason for sending them in."

But that sounded like mere face-saving, at best. Reagan, who must regard-Lebanon as the worst foreign policy mistake of his Administration, seemed unlikely to go back for more. Providing naval assistance was another matter, however. On Saturday, U.S. ships opened fire on Druze artillery positions in the mountains to protect Lebanese troops defending the strategic town of Suq al Gharb.

In the stricken city the Marines were leaving behind, a shaky cease-fire brokered by Saudi Arabia and Syria appeared to be taking hold. For Amin Gemayel, the political situation seemed impossibly complex--or simply impossible. His army had collapsed, leaving his government in control of little territory beyond Christian East Beirut. At least 40% of the army's soldiers had deserted to the Muslim militias, in most cases taking their arms and equipment with them. Shi'ite and Druze militias controlled West Beirut. Until the ceasefire, they were on the verge of capturing Suq al Gharb and threatening Baabda, site of the presidential palace.

Gemayel was running out of time, and his enemies knew it. The Syrians and most Lebanese Muslims were demanding that he abrogate the treaty he made with the Israelis last May 17 calling for an Israeli withdrawal and for future accommodations between Lebanon and Israel. Gemayel had agreed to the treaty, though it was never ratified, and he would have renounced it late last fall if the Reagan Administration, which pressed him to accept it in the first place, had been in agreement. On the other hand, many of his own Maronite Christians, possibly including even his father Pierre, head of the Phalange Party, wanted not only to honor the treaty but to reinforce Phalangist ties with Israel. Both former President Camille Chamoun and Fady Frem, chief of staff of the Phalange-dominated Lebanese Forces militia, told Gemayel that he would lose their support if he abandoned the treaty. Though many urged him to resign, Gemayel was said to be determined to hold on.

The primary purpose of the latest cease-fire was to give Gemayel a chance to get his own Maronite house in order, and discuss with the various Maronite eaders the peace plan advanced by Saudi Arabia and Syria. The plan contained Four basic planks: unconditional cancellation of the May 17 treaty with Israel; reconvening of the Geneva reconciliation talks, to be attended by all or most of the Lebanese political and religious factions; naming of a new Prime Minister and Cabinet; and basic reforms to bring about a redistribution of political power in Lebanon. Significantly, the proposal contained no mention of Syrian or Israeli withdrawal from Lebanon, a fact that angered many Lebanese leaders. But realistically, there was no chance that either the Syrians or the Israelis would be prepared to leave Lebanon, at the moment anyway. The most surprising aspect of the latest peace plan was that Syria's President Hafez Assad, after angrily rejecting an earlier Saudi proposal a week ago, had decided to go along with the four-point approach. As one Arab diplomat in Damascus noted, "Nothing happens in Syria without the man [Assad] saying so. If he says green, it's go. If he says red, it's stop. There are no amber lights in Syria."

The green light flashed in Damascus just in time to save what little was left of the Reagan Administration's policy in Lebanon. A pro-Western Arab diplomat, scarcely concealing his disdain for both U.S. diplomacy and the indecisiveness of the Gemayel regime, remarked last week, "We're going to get a settlement here for the U.S. despite the U.S."

This presupposes that Gemayel can find a way out of his quandary, which is not totally out of the question. He must form a new government, since Prime Minister Chafik al Wazzan resigned a month ago. But he will not be able to find a new Prime Minister, who traditionally must be a Sunni Muslim, until the treaty issue is resolved. As a leading Lebanese politician described the situation last week: "No Sunni Muslim who wants to keep his name clean within his community would dare allow himself to be considered for Prime Minister without abrogation of the treaty. He would be considered a quisling."

Druze Leader Walid 1 Jumblatt and Shi'ite Leader Nabih Berri have called for Gemayel's resignation. Syrgia has not, perhaps figuring that the search for a successor would produce more chaos than even Damascus would be prepared to cope with. Says a Western analyst in Beirut: "Syria's objective is to bring Lebanon firmly under its influence, regardless of who is running the country. If they can control Gemayel, why go through the trauma of removing him?"

The latest Saudi-Syrian proposal appears to give Gemayel a way of abrogating the May 17 agreement with a minimal loss of face for himself. Under the plan, he would name a Sunni Muslim and ask him to form a new government. The Prime Minister-designate would then announce that he had accepted the nomination on the understanding that the May 17 agreement was being dropped. After that the government would try to resume reconciliation talks, followed by the formation of a new Cabinet. In the meantime, the government would try to replace the Multi-National Force with U.N. peace keepers, perhaps including some of the 5,691 U.N. troops from ten countries presently stationed in southern Lebanon.

If Gemayel were to leave office for any reason, it is believed that the Syrians would favor either former President Suleiman Franjieh, 73, a Maronite who is a leader of the pro-Syrian opposition, or Raymond Edde, 70, a Maronite political exile now living in Paris. But their more immediate concern, in the view of Western diplomats, is which Sunni Muslim should be Lebanon's next Prime Minister.

Among the contenders, all of whom would be acceptable to Damascus, are three former Prime Ministers: Takeiddin Solh, 74, a neutralist; Selim Hoss, 54, who is regarded as more a technocrat than a politician; and Rashid Karami, 62, who has close links with Syria. But Karami, who is from the northern port city of Tripoli, is unpopular in his home region, especially since he steered clear of any involvement in the fighting in Tripoli last fall between Palestine Liberation Organization Leader Yasser Arafat and the Syrian-backed P.L.O. dissidents. Residents of Tripoli, who were caught between the warring P.L.O. factions, felt Karami should have moved assertively to reduce the danger to the civilian population.

While the Lebanese and their Arab neighbors were attempting to arrange a cease-fire last week, Israel staged air strikes on positions in the mountains east of Beirut. Early in the week an imposing Israeli column of about 70 tanks and armored vehicles rolled some eight miles north from the Israeli line at the Awali River. The Israelis' stated purpose was to attack "Palestinian bases." Western observers maintain that Israeli claims of Palestinian infiltration of areas dominated by Druze and Shi'ite forces are greatly exaggerated. They believe that the raids actually were intended as a reminder to the Syrians that, whatever happens, Israel is determined to look out for its interests. Israeli Prime Minister Yitzhak Shamir declared that the strikes were undertaken "to ensure that Palestinian terrorists do not approach our frontier." Said Defense Minister Moshe Arens: "We do not want P.L.O. terrorists to return and entrench themselves in these areas." What is all but certain is that the Israelis will soon establish a new line at the Zahrani River, seven miles south of the Awali, and will remain there for a long time.

In Beirut, meanwhile, the fragile cease-fire was marred by sporadic firing across the "green line," which separates the Christian and Muslim sectors of the city, and by occasional artillery battles in the mountains. The U.S. peace-keeping force was departing, but the city was scarcely more peaceful than on the day the Marines arrived. --By William E. Smith. Reported by Roland Flamini/Beirut and William Stewart/Damascus

With reporting by Roland Flamini, William Stewart