Lebanon (Cold War) by Al J Venter

Author:Al J Venter [Venter, Al J]
Language: eng
Format: azw3, epub
Publisher: Pen and Sword
Published: 2017-04-30T04:00:00+00:00

Another young Phalangist officer with whom I spent time, a third-year engineering student, fought on despite the loss of a leg below the knee. His perseverance brought him much respect from his comrades. His closest friend was a student of mathematics.

There was also a second-year dental student, a cabinet maker who specialized in Louis XIV reproductions, and two lawyers. All were tough, aggressive fighters, hugely experienced despite their years, and competently battle wise. Very few of them were hotheads who were likely to place themselves in positions where they might die or end up in a wheelchair. But then in wartime, such things happen.

The more experienced members of the Hadace team took few chances, though there were many occasions when they had no option. If they needed to enter a particularly dangerous area, they would go in only after a careful reconnaissance, and then crouched low and at the double. When there was shelling, nobody exposed himself if he did not have to.

As the war went on, accommodation for us hacks covering the eastern side of the Line became more difficult. G-5 couldn’t support us indefinitely. I usually stayed in the Christian Quarter or up the coast in Jounieh. Afterwards, I chose Byblos, away from where it was all happening. That, however, sometimes meant getting out of touch, in which case I would seek other options. They occasionally led me across the Line, but having been with the Christians, that was always stressful.

The Commodore Hotel, in the Islamic part of town, was not one of my favourites because I had to pass through a potentially hostile part of this great city to get there. But it was a necessary stage in any journalist’s itinerary in that corner of the world. We all frequented the place at some time or another. During the Israeli invasion, I got to know the manager, Fuad Saleh. When I was not staying at one of the Israeli Army headquarters at the big villa in Baabda, that they had commandeered for that purpose, George De’Ath and I would go down to the Commodore, usually by taxi. It was then that we were lucky enough to miss a car bomb, and then only by a matter of minutes.

We’d been seeing a friend at another hotel in West Beirut and had not been out of the building very long before it went up in a huge column of smoke and debris. The entire facade came down and a lot of people were killed. We were sleeping on the balcony of the Baabda HQ when we heard the blast and got up to view the fire. It did not particularly bother our Israeli hosts because it was mostly Muslims that had been killed. The Commodore was also bombed, but in spite of the omnipresent danger, the place was constantly busy, people coming and going all the time.

A South Lebanese Army strongpoint in open country. (Photo Al. J. Venter)

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