“I’VE GOT A NICE LITTLE JOB FOR YOU”.
Lane 9.
I had gained access to the Lebanon even though I had at first been refused entry. Once I’d explained I was working for the British embassy there were no more problems. Waiting for me at the border were two men in a white car who would ■■■■■■ me into Beirut. Jim, an englishman rode with me in the lorry whilst the other chap, a Lebanese drove the car. The car had bullet holes in the side. Jim explained “you just pick them up round here”. It would give me street cred for the next twenty years if I pick up a couple! No, sod the fame I thought.
We left the border late morning. It wasn’t a long drive to Beirut. After a short while we dropped down into the Beqaa Valley. This fertile area is famous for the fruit and vegetables grown there. I saw stacks of boxes of fruit by the side of the road awaiting collection. It was exported all round the middle east in fridge boxes pulled mainly by bull nosed Mercedes lorries. I saw them often crossing the Syrian desert on their way to Baghdad. Never saw any of it for sale in Baghdad though. I reckon it was all for Sadaam and his cronies.
A couple of hours later we entered Beirut. I was following the white car and it was difficult to get my bearings but we skirted the city centre on the north eastern side. This brought us onto the seafront and there was the Mediterranean in front of me. I turned left and headed down this beautiful coastline on Paris leading on to Charles de Gaulle. The Riviera of the Middle East. As we drove down this 4.8km stretch of road known as the “Corniche”, I could see aircraft above heading into Beirut Airport which is just to the south of the city. Oh yes I thought, I’m glad I got this job. However, I was not so sure a little later on. Somewhere, as we drove along, Jim pointed to a building site. “Thats where the yanks are building their new embassy” he said. He then informed me all work had stopped for some reason. Within the next four years their embassy in town would suffer at the hands of a suicide bomber and the new one in the suburbs would suffer the same fate with much loss of life at both. As we drove further down this road Jim also told me a thriving market scene had materialised on the promenade in the past couple of years as people tried to sell their personal affects to raise some money.
I am sure I have described my route accurately but please bear in mind it was over thirty seven years ago. At some point, as we drove down the Corniche I was instructed to turn left into the city. I did so and was soon confronted by an horrendous scene. I was brought to a standstill by police. To my right maybe thirty or forty metres away was a car, it was, I think, a black Mercedes. It was partly up on the pavement. It was riddled with bullets and the inside of the windscreen was covered in blood. That morning Riad Taha, journalist and President of the Lebanese Publishers Association and his chauffeur were assassinated by, so it was thought, the Syrian secret service. I heard the facts later on the BBC World Service. It described Taha as a very influential man. I think Jim had seen it all before, or similar things and had me drive on. I have recently googled Riad Taha but there are conflicting reports of his death. I have seen the 20th, 22nd, 23rd and 24th July 1980 all mentioned as the day he was assassinated as well as it happening outside the Continental Hotel in the area of Raouche. I couldn’t find any reference to the Continental only the Intercontinental which was badly damaged in the fighting in the mid 70’s and stayed shut for the next twenty five years. Just goes to show you shouldn’t believe all you read but I know what I saw, just not sure of the date.
The area we were now in was built up and it was at that point Jim asked if I would be sleeping in the lorry. After what I had just seen I thought it wasn’t a good idea to use Hotel Scania. “That I can understand” he said". “There’s an hotel just up the road the embassy use, called the Mayflower, We’ll put you in there”. Sure enough we were soon at the hotel and Jim and the local chap found somewhere for me to park up. We went to reception and I checked in. After I’d dropped my things off in my room we went to the embassy which was about a kilometre up the road. As you can imagine security was very tight. Jim had warned me that I would be searched and I was, very thoroughly. Those boys certainly knew what they were doing. Well armed you didn’t mess around with them! With anti blast doors and security devices to negotiate I finally entered the embassy where I relaxed for an hour whilst Jim gave me the rundown on my reload schedule. I would be loading next day from a warehouse on the edge of town and their local custom agent would do the paperwork for me. I would leave on the third day. All well organised I thought, just what I would expect from the embassy.
Later Jim ran me back to the hotel where I had a shower and a rest followed by a meal in the restaurant and a drink in the bar. I had no intention of going sightseeing in downtown Beirut that was for sure.
