Leathernecks secure embassy, help civilians escape conflict
BEIRUT, Lebanon — It might be an embassy diplomats and military commanders insist is still open for business, but with all the Marines and security teams buttressing the hilltop compound, it sure didn’t look that way.
http://www.marinecorpstimes.com/story.php?f=0-MARINEPAPER-1970252.php
By Christian Lowe
Staff writer
Snipers peered through their scopes from a half-constructed building flanking the U.S. Embassy’s front gate, looking for any terrorist assault that might come from the narrow streets of this Mediterranean city thrown once more into conflict.
The gunners manning .50-caliber machine guns and the stern-looking guards at the gate might be on edge, but the Marines here seemed to take it all in stride.
“This isn’t what we expected to do when we deployed, but nobody’s complaining,” said 2nd Lt. Matthew Johnson, commander of 2nd Platoon, Charlie Company, 1st Battalion, 8th Marines — the 24th Marine Expeditionary Unit’s battalion landing team.
“It’s pretty easy to see here what needs to get done.”
On July 15, Johnson — a native of Pottstown, Pa. — and his platoon flew hundreds of miles from a remote desert base in Jordan to the island of Cyprus, deploying to Lebanon the next day to help bolster security at the U.S. Embassy and assist in the evacuation of U.S. citizens fleeing the escalating conflict.
Since then, Marines have been living among the manicured lawns and sloping hills overlooking the azure waters of the Mediterranean Sea, busying themselves with the massive air and sea lift that had pulled nearly 7,000 Americans out of Lebanon less than a week after the Marines arrived.
As about 25 Americans prepared to load into one of the MEU’s CH-53E Super Stallion helicopters July 21, Johnson and his men strapped helmets on the mostly women and children who waited in a line as the helo’s engines roared above the compound’s landing pad.
With a deafening rush and a hail of dirt and debris, the Super Stallion lifted off, carrying its cargo to the safety of Cyprus, 120 miles away.
Meanwhile, on a small beach at the base of the hills sloping seaward from the embassy’s grounds, Marines with MEU Service Support Group 24 processed hundreds of fleeing Americans as they filed by to board Navy amphibious ships loitering just offshore.
As Sgt. Peter VanCleave, 24, of Marietta, Ga., typed the names of waiting passengers into a computer, children and their parents huddled in groups, waiting for Navy personnel to lead them the last 100 yards to the beach.
“Go figure, Marines are helping people instead of doing what we normally do these days,” said the logistics Marine, who was also involved in the MEU’s relief operation during Hurricane Katrina last year.
“Everyone’s been pretty calm,” he said, a pile of blue passports emblazoned with the gold seal of the U.S. sitting next to his worn keyboard. “They all seem to be [seasoned] international travelers.”
As the Americans continued to queue up, Staff Sgt. Charles Addison, from Winnsboro, La., walked up and down the line, making sure his Marines were doing their job and keeping the flow of evacuees going through.
“We practiced this before we deployed,” Addison, another Katrina relief veteran, said. “So it hasn’t been that much of a stretch.”
Walking unsteadily down the rocky slope to the yellow-sand beach, the troops helped the last of the evacuees onto the landing craft bound for the amphibious transport dock Trenton — a load of about 300 civilians toting suitcases, strollers and backpacks.
Huddled against the landing craft’s starboard bulkhead, Rima Chacar of Coral Gables, Fla., lamented her vacation cut violently short.
“Everyone was saying it would be tough to leave if we waited any longer,” Chacar said, her son Hani and daughter Aya close by her side. “It’s just the uncertainty that prompted us to leave.”
The boat rocked side to side as the ocean waters surged ashore, its load of evacuees weighing the craft down so much that a Seabee-driven bulldozer was called in to give the craft a push.
Just a short drive later — and with a final “clang” against the Trenton’s cavernous well-deck door — the ordeal of Chacar and her fellow travelers was nearly over. Just a six-hour cruise courtesy of the U.S. Navy and a seat on an embassy-chartered plane out of Cyprus and she’d be safely back home.
But as the lines swelled throughout the day, it was clear to the Marines and sailors helping get their fellow citizens out of Lebanon that the job was far from over.
“I’ll tell you exactly how long it’s going to take for us to get this done,” said Brig. Gen. Carl Jensen, Task Force 59 commander, as he watched the evacuees walk across the beach and onto the landing craft’s slippery deck.
“It will take as long as there are Americans here who still want to leave.”