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1st The Queen’s Dragoon Guards
It was not until two weeks after we arrived that a UN investigation released an analysis of the incident. In June 1982, The Israeli Defence Force (IDF) invaded Lebanon to remove the PLO who were using their base in Beirut to attack Israel. Following heavy fighting, culminating in a major battle in West Beirut, a truce was agreed with the UN whereby the Palestinian fighters would leave Beirut under escort by UN troops and relocate to Algeria. Whilst this provided a tempo- rary solution, the Israelis were concerned that it was only a matter of time before the PLO fighters would return as their families remained in Beirut. On September 14th, the immensely popular President of Lebanon, Bashir Gemayel, was assassinated. This resulted in two dynamics: emotional turmoil amongst the Christian community and an oppor- tunity ‘to bury bad news.’ The South Lebanon Army, a Christian Militia based in Marjayoun in the South, led by Colonel Haddad, entered the two refugee camps through the Israeli lines. Their way was illuminated by flares from the IDF who had blocked all the entry and exit points. It is not clear how many were killed but the UN report just claimed that the number was between 460 and 3,500 civilians, being predominantly the old, women and children. Interestingly, the Kayan Commission, established by the Israeli government, reported that this was a form of genocide for
which the IDF and Ariel Sharon, the Israeli Defence Minister, were ultimately responsible as they had allowed the South Lebanese Army access, showing a lack of care as to what the likely results were going to be.
As we drove into the
camps, we were overcome
with a sense of desolation.
The buildings had been
raised to the ground and
there were burial mounds
strewn around the camp
and little arms and legs were still visible sticking out of some of them. Corporal Humphreys was the lead vehicle. He stopped as a lady stood in front of his vehicle, baring the way. I pulled up beside him and got down. The lady grabbed my hand and pulled me towards a bin liner which was held as a type of roof by four sticks. I saw immediately that ‘inside’ there was a blanket, a tin, a primus stove and a mug - and pretty much nothing else. She was jabbering away in Arabic and was extremely animated. She started pumping up the stove, opened the tin, and I absolutely do not exaggerate, there was oneteabaginit.Shewasclearlygoingto make me her only cup of tea. Fortunately, Trooper Hesford came forward with a steaming mug for her and some rations
Major Stewart with Lebanese Liaison Officer, Fawzi
and we gave her what little we had with us. We came back a number of times over the next few months to bring her supplies, but the lady had disappeared.
On leaving the camps, we drove through the Italian area which was beside the refugee camps. We were stopped by an Italian Officer of the Bersaglieri Regiment of the ‘Goito’ Division and inci- dentally, Benito Mussolini’s old Regiment. I jumped out of my Ferret and whopped
up a salute. He greeted me in perfect English and I introduced myself, saying that we had indeed met before. He looked puzzled and apologised for his poor memory.
“Where?” he asked.
“In North Africa,” I replied. (The 3rd Brigade Mech-
anised Infantry ‘Goito’ was made up of mechanised Bersaglieri Regiments and was part of the Ariete Armoured Division (132nd) in North Africa. The King’s
Dragoon Guards (KDG) encountered them in North Africa in 1942/43 and gave them a hell of a beating.)
What a good man. Not only did he laugh, but he invited us to their camp that evening to see a show. A well- known Italian pop star was apparently performing. He gave me his card and said we could bring another Troop as well as ours. We parted company.
Meanwhile, 1st Troop had been dispatched off to the hills above our camp to Baabda where the Presidential Palace was located. Their secondary mission was a to locate some Cham- pagne for the Mess from which Lieutenant Roe was going to pay the fine for his ‘grinning’ interview. When the patrol returned, there were two cases of
Veuve Clicquot strapped to the deck of Lieutenant Vestey’s vehicle. These were proudly presented to Major Stewart who felt that we should immediately ensure that the quality was up to standard. It was, after all, lunchtime and as previ- ously mentioned, the quietest time of the day. A bottle was duly produced, and the assembled members of the Mess waited in anticipation. As Lieutenant Vestey opened the bottle, there was surprise that the customary pop was lacking. Samples were poured and even Sergeant Ratcliffe looked shocked. This was not Veuve Clicquot, despite the label. A letter was written immediately to Veuve Clicquot in Reims informing them that we believed that a great fraud was being perpetrated. In the course of the next few weeks this was all but forgotten, until one day, a rather enraged Frenchman turned up at the camp gates. He was the Veuve Clicquot representative for the region, based in Cyprus. The label was inspected, the bottle was opened, the pop absent and the wine tasted. After much zute alors and sacre bleus, he announced that a major crime had been committed. He removed the remnants of the ‘Cham- pagne’ and left without accepting our invitation to lunch. Just before the end of the tour, we received a package from Veuve Clicquot. The accompanying letter expressed the company’s deepest thanks and said that our keen observa- tion had led to the uncovering of a major racket of supplying fake Veuve Clicquot throughout the region which had caused the company untold loss of revenues. As a token of their appreciation, they gave us - two bottles! I have never drunk Veuve Clicquot since.
After the champagne tasting, we organised 1st Troop to join us that evening at the Italian camp. When we arrived, we discovered an enormous, big
As we drove into the camps, we were overcome with a sense of desolation