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Blog Beirut
This page contains the full account of what happened on quite easily the worst day of my life.
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Facts are as they appear here—it’s a highly personal account and no way reflects the views of my peers or employers.
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Hezbollah - secretive 'Shia muslim party of God' - began as a guerilla group & has upto 18 MP's in the Lebanese cabinet. Most powerful political party in the country.
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2006
Tuesday 18th July 2006
Richard Gaisford and I are posted in Beirut mainly to report on the huge evacuation of Brits going on, from the port, on Navy ships Gloucester and HMS York. We’ve travelled down through Syria on dangerous roads bombed by Israeli jets via Tripoli since our plane was diverted from Damascus to Aleppo... We team up with two former special forces guys who are keen to get private security work. Feel pretty safe with these guys and our driver who knows the way as we travel the 3 hours or so on the highways that have been bombed to oblivion by the Israeli jets day in, day out, trying to cut off Hezbollah supplies. Spirits are good as Richard realises he knows one of them from Iraq and I’ve got the ipod plugged into the car and singing REM’s ‘It’s the End of the World as we know it..’
Thursday 20th July 2006
This morning HMS Bulwark has come in with 2 RAF Chinooks and I’ve managed to be the first of the British media to gain access to the port to film the Chinooks actually taking people out as well. I got access through Hiba our driver’s dad who works in the port – the SAS guys posted at the scene of the chopper landings smile and politely ask me not to film them…..two hours later they land with Bulwark pulling in beside them. I get some stunning shots…
After filming that, Richard and I decide the day shouldn’t be too strenuous as the office doesn’t want more evac stuff – unless we move it on or get a new angle, we might as well go back and sit by the hotel pool. Compared with other crews, we’re a lean operation – Richard as Chief Correspondent, with his HD Sony handycam, me as producer, we take it in turns to film and of course, he’s doing the pieces to camera… I record a quick message for folks back home at the port just to prove I am there! The Beeb cameraman laughs at us coz it’s just 2 of us whizzing around with this little camera and there’s loads of them…
Fouad Sinora 
Funny that, coz our risk assessment form said the job should have a min. of 3 people in the crew…ah well…
We ask Hiba and her friend / another good English speaker Jay if we can buy some shirts as we’re running out – we go shopping in a mall and I get a t-shirt from Mexx and another white one...the guy I speak to on the counter of Mexx is still at his post, serving although the shop is eerily empty of customers wanting trendy westernised clothing during such a time. It feels odd buying clothes when not many blocks away, people are running the gauntlet of Israeli jets and regular bombing. It's a strange thing that you can be sipping capuccino and perusing racks of summer shirts in a shopping mall, just an hour before you're about to meet your maker
A couple of phone calls later and there’s stuff going on at the port so we head there – get a bit of evacuee activity then ask Hiba if she’s still ok to take us to the square / park in downtown Beirut where she said refugees were gathered after coming from their bombed homes in Southern Beirut. Hiba reckoned there were about 250 Lebanese living under the stars in the square and it was quite an upmarket part of town too.
We head up to ‘Garden Sanaey’ Square around 3 and sign in with the humanitarian guys taking names, who want the West to see what’s happening – Jay will interpret, Hiba’s gone off in the car …all seems calm around the square – no unrest or civil disruption of any kind, plus there are plenty of Lebanese armed police about – so we’re fairly safe.
The Lebanese red cross guy is certain that this park is a potential target for Israeli jets to bomb, citing a similar scenario in the early 90’s when refugees were bombed in the war in the Balkans…he doesn’t trust Israel one bit and feels this place is vulnerable.
The park where the displaced are now sheltering has few toilets for the masses of people suddenly living there. Drinking water, which is being trucked in by local authorities, is in short supply. All the families are sleeping outside, many of them on the ground. There have been periodic deliveries of food.
We ask permission from the families we film – it’s pretty upsetting seeing babies being bottle-fed on park benches, no sanitation, only rugs to sit on and odd bits of food for often quite big families to live on. Some don’t want to be filmed and say their situation is humiliating, but many others are happy to talk and be seen – we gently proceed to get this story which within days is going to worsen into a much bigger crisis. Richard does a piece to camera – I’m walking backwards and the shot pulls off of the salubrious apartments which overlook this normally charming suburban, tree-lined park.
Story in the can, we call Hiba and she arrives in her father’s old Merc to pick us up – it’s around 5:10pm. We want to head back to the hotel to edit this and ring in….
Having a joke about how long she had to wait for us, we pull around the corner to the left of the park heading west towards the hotel and the port. As we drive down this road some guys are shouting at the car and running after us – I tell Hiba to put her foot down and keep driving..but very quickly a moped is alongside and motioning for her to pull over…we say keep going, but at the junction the moped darts in front and forces Hiba to a sudden stop. Some guys catch up quickly and start saying stuff about our camera and film – Jay says they want the tape – we say no way – it’s a humanitarian story about the refugees in the park for UK tv – show id cards – the men are insistent that they have the tape, and after 10 mins of arguing it seems they’ll be happy to look at the camera and let us show them what we’ve shot. But things are escalating and more men are gathered and Hiba’s out of the car appealing and explaining as best she can.
Richard & I think they’ll see the footage and let us go – we even offer for one of the key guys to come to the hotel to see it with us…now we’re not sure what’s being said – but it seems they think we’re possibly spies and are going to check or take our tape. As the mood is feeling increasingly tense and there’s much shouting and motioning, we finally hand over the tape – a blank one – to buy some time and work out what to do. Then they start getting heavy about what’s in our pockets – where another tape might be – I’m feeling close to getting out of the car, Richard says don’t leave the car under any circumstances – simple as that.
The crowd’s growing and looking more threatening, the initial guys are arguing with others coming to see what’s going on and someone’s got into the car and taken the keys from the ignition – over the next 20 mins various guys get into the car and out again – the local police are doing NOTHING and the traffic cop pretends he can’t see us and a noisier mob over his shoulder that’s now swelling to about 40-50 around us…it’s terribly confusing and there’s no single person who seems to be coming down on our side of the story bar Hiba and Jay.
Terry at GMTV phones Richard and he says we’re in trouble and must go – I try to call for help from the British F.O. woman, stating where we are, that local police are doing nothing and we’re scared and stuck. She says she’ll see what she can do….my phone is snatched from my hand…we hear nothing more from anyone British..
It’s an older little guy who’s whipping up the crowd and using the situation to try and take all our stuff from us – he demands wallets and slaps Richard’s face to get him to hand it over – I try to push the guy back out of the car window he’s leaning in through. They won’t allow the windows to be wound up and one mad, mad guy who first chased us, wearing a smart blue shirt, tries to smash mine so I wind it down.
Someone on Richard’s side tries to grab his camera – and the struggle leaves the mic attachment broken off – now things are scary and at some point I’m told to give over my wallet, ID’s, money and very suddenly, a fist enters the car and connects with my nose – stings more than anything, but the crowd is clearly changing to a lynch-mob, looking for revenge and someone to vent their frustration and paranoia on. Jay’s out of the car bravely remonstrating with men on Rich’s side – can’t see what’s going on but he gets hit – he gets back in the car – Hiba admits she’s scared now as she’s tried and tried and no one’s listening to her.
We think help’s arrived, Rich wonders if it’s SAS, there seems to be an ear piece – but the guy doesn’t do anything to get the car out – the attack continues…the anger spreading like a grass fire.
Richard’s belongings get grabbed and we resign ourselves to losing our stuff, but he manages to crack a joke to me about Gary Curtis’ funny texts from Haifa – ‘Commander Curtis to Major Mason’ and the code names he gave us all working out here, et al…But SHIIT! I hope they don’t read those texts from Haifa or they’ll kill us on the spot – suddenly, it’s not a joke anymore.
After more than half an hour Richard’s door opens and someone tries to drag him out of the car by his hair – I can’t believe what I’m seeing – they’re trying to kill him – he’s told we’re not cooperating and we’re going to be killed. I cling to Rich’s waist to keep him in the car – we’re clinging to each other for our lives now as someone makes an attempt to pull me by my arms through my rear passenger window. After this, and only after this, a Lebanese policeman gets in the back with us – squashing Richard but keeping us in the car at least – Jay is squashed between us – we ask that the cop fires his gun into the air to disperse the crowd – that goes unheeded…he’s a heavy bugger…
Hiba is scared and shouting at them – but it appears she’s managed to get the car keys back…how?
The Lebanese policeman gets out again and is sort of protecting Hiba’s driver door. From nowhere a fist comes in through my open window and smashes me in the mouth – my door opens and I think, “this is it..” how can I stay in the car with 20 guys on my side seemingly about to pull me out into a packed street and beat the shit out of me… it’s really only a matter of time now before we’re beaten and probably killed, mistakenly, over that story, or because they think we’re spies – I don’t wanna die this way…I’m so calm it’s weird, perhaps coz death feels imminent…I’m wondering whether I’ll feel much as I slip into unconsciousness…how to protect my head…Richard’s white as a sheet but calm…
It’s really hot, uncomfortable and terribly tense – an Arab cameraman with a proper ENG camera has filmed some of what’s happening – bastard …he walks off.
My door’s open and a few of the mob have a go at ripping out the door lining to see if we’re concealing stuff inside the doors. While it’s open an opportunist grabs my red rucksack, I grab it too but it’s useless – I’m hit and it’s gone…
I manage to wrestle my door off them and slam it shut jamming some guy’s hand – I feel BAD because I’ve just slammed the door on this bloke’s hand - I’m trying to stay alive, but don’t wanna make him more mad! I sort of mouth a ‘sorry’…
Then there’s men on the bonnet, the boot is opened and then they’re climbing on the roof, the windscreen cracks and somebody tries to rip the Merc’s grill out – they are not content and are about to tear the car to pieces with us still inside – it’s getting so out of hand, there’s no sign of this coming under any control – it’s the car – then us…seconds tick away and I’m saying some silent prayers about keeping us alive…
As the car suspension rocks under the weight of the angriest human beings I have ever faced, it’s the one situation in my life where you quite literally can’t see ANY way out of a present situation, it really, really does seem hopeless. If we get out, nothing will ever quite seem as dangerous or scary as this moment.
It’s been over an hour and I don’t think either of us can see a way through this, or a physical way to get the car past these barriers – no Brits have come to save us – no Lebanese cops are taking control – the crowd is about 50/60 strong, very paranoid, angry as hell, anti-western, anti-foreigner, and some are clearly Hezbollah elements or supporters. I DO absolutely pray for our lives – I silently ask for help from God to help us out of this situation… then I wonder…
If one of us is taken from this car, the remaining one’s life ( if they survive ) will never be the same again…
Eventually, two serious figures appear from the front right of the car and push through the crowd – they tell the assembled crowd leaders something, get in the car, pushing Hiba into the middle, take the keys from her – the metal barricade, moped and car are cleared from our vehicle’s path and we’re hijacked! We're now in the midst of a fully-fledged kidnap situation - unknown guys, unknown destination... unknown motive...
The men drive fast, very fast, through the main Beirut streets. ( It turns out, Hiba kept the car keys for a lot of the time managing to buy time by confusing the mob that one of them had taken the keys earlier on.)
I appeal to Jay to tell us what’s going on and ask the men to take us to the British Embassy – Jay says we’re going to a safe place to be interrogated …’frying pan into the fire..’, more than likely.
For several seconds, I’m seriously thinking, and I know it’s madness, even suicide, but I want to jump from the moving car – maybe I can do it when we stop at traffic lights… “Right”! like these guys are gonna stop at a Beirut red…not even Hiba’s been doing that when we drive around – there’s so few cars about there’s no point! Still, how could I leave the three of them anyway… can’t do it…
But why would a lynch-mob of 50-odd local men allow these two to just drive off with us - doesn't make sense and it doesn't bode well.
After 5 minutes of travelling and being followed – Hiba’s battered Merc pulls up outside a small suburban house – we’re asked to get out and stand by the wall – WALL? They gonna shoot us if we don’t confess to being spies? Whatever next? My hands are in my pockets as I uneasily shift about – then Richard and I see the green-shirted short older man who hit us and nicked my mobile phone – I shout that that’s the guy – what’s he doing here – Jay says don’t worry, we’re safe here, it’s ok. The guy is ushered out – but we’re scared coz he’ll tell the mob where we are – this can’t be ‘safe’.
Up an alleyway I’m given a tissue to dab the blood around my mouth, Rich and I go in, relieved slightly to see two women and a small child. At least they won’t try anything torturous in front of them. We’re given water and I’m led to a dank kitchen to clean up a bit – given a can of sprite and a ciggy and told by an older man with a beard it’s ok and to sit….
The t.v.’s on Al Jazeera and Rich & I expect to see our incident fresh from the Arab cameraman that took pictures as we were being attacked.
It’s about 6pm and a ‘heavy’ packing a side arm walks through the house to the yard outside to talk with this older guy - we’re in the local Hezbollah mayor’s home and feel safe-ish from the baying mob, but not so safe from Israeli bombs, especially as a missile hit two water trucks in the Christian quarter yesterday...( a mistake! )
I try to speak what little Arabic I know to the small child and shake his hand. He’s cool with me – then I ask the ‘Mayor’ to please understand that we are British journos and just want to go to the Embassy. At least he smiles, but no real understanding of English – Jay and Hiba seem calm and say don’t worry now..
After half an hour in the Hezbollah safe house, an amazing sight! –Hiba’s dad ( who was driving me around the port that morning..) walks in. Big emotional reunion and it hits Richard. At last there’s a light at the end of this miserable tunnel. We leave after about 45 mins with Lebanese secret service guys / plain clothes police, only to find a small crowd gathered outside which unnerves us – and proceed to sit in a Govnt blacked out Mercedes for ten more minutes. The four of us talk about whether or not we prayed to God, and we laugh about who did – I say for the ones who don’t believe, I ‘covered’ them!
I need the toilet – we’re not moving and we’re getting really twitchy – not to mention that as far as the office, ITN etc, are concerned, we're now missing, kidnapped - within hours, it's flashed on Sky that 2 journalist have been taken.
The black limo starts to drive us to a main Lebanese fortified police station with Hiba’s dad in convoy. But en route, I’m looking out of the back window and notice we’re being tailed by a mystery white saloon. Alerting the Lebanese plain clothes cops driving, they pull over and have words with the unwelcome follower behind.
We reach the cop station and Richard says he doesn’t want to spend too much time here as these are targets too…
We’re taken to four separate interview rooms – with Rich being quite heavily questioned by a senior police official, who tries to convince him that some of the Hezbollah chaps really are rather nice! ( Well it’s true they effectively saved our lives ). It transpires that many of the the regular police are sympathetic of the aims and ideals of their Hezbollah 'brothers' - and doubtless in many cases they are related -brothers, cousins, all in the army, hezbollah, police. There's plenty of common blood crossing through these different factions.
I’m left for ages just drinking water and thinking how mad the day’s been – then a police major asks me what we were doing – why we didn’t tell them of our movements – I argue that their police didn’t protect us and ask to call the Embassy to inform them we’re safe.
Suddenly, it dawns on me in the white, clinical police room, that our hotel key cards with address pouches were taken! ALL our stuff! – the hotel – mobbed – panic…these characters that were trying to kill us know which rooms we’re staying in… paranoia has infected us too, but understandably…they’ll talk their way in, then be waiting for us …or congregate outside.
I tell the cop and he calmly phones the hotel to get them to beef up security. That puts the wind up ITN later..ha...
Meanwhile, the entire GMTV newsroom has stayed at work and they know we’ve been snatched - so time to get word out that we’re ok. Embassy woman takes numbers from me …I ask that we go there straight afterwards but the police have other ideas.
I’m told the Lebanese Prime Minister Fouad Siniora wants to see us …eurgh?
When Richard enters the room he doesn’t believe it, but we agree we’ll let the PM know his police are inept at safeguarding foreigners…the police say we’re going to the Government building - I say, only if Hiba comes too – she saved us – Jay is being kept for more questioning bizarrely.
All three of us pile into another blacked out Merc limo and as we leave the police compound Hiba spots her uncle and tells him to go and stay safe – people will know who they are and she's worried about any repurcussions on her family.
In the car Hiba freezes our blood by telling us she’s so relieved we’re ok and was incredibly worried that, firstly, if the policeman sat on our laps in the car had fired into the air, it would’ve begun a bloodbath, because many of the guys in the mob had guns too. Secondly, she was scared rigid that the drivers who kidnapped us were planning to take us to the Southern Beirut suburb of Dahir, a now flattened hell-hole on earth, where we’d have been tied up and left for the Israeli bombs to finish us. “you wouldn’t have come out of there…” she said. That would’ve appeased the crowd.
As we draw up to the front of the huge government building where Condi Rice was to visit only days later, Richard has a similarly paranoid moment of his own. He thinks that a guy casually sauntering away from the entrance was in the mob attacking us. He’s convinced he knows his face – I’m not so sure and we move inside…
As we walk the corridors of this fragile democracy-on-the-brink of collapse, we ask Hiba what the hell the Prime Minister’s name is! Too bad if the C.I.A.-types accompanying us pass that on!
Within 3 minutes we’re ushered into a small state room where two ministers and aides are gathered. I’m carrying the one thing I came away with from the incident apart from my life and the dirty ripped clothes I’m standing in…my MEXX carrier bag with a disturbingly Israeli-looking brand new khaki t-shirt inside….clutching it for dear life as I meet this poor country’s cabinet!
It’s the Information Minister and Interior Minister – their equivalent to our Home Secretary gets his ‘bit’ in before we can criticise his police...we say they did nothing to help and he responds by saying the policeman by the car has been thrown in jail for 8 days…! No answer to that really… a tray of fresh apple juice arrives…
Pretty rapidly, Prime Minister Siniora comes in, introduces himself and sits down to talk. He apologises on behalf of his people, country and Government and describes those involved in the attack as ‘ignorant’. He breaks off when a call comes through from Kofi Annan at the UN. " excuse me, better take this... "
Great! My chance to make a break for the loo – I’m busting, so the Interior Minister takes me to his personal en suite office loo.
Back comes the PM, chats for a while with Hiba, who’s so lovely and natural with him, totally unfazed, asks if there’s anything he can do for us – so I ask for the phone to ring Ju and off he goes to appear live on Larry King ! Ju’s on the underground and gets a garbled message. Thankfully, she just thinks we bagged an interview with the Lebanese PM.
Relieved but tired and wanting to talk with family and loved ones, we ask to go to the British Embassy, ( how many times have we requested that today..? ) - and that a security guard escort us.
We pay Hiba double for her trouble and walk around to the shining beacon that is a little piece of Britain, a sanctuary, away from the baying mob and the guided missiles – Her Majesty’s British Embassy in Beirut, where we can be welcomed into the bosom of Britannia...
WHICH IS CLOSED!
No one is answering – there’s no one to meet us and the guard outside is Lebanese anyway and knows nothing about us or our predicament. He radios through but we’re locked outside of our own Embassy and seemingly stranded – great end to a dreadful day.
It’s about 8:15pm – we’ve been received by leading Hezbollah, the Prime Minister of Lebanon and his ministers, but our own diplomats and officials have deserted us.
Let down isn’t the word – gutted and angry that such an international diplomatic incident could be treated with such nonchalance by the British Government.
The Lebanese guard shows us to an open portacabin with an airport metal detector inside – it’s by the car park outside. We wait, we call – Rich speaks to the office finally - I need the toilet again and am told to go against the wall around the back ! Charming!
After an hour – gone 9pm – a sullen, unhelpful woman drives up in a big 4x4 and wearily asks if she can help – we’re not in the mood for any piss-arsing around and take her name. Details are taken in the portacabin again, she goes, half an hour more of our precious lives slips by.
Finally Foreign Office official Derek shows up. Suitably helpful, cheery he drives us back to the hotel for a de-brief. The first people we see holding court are ITN’s Julian Manyon and Tim Ewart – too busy planning the ‘big push’ to south Lebanon for the next day to even acknowledge us - and as quickly as possible we arrange to change our hotel rooms for security and peace of mind. ITN’s Michaela, Daniel, and C4’s Jonathan Miller and Ben are like long lost family and make a suitably affectionate fuss.
Later, Ewart sidles up and says he was looking for us earlier in the day to borrow those ‘orgasmic’ ( his words not mine ) shots of the Chinooks landing at the port. His camera tape messed-up and they needed the pics, but of course, we were ‘otherwise engaged...’ Yeah, we were …f**k off Tim.
The worst day of our career and lives is over – phone home. We ring the office, arrange to feed pictures from the refugee camp and go 'live' the next morning - business as usual....we have to tell that story of the families we met....
BLOG BASED ON THAT WEEK’S TEXT MESSAGES.
18July -
08:19- (to Ju) been stuck in Aleppo airport ( Syria) fer 4 hrs while visas processed - no 1 awake in Ministry yet! Here with Sky & ABC so fine but no sleep…
18:23 (to mum) arrived safe at hotel –Beirut a little quiet 2day - no people but lots of army, lol
20:21 (reply to pal) Palm Beach hotel by the port– quite safe here…
July 19th
(reply to S. Smith) Yea mad busy but fine—@ Brit embassy filming outside & just heard 2 bombs go off –sound real close but prob 2km - “wartorn Dave “ not so ‘showbiz’…
17:19- (to friend @sky) Seen HMS York leave with brits - in safer area - filmed piece– only had 1 bomb 1st thing– its deserted! So sad– gr8 to hear from you, lol
17:27 - (to old flat mate) 4got to tell you –In Beirut with Rich G , V sunny, bit noisy & pretty deserted! Hope you well.
20th July
00:20 - ( to G Curtis in Haifa ) All quiet on the middle eastern front - sleep well.
09:57 - (to Richard while I'm in port ) helis not landed yet - any moment now.
10:04—10:04 - to Ju – Hi in port of Beirut with special forces all around - only journo here 2 film Brit helis landing 2 pick up & take 2 aircraft carriers. Won’t make GM but maybe ITN news story. Lol
10:45am– (reply to Ju)...yes defo fairly quiet 2day so cool... ( almost my famous last words...)
Within a few days, the Bath Chronicle were leaked the tale by a friend and splashed it front page, Richard had done the Newshour sofa with Penny, ITV West picked it up and the next day on Tues 25th July I appeared on the news sofa at my old workplace, ITV West, (HTV), with Steve Scott on The West Tonight. I was still in shock at this point and appearances can be deceiving - far from being on the road to recovery, I was on the path to gradual meltdown......the day after this interview I took some time out to 'chill' & visit the farm where The Stranglers rehearse & record. They sat me down, played a set for me then took me to the ciderhouse for a pint...!
POSTSCRIPT
After several months professional post traumatic stress treatment I recovered from these events, but not until I'd gone through extremes of euphoria, depression, suicidal moments, excessive drinking/ partying and almost wrecking my relationship. I was affected in varying degrees for over 6 months before discovering myself again and getting back to normality.
