A Special Birthday Spent on Ship in Mediterranean

Eighteen months ago I was in Beirut, Lebanon, with my husband and two small children. Every day I hoped and prayed that either the situation would improve or that some way I would be able to take my children away from the shelling, car bombs, night treks to the basement, and underlying tension that was a part of our daily life.

Every day I called friends to see what they might know. We listened to the BBC broadcasts to hear news. We called the embassy phone numbers and when we couldn’t reach the embassy I would call a missionary friend who walked in to the embassy every day to get news for those of us who couldn’t reach the embassy but could reach him.

I had lived in Beirut off and on since the summer of 1978, but the last six months I was there were the worst. Some nights my husband and I would lie in bed and try to determine if the shells were close enough that we should take the children to the basement.

My husband felt it was unsafe for me as an American to leave the house without him so I spent most of my time in our apartment with the children. When we did walk outside I often thought of car bombs and wondered if the cars we walked between might be filled with explosives.

A week before the U.S. Embassy in Beirut was bombed I was in the lobby of the embassy with another American woman collecting baked goods for the Marines that the American Womens’ Club members were bringing. While I was there I thought about “what if” there was a terrorist attack while I was there. A week later that attack took place and some people that I considered friends were killed and injured. Life in Beirut a year ago is something I will never forget and also something I wouldn’t want to experience again.

On Feb. 10, at noon, my husband came home and told me I had one hour to pack one suitcase for myself and the children. We were going to leave with those being evacuated that day. I knew there was going to be an evacuation of the British and my missionary friend had told me to listen to the BBC at 9 or 10 o’clock that morning so I had heard that there would also be an evacuation of U.S. citizens that afternoon. I packed and got the children ready.

My husband is Lebanese and wasn’t sure he would be allowed to go with us but packed a suitcase just in case. On the corniche I saw many friends. One woman was leaving with her daughter who had suffered a serious head injury within the last two months. As we waited I thought about snipers, talked with various media and non-media persons, and wondered about the future.

We were taken by helicopter to the USS Manitowoc, processed and shown to our berths. All of the servicemen were kind and helpful. I can still remember a sailor picking up a lost child in the dining area, holding her while she fell asleep, and then handing her over to a harried parent when he came to collect her.

When I reached Cyprus I called my parents and told them where we were and when we would arrive in Los Angeles. When I arrived here I vowed to say thank you to everyone who helped us on our way home. So many people seem to forget. I haven’t forgotten, but it has taken a while for me and the children to readjust and to stop jumping when cars backfire.

On Independence Day we were at the Rose Bowl for the fireworks so the children would start to realize that not all “booms” are bad. When the national anthem was played I started to cry and I thought of the servicemen that the anthem had been dedicated to. Every time our anthem is played and our flag is flown I say thank you and am proud to be an American.

My children, now 3 and 5, still think that when you travel you start out on a helicopter, when the lights are off due to a storm they think a “bad man” has done it, and they ask if the bad men will get their father who is in Beirut at this time.

Once again I would like to say thank you to the servicemen and others who made my birthday, Feb. 11, a special one in spite of where I was. Many people would think it special to spend a birthday on a ship in the Mediterranean and last year I was just such a person. Thank you.

CATHY GEHA

Los Angeles