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The extent of the Israeli attack seemed to stun some units of the P.L.O., although others fought back valiantly. Noting that P.L.O. counterfire was becoming sporadic, an Israeli general told TIME Correspondent David Halevy, "I hope they are running out of ammunition, I hope they are close to the breaking point."
Until last week, most of the Israeli attacks had been concentrated on Fakhani, the Palestinian refugee camps and the southern suburbs. But now Israeli artillery and gunboats sent round after round crashing into Hamra, the downtown section of West Beirut, where the P.L.O. has no military positions except for mobile rockets and artillery pieces in the streets. As buildings sagged and crumbled, fires raged out of control. There was no water to help quench the flames; the Israelis had shut off the flow.
The Israelis claimed that they were making every effort to avoid civilian casualties. According to one senior Israeli officer, his orders were to search and destroy the enemy but to avoid civilian casualties by any means. Nonetheless, the Wednesday assault was seemingly designed to intimidate the civilian population. Shells fell everywhere. People fled by the thousands to basement shelters. A few were bombed out twice in one day, first from their own homes and then from the homes of friends. The below-ground coffee shop of the elegant Bristol Hotel was filled with refugees until the hotel was shelled and fire broke out on the upper floors. Patients from some parts of the American University Hospital had to be carried to the basement because the building was being hit. Later the hospital, its wards overflowing with the wounded, sent out appeals for gasoline to run its generators.
Countless buildings in the Hamra area were badly damaged, including the Information Ministry and the headquarters of An Nahar, the newspaper of record for the entire Arab world. Last week, on its 50th anniversary, it was unable to pub lish for the first time. Inside the An Nahar building, the offices of several American news organizations, including United Press International, Newsweek and the Los Angeles Times, were damaged or destroyed by phosphorus bombs. In late afternoon, Israeli artillery fire hit the Commodore Hotel, where many foreign correspondents were staying.
Living conditions in the besieged city were worse than ever. There has been no electricity since the Israelis switched it off on July 26, cutting the water supply at the same time. The water was briefly turned on again, though this did not help apartment dwellers; the electrically powered pumps would not work. New wells were being dug all over the city, and trucks carrying water toured every district. Much of the water was unclean and carried with it a risk of typhoid and cholera, according to U.N. health officials. People had little choice but to drink it anyway. Fresh fruit and vegetables were no longer available, flour was in short supply, and lines formed at dawn outside shops that were lucky enough to have any bread to sell. The siege came at the height of the torrid Mediterranean summer, increasing the general distress. When available at all, a $3 case of bottled water was selling for $10. The Palestinian guerrillas were less affected by the food shortage than the general population because they had built up their own supplies.