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No sooner had tall, weathered. 38-year-old Lieut. Colonel Harry Hadd of St. Paul set up his command post (code name: "Sick Leave") and identified his unit as the 2nd Battalion of the 2nd Marine Regiment than one of his men appeared with a "Lebanese officer" in tow. Barked Colonel Hadd: "If he's not armed, let him loose." Thereupon the "officer" nervously identified his uniform as that of the Arab Airways and asked in English, "I know you're busy, sir, but could you tell us how long this will last? We have a lot of planes tied up."
"The General Says." No one, of course, had the slightest idea "how long it will last." The marines grimly took over the airport, and on the first night all was quiet. Next morning, when the marines planned to move into Beirut proper, U.S. Ambassador to Lebanon Robert McClintock plunged into conference with handsome, stubborn President Chamoun, and elusive General Fuad Shehab, 56-year-old chief of Lebanon's armed forces. True to form, Shehab, who had steadfastly refused to commit bis forces to an all-out assault against the pro-Nasser rebels, refused to commit himself firmly to cooperation with the Americans. President Chamoun reproached the general for this, and for stationing 23 tanks on the approaches to the city, as if to guard it against the marines. "Where did these tanks come from?" Chamoun asked Shehab, who had in the past pleaded that he was powerless to chase the rebels to their lair. There was no answer.
At the airport a half hour later, McClintock and Shehab linked up with the U.S. special commander in the Middle East, Admiral James L. ("Lord Jim") Holloway, newly arrived. McClintock interpreted Shehab's French for Lord Jim:
"The general says he is afraid his army will disintegrate or that some of his troops will open fire if the entire column advances in one body . . . The general says he is willing to cooperate, but he wants you to proceed in small groups."
Admiral Holloway agreed to this odd request, shook Shehab's hand, and then added, to Shehab's puzzlement: "Lord Mountbatten [Britain's First Sea Lord] asked me to send his best wishes to you."
Breasts, Spears, Bullets. With that quaint ritual out of the way, the marines, led by Ambassador McClintock in a black Cadillac, marched (in small groups) into the capital, their arms as inconspicuous as possible, and took up posts around the city. Some Lebanese cheered, but most looked on expressionless. On the second night, marines stationed at an outpost two miles south of the airport returned small-arms fire from four rebels, with no casualties on either side. Two marines who took a wrong turn in their jeep were seized by rebels, questioned by a man who identified himself as a "schoolmaster," and after steadfastly saying "I don't know" to all questions about why they were there, were released three hours later. The impressive presence of nearly 10.000 U.S. troops, and the accessibility of 70 ships, three carriers and 25,000 men of the Sixth Fleet might make even the itchiest-fingered of Lebanese rebels hesitate. But the possibility of ambushes and stray shots remained.