In the departure lounge of Rome's Leonardo da Vinci Airport, Robert Suit, 60, travel editor of the St. Louis Globe-Democrat, was waiting with friends to board a plane for New York when they saw a commotion farther down the concourse. "Must be some movie star," one of them remarked. After some nuns hurried past them, another quipped, "No, maybe it's the Pope."
"Then some girls ran by," Suit recalled, "and they were yelling, 'It's a bomb, a bomb—everybody out!' We saw the bank slam down its window and heard some pops, which sounded like firecrackers. That's when we said, 'My God, it must be serious!' " In fact, what the hundreds of unsuspecting travelers heard was the sound of gunfire. The fusillade signaled the start of a guerrilla attack in Rome last week that turned into the bloodiest rampage in the surreal five-year history of Arab skyjack terrorism. Before it ended 30 hours later—in the sand beyond a runway of the airport in Kuwait—31 people had been killed in Rome and one more in Athens.
The terrorists, who later identified themselves as Palestinian guerrillas, first struck at the Rome airport's security checkpoint during the early afternoon rush hour. "I was heading toward the security check, and up front I saw a tall, well-dressed young man," a British stewardess recalled. "As he approached the guards, he put his hand in his pocket and took out a pistol." Instantly, his companions—perhaps as many as seven —opened their overnight bags, took out submachine guns and began to spray gunfire in every direction.
Too Late. The gunmen then ran out onto the flight field. One group of the terrorists headed toward Pan American's Flight 110, which was preparing to depart for Beirut and Teheran with 59 passengers and ten crew members on board.
At the first sign of trouble, Captain Andrew Erbeck told the passengers to crouch on the floor. Before he could order the 707's doors closed, a clean-shaven young man in a white sweater ran to the foot of the steps, a canister in his outstretched hand. "They're coming with grenades!" First Officer Robert Davison shouted. "Get the people out of here!" It was too late.
Flight Engineer Kenneth Pfrang was knocked to the galley floor by the first grenade. "I got hit by the concussion," he said later, "and I thought, 'Why aren't I dead?' Then I realized it was some sort of incendiary device and smoke was pouring out of the canister." Within seconds, there were more flashes as two phosphorus grenades went off inside the forward section. Two other grenades were thrown into the rear; suddenly the entire plane was filled with roiling black smoke.
Stewardess Lari Hamel was knocked to the floor in the first-class aisle and four or five bodies fell on top of her; she managed to crawl to a wing exit and escape. In the rear of the plane, one passenger saw a guerrilla appear, gun in hand, and stop passengers from escaping out the rear ramp.