Beirut Hospitals Are War Casualties Too

Artillery fire has caused so much damage to the Berbir Hospital in the western sector of Beirut that it now accepts only emergency cases.

On the east side of the city, the Dieu de France Hospital is also taking only combat casualties and emergencies, because of the shelling and shortages of medicines, water and electric power.

The American University Hospital in the west has 420 beds but can accommodate only 174 patients because of its depleted nursing staff.

The Middle East Hospital near Beirut’s southern suburbs has closed its doors altogether.

Beirut’s medical facilities have become casualties of the five-month-old artillery duel between the largely Christian Lebanese army units commanded by Maj. Gen. Michel Aoun and Syrian troops supported by Muslim militias.

Doctors, nurses and other personnel seem to be bearing up under the pressure, but the buildings have taken a beating. Of more than 3,000 wounded, only the most severely injured can be given a hospital bed.

At Berbir Hospital, many rooms have been destroyed. Water tanks have been blown off the roof, and operating rooms have been charred by fire.

“Fifty years ago this was the nicest place in Beirut,” Berbir’s 78-year-old founder, Dr. Nassif Berbir, recalled this week. He said he chose the site because it was so peaceful--”we didn’t hear a sound after 6 o’clock at night.”

But the Lebanese civil war, now in its 15th year, has played a cruel trick on the venerable institution, which has become part of the so-called Green Line that separates the Muslim and Christian factions. “Berbir” is now synonymous with the Muslim west side of the line.

These days the area is usually deserted long before 6 p.m., when the crackle of small-arms fire and the thunder of tank battles begin. Still, the hospital has continued to treat patients from both sides. Its medical staff includes Christians and Muslims, and the head pediatric nurse is Jewish.

Look of Field Hospital

For much of the five months since the shelling erupted, the hospital has had the look of an advance field hospital. But not until Aug. 12, the start of a fearsome, four-day period of shelling, did the hospital itself become a target.

“One or two shells hitting the hospital . . . well, that could be a mistake,” Dr. Zuheir Dabbour said. “But 150?”

At a recent news conference, Berbir accused Aoun of intentionally shelling the hospital.

“Our own army did this, not any enemy,” he said.

Berbir was angry not only because the hospital has closed its doors to all but emergency cases, but also because of what he called an absence of concern by foreign governments over the plight of West Beirut’s hospitals.

“Aren’t they ashamed to talk only of (damage in) East Beirut?” he said. “I’d like them to come and see. Let’s see if they can take it here for even five minutes.”

The Dieu de France Hospital is a 20-minute walk from Berbir and is considered the worst hit of East Beirut’s medical facilities. Sources there say that about 300 shells have fallen in the area. Yet the Dieu de France has survived the shelling far better than Berbir. The only direct hit there was on the kidney dialysis unit.

“We were shelled at night, and the patients come during the day, so there were no casualties,” Ghaide Baroodi, the hospital press officer, told a press group.

The shells came from Druze- and Syrian-controlled areas in the mountains southeast of the capital, Baroodi said. Like Dr. Berbir in the west, officials of the east side hospital insisted that the shelling was intentional, that the target was chosen because of its importance to the community.

The American University Hospital, Lebanon’s largest, is located a safe distance west of the Green Line, and the 10-story complex has been hit by shellfire just once in the five months of shelling.