Testimonies from the Druze Mountain

“In their Own Words” – Accounts of young brave men who were defending their homes and families in Aley and the Shouf Mountains. May 12, 2008
Translated verbatim from Arabic to English

1 Melhim in Alley

My name is Melhim; I was with some of my friends driving around the southern eastern part of Alley. We noticed at a distance that Hezbollah has occupied several hills. We called using our cell phones and informed the people at the “markaz”. We also informed Wajdi. We stayed put. But within minutes, men, young and old, started arriving from all directions. Immediately the exchange of fire started. We saw at a distance at least 10 buses downloading Hezbollah fighters. I would put their number at a few hundred. The fighting became very intense. Our boys were advancing without any hesitation. I saw myself being driven at such a fast pace, I could not feel my legs. They looked like an army with their fancy equipment but we kept on pushing. Bullets were flying all over me. But for some weird reason, I had no fear of the bullets. They looked to me like heavy rain and I felt as if there is an invisible umbrella protecting me from the rain. I thought I was almost alone in my run towards the fire, but I looked around me and found at least three dozen boys at pace with me. I remembered looking at Wafic running on my right side with a smile on his face. “Melhim it is a good day to die, let us keep pressing he said”. We were firing our guns relentlessly and they were firing back but we were not dying. I could smell the fear of Hezbollah boys. At that point I realized that I have already spent 6 magazines and needed a break to reload. In the process I saw Druze fighters coming out of the woods in large numbers. What a beautiful sight, they looked like ghosts coming out from the trees firing with so much bravery. It started to turn into a massacre. Hezbollah fighters, despite their vast numbers, were falling like leaves. They were not able to pick their dead and wounded fast enough. Suddenly they started attacking us with Missiles and 155 cannons, from further points, to slow us down, and to allow their soldiers to retreat. The missiles mostly came from the town of Al-Qmatieh, A Hezbollah stronghold. That night Aley was hit by more than 500 missiles. They were afraid that we will overtake Al-Qmatieh. In reality, we could have taken Al-Qmatieh, but we got word that we are not to do so. Walid Beik said no. I looked at Wafic as we watched the poor Hezbollah boys run to where they came from and said” Wafic, I seems we didn’t die today, there is nothing we can do about it, we have to be patient (Badna ntawil balna). The funny thing was Wafic’s forearm was soaked with blood. He was hit with a bullet in the arm and had no clue. I would have loved to go down to Beirut and help the Mustaqbal boys. But there is only so few of us and we need to defend our villages first. What a cowardly attack. They attacked boys in the streets of Beirut who are neither armed nor experienced. Nothing can be more cowardly. When this is over we should train the Mustaqbal boys. If we can get missiles, and heavy artillery, between, the Druze, almustaqbal, and alqouwat, we will clean up the Dahiya in no time. We don’t need America or France we just need guns similar to what they have. Cowards. I just hate cowards. They boost standing up to Israel. Well this is different. This is not firing laser guided missiles at a tank 3 kilometers away. Nor is it shelling katyoushas and then rushing to hide in civilian neighborhoods under the kitchen sink.
2 Samir in Baisour
I am Samir from Baisour. We got word that Hezbollah has taken positions on the hills overlooking Baisour from Kaifoun’s side (Kaifoun is a Hezbollah town). Well we did not like it. We didn’t even understand why they were doing so. We have lived as brothers with our neighbors in Kaifoun for hundreds of years. Do they think that Baisour has a CIA or an Israeli post. We just didn’t understand it. Well the boys got very anxious especially the young ones. They could not wait; they wanted to start fighting now. I remember looking at Jamil the son of Mhana, who is barely 16. He was bouncing up and down, wearing his Brazil football shirt, holding a machine gun in one hand and a soccer ball in the other, wanting to rush and fight. As if there was a very important football game where Brazil is playing and he can not miss one second. Thanks to cell phones, when people got the word, they were pouring into the street with their guns. Some even came with hunting rifles. We tried to slow them down, but really we couldn’t; especially after Hezbollah starting firing at our village. What was most notable is that some elderly people from Kaifoun suddenly showed up and said. “We want you to know that we in Kaifoun are against what the Hizb is doing. We told them that we are family with the people of Baissour and we don’t want any problems. But they don’t listen to us. They come from other places with orders and there is nothing we can do about it”.
We were all moved with what this man had to say. We felt sorry for him. But we told him that we appreciate his gesture but Hezbollah need to leave.”

We got word that Hezbollah in Aley have lost more than 50 fighters and that they are shelling Alley with Missiles to slow our fighters down. We don’t have any missiles or any cannons. We gave it all to the Lebanese Army. All we have is machine guns and RPG’s. The attack started. Druze fighters from all over the mountain were pouring into Baisour. It was a beautiful sight, a majestic sight of fervor and bravery. They rushed to the battle front chanting and singing as if going to a wedding. It was so meditative, so rhythmic, so Druze.

And we poured on them like a bolt of lightning. They kept on bringing more and more enforcements but we will not stop. Suddenly they starting shelling us with missiles and 155 canon shells. They hit Ghazi Aridi’s house. Fortunately his wife and his kids were evacuated earlier. Our commanders starting coordinating with the Aley commanders and they have decided to take over the Hezbollah towns of Al-Qmatieh and Kaifoun. Before the offensive can start, it was ordered off. We were also asked to stop shooting and give them a chance to retreat. It is a miracle we have lost only two fighters and they have lost more than twenty. A miracle.

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3 Mama said no name, I am 16 from Aitat
My mother said I am not allowed to give you my name. Yes I was in the battle of Aitat. I am 16 years old. Well nothing much to it really. We are a small village, you know, and not a match for Hezbollah army. They can kill us all but not before we destroy most of their army. So we hit them as they approached the center of the village. We were firing at them from the woods above and from the north side. They were trapped and became lost. Trying to find an escape route but couldn’t. We kept firing until it was over. My mother doesn’t like me to mention how many we killed. She said it is nothing to be proud of. She says it is sad because these people also have mothers, sons and wives. I just wish they did not come to our village. This way no one would have died. That is all. As I said, there isn’t much to it really. I hope this war will stop soon so I can go back to school. I want to become an engineer and work in Dubai.
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4 Sami – Sleiman’s son; hold the onions mama
I am Sami the son of Sleiman. I heard my father say that Hezbollah has sneaked into the shouf from the backside. From Machghara in the Bakaa and places that I don’t know. The people in my village started talking and calling each other. They said that they entered from the barouk side and are close to Botmy and Neeha (Shouf villages). Men started organizing. My father said we need to prepare ourselves for battle. We are going to defend our mountain. My father took out the two klashins we have and started getting them ready. I was afraid that my father will go without me. So I grabbed one of the guns. My mother looked at my dad and he said to her. He is 17 he is a man now. My mother did not utter a single word. She just went to the kitchen and started preparing mjadara. Mjadara is my favorite dish. She wanted to make sure that I will have mjadara and basal as my zawady. But I knew I was not going to eat the basal because If I died, I did not want to die smelling of basal. I could see her cry as she was preparing our food. My father looked at her and said. “What happened to your beliefs (wane ymanik ya mara). No one will die one hour before his time. If it is our time, so be it. We will be back in the next life”. We took our guns our bullet magazines and off we went. The streets of the shouf were busy with men of all ages carrying guns and collecting themselves in groups and going to different fronts. I even saw women. Yes women with guns. Could you believe that. One of them was carrying an RPG. She had a nice military outfit. She must be from the hizb-al-ishtiraki. I wish I had an RPG.
We formed a caravan and we drove up to the hills. Different people were going to different fronts. I had no idea where we were going. We rode in Wajdi’s pick up and we joined eight other cars. It was dark already we could hear the bullets and the explosions. My father said ”you only do what I say”. We come from a religious house, we joined other people like us. My father is very brave, I have never felt any safer being close to him. After the cars were parked, we joined another group. The commanders, one of witch is my father, held a meeting and starting planning for our battle. I thought, they will have maps, but they didn’t. They were drawing the terrain maps and the ridges and the peaks on pieces of paper. The locals know every stone and every tree of their hills. They divided us into smaller groups. Each small group had a leader and each four leaders reported to a commander. There were about 60 of us. The shooting was getting louder. You could see the flashing of guns and the RPG rockets exploding all over the place. It seems there were several fronts. Hezbollah must have hundreds of men. Bullets were coming from all over the place. My father said we should outflank them. We split into two groups of about 30 each. My father took our group down into the valley (wady) and around the mountain. The plan is to have amou Abo Akram’s group engage them heavily so they will partially retreat for shelter around the mountain where our group will be waiting.
As we slowely and quietly moved, ( we were asked to leave behind any equipment that might make noise). After a while. My father chooses a spot above the ridge. He wanted all of us to remain as close to the ground as possible totally out of sight. He choose a spot for each one of us and gave each his own set of instructions. And said no one will move or open fire regardless how close they get until I say so. As we positioned ourselves firmly. We started getting flashlight signals from the other side of the ridge. It seems that the boys from an adjacent village had the same idea and positioned themselves on the other side of the ridge. My father responded with his flash light and the two were communicating. Don’t ask me how but it seems that they totally understood each other (I learnt later that this light communication method was inherited from the days of Amir Fakherdine, when they used to use fire to communicate with other fighters from one hill to the other. Nothing has changed except technology). My father then quickly changed our position so that we will not end up being in each other’s line of fire (meaning with the other group). We waited and waited and then started hearing heavy shooting and RPG explosions from Amou Abu Akram’s side. In less than five minutes we started spotting them from the other side. It seems the plan was working. We stayed put and waited until most of them were in our range. My heart was beating so fast, I thought it might explode. And yet my dad is not giving the signal. Few minutes later, he shouts “ YA ABOU IBRAHIM” and opens fire. Within a second both our groups were firing on them. It was a brilliant plan, just brilliant. We were hunting them like birds. Then we charged and so did the group from the other ridge. I felt like an eagle with wings nothing can stop me. We routed them completely. Then my father made us all stop. He wanted to give them a chance to simply retreat. We could have had at least ten more of them, but my father would not allow it. They are no longer a threat. We fight with honor. I wanted to go down and pick up one of the RGP’s they left behind. But my father said no. “Don’t worry Abu Akram’s team will collect their guns. It is time to pray and go home.”
It seems all the Shouf battles were victorious, we started hearing similar stories from other groups. They surrendered their positions to the Lebanese army and withdrew from the Chouf. I don’t know much about politics or about the leaders in Beirut. I was told that Walid beik did not want Hezbollah to be humiliated in the Chouf especially after the humiliation in Alley. So he ordered Hizb Al-ishtiraki to always give them a chance to withdraw and not entrap them. I don’t go to Beirut. I have no business in Beirut. We like the mountain. Our financial situation is very modest. I am still in school. But I help my father in taking care of the orchards especially during the olive picking season. I love to hunt and I love Lebanon and the Chouf mountain. They say Iran wants to come and take over Lebanon. But I say why do they want to do that. We are not hurting anyone. We have some land and few heads of lambs and we make and sell olive oil. We just mind our own business. We are not bothering anybody.