Two deadly bombings in Beirut, Lebanon, that killed scores of U.S. military personnel more than 40 years ago have cast a long shadow over survivors and victims’ families.
A day after the killing of a senior Hezbollah member seen as a key figure in those attacks, many of those Americans welcomed the news but said it stirred painful memories without resolving the past.
“It doesn’t bring closure,” said Michael Harris, 59, a Marine veteran who was “blown out” of his barracks in one of the attacks and lives today in Rhode Island. “It wasn’t just one person responsible.”
The senior Hezbollah commander Ibrahim Aqeel was killed on Friday after Israeli fighter jets bombed a heavily residential area of Beirut’s southern suburbs. Mr. Aqeel has been long been wanted by the United States for his role in two 1983 bombings in Beirut that killed over 350 people, most of them U.S. service members. The United States had placed a multimillion-dollar bounty on his head, but he had survived multiple assassination attempts.
The first attack, a bombing of the U.S. Embassy in Beirut in April 1983, killed 63 people, including 17 Americans. Six months later, a suicide bomber drove a truck packed with explosives into the U.S. Marine Corps barracks in Beirut, killing more than 300 people, including 241 American service members.
For many survivors and victims’ loved ones, those bombings never go away.
Every time Mr. Harris picks up the paper or watches the news about another bombing, he said, “it opens up wounds.”
Elisa Camara, 58, of Daytona Beach Shores, Fla., said Mr. Aqeel’s death brought back hard memories of her brother, Mecot Camara, who was one of the Marines killed in the October bombing. Her voice broke as she described him as a kindhearted man who “never had an enemy” and cherished hunting, fishing and spending time with his family.
Like many families, she said, she never experienced the sense of resolution of the killings through the legal system, so Mr. Aqeel’s death offered a measure of finality — at least regarding one of those involved.
“Justice is served,” she said. “That’s one less evil person in the world.”
Still, she added, more must be done to combat terrorism so that more people do not lose their loved ones.
Valerie Giblin, 61, of Smithfield, R.I., shared a similar sense of unresolved grief. Her husband, Timothy Giblin, died in the barracks attack when their daughter was 2 years old.
“I was 20 years old,” she said. “I never remarried. I’ll be his wife until the day I die.”
When Mrs. Giblin heard the news from friends and family, she said her reaction was, “It’s about time.” After all these years, she added, little has been done to hold those responsible accountable.
Lisa Weide, 62, of Daytona Beach, Fla., who lost her brother, Brett Croft, in the barracks attack just three days before his 21st birthday, shared a similar sentiment about Mr. Aqeel.
“As cruel as it may sound, I’m glad he’s dead,” she said.
However, Mrs. Weide said, she found her own closure years ago. A few months after Mr. Croft’s death, she said she had a dream so vivid that she was convinced it was him.
In the dream, Mr. Croft appeared in his favorite shirt — the black button-down he always had her iron for him before going out — and invited her on a walk. They eventually stopped, and he told her, “I have to go now.”
Before he left, she asked, “Did you suffer?”
“We locked eyes,” she recounted, choking up. “And he said, ‘No.’”
“That really helped me,” she said. “I don’t walk around dwelling on it. I felt at peace.”
Sheelagh McNeill and Jack Begg contributed research.
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