home
***
CD-ROM
|
disk
|
FTP
|
other
***
search
/
TIME: Almanac 1995
/
TIME Almanac 1995.iso
/
time
/
100493
/
10049921.000
< prev
next >
Wrap
Text File
|
1994-03-25
|
9KB
|
165 lines
<text id=93TT0340>
<title>
Oct. 04, 1993: Siege Of Sukhumi
</title>
<history>
TIME--The Weekly Newsmagazine--1993
Oct. 04, 1993 On The Trail Of Terror
</history>
<article>
<source>Time Magazine</source>
<hdr>
GEORGIA, Page 48
Siege Of Sukhumi
</hdr>
<body>
<p>Captaining a last-ditch defense, Shevardnadze puts his life
on the line to keep his nation whole
</p>
<p>By KEVIN FEDARKO--Reported by J.F.O. McAllister/Washington and Yuri Zarakhovich/Sukhumi
</p>
<p> Moaning from pain and shock, Elgudzha Bagaturia staggered into
the brick house where fellow Georgian soldiers were taking cover
from small arms fire. A stream of blood gushed from a hole in
his neck, courtesy of a grenade hurled by Abkhazian insurgents
trying to take the city of Sukhumi, the capital of their autonomous
region within Georgia. Suddenly, an exploding shell shook the
house from the left. Then another concussion, this time from
the right. The enemy artillery was zeroing in on its target.
"Outside everyone!" shouted Misha, the black-bearded commander.
"They have found us."
</p>
<p> So they had. Ten minutes after his comrades laid Bagaturia on
a dirty blanket and pulled him into the street, a shell smashed
the building, killing two wounded soldiers left behind. Dodging
explosions, the Georgians zigzagged past overgrown oleander
bushes and neglected vineyards toward the comparative safety
of downtown Sukhumi. As they dragged Bagaturia through the former
resort, once one of the Black Sea's most idyllic vacation spots
and now a bombed-out coliseum where Georgians and Abkhazians
are locked in combat, an old woman cried out, "How are things
out there? Is the enemy advancing? What will become of us?"
The soldiers had no answer for her.
</p>
<p> Neither did Eduard Shevardnadze, the courtly head of state who
has been struggling to hold Georgia together since he took office
last year. The intervening 18 months have taxed the talents
of the consummate diplomat with a series of crippling crises:
economic collapse, political chicanery, ethnic rebellion and
even a guerrilla-style insurgency waged by the country's former
President, Zviad Gamsakhurdia, whose lust for power remains
undampened by the popular coup that deposed him nearly two years
ago. The revolt in Abkhazia, where a small minority of ethnic
separatists want an independent state, has put the fate of Georgia
on the line. In Sukhumi, where he has set up headquarters, Shevardnadze
has vowed to keep his nation whole or die trying.
</p>
<p> What is happening to Georgia today could be repeated all along
the fringes of the old Soviet empire tomorrow. The particular
feuds may be different in Tajikistan or Azerbaijan, but they
all share the brutality of internecine war. Many of these gerrymandered
republics are being torn apart by long-suppressed ethnic hatred
erupting like flash fires along Russia's periphery, but few
conflicts have reached the incendiary combination of confusion,
violence and anarchy that exploded last week in Sukhumi.
</p>
<p> The tiny enclave of Abkhazia, whose historical roots stretch
back to more than a thousand years before Christ, has emerged
as the keystone to Georgia's future as an independent state.
Under pressure from Moscow, the insurgents suspended their drive
for autonomy and endorsed a cease-fire in July. But when Shevardnadze's
forces turned to the task of breaking a blockade imposed on
the Georgian capital of Tbilisi by Gamsakhurdia's rebels, the
Abkhazians struck again. Two weeks ago, fighters launched a
ferocious attack on Sukhumi. Within 48 hours, surprise had enabled
them to seize the heights overlooking the city and pour artillery,
mortars and missiles down on the civilian population.
</p>
<p> If the Abkhazian drive succeeds, it could mark the beginning
of the ultimate dismemberment of Georgia as other ethnic minorities,
bent on fulfilling their own dreams of independence, followed
suit. Equally menacing to stability, an Abkhazian victory would
demolish Shevardnadze's credibility as the only leader capable
of holding the country together. That danger prompted him to
issue a televised call to arms, appealing "to all men with guns
to go to defend Sukhumi." Together with his physician, cook
and the rest of his personal staff, Shevardnadze headed for
the embattled city, pledging to remain with the defenders "until
the last drop of my blood."
</p>
<p> While Sukhumi should be basking in the special autumnal softness
that those who live along the Black Sea call the velvet season,
the walls of Shevardnadze's headquarters in the city's only
building with electricity reverberate day and night from shells
that land 50 ft. from his office. So close has the fighting
come that the Georgian leader's American-trained guards have
at least once flung their bodies over him in protection as missiles
slammed into nearby buildings.
</p>
<p> Through it all, Shevardnadze has displayed a steely, pig-headed
courage. His wan smile, snowy head and immaculately pressed
suits, trademarks of the emissary of international statecraft
he once was, offer a jarring contrast to the bearded and increasingly
desperate commanders who surround him. With only three hours'
sleep a night, he speaks in a voice so hushed that aides must
strain to hear him; and yet, when he finds it expedient, the
Georgian leader summons a fierce eloquence, all the more surprising
in his tattered circumstances. "I am addressing you from besieged
Sukhumi not knowing if my words will ever reach you," he wrote
last Sunday in a worldwide appeal for help. "The city is being
shelled. There is no water, no bread, no light and hope is dwindling.
Regardless of what happens, I will not leave this town."
</p>
<p> Ironically, the principal architects of Georgia's predicament
may be the same Russian military commanders who are supposed
to be enforcing the U.N.-sanctioned cease-fire. At least that's
what Georgian officials and CIA sources charge. A minority of
only 17% in their own homeland, the Abkhazians have turned to
Russia for help. Georgians are convinced that vindictive Russian
army officers, bent on taking revenge for the role Shevardnadze
played in the collapse of the Soviet empire, are providing battlefield
intelligence plus Russian Grad missiles and SU-25 fighters to
the Abkhazians, who previously were armed with shotguns and
hunting rifles. Outside observers suspect that assistance comes
from free-lancing local commanders without the approval of political
leaders in Moscow. But the distinction makes little difference
to Georgian soldiers.
</p>
<p> The principal targets of the shelling are civilians, many of
whom had previously fled the city but returned during the cease-fire.
Now they are frantically trying to escape again. Streets are
clogged by women and children who walk the 15 miles to the airport
with whatever possessions they can carry. They storm the planes
that fly in at irregular intervals, laden with ammunition and
volunteer reinforcements from Tbilisi.
</p>
<p> As soldiers on the tarmac push the hysterical crowds back with
rifle butts, Abkhazian gunners train their fire on the runway.
Those who do manage to clamber into an outbound plane discover
that they have boarded a flying morgue. The backs of seats are
pushed forward to accommodate stretchers bearing soldiers too
critically injured to survive the 35-minute flight to Tbilisi.
What little space remains is packed with refugees who even wedge
themselves into the toilets, indifferent to the stench. The
situation is horrific, but now that the Abkhazian artillery
has made evacuation by sea impossible, the only remaining exit
from Sukhumi is this exposed portal.
</p>
<p> Too exposed, in fact. Last week three planes ferrying refugees
and wounded soldiers were attacked with missiles, killing more
than 100 people. But even the blackened wreckage fails to deter
those who are still trapped. "Couldn't they at least send cargo
planes to take us out of this hell?" sobbed a woman on the tarmac,
clutching the hand of her bewildered daughter. "Nobody cares
for us at all. Nobody."
</p>
<p> In the end, if the Abkhazians take the city, the entire country
could be swept up by the conflagration. And then the word hell
would apply not just to Sukhumi, but to all of Georgia.
</p>
</body>
</article>
</text>