The promise was of an orderly, dignified retreat to the international border. The world would applaud Israel's compliance with United Nations resolutions. The allies who had fought staunchly alongside Israel would return to safety with the Israeli troops, or receive the necessary support should they choose to stay put.
The enemy Hizbullah forces would be warned forcefully to lay down their weapons, or risk a fierce counter-attack against themselves and their sponsors.
The reality could not be more different.
After 15 years, in which the mighty Israeli army and its South Lebanon army allies patrolled the "security zone" in southern Lebanon, it has taken just three days for control of the area to be wrested away by a Hizbullah guerrilla force, perhaps 500 strong, that barely had to open fire to take over.
SLA officers have been fleeing to Israel. "We were your blood brothers, no?" asked one bitter SLA officer of an Israeli reporter yesterday, as Israeli officials processed the paperwork that officially brands him a refugee. "So why did you betray us?" The ordinary foot soldiers have abandoned their outposts en masse, running away at the first sight of a Hizbullah flag, surrendering to Hizbullah fighters or the Lebanese army, their fate uncertain but unlikely to be rosy.
Instead of international plaudits, Israel has been told by the UN that its withdrawal from Lebanon will not be considered complete unless it obligates itself to refrain from flying over Lebanese airspace - a demand that, if complied with, would effectively render Hizbullah immune from Israeli attack.
UNIFIL, the international force that Israel hoped might prevent Hizbullah filling the vacuum created by its departing troops, has been waving Hizbullah fighters into the security zone, arguing that, since they have had the sense to don "civvies" over their uniforms, they are ordinary villagers, not guerrillas.
And, as of last night, Israeli soldiers remained stranded in eight remaining heavily-fortified positions in the security zone, surrounded by Hizbullah fighters, intermittently exchanging gunfire with them. Many of their comrades rolled back to safety across the border yesterday, not bothering to disguise their relief, shouting messages to mum and dad via the TV cameras: "I'm back home," "We're out," "Yes, I'm in Israel again."
THE headlines in the tabloid dailies, never renowned for tact or sensitivity, say it all: "A day of humiliation," blares the biggest selling daily, Yediot Ahronot. "Hizbullah are at the border fence," chimes in Ma'ariv. Inside, one military analyst headlines his piece "Caught with our trousers down". Another adds: "Our allies are toppling and begging for help. The enemy is celebrating . . . along the border. And the Israeli army is looking for escape routes."
Opposition politicians, even those who have long clamoured for precisely this unilateral withdrawal from Lebanon, accuse Israel's Prime Minister, Ehud Barak, of mishandling every aspect of the pullout - failing to predict the speedy disintegration of the SLA, failing to bomb Hizbullah into cowed submission before the departure. Demands for judicial inquiries will swiftly follow. The Barak coalition will soon be fighting to survive.
For today, though, the savvier, more opportunistic politicians are converging on panic-stricken northern Israel, "giving support" to the poor - literally poor - beleaguered locals as they trot dutifully in and out of the bomb shelters in accordance with army demands. Literally poor, because anyone with any money has already fled south, to hotel rooms, field schools, safety.
The Israeli army chief of staff, Shaul Mofaz, acknowledges that Israel was taken by surprise by the speed of events. Military intelligence and Shin Bet security chiefs say nothing.
But one man seems supremely unmoved, unflustered, even serene - Mr Barak himself. This is hardly the worst-case scenario, he assures radio listeners. "When the dust has settled," he promises them, when the withdrawal is completed in a few days' time, "it will be clear that the security zone had exhausted its purpose".
And Israel, he promises, will be perfectly capable of defending itself from along its international border.
Presumably, Mr Barak's worstcase scenario involves bloodshed and panic among the withdrawing Israeli troops, and continued Hizbullah warfare across the border fence. If so, it is a scenario that cannot, yet, be eliminated. A further, longer-term nightmare involves Palestinians - activists, if not leaders - "learning the lessons" of this chaotic change of power in southern Lebanon and drawing conclusions about the advantages of guerrilla warfare over gentlemanly negotiated compromise in the resolution of territorial disputes.
That scenario - along, doubtless, with innumerable others that strategists and experts have failed to predict, just as they failed to predict the events now unfolding in south Lebanon - cannot be eliminated either.
David Horovitz is the editor of the Jerusalem Report, a Jerusalem- based news magazine, and is author of a new book on life in Israel, A Little Too Close to God.
