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This account
is given entirely from memory. Any inaccuracies are unintentional and may
be the result of a lapse in time of some 43 years.
This tragedy
took place sometime in 1958 when 28 LAA sqn was stationed at RAF Nicosia.
The CO's car
team were always the first to be called out whenever there was a flap on
and Curly Gates, the driver, whose name I have forgotten, and I were called
out at some time about 3 am. We kitted up in KDs, webbing belts small packs,
ammo pouches and tin lids and drove directly to the armoury. As signaller,
I drew a sten, Curly drew a Le Enfield 303 and I think the driver was allowed
to draw a hand gun.
From
the armoury we drove to the COs house in officers' married quarters. We
were invited into the house and while the Sqn Leader got ready, his wife
gave us tea and biscuits.
We left the
house and drove to the sqn compound, where we linked up with rest of 28
LAA sqn. Even when we passed the guard room and through
the main gate, we had no idea where we were headed but, it was my job to
maintain contact with the sqn convoy through the built-in TCS 13 sets fitted
into selected vehicles. We were second in line in the convoy, the lead
being taken by the sqn adjutant and the rear being brought up by one of
the junior officers.
We drove through Nicosia and headed north and it was
sometime before the convoy came to a halt, in the pre-dawn, a mile or so
outside a
Turkish Cypriot village. There was
a seniors' ranks pow - wow, which included the participation of some pongo
officers and the reason for our presence in this location gradually filtered
down to all of us. Apparently, there had been a severe altercation between
the Turkish Cypriot inhabitants of the village and some Greek Cypriots
the previous day which had resulted in a number of deaths. The Greeks had
been on their way by bus to Nicosia to protest the gaoling of some of their
compatriots. An army unit had stopped the bus, disembarked all the passengers,
confiscated the bus and ordered them to walk back home.
The Greeks were
understandably upset and when they came by this Turkish village, they decided
to have their revenge by setting the fields alight. On seeing the blazing
fields, the Turks grabbed whatever came to hand, including pitch forks,
axes, machetes and any other implement and went out to the fields to get
stuck into the Greeks. The Greeks, being unarmed, were at a serious disadvantage
and many of them were cut down as they tried to run for their lives. The
army had apparently secured the village after this and had imposed a curfew
overnight. It was our job to now go in, maintain the security and clean
up the gory mess.
We drove into what was a deathly quiet location. There
was no one to be seen and the impression was that no one was there. The
CO had us set up the HQ in one of the local school classrooms. The patrols,
under the leadership of the sergeants, picked up 31 sets and, with roughly
drawn mud maps supplied by the army, set off to round up all the males
in the village and bring them to the school playground, where they sat
in rows. Women and children were allowed to stay in their houses, though
some did come to the school with their men folk, leaving older women to
mind their homes. The patrols then went out into the surrounding fields,
equipped with sheets to retrieve bodies and body parts. I didn't actually
see the extent to which some of these Greeks had been physically abused
but, a number of our men, including a couple of sergeants who had seen
action in previous postings, were physically sick on returning to HQ.
The outstanding
memory I have of this incident is of Turkish cheers every single time a
bloodied sheet was brought in. There was absolutely no sense of having
done anything wrong. Whether anyone was brought to account for this event,
I don't know. I do know that, on so may occasions, the authorities were
not able to apply sanctions or impositions sufficient to deter the population
from acts of this nature
For
so many years I detached myself from the 21 months I spent on that island and
now, at the age of retirement (65) I have a sense of nostalgia and I suppose
pride in that I did something to serve my country. It is easy to feel that way
since I became an Australian citizen. Aussies take so much pride in their
military history and, being so small a population, those who served are known
throughout all the states.
I remember a couple of specific EOKA incidents at Akrotiri. One involved a
young fellow on a motor bike who had smuggled some explosive into the camp. He
had just cleared 28 Sqn tent lines and was riding up a hill when he literally
blew up. Some of his body parts were found in the tent lines.
I also remember them setting fire to the brand new Sergeants' Mess very close
to its building completion. Following that incident, the RAF Regiment were
posted as armed guards on all station building projects.
On another occasion, a senior EOKA character, together with a much younger
fellow, both wounded during their capture were brought in to Akrotiri
hospital. I recall our sqdn was detailed to provide 24 hour guards inside
their room and outside the door. They were cuffed to the beds I think. There
were some incredible nurses in that hospital !
Frightened? Yes, especially in my first 6 months or so. We were called out at
times, sometimes at night, to go to where British personnel had been ambushed.
I was very scared on those occasions. I learned it was OK to feel fear but not
OK to show it or to let it interfere with my performance. The
power of one's peers was awesome! As time went on, like most I suppose, I
thought I was bullet proof and I used to volunteer for escort duties. I did
armed escorts for entertainers and escorts for convoys to satellite stations.
I was also involved with the Sqn in providing armed security in the shopping
areas of Nicosia for homeward-bound service personnel.
The thing that stands out most is that during a period of some 4 weeks prior
to my demob date, there were serious civil riots in Nicosia. 28 Sqn spent
periods of 4 to 5 days and nights on the streets, sorting out riots and
attempting to maintain curfews. At this time, I really did fear for my life
and I was relieved beyond belief when my departure to return to England was
not delayed.
I was a National Serviceman and I was demobbed on August 12th 1958.
Later that year, I entered Teachers' Training College and in 1959.
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My
Service History
