24 Hours in UNIFYCP
by David Carter
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Extracted from
Published by K RUSTEM, LONDON
NB: The material below is based on material gathered by the author (seen above) during his many visits to UNFICYP between 1979 and 1985. The 24-hour period described below represents a 'typical' day, but all the regiments and named personnel were not necessarily in Cyprus at the same time. |
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CHAPTER 10
NO VIOLATIONS BY FIRING
UNFICYP HQ
Blue Beret Camp
in the United Nations Protected Area
Nicosia
08.05 hours
Those present this morning include the Force Commander, Major General Gunther Greindl, an Austrian career officer with an advanced degree in civil engineering. He has a long track record of UN service, including a previous tour of duty in Cyprus.
General Greindl is accompanied by Colonel H. W. K. Pye, a fourth generation officer who is the Deputy Chief of Staff and Commander of the British contingent, known as BRITCON. Pye's background is impressive. He's served in several trouble spots, and in Berlin where he commanded the Independent Armoured Squadron.
In terms of personality I
think Greindl and Pye are poles apart. While Pye, who's often seen in a
jogger's tracksuit, welcomes his guests with a dry wit and a dry gin, Greindl
remains formal and straight-backed, never a hair out of place. Also in
attendance are the Military Public Information Officer and the 'Spokesman'
for the UN Secretary-General's Special Representative in Cyprus, and several
other officers who perform specialist roles. Their uniforms are cut in
different styles and are coloured in varying shades of khaki and olive-green,
but all are pressed with razor-sharp creases, and every officer carries
a blue beret, the only common item of garb.
The mood in the conference
room is relaxed.
A lectern and a large screen for the projection of slides and film dominate the stage, flanked by large maps of Cyprus on which chinagraph lines indicate the buffer zone. A series of squares and triangles, some with dots and others with stripes, identify the size and status of every UNFICYP site on the island.
A British army sergeant, shirt-sleeves rolled up, makes a few adjustments to the flags marking the latest deployments of Turkish and Greek military units. I've been told that it was in this room that the two sides signed agreements establishing the ceasefire line and Buffer Zone in 1974.
[I'll resume my impressions later. The meeting is about to start).]
[Resuming background comments not for broadcasting. It's 08.25.]
A Canadian army major took charge of the lectern, resting a clipboard within his eye-line. He gripped a wooden pointer firmly with both hands, and reminded us all that the information we were about to hear was classified. The remarks, I'm sure, were directed at me, and I know I'll have to clear these tapes before they are used in London.
In a voice slightly tinged by a North American accent, the major said that his report would summarize the events of the previous twenty-four hours in which UNFICYP had been involved. Like a class of sixth formers a week away from A levels, the audience prepared to take notes.
"There have been no violations of the ceasefire by firing," the Canadian declared solemnly. Suddenly he noticed my tape recorder and thinking that it was switched on, he began to project his voice more loudly. I must persuade him to read his report into my Uher. "There was one Turkish violation yesterday at Maple-." He broke in mid-sentence and pointed at a spot in Sector Four, the responsibility of the Canadian contingent, CANCON. It's in the centre of Nicosia, where the BZ winds its way through narrow streets and the buildings on either side are sometimes less than fifteen feet apart. The major decided not to speak the names of actual locations. He wanted to minimize the risk of inadvertently revealing the dispositions of the opposing forces to Radio London listeners. I suppose UNFICYP's impartiality mustn't be jeopardized.
[A note to myself: remember what Major General J. J. Quinn, the previous Force Commander, said. "Our aim is to maintain the stability which we have established, and naturally, we will fall foul of one side or the other at different stages. But the greatest insult that you could pay me would be to say that I was not impartial."]
The morning report continued.
[Cut in agreed extracts.]
"A single Turkish soldier was observed moving forwards by fifteen metres from the CFL-ceasefire line-into the BZ at 09.23. After three minutes the Turkish soldier returned to his own lines. There was no response from the National Guard."
"At 10.34 CANCON lodged a UN protest at company level with the local Turkish battalion. At 17.00 hours the Turks replied, having conducted their own investigations. They said the soldier had been newly posted and had not been properly briefed. The UN protest was accepted. The matter is closed."
"There was one National Guard violation yesterday. At 07.35 a Sector Two vehicle of BRITCON noted seven National Guard soldiers digging on an escarpment here . . . preparing rifle trenches on or forward of the CFL. At 12.30 the BRITCON Company Commander lodged a UN protest with the local National Guard battalion. At 15.00 hours the National Guard replied that the trenches were well behind the ceasefire line and that the UN protest was rejected. The UN protest was re-submitted personally by the UN Company Commander at 18.00, and it was rejected again. But the National Guard has agreed to a joint on-site inspection and this is scheduled for 11.00 hours tomorrow."
The major spoke for twenty minutes. His report catalogued a series of minute incidents, each observed, logged, reported, and followed up swiftly by UNFICYP action, giving neither side the opportunity to escalate situations. "It's been a quiet twenty-four hour period. I say again, there were no violations of the ceasefire by firing."
DANCON;
Sector One
Limnitis Camp
Morphou Bay
Turkish-controlled northern Cyprus
09.10 hours
(HELICOPTER SOUND FX)
The sound of its rotor blades thrashing the wind reached us long before we saw the Whirlwind helicopter flying in low and fast over the stony ridge at Limnitis Camp, part of the Danish contingent's operational area in Sector One. It hovers for a few moments above the flattened square like a predatory locust, blowing gritty dust in all directions. There is a high-pitched whine as Flight Lieutenant Martin Kay cuts his engines and the aircraft drops the last few inches to settle on the sun-baked ground. Three Danish soldiers, all tanned a deep brown, dash forward to greet Kay and his crew man, Flight Sergeant Richards. Already the temperature has reached ninety degrees, and the two members of 84 Squadron, RAF, are finding that their lightweight, grey flying suits have become their personal sauna baths. Removing their helmets, they wipe sweat from their foreheads. Lieutenant B. Lett, the Administrative Officer of C Company offers them bottles of Coca Cola.
Although the two RAF men will be able to chat for a few minutes, Kay and Richards have pointed out that they cannot spare long; they have a very busy schedule this morning. For they are employed on Task CHARLIE, a thrice-weekly re-supply mission to seven UNFICYP observation posts stuck in this mountainous region, the responsibility of DANCON. All military activity west of a perpendicular line drawn from Astromeritis to the northern coast must be observed and reported by the Danes. Viking Camp, the Danish headquarters at Xeros exists in Turkish Cypriot administered territory. The Danes have the broad expanse of Morphou Bay ahead of them and the solid mass of the Troodos Mountains rising steeply behind.
"Because the terrain is so tough and the ground travel restrictions so many, aerial re-supply of the Danish OPs is much more convenient than using trucks." The voice of Flight Lieutenant Kay.
Today the Whirlwind is carrying 1,500 pounds of fresh rations, 2,O00 pounds of drinking water for those sites, which have no access to pipelines or wells, and a 500-pound drum of fuel for an electricity generator.
"We couldn't do anything without the British helicopters." Lieutenant Lett pays compliments to the RAF. "Our OPs are placed on the tops of mountains in very rocky areas. It can be very lonely up there."
Once the supplies have been off-loaded, some of the Danish soldiers will find relief from that loneliness when they fly out in the helicopter to start a week's leave in Limassol. But not everybody wants to get away.
Flight Sergeant Richards: "I recall one instance when the Danish CO was on his traditional tour of all the OPs by helicopter on Christmas Eve when he found himself meeting soldiers for whom he had signed leave chits."
Lieutenant Lett: "I can confirm that story. Many of the soldiers create homes away from home in the self-built OPs. There is much solitude here in the Troodos, and the men are very industrious in their off-duty hours. They are always building new things, improving facilities. For example, they made this place."
We are sitting by a rock garden packed with cacti and a species of ground orchid. There's a small pond in which there are goldfish lazing. Screens of bamboo matting protect us from the sun.
Lieutenant Lett: "Some men even breed chickens and goats."
I have a grand panoramic view of the mountains; slabs of black, white, and red stone splattered with thorn bushes and a few Aleppo pines. Some of the bright streaks of colour in the rocks are mineral oxides, for this has been an area mined for copper since the second century BC.
More recently, the Cyprus Mines Corporation of Skouriotissa attacked the land and by its efforts gave Cyprus an improved economy and a scarred landscape. Not undeservedly, the Corporation has become better known as 'Our Lady of the Slag Heaps'.
It all began in 1911 when an American mining engineer, C. Godfrey Gunther, found a Latin manuscript in a New York library which told of the mines of Cyprus in ancient times, perhaps at Soli, where today lie the remains of a large Roman theatre, its seats, in stepped rows, carved out of the hillside facing the sea. As a result of his discovery, Gunther became a millionaire, but some of his slag heaps at Skouriotissa brought danger to the Danes at OP Delta 15. Delta 35 was erected on top of a slag heap, but suddenly a fissure developed and the Force Engineer realized quickly that the OP's hut and watchtower could disappear down a deep precipice after a rainfall. For DANCON's CO, Lieutenant Colonel Madsen, there was no difficulty in choosing a better site, but his problem was how to re-establish his men in the new position without a break in the round-the-clock observation.
Almost directly opposite Viking Camp at Xeros, the jetty used by Mr. Gunther's company to ship his processed copper abroad, rots and rusts. It's as still and unused as the Vouni Palace, the other great historical site on the coastal road leading to Limnitis Camp.
(A note to myself: this was where Ali Ozel took us during last summer's visit to northern Cyprus and we met Turkish front-line soldiers who were observing UN and Greek Cypriot National Guard positions.)
This is Tape 3 of UNFICYP recordings, continuing impressions at DANCON's Limnitis location. Five from now. Lieutenant Lett is an enthusiastic talker who responds well to the microphone, but what he says has little to do with UNFICYP but a lot to do with his very detailed knowledge of the area's history, geography, and geology. [Laughter]
Lieutenant Lett: "Of course the Greek mining and mineral processing came to an end in Xeros when the Turks arrived in 1974."
Flight Sergeant Richards: "Gosh. Is that the time?"
The crew of the Whirlwind helicopter must continue with Task CHARLIE. "We'll fly by twice so that you can get a good recording of our engine sound,"
Flight Sergeant Richards shouts from the cockpit as the aircraft springs off the ground with Flight Lieutenant Kay driving it into the sky at a steep sideways angle.
[Helicopter FX fade in, establish, fade out]
The Danes have been part of UNFICYP since its establishment in 1964 and some members of DANCON are on their second tour of duty. Cyprus holds a special attraction for them, which extends beyond the high salaries they earn while serving on the island. Lieutenant Lett is quite open about the financial rewards that he and his men collect from 'keeping the peace'. According to him, there is one member of the contingent who has been with UNFICYP from the very beginning.
Lieutenant Lett: "This soldier sends his money home every month to be invested. When he retires, I expect he will buy Denmark."
From one legend to another. "Did you know," he asks, pointing in the direction of the sea, "that over there, Dighenis, not the EOKA leader, but the hero of olden times, threw giant boulders at the Saracens who were attacking Cyprus, and those same rocks are the ones that stick out of the water today?"
On a nearby mountain peak the Turkish flag flies above a military position overlooking Limnitis Camp.
Lieutenant Lett: "Yes, we have been in danger. In 1974, two OPs were hit by bullets and shrapnel from mortars. I don't know from who. One Dane, shot in the back. Dead."
(Recently Hans Heiner, a former member of DANCON, told the author that the Danish soldier, in fact ,survived after emergency treatment at RAF Akrotiri. His name is Skjott and remains alive and well. On 16 August 1974, during the second phase of the Turkish army advance, DANCON lost two soldiers and three were wounded. Hans was Master Corporal in the Danish Army and served four tours of duty on the island, based either at Xeros or Skouriotissa. His OP duties covered D36 and D31. He believes the Turkish Army placed needless restrictions on DANCON's movements in North Cyprus).
BRITCON Tape 4 ~
Battalion Headquarters
Sector Two
St. David's Camp
Five Miles west of Nicosia
in Greek Cyprus
09.45 hours
Anglican services take place every Sunday in the small church next to the guardroom where discipline parades are held every day. Prayer and punishment co-exist here as much as they have done throughout Cyprus for the past five centuries. This is St. David's Camp, BRITCON's battalion headquarters and the home of the senior personnel of Eastern Company on duty along the ceasefire line in Sector Two. For the men based in the OPs of the Buffer Zone, there's no nearer place for a spot of relaxation and a drink in the NAAFI or the Sergeants' Mess. For the officers, their mess is a quiet haven in which to catch up on the world outside Cyprus by reading week-old editions of The Times and Daily Telegraph.
Captain Hawgood gives me the impression that he's a no-nonsense officer. He says that his men can't afford to take a soft attitude with either side. Some British regiments in the line have tried to be lenient, but they found that the number of incidents increased. Captain Hawgood: "You have to be firm and tough in your approach or they will take advantage."
He's proud of having reduced the number of incidents and says that the policy of the British contingent is to resolve difficulties at Sector level and not report problems upwards to UNFICYP headquarters for a solution. While he refuses to be drawn on the overall rights and wrongs of the situation, or whether he even believes there is any value to UNFICYP, he is frank about their relations with the Turks.
Captain Hawgood: "We have much less trouble with the Turkish side. The Turks, by the way, don't officially recognize the ceasefire line. They observe it, but they have never put anything down on paper to admit that there is such a line. At the same time, they create fewer incidents and incursions in the Buffer Zone. At the moment, the ratio of incidents is three to one against the Greek Cypriot National Guard."
This may be due to the fact that there are two Greek Cypriot villages, Dhenia and Mamari, inside the BZ, where people still live, their behaviour policed by UN civil policemen, not the authorities of the Republic.
Captain Hawgood: "Both Dhenia and Mamari have young men who belong to the Greek Cypriot National Guard, which, by itself, is no great problem. But these men are not supposed to bring their weapons to the villages or wear uniforms when they're there, because the BZ is de-militarised. However, they either fail to remember or don't bother, and when they return home at weekends, our patrols discover them sitting in the village cafes wearing uniforms and carrying arms. We have to insist that they remove themselves immediately or face the consequences."
If the Greek Cypriot National Guardsmen were to refuse, they would be immediately placed under arrest by UNFICYP, even though they were in their own villages. Were the Turkish army to spot them, at the very least there would be serious protests from the north.
I leave Captain Hawgood's office and walk the veranda outside the officers' living quarters and see a faded mural on the wall. It reminds me that British soldiers have had to play the part of policemen twice before in Cyprus.
Although the painting is very faint, I can make out the frying pan shape of Cyprus and the outline of its nearest European neighbours. Beneath a drawing of a dove in flight, there's a man reaching out desperately from the heart of Europe to grasp the extended fingers of a young, smiling woman who stands on Cyprus. The man wears the remnants of a prison uniform, marked with the Star of David. At the bottom, there are some Hebrew letters, none decipherable.
On an island rich in rumour, legend, and make believe, this painting is yet another mystery as far as I'm concerned. Generations of soldiers have tried to cover it with countless layers of whitewash, but the original colours of the mural still seep through to the surface.
I've been told that this was the work of a young Jewish girl, a survivor of the holocaust. In 1947, having escaped from internment in post-war Europe, she was making her way to 'the promised land' of Israel, so far unborn. She had taken passage aboard a leaking tramp steamer whose hold carried a cargo of refugees, all optimistic that they could avoid the blockade of British warships in the eastern Mediterranean and reach their destination, Haifa in Palestine. But the vessel was intercepted off the coast of Cyprus and ordered to sail under escort to Limassol.
Here, the Jewish refugees were unloaded and British 'Tommies' told them to get into covered trucks, which would carry them to another destination, a camp where they would be concentrated while their fate was decided. What thoughts went through the girl's mind, I wonder, when she reached St. David's Camp? It was a place not dissimilar to other camps she had known, ringed with barbed wire and armed guards patrolling the perimeter fences. I'm sure that the British guards, no less than the guarded, found the situation depressing.
Out of her hopes, I suppose, and her pain, the young artist, some say she was a teenager, expressed her adolescent concern for the last remaining member of her family. Was he a brother or cousin lost somewhere in Europe? Her canvas was a prison wall on an island, which the tourist brochures call the Island Love. She probably never knew that in AD 115 there had been a Jewish rebellion at Salamis and that, as a consequence, a quarter of a million inhabitants died, or that a Roman Senate had passed a decree expelling all Jews from Cyprus.
Many of the refugees held at St. David's eventually reached Palestine, I guess, and rebuilt their lives, but nobody can tell me if the girl was amongst them. There isn't even a record of her name. All we know about her today is contained within the outlines of her bold design and her simple brush strokes, which military conformity and neatness require to be covered white.
BRITCON Tape 5 -~
Support Company Headquarters
Jubilee Camp
United Nations Protected
Area
Nicosia International
airport
10.40 hours
(FADE in background FX)
Today, however, the two main runways are fighting the battle of the weeds, and losing. On the far side from where UN helicopters take off and land, a fixed wing aircraft lies smashed by the perimeter fence. It belonged to Cyprus Airways. Like this aircraft, offices and passenger lounges bear the scars of war, but several of the bullet holes are from the period of the coup when Greek fought Greek Cypriot.
The Customs' shed is locked, still containing goods in transit, including a consignment of tobacco, stale and valueless now. But nothing is allowed to be removed and to make certain everything remains exactly as it was in 1974 Greek and Turkish teams conduct regular inspections accompanied by UNFICYP officers.
This morning Jubilee Camp is one of the hottest spots in Cyprus. A thermometer registers one hundred degrees, and tempers are stretched in the oven-like atmosphere of the hangars used by the Support Company personnel as maintenance bays for their ten-ton Bedford trucks, Land Rovers, and sewage tankers.
In a minute cubicle incapable of protecting us from the searing heat or the noise of engines under test, a British Army captain of the Royal Corps of Transport and Major Rolf Green of the Austrian Army want to tell me about the high fire risk and water shortage difficulties, which are giving cause for concern.
RCT Captain: "Our water here at Jubilee was unexpectedly cut at 06.20. I know that we're at the start of the season when supplies will be restricted, but we should have been given some warning. As it was, we didn't expect the cuts and the soldiers weren't able to wash or shave this morning."
Major Green: "At least you have cold drinks here. The real difficulties will be experienced by the men in the OPs that don't have piped water."
Major Green is UNFICYP's Economics Officer.
Major Green: "UNFICYP's most serious work is done in the sphere of public utilities. Water was a serious problem before 1974, and the situation is even more confused today as water lines cross the Buffer Zone in several places. For example, Nicosia, both Greek and Turkish parts, gets its water from Morphou Dam, which is on the Turkish side, while Famagusta, which is under Turkish control, gets water from the Greeks and all the electricity of Cyprus comes from power stations in the south. There's one station near Dhekelia and the other at Moni, near Limassol, supplying the all-island grid."
"If for one reason or another, usually because a line breaks or a pump fails, supplies are cut, the people in the villages get very anxious. We have to find out what's gone wrong on the relevant side, and then pass on this information quickly to the other side, so that nobody does anything to cause trouble. I liase a lot and I find that my relations on both sides are very good."
Fires in the Buffer Zone are another great problem for UNFICYP, as the Force does not have fire fighting equipment at the OPs. In Sector Two there is at least one outbreak a week. Here, Greek Cypriot firemen are rushed from Nicosia, but before they can go into action, the Turkish authorities must be informed. The Turks have never refused permission, if only because wind directions could change and spread fire into their zone. It's not uncommon for the Greek Cypriots to be joined by Turkish Cypriot counterparts on these occasions, I'm told.
Before we set off for AUSCON, I want to ask my driver, a Lance Corporal in the RCT, who the civilians are that I've seen working here at the old Nicosia International Airport.
RCT Corporal: "They're Cypriots, very good workers. We couldn't do without them. They're from both sides. The Greeks come in from the main gate in the south, and the Turks arrive by bus from the north. At the end of each shift, they leave the same way. They appear to get along very well. I've been here for just under a year, and during that time, I've never heard there's been any trouble."
Somewhere on the road to Famagusta Turkish Cypriot-controlled northern Cyprus 11.45
Because I'M an official UNFICYP visitor I have a UN identification document. It's a simple blue card, slightly larger than a pack of cigarettes, printed in English, Greek, and Turkish. It bears no photograph. With this document, I'm allowed to cross into northern Cyprus in our UN vehicle without having my civilian passport examined or my personal details recorded by the Greek Cypriot police at the Ledra Palace checkpoint. Had they seen my passport, there could have been difficulties. The laws of Greek Cyprus deem me an illegal immigrant for having once entered northern Cyprus at the Turkish-controlled Ercan Airport, which, ironically, is banned to UNFICYP personnel by the Turks. My UN papers also let me cross between the two sides at other places in the BZ.
At Ledra I simply held my UN identification card to the windscreen of the car and both Greek and Turkish soldiers waved us through the barricades without hesitation. About half an hour ago we weaved our way through the busy streets of north Nicosia and we're travelling fast now down the main road to Famagusta to keep our appointment with AUSCON in Sector Six. The two-way radio is kept on, ready for us to make contact with UNFICYP headquarters if the need arises. Our call sign is Uniform-November 153, the same as the registration plates on our black Ford. We could have travelled to AUSCON by roads in the south, but because of time factors, we've chosen the less busy route allowed by the Turkish authorities. It skirts Ercan Airport. We're moving at a steady 50 mph, keeping within the speed limit. Unless we have a breakdown, we're not allowed to stop. My driver says that the Turks are logging the time that we pass each of their positions and notifying the ones ahead. I'm impressed by the way Turkish soldiers snap to attention and salute our car. It's quite different in the south. If the Greek soldiers even bother to acknowledge our UN existence, it's only with a desultory nod of their heads.
Lance Corporal driver: "The Turkish army is very disciplined. They're a bit like us. Professionals. Them Greeks, they're a bit shambolic, but I still wouldn't want to mix it with them."
When we reach Famagusta, may we make a small diversion?"
Lance Corporal driver: "Sir, we're supposed to stay on the agreed route. Where do you want to go?"
"To the Mayor of Famagusta's house. I don't think he'll file any complaints, do you?"
Lance Corporal driver: "Well, okay, sir. But if there's any trouble, I'll leave it to you to explain to my boss."
For the record, his boss is the MPIO.
Outside The Mayor's house
Famagusta Turkish-controlled northern Cyprus
12.50 hours
"Good grief! I didn't know you were in Cyprus. How delightful to see you, old boy. Is the family with you?" That was how Bora Atun, the Turkish Cypriot Mayor of Famagusta, greeted me a few minutes ago. He was standing on the veranda of his house, another relic of colonial days. The British-trained architect was visibly surprised to see the UN car and me. Bora was dressed only in a towel wrapped round his waist, as we had interrupted his shower.
"Come inside," he said. "Let me offer you a drink of some kind." I replied that we couldn't accept his invitation, as we were a bit nervous already at having broken the Turkish rules imposed upon UN staff. "Come on," Bora roared, "bring your driver as well. I'll telephone AUSCON and tell them that you've been delayed. I know them all very well."
"Don't do that, Bora," I replied. "We'll be in trouble. After all, it's your lot, your administration who impose the restrictions on UN movement in the north."
Bora didn't contradict my statement of fact, but he did give me an apology of sorts. "It's not my fault, David. It's the military and matters of security. I know what we can do. We can have lunch together at the Salamis Bay Hotel. The UN is allowed there without problems. AUSCON is on the way and I will come with you."
The Mayor had made a practical suggestion, but then he added that he needed us to give him a ride as his car was off the road, waiting for a spare part. I had to remind him that Turkish Cypriots weren't supposed to ride in UN vehicles. "You'll have to order a taxi and follow us," I said. "And if the Turkish Army stops us, I'll tell them it's your fault as I didn't want to cause a diplomatic incident by refusing your kind invitation. Right?" Bora smiled and returned indoors to dress. A few moments ago we had a call from UNFICYP HQ on the car radio asking us to verify our position. With the engine running in the background, my driver replied ambiguously, saying that we were on our way to AUSCON.
Lance Corporal driver: "You're not going to put that in your radio programme?"
"Don't worry. Boar, we'll see you at Salamis in ninety minutes."
UN 153 is pulling away from the kerbside.
AUSCON -- Tape 7
Sector Six
OP Alpha 28
UN Buffer Zone
near Famagusta
13.30 hours
To our left, Lieutenant Meyer has pointed out the browns and greens of the Karpas Mountains, which appear faintly through the heat haze. But before the bay curves away, very visible are the deserted apartments and hotel blocks of the one-time holiday resort of Varosha, now the 'forbidden city' guarded by the Turkish Army.
Lieutenant Meyer: "Syria is only sixty miles away to our front. Do you know its national flag has a star in its design to represent Cyprus? Everybody wants to claim this island."
"Here at Alpha 28 we have reached the land limit of the UNFICYP Buffer Zone, but now an imaginary line begins, extending through the sea. It is called the 'Maritime Security Line' (MSL). As in the case of the other OPs we may only observe, warn, and report, but our duties include watching for ships at sea. None is supposed to cross the MSL. Military craft very rarely break the rules, but upwards of a dozen civilian vessels intrude into the zone during some twenty-four-hour periods."
"They are mainly fishing-boats, because the waters have more fish than elsewhere. The fish are not stupid. They know it is safer here with UNFICYP. Look, this is my logbook in which I must record exactly what we see. You see, at 09.25, there was an incursion. It was a Turkish fishing boat that crossed the line proceeding from NE to SW, three hundred meters off the shore. We fired two red warning flares, and he turned back."
"What do you think of your UNFICYP service, Peter?"
Meyer has been called away by one of his soldiers to discuss some point. It gives me an opportunity to record some background sounds. [Wind and sea FX]
Well, one afternoon, according to Bora, the couple rented a motor cruiser to sail round Cape Greco Lighthouse and up the coast, searching for a quiet lagoon where they could concentrate. On board, they became so involved in their professional activities that they accidentally sailed over the Maritime Security Line, failing to notice the warning flares, which had been fired from Alpha 28.
However, a Turkish navy craft had caught sight of them as well, and the Turks hailed the couple in the wheelhouse. When they did not receive an answer they fired a warning shot across the boat's bows. The sound of firing had the effect of breaking the couple's concentration and brought them up on deck in a hurry. Amazed to see armed Turkish sailors heading towards them on the starboard side the couple knew that they were in trouble, and so they turned their cruiser about and decided to race for the safety of southern waters. In their panic, the businessman and his secretary, unfortunately, ran the boat on to some rocks, and now the Turks had a rescue operation on their hands. Having picked up the Britons, the Turkish patrol craft sailed for Famagusta port.
Here, the couple were questioned. The Turks, having satisfied themselves that the two people were not Greek Cypriot saboteurs, agreed to hand them over to UNFICYP for safe return to their holiday hotel in Ayia Napa. But while the Britons waited for UNFICYP to collect them, the northern authorities felt that they ought to demonstrate local hospitality. There was one small difficulty to overcome, however. From Bora's account, the businessman was only wearing swimming trunks when he had been arrested and, by an accident of fate, the secretary had mislaid her bikini top. To put an end to the embarrassment of the two people, the local military commander's wife was asked to find clothes for them. She raided her husband's wardrobe for a suit, and supplied a dress of her own for the girl.
Twenty-four hours later, after a big dinner, several drinks, and a hastily disorganized press conference, at which the couple praised the Turks highly for their courtesy and generosity, the two Britons were back in the south. At the end of Bora's tale which, I suppose, could have been an elaborate Turkish joke, one of his friends had added an afterthought: "We all understand business pressures, but I do believe it is very unwise for a boss to give a secretary dictation without clothes in a military zone. Turkish soldiers will understand the situation, but will a wife?"
Lieutenant Peter Meyer has told me that he's not able to confirm or deny this incident, but when I related it to him, I noticed how he raised his binoculars and looked more closely at the sailing ship on the horizon.
SWEDCONHQ Tape 8
Sector Five
Outside the motor pool
Larnaca
in Greek Cyprus
16.00 hours
My driver and I have reached the headquarters of the Swedish contingent, SWEDCON, on the outskirts of Larnaca. We have two reasons for being here: first of all, as we've not eaten anything since morning, it's a place to pick up some light refreshments; secondly, it gives me the opportunity of meeting Sergeant Dennis Labdon, nicknamed 'Mr. Land Rover' by UNFICYP. The Swedes and my driver have gone to find him. We had hoped to eat lunch at the Salamis Bay Hotel as guests of the Turkish Cypriot Mayor of Famagusta, but we all misread our watches. Time, as well as religion, language, culture, and politics, divides north from south. Here, on the Greek Cypriot side, it's four o'clock in the afternoon, but in the north, it's five o'clock in the evening. That one hour's difference caused us to miss Bora. |
Part of the Swedcon base |
To reach Larnaca, we drove through the British Sovereign Base at Dhekelia with its tidy rows of semi-detached houses, neat gardens, polished NAAFI supermarkets, and golf course, to reach the coastal road, which is on Republic of Cyprus territory. A mile or so outside ESBA the Greek Cypriot police have a roadblock through which we passed without a hitch, but most other vehicles, especially large trucks, were stopped and searched. It appears that there's a thriving smuggling trade in existence involving both sides. Turkish Cypriots, I'm told, enter the Sovereign Base illegally and rendezvous with Greek Cypriots who enter freely. At the place where they meet, lamb and beef from the north are traded for Republic of Cyprus pound notes, which have a high rate of exchange against the Turkish lira. It's also rumoured that Scotch whisky, plentiful in the shops of Famagusta, moves south in return for English gin in the opposite direction. Because gin is produced by the Turks, imported brands carry a heavy tax. Scotch does not. The trade in these spirits is on a one-for-one basis, as whisky is costly in the south.
As the police checkpoint is on the only road out of Sovereign territory it suggests that if this smuggling shows a profit, then there has to be some private financial arrangement between the poachers and the gamekeepers. However, none of this is of any direct concern of UNFICYP and the Swedes of Sector Five. On our approach to Larnaca I noticed several holiday hotels in various stages of development and the silver tanks of the adjacent oil refinery. This provides some of the fuel requirements of the north and satisfies all the needs of the south. Oil and gas still move across the ceasefire line at the Ledra Palace checkpoint in vast tankers. Larnaca, in ancient times, was called Kition. It was a prominent trading port and centre of learning. With the loss of Famagusta to the Greek Cypriots, Larnaca is regaining some of its old value as a commercial and tourist town.
Situated three miles west of the salt lake and bounded by lush vegetation, its golden dome and minarets shimmer in the evening sun. Buried here is Umm Haram, claimed to be Mohammed's aunt, who died during the Arab attack on Cyprus in AD 647. Theologians may argue about her relationship to the Prophet, but accept that the Tekke is the third most important place of Moslem pilgrimage after the Kaaba at Mecca and the Shrine at Medina. Today, however, the Tekke is little more than a museum. In 1965 the Greek Cypriot National Guard occupied it and ordered out the Hodja, Hadj lbrahim Sidki Yavash, a venerable priest who spoke five languages, none of which did him any good in persuading his Christian neighbours to permit him to continue services. Nowadays visitors wander at will between 08.00 and 17.00 on a small payment of an entrance fee, which goes to the coffers of the Republic's Department of Antiquities. Neither my driver nor I have had time or the inclination to join the tourists at the Tekke.
Now I hope that Sergeant Dennis Labdon will outline his UNFICYP role in the very un-tourist environment of the motor pool here at SWEDCON HQ,
Sergeant Labdon: "Well, David, because ..."
"Sorry, Dennis, I ought to have explained. Just tell me what you do here what you feel, but try not to mention me by name. Okay, here we go again five from now."
Sergeant Labdon: "Because British Bedford trucks and Land Rovers are used by all UNFICYP contingents, with the exception of the Canadians, a British technician has to be seconded to each of them to handle maintenance. He's nick-named 'Mr. Land Rover'. That's me here. I was a bit apprehensive when I first joined the Swedes, but I'm accepted now. Their ranking structure is all over the place. Very confusing. I never know when I'm supposed to salute or not. You see ninety per cent of the men here are civilians in uniform, volunteers who have signed on for six months' UN service in Cyprus and they wear badges showing both their civilian and military rank. There's this one guy, for instance, who was an immigration officer in Sweden, but he works in the canteen now."
"They get paid whatever they received in civilian life, plus UN pay. It's like a working holiday for them. They're the most affluent of all us UN soldiers."
SWEDCON HQ Tape 9
Larnaca
A postscript to the Labdon interview. He admits that it's hard not to be resentful of the Swedes' salary structure. Many of them, he says, save enough money in six months to buy a Volvo and call Cyprus 'the Volvo posting'. The least I could do was pay for everybody's cold drinks and chocolate bars. So much for Sergeant Labdon, a solitary British soldier amongst the Swedes, sweating over the engine of one of his five Bedford ten-tonners and worrying about his thirty-four Land Rovers. For sure, he won't have the additional burden of having to study a Volvo maintenance manual when he returns to the UK in three months time.
BRITCON --- Continuing
Tape 9
Sector Two
OP Bravo 22
150 yards south of Avlona
village
in the Buffer Zone
18.30 hours
An hour ago the British soldiers at Bravo 22 finished eating their evening meal and now some of them are watching a video version of 'The Dirty Dozen', a World War II blood-and-guts adventure starring Lee Marvin. Their make-shift living-room is hot, stuffy, and filled with cigarette smoke, which does nothing to hide the smell of sweat. The remaining off-duty members of the platoon are outside, shooting a football at the gap between two olive trees. Long shadows cross the rough ground from the supports of an enormous water tank on top of which there's a tin hut, the actual observation post at this location. From a distance of about one hundred and fifty yards, a group of children and a Turkish soldier are watching the action. All of them are in the Turkish-controlled village of Avlona on the far side of the BZ.
(Background noise follows for about twenty seconds.)
Corporal Peter Friday of the 2nd Battalion, The Queen's Regiment, the NCO in charge of Bravo 22, has taken me to the barricade separating us from the village. It consists of a three-inch-diameter pole resting on two blue-and-white oil drums on either side of the road leading to Avlona. There's nothing physical to stop us from walking round and joining the children, but we must stay where we are and simply wave. They're returning our greeting with friendly laughter and impersonating soldiers on parade by marching up and down, stomachs out, chests in. They're shouting, "Hello British soldiers," probably the only English words that they know. I've balanced the Uher on the barrier to interview Corporal Friday. .
Corporal Friday: "If those Turkish kids slip over the line, and sometimes they do, we can't play with them or give them sweets and chocolates because, first of all, that would encourage them even more, and secondly because, if a Greek soldier sees us from his side of the line, he's liable to complain, and we're accused of not being impartial."
"Then there's this old lady, a Greek Cypriot who used to live in Avlona. She keeps coming into the Buffer Zone, where she's not allowed, and she stands where we are now, crying, pointing out that house over there. She says it was hers in 1974. Of course, we have to escort her back to the Greek side. She's always asking us to tell her when she'll be able to return to her home. None of us knows what to reply. Some of the soldiers find it very hard."
If UNFICYP soldiers must be visible examples of absolute impartiality, satisfying the subjective views of both sides, how did you, Corporal Friday, solve the problem of the break in Avlona's water supply this morning?"
Corporal Friday: "At first we weren't aware they had a water problem, because they get their supplies from our UN tanks here at Bravo 22 and in return we get our electricity from the village. As we had plenty of water we didn't realize there had been a break in the pipes to them, until this lad of about fourteen came up to the barrier and started shouting to us. He spoke quite good English, the only person in Avlona who does. He said that they had been without water for three days. We asked him to find out if we would be allowed into the village to check the situation for ourselves. He ran back to the Turkish soldiers who nodded and waved us over."
"It was very interesting because we found that the Turkish soldiers are very much part of village life. Everybody calls them 'Turkish brother soldier'. We got on very well. The headman, the mukhtar, shook us by the hand, and so did everybody else. They made us sit down and have coffee and when we came back to our position the soldiers saluted."
"Back at the OP we called up St. David's and Jubilee and set out to crack the problem. What we did was to bring up a bowser, that's a water truck. We backed it up so that its wheels were on our side of the CFL, but with the taps hanging over their side. Then they came up, connected hoses, and drained off the water. Until the pipes are repaired, we'll keep on doing this."
"An ingenious solution, satisfying all criteria, political and practical. But what would have happened if the Turkish boy hadn't spoken English? Is there anybody in the British contingent who speaks Turkish?"
Corporal Friday: "Yes, we're very fortunate because two of our lads, who are British now, came from Cyprus originally. One is Turkish and the other Greek. In fact, some of their relatives live around here."
"Do they get along?"
Corporal Friday: "I knew you'd ask that. Yes, they get along very well. Before anything else, they're 2 Queen's, British soldiers."
"Thank you." [Click]
A postscript to Corporal Tanner's interview. Tanner was very nervous at first. Note his slight stutter and tighten those gaps before transmission.
One of the BRITCON Land Rovers is about to leave for Jubilee Camp with a party of off-duty soldiers collected from several OPs and they've agreed to squeeze me into the rear. Recordings made on board follow. Sound levels will be tricky to control.
"What's your name and where do you come from?"
"I'm Corporal Thomas from Bromley."
"Spending an evening on the town in Nicosia?"
"Na, dahn town we're resented. 'Bleedin' soldiers' they call us. I don't think they appreciate we're bleedin' well putting our necks on the line for them."
"Becha yer won't tell what we really think. It's all bloody bullshit here havin' to salute helicopters an' all just because they're fuckin' UN."
The voice of a private with a Millwall scarf round his neck. "No, of course, I'll try reporting what I see and hear as accurately as possible. What do you feel about your UN mission? You're not convinced, are you?"
"All right then. What he says is true. We can be standin' in a fuckin' OP when this helicopter comes over at a tharsand feet and we 'ave to jump to attenshun and fuckin' well salute it. There was this one bloke who didn't and he was reported."
"Hey mate."
"Yes."
'"Have yer been to Bravo 28?"
"No."
"You bloody well should. See how they have to live there."
"A squaddie is a squaddie. It don't matter where you are. You get paid to do a job, and you do it."
"Na, it ain't. Dis ain't wot we wos trained for. We wos trained for war."
"You're wrong, mate. You fuckin' well know there'd be a bloody bloodbath if we wasn't here. It's the same bloody job, just a different-coloured beret."
"Okay. I'm switching off the machine now." [Click]
UNFI CYP Helicopter Landing
Site --- Tape 10-~
United Nations Protected
Area
Nicosia International
Airport
20.15 hours
From the time of the helicopter's touchdown to the disappearance of the ambulance, no more than thirty seconds could have passed, but it was enough time for the photographer to click off several shots of the stretcher case. The picture-taking seemed to confuse the patient, although he continued to smile and nod. If he were a bit apprehensive, it was understandable, for he was a Turkish soldier alone amongst a gaggle of UN personnel.
But for Flight Sergeant Jones nothing about this event has been remarkable. It's simply been the successful conclusion of another routine medivac mission, one of the last which 84 Squadron will fly before it's UNFICYP tasks are handed to the 'new boys', the eighteen members of the Army Air Corps stationed at Blue Beret Camp. Their squadron flies Allouettes, a smaller helicopter than the Wessex or the Whirlwind, a type considered more suitable for aerial surveillance of the BZ.
Flight Sergeant Jones: "At just after 18.00, UNFICYP HQ received a request for assistance from the Turkish military, relayed through DANCON, to evacuate a seriously injured Turkish soldier from the Kokkina enclave, up on the north coast west of Xeros. The sea was very rough and the Turks couldn't remove their man by boat. As you know, there are some very strong winds in Cyprus and they can blow up quite unexpectedly, and this is what happened at Kokkina during the afternoon."
"We heard about the request, and our briefing took place at about 18.40 after it had been agreed by everybody that we could pick up the soldier. It gets quite complicated because we're not allowed simply to fly the most direct route, even though we're going to their aid. They may feel we'll take advantage and gather military information if we went our way. So they tell us the air corridors that we are allowed to fly and we suggest various landing sites that we'd like to use. A sort of contingency plan to cover all eventualities."
"Anyhow, we managed to get airborne at 19.00. When we reached Kokkina we found that the soldier was a walking patient and so we decided, with the Turkish Army's agreement, that we fly him to Delta Echo, which is a night landing site by a technical school in northern Cyprus. Here we met a Turkish ambulance and one of their doctors, plus a UN ambulance. After a short chat with the doctor we concluded that it was in the interests of the patient that we bring him into Nicosia International for transfer to a proper hospital."
"As you saw, a UN ambulance was standing by and it picked him up. By now, it'll be at the Ledra Palace checkpoint. The Turks will probably collect their soldier on their side and take him to North Nicosia General for treatment. I reckon he'll be there by 20.30 or thereabouts." (Click)
While Flight Sergeant Jones has been preparing to return to Akrotiri in the Western Sovereign Base area, one of his crewmen has told me that 84 Squadron has a good record of responding to assistance calls, although the majority have involved picking up Greek Cypriot civilians from the mountain areas of the Troodos. They are obviously disappointed that the army will handle most UNFICYP missions from now on.
Sergeant Major Davis: "The Army Air Corps team out here is highly experienced, but everybody will have to keep their wits about them, flying in the Buffer Zone of Cyprus. You have to fly to very precise limits and you can't afford to make an error of a single metre with your map reading. Mistakes can cause serious diplomatic repercussions. Both sides have threatened to shoot us down if we stray over the ceasefire line. Or what they say, in their protests, is that they 'cannot be held responsible' if anything happens. In fact, there is an instance of a Whirlwind of the RAF having been shot at."
"From every viewpoint I believe UNFICYP service is worthwhile. For the British, it's an investment. You are bound to become a very good pilot and spotter out here, and those who are very good become even better. That must be of value later when we return to our conventional military duties, whether we're in Ireland or Germany."
"For UNFICYP, we're able to confirm very quickly whatever the OPs report anywhere along the 500- kilometre CFL. You get to know where everybody is supposed to be, and whether X or Y have moved forward, even by two metres. Anything, which could blow up into a major incident, can be spotted. When you look down, it s quite amazing to see all those defensive positions, zigzagging all over the place. Some people say it's the nearest thing to what the World War I trenches in France must have looked like; just as static."
"But why do UNFICYP soldiers, stuck in their watchtowers, have to salute your helicopters when they buzz the line?"
Sergeant Major Davis: "David would you like another Seven-Up?"
"And to think I expected a firm answer from a Sergeant Major. You know, you're a very wily Welshman." (Laughter)
BRITCON --- Tape 11 P6k
Ferret Scout Car Squadron
HQ
Blue Beret Camp
United Nations Protected
Area
21.30 hours
More usually associated with ceremonial parades in London and Windsor, this unit of the Household Cavalry is dismounted for the next six months, steeds and polished saddles exchanged for grey overalls, and a seat in the grimy, cramped interior of a squat, four-wheeled Ferret scout car, nick-named 'The Mouse'. It's one of the longest surviving vehicles in service with the British forces. Lieutenant Ed Mountain is the commander of the two white Ferrets about to set off in a few minutes at the start of a regular night patrol. The crews are making last minute checks on engines and armaments.
"We're never fully bombed up. The only thing we're ever likely to fire is our Very pistol. We're only allowed to use our weapons as a last resort, to protect our lives."
That was the voice of one of the troopers.
A technician is wiping his hands on a rag, trying to remove black oil stains from his fingers and nails.
Technician: "We have to do oil changes every two days as the bloody dust plays havoc with the filters. We often have to work on our days off to keep the vehicles in an operational state. The ground is so rugged in places that it tears the tyres to shreds."
An engine, which has been roaring and pumping black smoke from its exhaust pipes, is switched off, and the Ferret driver raises his head above the turret.
"We're all set Mr. Mountain, sir. We'll get this one up to 50 mph tonight. No trouble at all."
"As long as you don't roll the damned thing with me inside. You know, David, the patrol track winds over some very treacherous terrain, right up to the edge of precipices."
Lieutenant Ed Mountain is barely twenty-one.
That was one of the troopers. "Do you want to add anything?"
Trooper: "I don't even go downtown anymore. I got suckered there once, paying for those birds in Regaena Street. I don't bother now. Just get ratty instead."
Officer and trooper will probably agree on one thing only; men and machines are tested to the limits of their endurance in the Ferret Scout Car Squadron.
CANCON --- Tape 12
Sector Four
OP 'Omorphita'
Nicosia
on the Turkish side of
the CFL
00.45 hours
In the entire BZ there's no more potentially dangerous spot than here at the Omorphita OP. It's on the extreme eastern end of the Canadian contingent's area of responsibility, clipping the edge of northern Nicosia. It's a place and name that stirs violent passions in the hearts of Cypriots everywhere.
On 17 June 1973 the Greek Cypriot newspaper Makhi commented: "Omorphita has been conquered by Greek arms; conquered lands can never be returned."
In 1974 Turkish Cypriots regained control and now they look down on the Greek Cypriots from a position of military strength. Both sides can see the remnants of their fathers' actions. The Buffer Zone in this area is a minefield. Not even wild dogs and stray cats venture into it.
Elsewhere along the CFL the only sounds come from the Ferret scout cars on patrol and UNFICYP soldiers can sleep undisturbed. But at Omorphita, the Canadians of the Royal 22nd Regiment from Quebec never have an uneventful night. I've been warned that very soon the singing will stop and shouting will begin. The verbal insults will fly across the BZ until dawn.
Canadian Sergeant: "Sometimes they will hurl boulders at each other, and that is where we have to call a halt."
Scanning the darkness, I'm trying to spot the worst offenders without very much success. It's easier to tell where the Turks are because this OP is in a building, which stands on their side of the line. All the other buildings in the actual BZ are reckoned to be unsafe.
Because the Turks consent to this arrangement, it suggests that they approve CANCON's ability to referee the nightly game, for it can't be described as anything else. Certainly those that I've met have an air of authority which nobody but a fool would challenge. Nevertheless, the Canadians will, I'm sure, be grateful for the light of morning, and quiet. (FADE singing FX).
BRITCON ---Tape13 6k
Sector Two
Liaison Post BRAVO 36
Peristerona Village
in Greek Cyprus
07.00 hours
Dawn comes early to Cyprus during the summer months, and for centuries farmers have set to work in the fields by 04.30, taking advantage of every minute of light before the heat of the day makes their labour unbearable. But today many Greek Cypriots are unable to follow their parents' tradition and they must wait until well after seven o'clock to begin their chores. These are the people whose fields and orchards lie within the Buffer Zone. Without UNFICYP's determination to restore 'normal conditions' wherever possible, they would not be able to work at all. Here in Peristerona, a tiny market town, perhaps best known for the five-domed Byzantine church of Ayios Varnavas and Ayios Hilarion than its geographical position half a mile behind the Greek Cypriot National Guard's line, two farmers, Andreas and Michael, are engaged in an animated conversation outside a house with a chicken run and a UN flagpole. They're waiting for the arrival of a squad of BRITCON soldiers who will be their escorts for the day, accompanying them in and out of the BZ. Colour Sergeant Roger Furlotte and Sergeant John Foster are the two senior NCOs in charge of this local operation centred on Liaison Post Bravo 36. It's their office and home for six months. They play the role of 'farming agents', one of the most unusual jobs to be found in the British Army.
For Sector Two is a rich agricultural area divided into two distinct halves. To the east, an open valley, used by farmers to graze animals and grow vegetables, can be overseen and supervised easily by the BRITCON soldiers. Their instructions are to keep Greek Cypriots working behind a precise line of blue-and-white barrels, the northern limit of allowable civilian activity in the Buffer Zone. But to the west, the task is more difficult. Because the land is ideal for citrus crops, the orchards hide from view what farmers are doing and how close they are moving towards the ceasefire line. To ensure nothing goes wrong therefore, BRITCON's Western Company Commander assigns 'escorts' to every farmer who wishes to work the land. He does this partly to allay the fears of Greek Cypriots, and equally to prevent a headlong rush of farmers, whose actions could be regarded as a provocation by the Turkish soldiers in their watch-towers. Greek Cypriots, eager to regain as much of their pre-1974 wealth, want to cultivate every square inch of territory up to the ceasefire line, relying on a UN shield to protect them from the Turkish Army. To a very large extent UNFICYP shares this aim, but the Force knows the difficulties of implementing it because Turkish Cypriots view the function of the Buffer Zone somewhat differently. They seem to prefer to keep their side of the BZ as uncultivated, open ground, a defensive strip ahead of their fixed military positions, and, for the most part their farmers are not allowed access to it.
Officials of the Greek Cypriot administration, always quick to score points in the propaganda battle, encourage their guests to look down on the Buffer Zone from their side of the line. As a result, any casual observer is bound to conclude from what he can see, that Greek Cypriot farmers are industrious and competent, while Turkish Cypriot farmers are not. On the Greek side, it's green and flourishing. On the Turkish side, it's brown and dead. Far less concerned with propaganda images and more with getting results in the war to stop the entire BZ from turning into a desert, UNFICYP and BRITCON have been following a steady policy, tempered with caution, of gradually re-opening more fields close to the CFL. A few minutes ago Colour Sergeant Furlotte took me inside his Spartan accommodation and pointed out large-scale maps that identify the ownership of plots in the Buffer Zone. All are colour coded. White areas may be farmed at any time without prior consent from UNFICYP, he explained, but the ones in blue must not be worked unless a farmer is escorted by a UN soldier, booked the day before.
Colour Sergeant Furlotte: "It may look very simple on the map, but it's very hard to differentiate one farmer's field from another when you're on the ground and it's covered in yellow flowers and long grass, or in winter when it's very slushy and boundaries get blurred." A truck is pulling up and five soldiers get out to be paraded by Sergeant Foster who will check their weapons and read them a set of instructions, before handing out individual assignments.
Sergeant Foster: "The grass is very long out there at the moment so don't leave your rifle on the ground. You may lose it, or you may return to find it's been run over by a tractor and I won't accept it back if it's bent [Laughter]. Do you all understand? Good. Now, have you all read your white card? This is it. Right. Now you must show it if any civilian not assigned to you enters the BZ. Okay? Good."
The white card mentioned by Sergeant Foster is 'UN Field Guidance' on the 'restraint and temporary detention of civilians in the Buffer Zone'. Large letters state in Greek, Turkish, and English: 'YOU ARE WITHIN A DANGEROUS PART OF THE UNITED NATIONS BUFFER ZONE. UNLESS YOU LEAVE IMMEDIATELY YOU WILL BE HANDED OVER TO THE POLICE.'
If the offender doesn't leave, then the UN soldier is expected to detain him until 'appropriate civilian police authorities' arrive, which, in this sector means Australians in UN service. Force, the card declares, must be avoided if possible. Only as a last resort 'minimum force' may be used, its level determined by 'common sense'. UN soldiers also carry a yellow card. This is 'field guidance' on how to tackle 'non-UNFICYP military personnel' intruding in the Buffer Zone. It categorically prohibits the use of any force 'to get violators to leave the UN BZ but insists that UN soldiers 'will stay in place and, if required, be reinforced until the violators have returned to own positions.'
Sergeant Foster,"' Remember, you are to stay at all times between the farmer or farmers and the patrol track. If the farmer offers you beer, you may accept, but you must bring it back here for consumption later. And if I catch any of you asleep, you'll be for the high jump. Right then. Off you get."
For each UN soldier there's one or more Greek Cypriots to escort. Private Fleming, barely nineteen, collects his charges. They are Andreas and Michael.
Fleming alone will be responsible for their welfare until five o'clock this evening, or earlier if the farmers want to go home,
I'll record Michael, although he speaks English in slow, fractured phrases I should be able to edit his bits together.
Michael: "I was very afraid from Turks before when I went to irrigate my orchard. Before the British came here I was arrested by the Turkish soldiers. It was, I remember very well, 20 of July 1976. I hope I am safe here now with a UN man. Since British come we have no more problems."
Andreas has told Fleming that he intends taking his children with him to pick oranges, but he's promised to keep them well away from the forward edge of his field as there is a Turkish OP thirty yards away from the far side of the patrol track and he does not want them to be seen.
Colour Sergeant Furlotte: "There are lots of farmers, like Andreas, who are still very frightened by what happened in '74. They'll work quite happily if there's a UN soldier with them but when they get closer to the forward positions they talk in whispers. During the picking season the women actually hide inside the trees. All you see are oranges disappearing in the tree!"
Armed with their cards, a rifle, a magazine of twenty rounds of ammunition, a canteen of water, and Sergeant Foster's advice still ringing in their ears, the young BRITCON soldiers and their motley collection of men, women, and children trundle up the road northwards in a convoy of battered tractors and trucks.
"Sergeant Furlotte, what can we expect to see when we visit them later?"
Colour Sergeant Furlotte: "When you get there, watch out. They'll keep offering you peeled oranges, which they'll want you to eat. One of our soldiers ate about eighty one day and he had to be rushed to hospital with citrus poisoning."
"For the moment I'll settle for the breakfast of bacon and eggs that you've promised to cook."
Sergeant Furlotte waves to a passing Greek Cypriot on a bicycle.
Colour Sergeant Furlotte: "The local police aren't allowed in the Buffer Zone, and some of our work is like being a village bobby. Before we came out we took a crash course in Greek, but we needn't have bothered. The farming Greek out here is very different and more people speak English than we expected. They've all got relatives in London." [Click]
Some background notes for later.
Furlotte retires from the army soon and plans to settle in Norfolk, where he hopes to build a small market garden, something that he had never thought of doing until he came to Cyprus and became involved in the local agricultural scene. He says that they have taught him a lot.
BRITCON policy, I'm told, is to allow the farming NCOs to get on with their work with a minimum of supervision from above, which has been appreciated by Furlotte and Foster. They consider that their mission at Bravo 36 has been one of the most interesting to come their way during their entire time in the army. They claim that they get considerable personal satisfaction from watching new fields being re-opened. [Click]
Like others in BRITCON, the farming NCOs are concerned about the high risk of fire in the BZ and the cutting of fire breaks.
Sergeant Foster: "Out there, on the west side, there was a serious fire. It burnt more than four hundred orange trees."
Colour Sergeant Furlotte: "When the people want to cut fire breaks they tell us, and we inform the Company Commander who, in turn, informs his Turkish opposite number to let him know what's going on. As yet, we've never had a refusal from the Turks."
Sergeant Foster: "Everybody seems to get together on the common problem of fire. There's never any hesitation about coming across the line to put them out. Of course they don't want a fire from spreading any more than we do. After all, their OPs are wooden towers surrounded by dry grass."
It's five minutes to eight. In about another ten minutes senior staff at UNFICYP HQ will be assembling again to hear the morning report. I expect the Canadian Major to conclude: "It's been another quiet twenty-four hours."
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