I
was soon back into the full swing of performances. Paul and I were booked in,
thanks to Chesney Allen, to the Finsbury Park Empire Theatre in London
with the puppet act. We were to perform there for a week and had heard that a
well-known talent scout, Cissie Williams, was a frequent member of the
audience. She only scouted the number one theatres and was known for her professional
eye. Actors who toured with her ‘top of the bill’ variety show would also
become well known, hence a position in her line up was highly sought.
We
had also heard that she loved royal blue and were quick to have new costumes
made up in this colour. Backstage on the third night there were feverish
whispers “She’s here, she’s here! Do your best!”. Thankfully, she loved
our act and that night became the beginning of a new round of bookings with her
show. We were booked for the top theatres in England,
Scotland, often
as far as Aberdeen, and Ireland.
We returned regularly for repeat performances in the variety shows and also
continued to do summer reviews and pantomimes. Life was a whirlwind but we
loved it.
Soon
we were travelling overseas once again with the War Office. Accommodation was
varied and hotels, depending on the political situation in the area, would
often be empty. We were not allowed to stay on the military camps, although we
would perform for at least two nights at each camp, before travelling on to the
next.
 |
| Rehearsals |
This
time, while in Cyprus,
the hotels were vacant and, as a result, we had been booked into one of the
most luxurious. It was a frightening time, however, as it was just after the assassination
of a British army wife—murdered in cold blood as she, along with her daughter
and another army wife, stepped out of a bridal store in the main street after
choosing the daughter’s bridal gown.
Since
1955, the Greek Cypriots undertook guerrilla warfare in an effort to gain
independence from Britain,
after being informed by the super power that this would not be granted. Their
aim to gain independence by violent means was also a result of the British
Middle East headquarters having been moved to Cyprus
at the end of 1954, signalling a level of permanence that rang alarm bells.
In
November of 1955, five British military men had been killed in one week. By
December the following year, British troops numbered 20 000 and, at the height
of the conflict for independence, troop levels were at 40 000. It was probable
that some of the troops we entertained in Kenya
and Egypt were
billeted at the various camps here as the crisis in both of these countries had
come to an end, with surplus troops sent to assist in Cyprus.
It
was a war of propaganda, with leaflets dropped regularly by both sides. The
British leaflets proclaimed that the EOKA were terrorists, while the EOKA stood
their ground as patriots. Both sides printed leaflets that were both graphic,
such as a photograph of a murdered man bent over in a pool of blood, and
derogatory.
1958
began with rioting in Nicosia. By
April, a general strike brought the island to a standstill. Fifty bombs were
dropped by EOKA in the first 10 days of April. Rioting culminated in a battle
between British soldiers and Turkish youth, resulting in the deaths of seven
Turks and the injury of 12 soldiers.
In
August, while walking with his two-year-old son down the main shopping street
of Nicosia, Ledra
Street, Sergeant Hammond was shot and killed. In
October, the street was nicknamed ‘the murder mile’, following the death of
Mrs. Catherine Cutliffe. It was little wonder that British Command placed so
much restriction on our movements.
It
was October 3. Catherine, the wife of a senior NCO, her 18-year-old daughter
Margaret and Elfriede Robinson, a young German national married to a British
sergeant, stepped out of a bridal store after choosing Margaret’s gown.
Gunshots were fired by two EOKA men, killing Catherine outright and injuring
Elfriede.
The
British troops in Cyprus
were enraged and called for the interrogation of Greek Cypriot males over the
age of 16. They were taken by force and rounded up in a camp at Karaolos. A
number of Cypriots died as a result of the ‘rounding up’ and many were injured.
More riots had broken out with a number of vehicles burnt out and shop windows
smashed, the contents stolen. We arrived in the midst of the furor.
It
felt strange to have an entire hotel to ourselves and the restrictions on our
movements—warnings sent to us each morning from British Command—were more confining
than
 |
| Cape Greco 'Theatre', Cyprus |
previously experienced. The soldiers spoke of the assassination with
bitterness and anger and we felt their resentment. The knowledge of this recent
event was frightening and contrasted with the beauty that was Cyprus,
including its wonderful orange blossom that seemed to fragrance the air
wherever we went. It is a beautiful island that has suffered so much conflict.
Despite
this, thankfully, we were able to perform there without incidence. We
travelled, as before, escorted with armed soldiers and remembered to get down
onto the floor while passing through villages.
(Incidentally,
while doing a talk in the Adelaide
suburb of Elizabeth a few years
ago, I spoke of the Combined Services Tour and, once finished, a voice rang out
from the back of the room. “Where is Kyrenia
Castle?” the man asked. Immediately
I responded with “Cyprus”,
and was delighted to hear the same voice say, “And, yes, I was one of the boys
listening to you sing as we sat on the hill outside the castle!”. I spoke to him afterwards and learnt that he'd been there as a very young soldier, conscripted at 18. "We were so scared. We were young kids and you people performing for us...it was something from home.” He went on to say "I
remembered your voice when you started to speak. I have such memories of when
you came out to perform to us.")
We
did many trips back to Cyprus,
Malta, Gibraltar,
Libya, Kenya,
Nairobi and Malaya.
Sudan also
featured in our itinerary—but only as a stopover. As meals were not served on
the plane, we would land in Wadi Harpa, a small airstrip with a barrack-style
hotel, for nourishment and, once or twice, for a night’s rest. My first view of
Sudan from the
plane reminded me of a Peter O’Toole film—a desert scene with Arabs dressed in
white robes astride camels. On the roof of the hotel, were dozens of dark,
aggressive-looking vultures, waiting to scavenge their next meal. I didn’t like
the thought of soon walking beneath them.
Upon
disembarking, we were ushered in by the Arabs, their camels standing idly by.
Often it was a breakfast meal as we left either Kenya
or Malta,
depending upon which direction we were travelling, at the ungodly hour of five
in the morning. Despite the Peter O’Toole scene, what greeted us inside was a
fabulous spread of a full English breakfast with the potential to keep us
sustained for the rest of the day. Returning from Kenya,
we stayed overnight in the hotel, which was very comfortable although small and
very basic.
El Adem was another very memorable stopover, and not a
particularly welcome
 |
| A makeshift theatre |
one. We were forced to stay here for almost a week due to
a sandstorm which made visibility impossible. El Adem, situated about 30
kilometres out from the Libyan port city of Tobruk
on the eastern Mediterranean coast, was a Royal Air Force camp where the main
operation was the testing of jets, maintenance and refuelling. We stayed in the
military cabins on narrow cots. El Adem, meaning 'the end' in Arabic, lived up to its name and most, if not all, of those stationed there agreed with the sentiment in that name. It was surrounded by dry, sandy desert and
we had nothing to do but talk. If we ventured outside, the hot wind was fierce
and sand gusted and whistled wildly around us, irritating our eyes and filling
our hair. We were relieved to awaken on the sixth day to relative silence and
knew that we could continue our journey.
Tobruk was memorable for its many reminders of World War Two. While the harbour town was neat, although virtually treeless, with its many two-storey buildings and wide streets lined with low, concrete walls, many of the war-time trenches were still in evidence. Burnt out tanks could be seen every now and then on our way into Tobruk and camels had been blown up by the many landmines left behind.
Back home, and the whirlwind began again. Working in Cissie
William’s variety show, and travelling again, we were working with top of the
bill entertainers including Benny Hill, Norman Wisdom and Harry Seacombe. It was
around this time that we began working with Dave Gray, to be known famously as
Ugly Dave Gray, and so began another lasting friendship.
