Cyprus, By Tracey Vale

Despite being sent to Cyprus for our safety, it was soon evident that our new destination was just as volatile, if not worse. Cyprus was a military base for the British and they wanted to keep it that way, especially since they had withdrawn from Egypt. Cyprus represented the only British 'holding' in the Eastern Mediterranean and was therefore a strategic base. The island was also being used as a launch point for the Suez Crisis, which meant not only were we not escaping that battle, but were in the midst of another.

Since World War Two, Greek Cypriots wanted to become part of Greece. Britain had made some concessions over the years but still maintained power, with the British governor maintaining his place as the overall leader of Cyprus. Cyprus had been annexed by Britain in 1914 and had become a crown colony in 1925.

The Greek Cypriots had become increasingly dissatisfied and, in 1955, an organisation had been formed to demand independence from Britain by violent means. Meanwhile, by 1956, the Greek Cypriot police force had been boosted by Turkish Cypriots, who then formed the majority. This in turn led to the formation of an organisation which demanded the partition of Cyprus, rather than ceding the entire island to Greece. Partition was desired by Turkish Cypriots and also by Turkey.

Guerilla warfare continued through 1956 between the Greek Cypriots and the Turkish Cypriots. Britain had formed a paramilitary police force comprised of Turkish Cypriots and fought to maintain their hold over Cyprus. As a result, we discovered that it was a very scary place to be. Everywhere we went, travelling in a combie van, we had a military escort vehicle in front of us and another behind us. As most of the fighting occurred in the villages, we had to hunker down on the floor of the vehicle as it passed through these townships. At these points, a soldier walked on either side of our van. The danger around us was very evident.

Also at the time of our visit, young people on motorbikes would throw home-made bombs and we had been warned that we were potential, if not accidental, targets. Each morning we received a memo from the War Office delivered to our hotel room. This would state where we could or could not go for that day. On one particular day, Alistair, Paul and myself wanted to go to the shop situated just  around the corner to purchase postcards. Due to its close proximity, we didn’t see the harm and set out on a short walk. We selected and paid for the postcards and, stepping back out into the quiet street, we noticed a group of young men on motorbikes near the opposite end. Seeing us, they sped forward and began hurling something through the air towards us.

Remembering the bomb warnings, we instinctively sheltered our heads with our arms. Alistair yelled out in his thick Scottish accent “Just pretend ya haven’t noticed!” With that, he took off at full speed. Looking after him for just a second, Paul and I sped off after him, a difficulty for me as I was wearing high heels. “Run for ya lives!” Alistair turned his head sharply to check that we were close behind. The objects continued to be hurled in our direction, bouncing off walls and poles, with the odd one hitting our limbs.

“Don’t worry—they’re only stones,” called Paul, as we continued to run from the showering debris. We realised with considerable relief that they were stones, and not bombs, but were suitably humbled at the thought of what they very well could have been. Despite this and other experiences, it was an exciting time, although it should have, in hindsight, been terrifying. It was simply part and parcel of what we were doing and, I think, having grown up during the air raids of World War Two, we were ‘acclimatised’ to a great degree.

Sources

http://www.rhinocarhire.com/The-Varosha-Blog/Cyprus-Time-Line.aspx

http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/europe/1021835.stm