Free The Sixteen by John Urwin Page B

citizens, who were of Turkish descent, being bitterly opposed to this. In 1923, Turkey signed an agreement that gave up all claims to Cyprus, which then became a British colony in 1925. However, after the Second World War, Britain refused to give Cyprus the right to self-government and by 1955, the Greek Cypriot National Organisation of Cypriot Freedom-Fighters (EOKA) began an armed struggle for liberation. This came to a head during 1957–8 with the outbreak of serious riots and fighting between Greek and Turkish factions. Due to the strategic importance of the island’s proximity to the Middle East, Britain was forced to pass a special Emergency Powers Act and increase itspresence on the island, in order to protect its military installations there and to control the increase in hostilities.
    The British troops taken to Cyprus were told that they were there to keep the peace between the Greeks and the Turks and to protect government property. However, the Greeks mainly regarded us as the enemy and did their utmost to get rid of us, and didn’t seem to care how they went about it! Not just satisfied with killing British troops, there had also been incidents involving the deaths of British servicemen’s families too. The situation there at that time was similar to the one which would eventually erupt in Northern Ireland years later.
    It certainly made no difference to the terrorists that my unit was in Cyprus mainly to repair roads and supply the fighting troops, not to take part in any peacekeeping exercise – they still would have liked to get rid of us all. This frustrated me as, from what I could see, we’d been given little or no training at all to deal with a dangerous situation like this. In fact, we were treated little better than POWs (prisoners of war) and had to set up camp virtually from scratch.
    The living conditions at our campsite were very basic and had hardly improved since we’d moved in. The planners in their wisdom, must have chosen the most barren piece of rocky wasteland they could find in the area to build this particular camp. I hated it the moment I saw it and continued to hate every minute of being there!
    Our washing facilities were as basic as the toilets and, although drinking water was regularly brought to the camp in two-wheeled mobile tanks, these stood on the main compound in full sunshine for most of the day, so the water was always warm. Digging latrines was especially difficult due to the hard, sun-baked, rocky landscape. I was not impressed! This was notwhat I had expected of army life. I could have stayed at home to dig roads like a navvy and probably earned a darn sight more than army pay!
    Having experienced first-hand the terrorists’ activities, on our first night here, I was understandably nervous to be sitting on a tin bucket (due to the lack of proper toilet facilities) surrounded by a four-foot wall of hessian, and fully expected to have my butt shot off at any moment. It certainly didn’t give me peace of mind or help my stuttering! Even in my crowded home in Byker, I’d had a lot more privacy than here. I found having someone else coming in when you’re on the toilet, then sitting down right next to you very difficult to get used to.
    My mate Dave Buckfield burst into the latrines, on this particular occasion. He had a painful expression on his face as, like most of us in the camp, he was suffering from dysentery. He sat down next to me.
    ‘’Ere ’eard the good news, Geordie?’ he said in his strong cockney accent.
    ‘Wh-what’s that?’ The only good news I could be given was that they were shipping me back home!
    ‘They’re only settin’ us bloomin’ free this weekend. We can go down to the bloody beach on our own! Well, that’s not strictly true, there ’as to be at least three of us, an’ one of us will ’ave to carry a rifle. You coming, mate?’ I shook my head. ‘You’ll ’ave to come otherwise we won’t be able to go, there ’as to be three