Military Intell igence in Cyprus: From the Great War to Middle East Crises 9780755625338, 9781848851306

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To Yiannis, Dimitra-Mimi and Timos

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

1. A RAF Vickers Victoria flying over Larnaca during the October 1931 revolt; HMS London is seen off the coast. Courtesy of IWM. (Q 107559) 2. Major General Mosley Mayne CB, DSO commander of the 25th Army Corps. Courtesy of IWM. (E 6535) 3. Unloading war materiel in Famagusta port (1943). Courtesy of IWM. (A 18022) 4. Major General Ramsden commander of the 18th Army Corps (on the left) with his staff during paratroop mopping up exercises at Kondea (23 September 1941). Courtesy of IWM. (E 5646) 5. Governor Sir William Battershill takes a peep through the sights of an anti-tank gun during an inspection on 21 May 1941. Courtesy of IWM. (E 3147) 6. At Kondea, Green Howards on a high ridge spraying the enemy with Bren gun and rifle fire at an exercise (23 September 1941); Courtesy of IWM. (E 5635) 7. A Bren carrier of the Green Howards in exercises in Kondea, September 1941; Courtesy of IWM. (E 5651) 8. Hurricanes based on Cyprus ready to take off for a patrol. Courtesy of IWM. (CM 1407) 9. Paratroopers mopping up exercises at Kondea; motorized infantry of 150th Brigade of the Green Howards (23 September 1941). Courtesy of IWM. (E 5650)

10. Prime Minister Anthony Eden. Courtesy of IWM. (HU 49409) 11. Field Marshall Sir John Harding. Courtesy of IWM. (A 5436) 12. EOKA fighters holding assault rifles amongst else one WWII German Sturmgewehr 43 machine gun. Courtesy of IWM. (HU 69935) 13. Prime Minister Harold Macmillan. Courtesy of IWM. (HU 70237) 14. Archbishop Makarios leaves his car at RAF Luqa airport, Malta, prior to boarding an RAF Comet bound for London, 17 July 1974. Courtesy of IWM. (HU 104202) 15. A Fusiliers lieutenant consulting with two Turkish lieutenants at a checkpoint at the Dhekelia SBA (16 August 1974 midday). London would not let Turkish troops hunt Greek-Cypriots within the bases; almost the same hour Greek troops drove to Famagusta via another road within the Dhekelia SBA. Courtesy of Major-General (ret.) Georgios Tsoumis. 16. A Gurkhas rifleman at the checkpoint of the Dhekelia SBA (16 August 1974). Courtesy of Major-General (ret.) Georgios Tsoumis. 17. A Fusilier checking a Turkish jeep at a checkpoint at the Dhekelia SBA(16 August 1974). Courtesy of Major-General (ret.) Georgios Tsoumis. 18. A Scimitar reconnaissance vehicle at an outpost of the Dhekelia SBA (16 August 1974). Courtesy of Major-General (ret.) Georgios Tsoumis. 19. Fusiliers at an outpost of the Dhekelia SBA (16 August 1974), Courtesy of Major-General (ret.) Georgios Tsoumis.

Glossary and Abbreviations Abwehr German Secret Service AKEL Anorthotiko Komma Ergazomenou Laou (‘Progressive Party of the Working People’) CENTO Central Treaty Organisation CIA Central Intelligence Agency Cominform Communist Information Bureau CVF Cyprus Volunteer Force CIC Cyprus Intelligence Committee DIC District Intelligence Committee, Cyprus EMSIB Eastern Mediterranean Special Intelligence Bureau EAM/ELAS Ethniko Apeleutherotiko Metopo/Ethnikos Laikos Apeleutherotikos Stratos (‘National Liberation Front/National Liberation People’s Army’) EDES Ethnikos Dimokratikos Ellinikos Syndesmos (‘National Democratic Greek Liaison’) EEC European Economic Community EOKA/EOKA B Ethniki Organosi Kyprion Agoniston (‘National Organisation of Cypriot Fighters’) FCO Foreign and Commonwealth Office GCHQ Government Communications Headquarters ISLD Inter-Service Liaison Department JIC Joint Intelligence Committee KYP Kentriki Ypiresia Pliroforion (‘Central Intelligence Service’), Greece MoD Ministry of Defence MI5 Security Service

NATO North Atlantic Treaty Organisation NCO Non-commissioned Officer NSA National Security Agency OPEC Organisation of Petroleum Exporting Countries PLO Palestinian Liberation Organisation RAF Royal Air Force SBAs Sovereign Base Areas SIS Secret Intelligence Service SLO Security Liaison Officer SOE Special Operations Executive UN United Nations UNFICYP United Nations Force In Cyprus USAF United States Air Force

Acknowledgments

I owe special thanks to David Carter for his interest in my research, and for pointing to valuable sources for this study. Major-General (retired) Georgios Tsoumis gave me a rare insight of the Cyprus question and my interviewees provided me with very interesting leads. Special thanks also go to Rosalie Spire for her research aid, to the staff at the National Archives, Kew, and the National Library of Athens, to the library staff at the Foundation for Mediterranean Studies, Athens, and to Olympia Wood, John Wood and Peter Barnes for their help in copy-editing. The photos included in this book are published by kind permission of Major-General (retired) Georgios Tsoumis and the Imperial War Museum (IWM). Every effort has been made to trace and contact copyright holders prior to publication. If notified, all reasonable efforts will be made to rectify any errors or omissions in subsequent printings. I would like also to thank my editor Joanna Godfrey at Tauris Academic Studies for believing in this monograph and working towards its publication. Finally, I owe a great debt to my family, Yiannis Dimitrakis, Dimitra-Mimi Petropoulou-Dimitrakis and Timos Dimitrakis, for their moral and material support, for the insightful foreign-policy and history-oriented conversations we have had, and for believing over all these years in my work.

Preface

Military intelligence is connected to strategy and diplomacy – in fact it precedes them. Only by having confident perceptions of friends and foes, their capabilities and intentions, through collecting information about their interests and aspirations, can a state draft its strategy and diplomacy for the near or long term, and so attempt to advance its interests in the international arena. Thus intelligence-gathering is as old as war and diplomacy. This study draws on many primary sources and attempts for the first time to tell the comprehensive story of British military intelligence on the beautiful and strategically located Mediterranean island of Cyprus, a British colony until 1960, and a sovereign state from then on. The study focuses exclusively on Britain’s military intelligence, its evolving Cold War strategy, and its espionage and security operations with respect to Cyprus, from the Great War, to the Second World War and the insurgency, and on up to the 1974 Turkish invasion and the Gulf wars. The protagonists in this study are the Foreign Office, the War Office, the Colonial Office and secret intelligence and security services – notably MI5, Special Branch, the Special Operations Executive (SOE) and the Secret Intelligence Service (SIS); leaders’ and intelligence officers’ perceptions, deception schemes to defend the island from Nazi invasion, and the secret war against the Greek-Cypriot guerrillas in the 1950s, as well as the role of British intelligence during the Turkish invasions of July–August 1974, constitute key areas of research and analysis. The intent is to present the first fully archive-based and detailed narrative of what Cyprus meant for British military intelligence and strategy in the Mediterranean and the Middle East. London did not invest in many colonial projects on the island, and was against union with Greece, a traditional ally of Britain since the nineteenth century. Nonetheless, with the advance of modern signals technology and nuclear weapons, Britain valued highly the signals intelligence and air bases on the island. Spying from there on Middle Eastern and Russian signals communications was made possible, as well as broadcasting propaganda. In addition, the Royal Air Force was provided with the strategic capability for nuclear-armed bombers stationed there to range as far as the Gulf in times of international crisis. In the eyes of post-war intelligence officers, Cyprus enjoyed a high strategic value in being so close to the volatile Middle East, and the British Sovereign Base Areas (SBAs) on the island remained the last imperial outpost in the eastern Mediterranean.

INTRODUCTION: CYPRUS AND THE ENGLISH Observing the location of Cyprus in the Mediterranean, a general, a spy and a diplomat would agree that this island had been, and would always remain, a key strategic location north of the Suez Canal, from the nineteenth century and the Great War, to the Second World War, the Cold War and the post-9/11 ‘war on terror’. One could claim that the island, together with Gibraltar, Suez and Malta, had constituted a constellation of British naval bases since the late nineteenth century. The power which held Cyprus could influence events in the Middle East, Anatolia, North Africa and the Aegean Sea; and with the advent of modern technology in the Cold War, the strategic value of Cyprus was upgraded. Whoever maintained bases there could spy on signals communications from, and broadcast propaganda to, areas as far away as South Russia, Iran and the Persian Gulf. The mythical birthplace of the goddess Aphrodite and the god Adonis found itself occupied by many nations and armies, profiting from the island’s strategic location to preserve their military and commercial interests. The Mycenaean Greeks landed on Cyprus in around 1600 BC. Egyptians and Persians then invaded several times, to be followed by Alexander the Great and the Ptolemy dynasty. In 58 BC it was the Romans who established their authority, recruiting Cypriots to fight in their cohorts in present-day Romania and around the Black Sea. Some 450 years later, in 395 AD, the Byzantine Empire incorporated the island into its territories. In 488 Greek-Orthodox Archbishop Anthemius discovered the tomb of Saint Varnavas there, and in recognition Emperor Zeno granted the Cypriot Church perpetual privileges: independent (autocephalous) status, and the right of the archbishop to carry a sceptre instead of a staff, to use red ink for his signature and to wear a purple cloak during services. From then on the Church would always play a key role in Cyprus politics. Later, in 650 and 654, the Arabs invaded the island, but by 958 the Byzantines had successfully reclaimed it. However, Constantinople then faced



Military Intelligence in Cyprus

rebellion: in 1185 Isaac Comnenus tried and failed to claim the Byzantine crown, but held Cyprus and resisted any attempts to seize him. King Richard I of England, ‘Coeur de Lion’, landed at Limassol in May 1191, during his Third Crusade voyage. A few days earlier Comnenus had attempted to arrest Richard’s future wife, Princess Berengaria of Navarre, when three escorting English ships were wrecked. Comnenus ‘plundered the [three] wrecks and treated the shipwrecked voyagers with cruel barbarity’. [Coeur De Lion] on hearing from the lips of the royal ladies the tale of their insults, and the misfortunes of those that had been shipwrecked . . . became so enraged . . . he instantly landed with a body of troops, and rushing upon the imperial plunderers, drove them into Limoussa [Limassol], the capital of the island . . .’1 In a letter dated 6 August 1191, Richard himself wrote: . . . as we were continuing our pilgrimage journey, we were diverted to Cyprus where we hoped to find the refuge of those of our number who had been shipwrecked. But the tyrant [Isaac Comnenus] . . . hurriedly brought a strongly armed force to bar us from the port. He robbed and despoiled as many as possible of our men who had suffered wreck and imprisoned those dying of hunger. Not unnaturally we were spurred to revenge. We did battle with our enemy and, thanks to divine assistance, obtained speedy victory. Defeated and fettered, we hold him together with his only daughter. We have subjected to ourselves the whole island of Cyprus with all its strong points . . .2 Comnenus had a brief meeting with Richard, setting ‘terms of peace’ to which the English monarch could not agree. Allegedly, Coeur de Lion replied angrily: ‘Ha! De debil! You [Comnenus] do speak like a foule Breton.’ The English troops stormed the city, and at the battle of Tremetusha the Byzantine ruler was defeated. A contemporary chronicler wrote: The valiant King Richard, as I understand, before he departed from Old England Made an axe to slaughter that infidel band the Saracen dogs,

Introduction



in the Holy Land . . . And when that he landed in Cyprus land, he first took this terrible axe in hand and he hewed and hewed with such direful slaughter that the blood flowed around him Like pools of water 3 When Richard arrested his only daughter, the heir to the crown of Cyprus, Comnenus had no option but to surrender. He was ‘chained in silver’, since Richard had promised not to chain him in iron. On 12 May 1191, at the chapel of Saint George in Limassol, Coeur de Lion married Berengaria, who followed him to the holy places together with the Cypriot princess ‘with whom she [Berengaria] resided for years afterwards on terms of the greatest intimacy and friendship’. However, ‘it may be well to remark, that Richard did not, as some writers have asserted, desert his Queen for the more captivating charms of the dark-eyed Cypriot Princess . . .’4 Richard raised taxes, and next year sold the island to the order of the Knights Templar. British rule would return centuries later, in 1878. The order raised taxes again, and by Easter 1192 faced a revolt. Though the Knights emerged victorious, they wished to return the island to Richard, considering it a liability. Initially he was not interested, but eventually gave it to Guy of Lusignan, who had just been freed from the captivity of Saladin. Comnenus was the last Byzantine ruler of Cyprus. The line of succession in the Kingdom of Cyprus would proceed via Guy’s elder brother, Aiméry (1194–1205), and his descendants in the royal house of Lusignan. After the loss of Palestine the Lusignans would crown themselves also Kings of Jerusalem in Famagusta, in a vain attempt to legitimise their claim over the holy city. Symbolically (as the seat of the self-styled king of Jerusalem) and materially (as a commercial hub and place of refuge for Christians from the Holy Land) Cyprus was connected more with Palestine and the Middle East than to Byzantium and Europe. The Byzantines under Emperor Alexius III Comnenus considered a plan for retaking Cyprus, and even approached Saladin as a potential ally against the Lusignans. In 1203 Alexius wrote a letter to Pope Innocent III urging him to threaten Aiméry with excommunication unless he left Cyprus, but the Vatican was unwilling to side with Constantinople – a city which in any case would be sacked by the Fourth Crusade the following year.5



Military Intelligence in Cyprus

King Richard was not interested in keeping the island, and so sold it once he had departed from the Holy Land: he viewed Cyprus only through the prism of crusade requirements. At that time, England had no policy of maintaining an imperial presence in the Eastern Mediterranean. However, a number of figures would argue for English rights over Cyprus. Roger of Howden wrote that Richard had given Guy the island only ‘for life’, and thus after the death of the first Lusignan king Cyprus should have been handed back. The anonymous author of the thirteenth-century work The Crusade and Death of Richard I sided with this argument. In addition, Walter of Guisborough remarked that when Lord Edward visited the island in 1271 the Cypriot nobility admitted that ‘they were bound by his orders because his predecessors had formerly ruled their land and they themselves ought always to be faithful men (fideles) of the kings of England’. Another fourteenth-century author, the compiler of the Meaux Chronicle, claimed that Cyprus was a dependency of England. According to the French Chronique des quatres premiers Valois, King Edward III confided to King Peter I of Cyprus in 1363 that if Peter recaptured Jerusalem he should return Cyprus to England.6 In August 1343, troops of the kingdom of Cyprus, together with those of Venice, Genoa, Byzantium and the order of St John, landed in Smyrna to contain the spread of the Turkish armies; however, the campaign would have no long-lasting results. Later, King Peter I of Cyprus convinced the Europeans to mount another campaign against Alexandria, in Egypt; and in October 1365 the city was destroyed by Peter’s expeditionary force. However, faced with superior Mameluk forces marching from Cairo, he was forced to return to Cyprus, without continuing on to Jerusalem. Besides, his allies were unwilling to follow him in his adventures in Palestine. Soon the kingdom of Cyprus became the hostage of Venetian-Genoese antagonism, with Genoa taking the lead. The Genoese would even briefly put King Peter II and his queen mother under arrest, just after his coronation on 10 October 1372; the following year they sacked Famagusta. The Republic of Venice, seeking to preserve its sea power and economic interests, conquered Cyprus in 1489. But the expansionist Ottoman Empire could not tolerate a Christian Cyprus, though the Venetians wished for peace to be preserved in the Eastern Mediterranean (since 1517 they had been paying a tribute of 8,000 ducats to the Porte); in 1539 the Ottomans destroyed Limassol, while the Venetians withdrew to Famagusta. In a March 1570 letter to Venice, Sultan Selim II claimed that the island was his own ‘by right’, arguing its proximity to Anatolia and its distance from the Venetian territories. He also accused Cypriot ports of being bases for Christian pirates attacking Muslim ships. In late June of the same year

Introduction



the Turks landed at Paphos; by September they controlled Nicosia and were ready to lay siege to Famagusta. The Venetian commander Marcantonio Bragadino was to be the last Christian defender of the island. Until the summer of 1571, Famagusta resisted the siege, but eventually Bragadino would be compelled to negotiate an instrument of surrender to save the Christians from massacre. He himself would be flayed alive and his lieutenants executed. Meanwhile, in the autumn of that year (7 October 1571) the Ottoman fleet would be defeated in the battle of Lepanto, but despite that defeat the Ottomans would hold the island until the late nineteenth century. The War of Independence in Greece, which started in March 1821, was hailed by Greek-Cypriots; Archbishop Kyprianos was then accused of plotting against the Ottomans – and he his bishops, hundreds of priests and other prominent figures were arrested and, on 9 July 1821, hanged. Greek menof-war sailed around the island during their engagements with the Ottoman fleet, attempting to bring in more troops to Greece. The Greek vessels received support and supplies from Greek-Cypriots, who were being persecuted by the Turkish administration; their captains moored them in isolated harbours for repairs. Sir George Hill remarked that: ‘The Greeks gave Mehmet Ali’s ships, which patrolled the coast, occasional trouble.’ Consul Méchain, the French diplomatic representative on the island, commented in a February 1823 dispatch that: ‘The Greek ships are frequently around these waters . . . they have virtually annihilated Turkish navigation by capturing their ships.’ Later, in a June letter, the consul argued that: ‘Cyprus would have been quiter if it was not for the presence of twelve Greek ships from Psara which come here for provisions . . . their presence infuriates the [Turkish] troops.’7 That same year the British Consul was implicated in a scheme for helping Turkish officers and troops to reach Haifa aboard a British merchantman . Eventually, Greek ships seized the vessel and her crew, turning them over to the pasha of Acre. The diplomat, accused of infringing neutrality, was reprimanded because ‘he [had] exposed the British merchant flag to insult’.8 Greek-Cypriots asked the first governor of Greece, Ioannis Capodistrias, for Cyprus to become Greek territory, but this was impossible given Ottoman power at that time. However, union with Greece remained a strong aspiration amongst Greek-Cypriots throughout the nineteenth century. British imperial strategy required a key base in the eastern Mediterranean, close to the Ottomans. On 5 May 1878, Prime Minister Benjamin Disraeli wrote to Queen Victoria: If Cyprus be conceded to Your Majesty by the Porte, and England, at the same time, enters into a Defensive Alliance with Turkey, guaran-



Military Intelligence in Cyprus

teeing Asiatic Turkey from Russian invasion, the power of England in the Mediterranean will be absolutely increased in that region, and Your Majesty’s Indian Empire immensely strengthened.9 Defending the treaty with Ottoman Turkey he argued that: In taking Cyprus, the movement is not Mediterranean; it is Indian. We have taken a step there, which we think necessary for the maintenance of our Empire and for its reservation in peace. If that be our first consideration, our next is the development of the country.10 Under the Convention of Defensive Alliance, signed in Constantinople on 4 June 1878, London secured a strategic outpost close to the Suez. Turkey agreed to ‘assign the island of Cyprus to be occupied and administered by England’, and Lieutenant-General Sir Garnet Joseph Wolseley was named the first British High Commissioner of the island. He was a hard-nosed Victorian soldier who had seen action in Burma, Crimea (where he lost an eye), the Indian mutiny, China and the Canada rebellion. Wolseley arrived on board HMS Himalaya at 7.30 am on Monday 22 July 1878. He did not hide his discontent with Admiral Lord John Hay’s arrival in Cyprus ten days earlier, taking over the island in the name of Queen Victoria. The admiral had stolen Wolseley’s glory, and acted as if he had already arranged everything for the occupying forces, with Wolseley’s only duty being to ‘keep things going’. However, the Lieutenant-General was not a person to hide his feelings. In his journal he remarked of the Admiral, and of the Duke of Edinburgh who accompanied them: [Lord John Hay] is the devil to talk and talk such nonsense. I thought generals were far from brilliant but they are Solons compared to the pompous ignorance of such men as Admiral Lord John Hay. He has very fortunately had Walter Baring of the Diplomatic Service here to keep him from great follies . . . [the Duke of Edinburgh] is fond of ‘havering’ and has interviews with me on trifling subjects, and matters of detail which I want to keep myself aloof from . . . I wish these Royalties would keep out of my way; they retard public business and no one likes this Edinburgh. His laugh is the most unpleasant thing I ever heard: no man could have a good heart who laughed as he does . . . [the Duke of Edinburgh] comes here with his usual meanness for which he is notorious, sponging upon the captain of the ship [HMS Himalaya] or anyone else who will fill his stomach with champagne.

Introduction



He is a low mean fellow who talks of nothing but himself with nothing of an Englishman about him . . .11 When the High Commissioner greeted Sofronios, the Archbishop of the GreekOrthodox Church of Cyprus, the latter openly admitted that Cypriots viewed the coming of the English as the last phase of an occupation which would lead to eventual self-determination and union with Greece (as had happened in the case of the Ionian islands, ceded to Greece in 1864). On another occasion the Archbishop informed the High Commissioner of the slaving activities of the Ottoman authorities – indeed, in the early 1870s the British Consul, R.H. Lang, had told London of the transport of slaves from North Africa to Cyprus.12 Meanwhile, Wolseley was impressed by the conditions he faced: . . . there is an air of decay about the place that tells one. . . of Turkey’s Sultan . . . the face of the island is stamped with relics of a past prosperity that has been destroyed by the Moslems . . . [the Turk] can pull down and destroy but he cannot even succeed in keeping alive the creations of others . . . It is no wonder that the Christians should rejoice at our coming to relieve them from an oppression . . . like everything else that made this country a splendid one in ancient times, the forests have disappeared under the influence, the blighting influence of the Turk . . . the [last] governor [Aziz Pasha] was supposed to have robbed everyone and to be guilty of such malpractices that even the Porte could not stand him . . .13 Wolseley did not intend to give more rights to the Greeks: he condemned a Greek-Cypriot petition to recognise Greek as the official language of the island, and pressed for the continuation of the use of Turkish in the bureaucracy. In fact, wealthy businessmen and the church informed W.E. Forster, an MP, of these new requirements and their grievances – even the Archbishop had to petition in Turkish (something even Ottoman officialdom did not demand). Lord Salisbury was briefed by Forster and asked for the attention of Wolseley to these matters.14 However, the Lieutenant-General had little affection for the church, whether Roman Catholic or Greek-Orthodox. He wrote: One of the reasons why I hate high church nonsense is that it leads to priest craft which tends to bring in, if not a foreign potentate like the pope, at least an object of higher earthly reverence, namely the villainous priest . . .15



Military Intelligence in Cyprus

In celebrating the coming of English rule the Greek-Orthodox monastery of Kiko conducted a ceremony for the blessing of the Union Jack. But the arrogant anti-church Wolseley could not change his mind, commenting: Went to the monastery church to attend a great function in honour of hoisting the English flag upon it: first we had Mass – such a mockery of everything sacred, dirty greasy priests attempting to intone some dreary dirges that were utterly devoid of music or melody. Many of the Greek priests cannot read or write, which the Archbishop explained to me was the reason why no register of births, deaths or marriages was kept. After the mass which was very long, some of the congregation advanced to the screen which hides the altar and kissed the pictures of the Virgin and of some ugly looking saints . . .16 Wolseley was to leave Cyprus in late May 1879 to serve in Natal, where he captured King Cetewayo and defeated Chief Sekukuni. He went on to fight in the battle of Tel-el-Kebir in Egypt, and to attempt the relief of General Gordon in the Sudan. By the end of the century he had become commander-in-chief in Ireland, and later commander-in-chief of the British army (a post in which he was soon to be criticised for underestimating the Boers’ military potential). He died in 1913. Despite initial planning, no major construction works took place in Cyprus. The Egypt expedition of 1882, and the stationing of British troops and vessels there, made Cyprus a secondary Mediterranean base. In an 1885 letter Lord Kitchener admitted – as Wolseley had earlier – that: Cyprus was handed over to Great Britain by Turkey in a thoroughly exhausted and ruined condition. The system for centuries had been to take as much as possible out of the Island, giving nothing in return. All public works and every institution in the Island were in the last state of decay.17 The colonial authorities examined the posssibility of recruiting Cypriots into a local regiment, but Kitchener did not agree with sending a Turkish-Cypriot battalion to Egypt in 1902. At the time, the War Office attached importance to the stance of the Sultan of the Ottoman Empire on enlisting Cypriots, since on paper Cyprus was part of that empire, and though the Colonial Office lobbied for the formation of a Cypriot unit, it failed to materialise. Besides, Cypriots were considered aliens under the Army Act.18

Introduction



By the end of the nineteenth century, however, about 800 Cypriots were serving in the local military police, in mounted and foot units. The majority were Turkish-Cypriots, the remainder Greek-Cypriots, with a few Armenians. The courage of the Muslims was ‘very great while that of the Christian is rather inferior,’ remarked a former commandant of the military police when questioned by a War Office staff officer. He argued that both Greek- and Turkish-Cypriots would perform well in battle as long as they were commanded by officers for whom they had a personal regard. However, the former commandant remarked that: Their habits and views of life are so domestic that I do not think any would engage for general service outside the island and to this extent I agree with Major-General Grant that they are deficient in fighting instincts.19

1 The Great War and the Revolt

By the second decade of the twentieth century the continuous strategic antagonism between Great Britain, France and Russia, on the one hand, and Imperial Germany and the Austria-Hungarian Empire on the other, would soon lead to the Great War. In London, secretaries of state, staff officers and colonial officials examined contingencies for the defence of the realm and the overseas territories in case of war. In 1912, the Imperial Defence Committee assessed a possible threat to Cyprus: a landing there by Austrian-Hungarian forces in the event of war in the Mediterranean. Planners admitted that the island was insufficiently defended: at that time the garrison consisted of one company (100 rifles) of British infantry, some 750 members of the Cypriot constabulary, of whom a third were mounted, and two small detachments from the Army Service Corps and the Medical Corps. The British infantrymen had at their disposal 1,500 rounds per rifle, and the Cypriots 300. It was forecast that the population, by then reaching 240,000, would play no part in the defence of the island, being ‘apparently of a docile and unwarlike disposition’. The War Office assumed that if the Austrians wished to invade Cyprus they would use units of the crack 15th and 16th Army Corps, stationed in Bosnia Herzegovina and expert in mountain warfare. These units were in a condition of advanced readiness, and could be embarked in the ports of Cataro or Trieste; from there, given calm weather, it would take five or six days to reach the coast of Cyprus. It was estimated that an invading force would be about 7,500 strong: one mountain brigade, a pioneer company, a mountain battery (of four guns), signallers, a mountain transport-company, a section to manage an ammunition dump, staff for a field ambulance, and an aircraft section, plus three squadrons of Tyrolese mounted riflemen. The Austrians could find about 15 large vessels to carry such a force to Cyprus, and within

12

Military Intelligence in Cyprus

a week this fleet could be ready to transport the artillery, horses and all the required war materiel. Seven days would be needed to collect and prepare the transports, one day for embarkation, followed by a voyage of five–six days and one day for disembarkation. The Imperial General Staff assumed that one of the best places for landing would be the port of Limassol, with its 200-yard-long iron pier, followed by Larnaca, Famagusta and Salamis. After the landing, the invaders would follow the route to Nicosia, the capital, later rolling up the weak defence forces. The Turkish government could help the Austrians in transferring messages to Vienna. Infantry were what mattered in the defence of the island: If a hostile Power is in a position to convey troops overseas, no effective opposition could be offered to a landing by the existing garrison and the capture of the island may be looked upon as inevitable unless a garrison proportionate to the scale of attack which may be expected is provided in time of peace.1 Great Britain needed allies in the Mediterranean. As early as December 1912, during the London conference which followed the First Balkan war, Lloyd George, then Chancellor of the Exchequer, in the presence of Winston Churchill and the Prince of Battenberg, proposed to Prime Minister Eleutherios Venizelos that Cyprus be ceded to Greece in return for naval bases on the island of Cephalonia, in the Ionian Sea. Venizelos seemed willing to follow a pro-British foreign policy and accepted the offer; in fact he proposed to cede Greek sovereignty over Argostoli, Cephalonia’s main port. But the British did not follow through with their offer; the Colonial Office and the War Office were unwilling to consider surrendering Cyprus to Greece. The offer, an act of secret diplomacy, was eventually disclosed in a memorandum from Venizelos to the British ambassador in Athens, in October 1931, after the troubles in Cyprus (see below). It was the first time the concept of ‘the island in return for sovereign bases’ was discussed.2 Another source for these secret consultations is the diary of the Greek consul in London, Sir John Stavridis, who also had private discussions on the subject with Churchill. The then First Sea Lord sounded willing to support an agreement with Greece on Cyprus, and consulted Stavridis on the need either to have a secret agreement, or a public settlement but with secret articles. In any case, on the eve of the Great War philhellene politicians like Lloyd George seemed genuinely willing to discuss the cession of Cyprus to Greece.3 However, in November 1914, after the outbreak of the war, Cyprus was annexed to the British Empire. British commitments in the Middle East

The Great War and the Revolt

13

and in the Gallipoli campaign turned the island into a communications, military intelligence and stationing hub.4 From November 1916 onwards, Turkish prisoners of war from Gallipoli, Mesopotamia and other fronts were transferred to Cyprus, where they remained in prison camps until the late 1920s.5 The Germans and Austrians meanwhile, mired in the trenches of the European theatres, could no longer threaten Cyprus; and the Ottoman Turks fighting the Arabs in Mesopotamia had been too weak to contemplate an invasion. On the intelligence front, Sir John Clauson, the High Commissioner, found himself at odds with the military. Initially he offered to correspond with the Central Special Intelligence Bureau, but admitted there was no scope for espionage on the island. MI5, being aware of the plans to offer Cyprus to the Greeks, did not urge the placement of an intelligence organisation there in 1914–15 – normally the Eastern Mediterranean Special Intelligence Bureau, stationed in Alexandria, was the agency for reviewing intelligence on Cyprus. Intelligence officers in Egypt were concerned about the movement of aliens to Cyprus, as well as about German submarines and Ottoman Turkish vessels approaching the coast. Soon it was reported to London that: ‘The High Commissioner is far too lenient in his dealings with the Austrians and Germans in Cyprus, and that they are allowed to wander about practically without restraint’. MI5 asked for further information on plans for the internment of aliens, but received no reply until late 1915. The control of the island’s ports and coastline was a very important task in wartime, but the few Cypriot constables and coastguards could do little. Thus, French naval intelligence warned in September 1915 that night signalling was taking place, and that to gather intelligence a German submarine was probably patrolling between the north-east coast and Attalya (Turkey); another report disclosed the disembarkation (on 25 November 1915) of ten men from a German submarine.6 In March 1917, Captain Scott of the Intelligence Corps was sent from the Eastern Mediterranean Special Intelligence Bureau (EMSIB) to organise counter-espionage in Cyprus. Based in Nicosia, he recruited agents for this purpose, cooperating with the resident Royal Navy officer. The High Commissioner offered Scott help, but problems arose; in November 1918, in a full report on intelligence activities on the island, it was clearly stated that: Certain facts which were reported to the Eastern Mediterranean Special Intelligence Bureau in July 1917 seemed to indicate that the authorities in Cyprus did not give sufficient weight to the importance of the island from the military and intelligence point of view.7

14

Military Intelligence in Cyprus

British intelligence found letters with instructions for the escape of Turkish prisoners of war held in Cyprus; many Turkish-Cypriots sympathised with the prisoners, and afforded them any aid they could to reach the Turkish coast. In addition a letter discovered by an agent disclosed an organisation for raising money for the Turkish army. Scott’s men pinpointed suspects, and eventually arrested some. Nonetheless, when the High Commissioner was asked to use his summary powers, he failed to give Scott his full backing, and eventually the suspects were acquitted on the grounds of inadequate incriminating evidence. The High Commissioner believed that the court gave little credence to the testimony of secret agents. Scott was furious at not gaining a conviction, and would become more frustrated on hearing that on 13 June 1917 a small boat (the Dolphin) had sailed from Famagusta without authorisation, and had reached Turkey rather than its declared destination of Limassol. Scott assumed that the boat had carried naval-intelligence reports to the Ottoman military. A few days later, on 18 June, it was discovered that one of Scott’s agents had been killed while on a mission to the Turkish coast. The assumption that the Dolphin’s crew might have brought with them intelligence which resulted in the killing of the agent gained ground. Scott advocated measures to suppress any further movement of boats to Turkey. He argued, passing on a request for information from the Port Said intelligence officer, that there was another boat suspected of attempting to escape to Turkey. Secret instructions should therefore be issued by the High Commissioner that any boats with a Turkish-Cypriot captain or crew should for the time being confront ‘obstacles’ in leaving Cyprus. Sir John Clauson was unconvinced, being afraid of disrupting commerce and of probably causing undue alarm to the public. He asked for a full report specifically on the second ‘suspect’ ship; the report should contain ‘a special reference to the reliability of [Captain Scott’s] sources’.8 The High Commissioner also disliked the notion of prohibiting TurkishCypriots from working in the fishing or boat-building industry, i.e. allowing only Greek-Cypriots to be employed there. Sir John emphasised that it would be a provocation to Turkish-Cypriot captains and a political blunder if he initiated the prohibition measures Scott had suggested.9 The argument between Clauson, Scott and EMSIB continued once military intelligence learned that Cypriot fishing boats were being allowed to sail at night without conditions. Intelligence officers now assumed that they could not meet their objective of preventing any leakage of military or naval intelligence to the Turks, and would have to put up with the liberal state of affairs allowed by Clauson. In addition, he declined the military’s proposals to include Cyprus in the army zone, because that would have

The Great War and the Revolt

15

resulted in placing the colonial officials, judiciary, port officers and Cyprus military police under army officers, rather than subordinate to him. Besides, the High Commissioner was himself, ex-officio, commander-inchief, and insisted that experienced colonial officers had an intimate knowledge of the island’s affairs, as compared to the rank and file of the Egyptian Expeditionary Force.10 Sir John remained indifferent in the face of military intelligence suggestions for special measures to counter espionage activities. Eventually, EMSIB recognised, in late 1917, that: . . . there appeared to be no definite enemy organisation in the island, although there were evidently many potential enemies among the population. Both Greeks and Turks were said to ignore the benefits which British rule had brought them . . . in the opinion of the intelligence officer the only danger in the island itself was the fact that the mildness of the Proclamation under Martial Law gave scope for a smart enemy agent. The intelligence officer was doubtful as to whether any of the local suspects were worthy of a place in the printed Black List of EMSIB.11 Military intelligence stereotyped both Greek- and Turkish-Cypriots. The former, whether royalists or Venizelists, aspired to see the island united with Greece and the end of the colonial rule; they hated the Turks ‘and except for being open to corruption, were not considered dangerous. They were great talkers, in contrast to the Turks and often indulged in seditious language, but it could not be taken very seriously.’ For their part, upper-class TurkishCypriots avoided contact with the rest of their community after the arrest of some who had helped prisoners of war to escape.12 EMSIB continued complaining about the colonial administration’s lack of full backing for its counter-espionage work. For instance, the censorship of letters and cables in Cyprus was deemed to be only partially carried out, and the work had to be repeated in Egypt.13 In January 1918 Captain Scott left for Egypt, and Captain Melvyn took over the post of intelligence officer. Melvyn knew the island well, as he had served there earlier as Commissioner of Police. He was responsible to Colonel Belgrave, the EMSIB’s general-staff officer for intelligence reorganisation; he reported: ‘a certain number of agents were dismissed, and steps were taken to get into touch with various persons of standing and reliability with a view to obtaining their voluntary assistance.’14 Captain Melvyn arrested a ‘notorious suspect’, a Turk, and six others,

16

Military Intelligence in Cyprus

accusing them of helping German agents who had disembarked from a submarine in June 1918 on the Karpasia Peninsula. Sir John Clauson seemed satisfied with Melvyn’s performance.15 As for MI5, since September 1918 the security service ‘was no longer concerned with the organisation of counter-espionage in Cyprus’.16 The successors to the staff of Vernon Kell (the first MI5 Director-General) returned to the island in the 1950s, to confront the Greek-Cypriot guerilla organisation, EOKA. In the international diplomatic arena, consultations on the future of Cyprus continued, in a bid for Britain to secure Greek participation in saving Serbia. Sir Edward Grey, the Foreign Secretary, was of the opinion that the post-war handing over of Cyprus to Greece in return for immediate Greek war-aid, merited close examination. Lord Kitchener envisioned an allied campaign against Turkish-occupied Alexandretta, arguing in favour of retaining Cyprus. Prime Minister Herbert Asquith remarked on the GreyKitchener clash in the cabinet on 20 January 1915: We had a long talk about the Balkans and Greece and how to bring them in. Grey is anxious to be able to dangle before the Greeks Cyprus as a lure. It is not worth much to us, indeed nothing . . . Kitchener is very loth to part with it, because it is on the high road via Alexandretta, to Mesopotamia, where we now straddle across the Tigris and the Euphrates. Grey thinks it would have a good moral effect to show that we were really prepared to part with something we have, instead of of merely carving out and distributing other people’s possessions.17 On 16 October 1915, despite Kitchener’s opposition, Sir Edward Grey made a clear offer to the Greek government, sending the same telegram to Athens twice on the same day: Cyprus to be united with Greece after the war, on condition Athens joined the Entente against the Central Powers. Ironically, the British wanted to employ the Archbishop of Cyprus in pressing Athens to accept their offer. London informed the cleric, together with other Greek-Cypriots, of the offer, and planned to dispatch them to Athens to raise spontaneous popular support and eventually make King Constantine understand that the offer promoted Greek interests.18 However, this scheme failed; the Greek government declined the offer a few days later, on 20 October. Prime Minister Alexander Zaimis followed King Constantine (the brother-in-law of Kaiser Wilhelm II) in wishing to maintain Greek neutrality, in essence a pro-German stance. (Earlier, Venizelos had been led to resign after his continuing disagreement with the monarch over foreign policy.19) The British were surprised and withdrew their offer; they assumed

The Great War and the Revolt

17

that Constantine was interested in Thrace and Asia Minor, not in far-distant Cyprus, despite the majority of the island’s population being of Greek origin.20 Simply put, Greece had lost a unique opportunity to be united with Cyprus. Later, in March 1916, Britain accepted article 4 paragraph b of the Sykes-Picot pact with France, which stated that the cession of Cyprus to a third power should take place only with the agreement of Paris. Thus, ‘His Majesty’s Government, on their part undertake that they will at no time enter into negotiations for the cession of Cyprus to any third power without the previous consent of the French government.’21 Some, including Lord Privy Seal, were furious. An angry Lord Curzon condemned the pact, pointing out that: when the Sykes-Picot agreement was drawn up it was, no doubt, intended by its authors . . . as a sort of fancy sketch to suit a situation that had not then arisen, and which it was thought, extremely unlikely would ever arise; that I suppose must be the principal explanation of the gross ignorance with which the boundary lines in that agreement were drawn.22 Lloyd George was another one who did not approve of Sykes’s handling of the matter. During the Paris Peace Conference in May 1919, Lloyd George again sounded willing to examine the cession of the island to Greece, and Venizelos offered Britain sovereign bases on Cyprus. However, the Foreign Office, under Curzon, the War Office and the Colonial Office strongly disagreed with Lloyd George’s offer, Curzon raising the issue of the Turkish-Cypriot minority and their future under Greek rule. For his part, Venizelos, interested in the Greek-populated areas of Asia Minor and Thrace, did not argue for Greek interests and rights in Cyprus. On 5 August 1920, Curzon made it clear to Venizelos that the future of Cyprus was not in any way negotiable: the island would remain a part of the British Empire.23 Long-term policy on Cyprus now became influenced by post-war optimism among the naval and military staffs. In September 1919, at the time of the Greek advance into western Asia Minor, Vice-Admiral J.M. de Robeck, the Royal Navy’s commander-in-chief in the Mediterranean, argued for the potential of Cyprus as a naval and military base. He claimed that: a. Cyprus is ideally placed for the concentration of troops, subject to efficient escort, for operations on the coasts of Syria or Asia Minor, b.

18

Military Intelligence in Cyprus

Is a suitable base for light craft such as Coastal Motor Boats inshore and in fine weather. Destroyers outside such a post as Famagusta, protected by a bank [sic], c. Can be used as an advanced fuelling and supply base, with possible adequate protection and as a base for auxiliary patrol . . . I beg to bring to your notice the important strategic position occupied by the British island of Cyprus, particularly as regards the employment of aircraft. This island lies almost on the direct line between Taranto and Karachi . . .24 Lloyd George – defending Greek claims to the island – quoted the War Office argument: The potential strategic importance of Cyprus is great, both from a naval and from an air point of view . . . Though the island possesses no adequate harbour at present, the Admiralty state that an excellent base for submarines and destroyers could be made at Famagusta . . . While the possession of the island by Greece could hardly be considered a menace to the British Empire, the danger of its falling into the hands of a stronger Power cannot be wholly disregarded.25 Without stating explicitly it, Britain suspected French ambitions for the island. For his part, Venizelos promoted Greek claims over eastern Thrace and Asia Minor rather than Cyprus. He could not ask for more, since Britain was a traditional ally, and Lloyd George had permitted the Greek landing in Smyrna in May 1919. In early 1922 two petty incidents aroused the colonial administration’s suspicion. On the afternoon of 18 February at Cape Andreas, an isolated location, the Greek warship, the Ierax, approached the shore and landed a party of two officers and four sailors. The lighthouse-keepers acting as customs officers, a Greek-Cypriot and a Turkish-Cypriot, protested that it was not a port and they had no right to land. The party insisted that they had no coal and food provisions and their ship could not sail to Famagusta in bad weather. One of the keepers telephoned his superior officer in Famagusta, who insisted that the party should not have landed and should return to the warship. The two officers and their men were in breach of a 1879 law on ports prohibiting disembarkation at Cape Andreas. Eventually, the party disregarded the prohibition and walked to the nearby Greek-Orthodox monastery, where they stayed for about an hour. Later they left, and Ierax departed. An almost identical incident occurred on the evening of 9 March 1922. An officer and a sailor landed at Cape Andreas and visited the

The Great War and the Revolt

19

monastery despite the strong protest by the two lighthouse-keepers, who, seeing the warship Ierax out at sea, were wary of using force. The two men paid a short visit to the monastery and later the abbot visited Ierax. Next morning the ship left. Sir Malcolm Stevenson, the High Commissioner, informed the Colonial Office and the British Naval Mission in Athens of these unauthorised landings, assuming that the Greeks had been gathering naval intelligence on Turkish transport ships. Sir Malcolm strongly believed that: ‘. . . the visits of the ‘Ierax’ on each occasion were made for intelligence purposes, and particularly to collect information regarding the movement of ships bound for Mersin with the object of intercepting supplies for the Kemalist Army.’26 In 1925 Cyprus was declared a Crown Colony. Under the 1923 Treaty of Lausanne, Turkey had relinquished any claim to the island. The Committee of Imperial Defence aimed to create a Cyprus volunteer force to defend the island in the event of invasion or internal disturbances. In the post-war defence situation, with its spending cuts, Cyprus stood no chance of securing a large permanent British force stationed there. The 1922 Defence Scheme recognised that: The strategic importance of Cyprus to the British Empire is twofold. In the first place it might be required as an advanced base in the event of combined operations in Palestine, Syria or Asia Minor, and, although in present conditions the possibility of such operations may appear remote, these conditions may well alter in the future. Secondly, it would be necessary to deny to a hostile Power its occupation and use as a base in the event of war.27 London wanted to raise the standard of training of the existing military police in Cyprus, and to bring in some Cypriot volunteers. The Committee even suggested issuing some Vickers machine-guns to the police, which clearly meant that the Governor of Cyprus should not count on any military help coming from England. It was emphasised that: The Committee are informed that no guarantee can be given that the Company of Regular Infantry stationed in the island during peace time will be available, either for defence against external aggression or for dealing with internal disturbances in war time . . . the presence of this Company should not therefore, be taken into account [in defence planning].28

20

Military Intelligence in Cyprus

Since at that time no airfields had been built on Cyprus the island was considered of ‘small strategic importance’ for the RAF. The only force that could help the island in case of need would be the Royal Navy, but few ships were based there permanently. Besides, Cyprus, like every other part of the Empire, has to rely on the Navy for security from organised invasion, and the Admiralty have undertaken the responsibility of providing this security. They cannot however, guarantee immunity from attack by raiding ships that might escape the vigilance of the Fleet.29 The ‘no guarantee’ comments in respect to the navy and the infantry mentioned in the Committee of Imperial Defence papers lead one to understand that Cyprus, though an important colony in a key strategic area next to Anatolia, the Middle East and Suez, was to be left on her own in the post-war era. Colonial rule confronted its most serious challenge in October 1931. Demonstrations by Greek-Cypriots demanding self-determination quickly turned into riots. It was an intelligence failure: no one in the police or the colonial military had predicted that assemblies with clerics and local Greek-Cypriot community leaders could challenge their authority. The clergy took the lead, the bishops of Kyrenia and Kition inciting revolt, and the Greek ConsulGeneral, Alexandros Kyrou, followed a similar line. On 20 October, 3,000 people assembled in a Limassol stadium to protest against colonial rule. Hastily, the authorities asked for the infantry. Hart Davis, the Nicosia commissioner, and Major A.B. Wright (Governor of Cyprus in the late 1940s) tried to speak to the crowds in front of the Governor’s mansion, but this did not avert, later that night (2300 hours on 21 October), the burning down of the building. Police opened fire on the demonstrators, and three died that fateful night. Next morning, at 0800 hours, a worried Governor Sir Ronald Storrs, requested immediate reinforcements from Egypt. Storrs was an old-style autocrat who loved Ancient Greek history, a man who had served under Lord Kitchener in Egypt and with T.E. Lawrence in Arabia. (It was he who had facilitated diplomacy with Arab leaders before Lawrence commenced the revolt against the Ottoman army.) From 1917 to 1926, Storrs had been the first military and later civil governor of Jerusalem. Storrs asked for troops as well as Royal Navy and Royal Marines detachments to disembark from HMS London and Shropshire. But their commanders were hesitant to involve their men in the conflict without the

The Great War and the Revolt

21

direct supervision of a naval officer. Meanwhile, a company of the King’s Regiment was put on stand-by to fly from Palestine as soon as the RAF had prepared the Vickers Victoria transport aircraft. British infantry units based in the Troodos area did not reach Nicosia until 0730 hours, they were not deemed sufficient to maintain public order. At the same time, a company of the Royal Welsh Fusiliers was deployed in Nicosia; the demonstrations spread to Famagusta and other cities. Throughout 22 October, the Governor had been sending cables to London and Cairo asking for more help. Women and children who were British subjects were evacuated to ships, while the colonial administration prepared for the worst. Storrs requested one platoon to be deployed in Larnaca, one in Limassol, one in Paphos and one in reserve in Kyrenia, with two platoons to be held in general reserve.30 Most significantly, in order to confront the revolt, he exercised special powers granted to him by Article II of the Defence (Certain British Possessions) Order in Council 1928, in effect a draconian framework of regulations by which Cypriots had to abide. Eventually, by 28 October, the revolt was put down by force. The bishops were arrested, and Kyrou was declared persona non grata. Other Greek-Cypriot community leaders were held in British warships off the Cyprus coast, and later deported for life. The revolt was a popular political statement led by church leaders; it was not an armed insurgency. It cost a total of six Greek-Cypriots dead and 30 wounded. The British suffered no casualties, and the Turkish-Cypriots remained quiet. The special regulations introduced in 1931 and later in 1936 were repealed by order of the Governor, Sir Herbert Richmond Palmer, on 28 May 1937. Frustrated Cypriots called his governorship Palmerokratia, ‘the rule of Palmer’ a synonymous to autocracy.31 In Athens, the administration of Prime Minister Eletherios Venizelos did not back the Greek-Cypriot insurgents. He emphasised that the crisis had made the British put aside their ‘philosophical tolerance of the enosis declarations’ and introduce harsh public order measures. He commented that he was ‘very sorry’ about the revolt, adding: the ‘Greek-Cypriot leaders should have known that by pushing the events they could reach a point beyond their control’.32 Venizelos admitted that for a long period he had not wanted to touch on the Cyprus question in his discussions with the British government. Earlier, in March 1931, Andreas Michalakopoulos, the Greek Secretary for Foreign Affairs, had pointed out that intensive pressure on Britain over the Cyprus question might not bring useful results. However, the death of Venizelos in 1936 marked the end of the Greeks’ long-standing ‘hands-off’ policy on Cyprus.33 Gradually, successive Greek governments would offer increasing support to Greek-Cypriot aspirations for enosis.

22

Military Intelligence in Cyprus

Benito Mussolini’s campaign in Abyssinia commenced in October 1935. A year later, the British Chiefs of Staff seemed unwilling to make Cyprus a Mediterranean fortress, pointing to the need for good relations with Rome since Hitler had remilitarised the Rhineland; Italy should not be alienated from Britain.34 Meanwhile, the Colonial Office, supported by the Foreign Office under Anthony Eden, pressed for development and a military buildup; also on their side was the Minister for Air, Viscount Swinton, who argued at a cabinet meeting on 23 June 1936 that it was necessary to set up a proper army, air force and naval base on Cyprus.35 However, a joint planning-subcommittee concluded that it would cost less to expand military facilities in Egypt than in Cyprus. Besides, if Turkey was occupied by a hostile European power, Cyprus would face the danger of air bombing.36 A year later, the Chiefs of Staff insisted on avoiding military commitments in Cyprus – the island should not become ‘a second Gibraltar’.37 Thus the garrison would not be reinforced; This meant that, a permanent force to defend the island would include only five British officers and 170 NCOs and other ranks of the infantry, five signallers, nine NCOs and other ranks of the Army Service Corps, and one officer, five other ranks of the Medical Corps would be left, along with the Cypriot constabulary and police. No RAF aircraft were permanently stationed in Cyprus; still, planners believed that ‘from the air point of view, the strategic importance of Cyprus under existing conditions is small . . . The air facilities however are being improved, and if the necessity arose, air units could be readily based there.’38 Again ‘like every other part of the Empire, Cyprus must rely on the Navy for security from seaborne invasion . . . Immunity from attack . . . cannot, however, be guaranteed.’39 The 1938 Defence Scheme did not increase the garrison; planners merely argued in favour of stationing all the British infantry garrisons near the Troodos Mountains, so as to move, in case of an invasion or troubles, as a concentrated force against the enemy. In the event of imminent war, the British troops would be deployed in Nicosia waiting for orders, and one officer would act as an intelligence expert. This force, together with the police and the Cypriot constables, would have 60 days’ supplies. Additional war materiel could also be sent from Palestine by air.40 In his turn, Prime Minister Neville Chamberlain, anxious to promote good relations with Italy, was against building a base on Cyprus; nor did the Foreign Office, under Lord Halifax (following Eden’s resignation), advocate defence spending on the island. The Committee of Imperial Defence concluded simply that: ‘It was unnecessary to proceed any further with the idea of developing a base at Cyprus.’41

2 The Axis Threat

In 1939 the colonial administration founded the Cypriot Regiment, and, wary of Axis intentions in the Mediterranean, urged the War Office to reinforce the island’s defences. There was a suggestion for Princess Patricia to become Colonel-in-Chief of the regiment and for the unit to be named ‘The Princess Royal’s Own Cyprus Regiment’; but the military did not agree. The regiment’s commander, Colonel Cole, argued for the practice of naming regiments after geographical locations, rather than linking them to royalty any longer, and the suggestion was eventually abandoned.1 Commitments in North Africa and the need to establish an Allied presence in Vichy Syria inhibited sending more troops to Cyprus. Initially the Cypriot Regiment attracted very few volunteers from among either Greek- or Turkish-Cypriots. Only after the Italian invasion of Greece in October 1940 did more Cypriots, especially Greek-Cypriots, join commonwealth units. In 1941, 6,000 Cypriots in British units fought in Greece against the Germans, who had invaded in April. A total of 37,000 Cypriots fought together with the British in various war theatres, including Dunkirk in 1940 and Italy in 1943. The young Glafkos Clerides, the future President of the Republic of Cyprus, served as an RAF sergeant. He joined in 1939 and in 1942 took part in the bombing campaign against Hamburg, as a gunner in a Wellington bomber. On 26 July 1942, while on a raid, he was wounded when his plane was hit; however, the young sergeant parachuted safely and was taken by a Luftwaffe unit to a hospital in Bremen. He remained a prisoner of war until 1945.2 Right from the start of the war demands were heard for the Greek-Cypriots in Cyprus to be united with Greece after the end of hostilities. At that time Foreign Office diplomats, in their private consultations, were leaning towards ceding the island to Greece. In contrast, the Colonial Office, term-

24

Military Intelligence in Cyprus

ing Cyprus ‘a strategic colony’, lobbied the British government to make an unequivocal statement to the effect that Cyprus would always remain a Crown Colony.3 German propaganda also touched upon enosis. It was understood that information on the Cyprus domestic situation derived from a secret source living on the island. In March 1940, the Governor, Sir Charles Woolley, opined that these messages had been sent by Greek or Italian ship crews.4 Amongst much else the Germans’ grotesque propaganda asserted that: Our frequent broadcasts on the subjects [of Cyprus] are made possible by the enthusiastic support of patriotic Greeks. This is the latest letter from our Cypriot friends: The Cypriot people were extremely astonished when they heard themselves acclaimed as heroes of the British Empire . . . All real Cypriots are profoundly ashamed of such titles of heroism. No sincere Cypriot is willing to sacrifice a single drop of his blood for the Empire . . . What are the means which English tyranny is using? The newspapers, of course, cannot expose the real situation or the real wishes of the people in Cyprus. They are muzzled by the terrible press law . . . the Government in Cyprus is systematically organising hunger in order to force the people to volunteer. At the outbreak of the war, the two most important metal mines employing over eight thousand workers and producing such metals vital for the prosecution of the war as pyrites, copper and copper-pyrites, closed down. The employers paid their workers only their return fares to their villages and nothing else. Confidential orders have been given to Government and local authorities and to the contractors not to employ any worker under thirty-five. When the unemployed complained to the authorities, they received the frank reply: ‘Why don’t you volunteer? That would be a job for you.’ The citrus crop of fifty million oranges and ten million lemons valued at fifty-five thousand pounds sterling has remained entirely unsold. The fruit is still hanging on the trees, and if nothing is done within the next fifteen to twenty days the whole crop will rot. Meanwhile the Government has bought Spanish oranges to feed the Cypriot volunteers. Profiteering is rife. Within a single week the price of sugar in the district of Famagusta rose by nine to ten kurus. The wisest people in Cyprus are busy asserting that after the end of the war the richest man on the island will be the pricecontroller, the Hon. Sarridge . . . The Cypriots are ready to be heroic in the defence of their own liberty, but not for the British army. We would like to ask all those who are now loudly praising the attitude

The Axis Threat

25

of Cyprus, why if their tale is true, England does not grant to such a faithful people: (1) the right of choosing their own local government; (2) the right of being provided with their own Archbishop; (3) the right of asserting their Greek nationality and Greek history; (4) the right of congregating in groups of more than five people at a time; (5) why is the censorship still being maintained; (6) why are organizations which are legal in Great Britain not allowed to work in Cyprus; (7) why are newspapers which are legally printed in England not allowed to be sold in Cyprus; (8) why is there still no law regulating labour conditions; (9) why has the agrarian problem not been solved and the peasants saved from catastrophe; (10) why is the exportation of wine from Cyprus forbidden? 5 In mid-March German propaganda claimed that: Discontent in Cyprus is constantly increasing. On 9 March 1940 a general strike took place. This strike followed a series of local strikes. Dissatisfaction on the Island is caused by the fact that the prices of commodities of prime importance have risen since the outbreak of the war by 25%. There is furthermore, a great deal of dissatisfaction . . . the people of Cyprus think that this situation [of peasants starving due to no income from exports] has to cease once and for all; they hope that Germany will come out of this war victorious; they know that such a German victory would mean their own union with their Greek Fatherland.6 Next month it was declared that: . . . the Cypriots [fighting in France] know that the blood of Constantine XI [the last Byzantine emperor] has not been shed in order to make the Cypriots live as England’s helots. They know that the fabric of England’s domination is not very strong . . . Ireland too has been getting rid of English domination step by step, and the time is near when she will have received her complete independence. The struggle for the independence of Cyprus is just and holy. The Greeks ought never to forget Cyprus, since Cyprus represents the great and immediate duty of the whole nation.7 By spring 1941 the War Office, following the German victories from 1939 to April–May 1941, realised that Cyprus was now encircled by Axis-oc-

26

Military Intelligence in Cyprus

cupied territories. Greece was invaded by the Wehrmacht in April; Crete fell in late May; the Vichy regime ruled in Syria; the German Africa Corps was advancing in North Africa. The next target of an Axis invasion could be Cyprus, ran the assessment of the Imperial General Staff. By occupying the island the Germans could threaten Egypt and support the regime in Syria. Already, on 22 September 1940, the island had experienced the first bombing raid, by three planes of the Aeronautica Egeo (Aegean Air Force) of the Italian Regia Aeronautica, which dropped a total of 14 bombs; they fell in the sea at Xeros, with no casualties or damage inflicted. On 4 May 1941 the Italians bombed the Nicosia airfield, and in late May 1941 German and Italian bombers from bases on the Dodecanese islands, with others based in Vichy Syria, again attacked the island. Reporting on the impact of a bombing raid by eight Italian aircraft which dropped 95 bombs on Paphos, the Nicosia district and the north coast, Sir William Battershill, the outgoing Governor, remarked that no airfields or military installations had been hit, though two civilians had been killed. The damage was confined to small properties and livestock, and by late May the only enemy activity was air reconnaissance. Battershill, a strict administrator with an affection for Cyprus (he spent his retirement years there in the late 1940s), remained calm. He telegraphed the Colonial Office that he would not send them any new report on bombings unless the casualties and damage had been heavy.8 The Axis retained air superiority at that time; there were no anti-aircraft guns on Cyprus, and only two fighters to oppose enemy attacks.9 Reinforcing Cyprus was an urgent requirement. General Archibald Wavell decided that the 7th Australian Division’s Cavalry Regiment should be dispatched to the island. (In late April 1941, in a conversation with Battershill, Wavell quipped: ‘Sorry, we’re going to send you an Australian regiment.’ To this the Governor replied with a smile: ‘I’ve been married to an Australian for 25 years. What’s a regiment?’) The cavalry reached Cyprus at midday on 5 May 1941 and camped in Famagusta. According to the regimental bulletin the first night on the island was far from a quiet one: On the evening of their arrival those members of the Regiment not detailed for duty were granted town leave and, without a moment’s hesitation, headed straight for the night-spots of Famagusta. This sortie was to have grave short-term consequences for the physical well-being of the diggers. Over-indulgence in the local brews had a devastating effect on even the most hardened and impervious drinker. It was not more than two hours before the first survivors returned staggering to

The Axis Threat

27

the encampment, much the worse for wear, and the rest of the night was spent by those on duty retrieving sodden wrecks from all over the town . . . At a subsequent Court of Enquiry it was proved beyond reasonable doubt that no blame was attachable to any member of the Regiment for the events which occurred on the night of 5 May 1941 in the port of Famagusta, Cyprus. Evidence proved conclusively that the real culprit – the real fifth columnist – the true snake in the grass was the rough red wine of the country.’10 The Cypriots loved seeing new troops and welcomed the small regiment with their dated armour: As the Column of Route got further into the labyrinth of Main Street Famagusta, it became more obvious that our arrival had not been without impact. The street was veritably packed with the good citizens and yeomen cheering and shouting . . . From balconies protruding above the narrow street, the young virgins of the district (who, though few in number, had with prudence been locked upstairs) waved coloured tablecloths at us while downstairs their less prudent sisters showered us with flowers. Old men handed us bottles of wine and ouzo.11 The regiment brought with them a total of 15 Vickers Mk. VIA and B light tanks, 14 universal carriers, 48 trucks and four two-pounder anti-tank guns. The Australians would stay in Cyprus until 10 August 1941, leaving their weaponry behind for the British and Indian troops. By late May 1941, the garrison was composed of one British infantry battalion, the Australian divisional cavalry regiment, one Cypriot battalion (and another under formation), 300 volunteers, 600 armed police constables and some units of the Coast Watching and Observer Corps.12 Robert Gordon Menzies, the Australian Prime Minister, warned Churchill of the calamity which a forced evacuation from Cyprus would be, after those of Greece and Crete.13 Menzies wanted more troops to guard the island, or else – he suggested – the defence should be abandoned; he was not happy that Dominion troops were again to be employed, as they had been on other fronts. Later, in September 1941, Churchill did not hide his discontent at Auchinleck’s decision (to continue with Wavell’s policy) to send the Australians to Cyprus: I am grieved at Australian attitude but I have long feared the dangerous reactions on Australian and world opinion of our seeming to fight all our battles in the Middle East only with Dominion troops. For this

28

Military Intelligence in Cyprus

reason, apart from desire to reinforce you I have constantly pressed [for] sending out some British Infantry Divisions. Your decision to put 50th Division in Cyprus was, as you know, painful to us. I know that when you put it there you thought Cyprus was a place of special danger, but situation has been changed by Russian war . . .14 On 23 April 1941 the Joint Planning Staff at the War Cabinet, having received relevant secret intelligence, warned that: The immediate threat to Cyprus is from an airborne expedition, and we know that such an expedition is being prepared in Bulgaria. We do not think that the Germans will risk sacrificing their troop-carrying aircraft in Cyprus in view of other requirements for these aircraft to assist their attack on Egypt. They will therefore probably only land these aircraft in places where they can again take off. Thus the most important factor in the defence of the island will be the security of aerodromes and landing grounds.15 While the battle for Crete was entering its final phase, on 24 May the Joint Planning Staff deliberated on the course of action to be taken over Cyprus. The generals were faced with the need either to do everything to hold the island in the event of an Axis attack, or to withdraw their forces and employ them in the invasion of Syria. They assumed that by remaining in Cyprus, those forces could inhibit Axis links with Vichy Syria; while German sea communications with Syria ‘could not be severed’, a British presence in Cyprus could be regarded as a ‘threat’ to Axis aims for the military reinforcement of the Vichy regime.16 Simply ‘by denying Cyprus to the enemy we limit the possible air threat against Haifa, Egypt and the fleet in the Eastern Mediterranean.’ Besides, Cyprus was deemed ‘our one remaining line of communication with Turkey by sea’.17 The defence of Cyprus required a brigade, an armoured-car regiment, 30 light tanks and at least one heavy and two light anti-aircraft batteries; at that time all these represented a good part of the Middle East reserve.18 Once reinforcements were sent to Cyprus they would be lost to the North Africa campaign; most significantly, the troops would be ‘locked up’ on the island, and thus unavailable for rapid deployment elsewhere. After deliberation on whether to invade Vichy Syria or reinforce Cyprus, the planners concluded that the island should come first in priority, followed by preparations for the Syrian operation.19 However, this assessment changed the very next day, after the intervention of Eden. Thus:

The Axis Threat

29

Our general strategic policy in the Mediterranean as regards Cyprus, may be summarized [thus] . . . We could not hold Cyprus if the Germans are in occupation of Syria. Therefore it was decided at the meeting of the Defence Committee on the 27th of May not to reinforce Cyprus. A small garrison is to remain there in order to make sure that the Germans do not get the island for a song, but no reinforcements will be sent either now or if an attack is made.20 Already, on 14 May 1941, in a desperate deception scheme the garrison of Cyprus had been designated ‘7th Infantry Division’, in an attempt to deceive German signals intelligence.21 Next day, eight Italian bombers dropped some 100 bombs on the Paphos district, the Nicosia airfield, Kaimakli and the north coast, killing two civilians and injuring two others.22 The Imperial General Staff and Middle East HQ argued that the Germans could mount an airborne assault, backed by seaborne support troops. Nonetheless, Cyprus was protected by her geographical location. In late May 1941, the Joint Intelligence Sub-Committee of the War Cabinet assessed that the Germans, after the conclusion of the operation in Crete, would be able to send in up to 4,000 parachute troops on the first day of an attack, and another 6,000 over the following six days. But their paratroop units had suffered severe casualties in Crete, and could not regroup on time. Nor could they use their dive bombers (for accurate bombing), due to the distance from Cyprus of their bases in Rhodes.23 It was remarked that: ‘Attacks by dive bombers could only be made by Ju. 88s or by Ju. 87s fitted with extra tanks, with a resultant loss of effectiveness.’24 Paratroopers could land in the central plain of the island, an area 80 miles long by 20 miles broad; there were some eight sites designated as possible landing-grounds. The defenders wanted to keep open at least two airfields for their own use.25 The generals concluded that ‘the task of landing air-borne troops in Cyprus is easier that it is in Crete, due to the topographical features of the island . . .’26 Key ports to be defended would be Famagusta, together with Larnaca, Paphos and Kyrenia. Studying the island’s geography, and assessing the military requirements of the German invading force, the British estimated that the most likely landing places would be three wide beaches near Famagusta and two near Larnaca, close to the airfield and Morphou Bay. The Axis troops, airborne and seaborne, would make use of the good system of main roads to reach towns and villages, cutting off the defenders’ enclaves.27 Early warning could save the defenders – the Royal Navy fleet stationed at Alexandria could intercept the German seaborne force, provided the lat-

30

Military Intelligence in Cyprus

ter were detected more than 14 hours’ steaming from Cyprus; but with any less notice than this, the Royal Navy could do nothing. Even warships anchored in Famagusta would need at least eight hours to reach Morphou Bay, one of the possible invasion sites.28 Nonetheless, in the event of a landing, some light warships acting as an advance striking force could prevent the disembarkation of some of the Axis units.29 The Joint Intelligence SubCommittee doubted the Germans would form a task force – in the shape of a full convoy – for a seaborne invasion; if German paratroopers established a bridgehead, the Kriegsmarine would dispatch warships singly or in small groups to bring in some heavy equipment, such as artillery and vehicles.30 Intelligence of the Germans’ real intentions was reassuring. By 30 May there had been no indication that they were planning to invade Cyprus for the time being: Agree no report no indication at present of any enemy intention to occupy Cyprus. We remain of opinion that any large scale attack by air and/or sea is unlikely unless enemy obtains possession of squadrons in Southern Anatolia. In worst case we should then get three weeks notice before attack develops on Cyprus. Seaborne attack supported by cruisers or destroyers extremely unlikely owing to lack of fighter cover, unless seizure of portion of island has been previously effected by airborne attack.31 On 4 June, the same reassuring assessment remained: ‘There is still hardly any reference to possible German designs on Cyprus.’32 At the same time, the Chiefs of Staff Committee in London admitted there were constraints on any rapid reinforcement of the island. They argued that: ‘The limitations imposed . . . on the dispatch of reinforcements to Cyprus need not prevent the garrison from putting-up a stout-hearted and active defence if attacked.’33 So they toyed with a plan for launching a guerrilla-warfare campaign against the Axis invaders. The geography of the island could help commandos and guerrillas to harass the enemy as long as they had war materiel in hidden arms dumps.34 General Sir John Dill, Chief of the Imperial General Staff, suggested ‘organising defence on a guerrilla basis’. Cypriot garrison troops, particularly security-services personnel and Cypriots, ‘if suitable material exists’, could sabotage Axis aircraft stationed on the island, in the event the Germans managed to occupy it.35 On 27 June 1941 the Cyprus Commando was hastily formed, a unit composed of 50 Cypriot mountain dwellers loyal to the British to operate in the Troodos mountains after an invasion.36 However,

The Axis Threat

31

the unit, deemed inefficient, was to be disbanded after six months. According to a defence scheme promulgated on 6 August 1941 the Cyprus garrison would also deal with ‘fifth column activities’. At the time of an airborne assault, teams of agents would be: ‘a. passing as Germans (or Italians) with a view to misdirecting people and chalking up in German misdirection for traffic, etc., b. natives [Cypriots] who could dispose booby traps at night’.37 It was up to the SOE to undertake the role of building a guerrilla capability, and plans would become more sophisticated than the directive quoted above, as we will explore in the next chapter. While the last Commonwealth troops had been withdrawing from Crete, the Colonial Office sent a confusing directive to Battershill on what to do with his administration in case of attack. The Colonial Secretary (W.E. Guinness) required that: [The] colonial government should continue to function and give all possible assistance to military. If military position became untenable and armed forces had to surrender, civil government would have to surrender as well. If however military situation became untenable and armed forces including Cypriot units should attempt to evacuate you and English officials should if possible be withdrawn with armed forces.38 Battershill warned of the declining morale of the population, and argued against fighting a battle for the colony which could only mean civilian casualties and destruction. At a time when Churchill had urged England and the Commonwealth to endure Axis aggression and to fight back in any way they could, Battershill’s telegram was a dissonant note: It is recognised that in the face of determined attack we cannot do more than delay the occupation of the enemy. On Cretan analogy delay would be comparatively short. Our defence is in effect to be a ‘token’ one which is certain to involve inter alia destruction of main towns and villages with much loss of life. If this short delay is vital to our war effort then sacrifices must be accepted. If it is not essential then it seems to me to be a half measure which will gain us nothing. There would be some destruction to enemy forces but we also may expect to suffer military losses. We shall gain nothing in prestige but shall cause untold suffering to civilian Cypriots. Morale of majority of Cypriots is at its lowest ebb having sunk rapidly after Crete. Though of course they know nothing of our plan, they know what troops are here and what happened in Crete. They do not understand why our defences

32

Military Intelligence in Cyprus

are not stronger. I cannot raise their morale by words alone and difficulties in this respect have been increased by general strike without any warning yesterday of printers trade union involving all Nicosia newspapers none of which appeared today. This is a sign of the times. General attitude is shown by the remark ‘if the English cleared out we should not suffer.’ Possibly some are thinking of Channel Islands [i.e. of the German occupation there]. There are many mutterings. In the event of invasion we can expect little help from them and some might even turn against us. Morale has not been improved by removal of one battalion from the island yesterday or by presence of Poles and Jews whose evacuation I suggested by telegram on 1st May and as to which I have received no decision.39 In his turn, Eden examined the repercussions of an invasion on the political level. He feared the taking-over of Cyprus by the Axis and a subsequent offer of the island by Hitler to the Greek Quisling government. Besides, in a special assessment the Royal Institute of International Affairs argued that since 1878 Cyprus had made ‘no contribution to the security of British Empire interests’;40 the authors believed in the low strategic value of Cyprus for the Empire. Eden seemed inclined to discuss post-war arrangements for Cyprus with the Greeks, so as to counter any offer by the Germans. He saw the Cyprus question, for Britain, as involving the Germans and not simply the Greeks. The Foreign Secretary believed that there could be a post-war cession of Cyprus to Greece such that ‘Turkey’s strategic interests’ would be safeguarded (London would keep the balance between Greece and Turkey). Also, the British could establish military bases on Cyprus, Crete or the Dodecanese in return for enosis. Eden sounded apprehensive; he felt they had no time. If the Germans (who were assumed to be planning an invasion) offered Cyprus to the Quisling government, London should put pressure on the Greek government-in-exile not to accept it. He urged consultations with the government-in-exile ‘at once’ so that ‘if and when’ the Germans invaded and offered the island to the Greeks it would repudiate the Nazi offer. There was also a suggestion that London (if called to do so by the governmentin-exile) should issue a joint statement ‘that our two governments [have] already agreed to discuss conditions under which the sovereignty of the Island should, after the war, be transferred from Great Britain to Greece’.41 By late autumn 1941, Prime Minister Emmanuel Tsouderos, head of the Greek government-in-exile, in an emotional speech in London referred to postwar Greece and Cyprus, remarking: ‘I visualise a Greater Greece including . . . Cyprus.’ Greek-Cypriots hailed this statement, but Eden responded in

The Axis Threat

33

a bid to avoid any misunderstanding with the Greeks; thus on 2 December 1941 a joint Anglo-Greek statement clarified that the cession of the island to Greece was ‘not under consideration’ by the two governments.42 At that time the Foreign Secretary sounded confident that Cyprus would remain a Crown Colony despite declarations of enosis by Greek-Cypriots.43 On 8 June 1941 British forces commenced the invasion of Vichy Syria, RAF aircraft flying missions from bases in Palestine and Cyprus. Next day, a French Loire 130 fighter attacked the port of Famagusta, dropping two bombs and damaging a transport ship. A week later, on 16 June, Swordfish biplanes from the 815 Squadron torpedoed three French cruisers off Latakia. On 17 and 26 June, the Vichy regime carried out air-reconnaissance missions over Cyprus, and on 5 July two Vichy fighters bombed a ship and the Nicosia air base, destroying a Hurricane fighter. Two days later the French again sent aircraft on reconnaissance missions, and German Ju88s based in Crete set out to bomb a Royal Navy light-cruiser squadron off Lebanon, but were intercepted by Cyprus-based Hurricanes. The Luftwaffe was moving closer to Cyprus. On 18 July four Ju88s overflew the Gulf of Morphou, one eventually being shot down by a British fighter. (The Cypriot press hailed the Hurricane pilot, Lieutenant George Westlake, who was the first to destroy a German plane over Cyprus.) On 26 August Italian aircraft bombed some military installations, but caused little actual damage; one Cant Z1007 was destroyed by British fighters.44 During the summer months the Italians did not renew bombing, and only in September assaulted some military targets in Famagusta, Larnaca and Nicosia. On 23 September, they sank a transport ship south-east of Cyprus. The Aeronautica Egeo concentrated their squadrons on the North Africa front, and assigned insufficient aircraft for attacks on Cyprus. Meanwhile, the RAF interdicted Vichy Syria from getting any help in the air from the Axis.45 In sum, in 1941 30 air raids took place over Cyprus, leaving nine civilians dead and 56 injured. The same year the 50th Division Supply Column arrived in Cyprus, and were stationed in Salamis. On 21 August Italian bombers attacked the base and two soldiers, Private R. Bulmer and Driver L. Gledhill, were killed; they were to be the only service casualties from enemy action on Cyprus during the course of war.46 The Cyprus police were assigned to air-raid protection, the Police Commissioner undertaking the role of Commandant of the Air Raid Precaution Service – in a sense, a tactical air-intelligence role. Police officers heading the six police divisions were also air-raid protection commanders, organising the service on a local level. The Precaution Service was composed of the Wardens’ Service, the Fire Service, the Medical and First Aid Service, the

34

Military Intelligence in Cyprus

Rescue Party Service and the Messenger Service; it was part-time compulsory work for Cypriots.47 Cyprus could easily have been taken over by the Axis in early summer 1941, once the Germans had re-organised their forces in Crete. According to Liddell Hart, General Kurt Student, the commander of the XI Air Corps, proposed attacking Cyprus after the battle of Crete but Hitler turned down his plan.48 At that time the British force was inadequate, there were no anti-aircraft guns, and anti-Axis guerrilla plans were no more than ideas discussed in military conferences. The British military were more interested in ousting the Syrian Vichy regime than they were in defending Cyprus. Besides, military intelligence gave no indication of any Axis preparations for invasion after the fall of Crete. Intelligence – surely from signals and Enigma – eased fears in London and Cairo, and paved the way for the invasion of Syria. For the island, however, the invasion threat remained real, and Cyprus headquarters employed a strategic deception scheme to make Italians and Germans believe that the island was defended by more than enough infantry and armour. The deception scheme lasted from early summer 1941 to late 1943. It encompassed dummy gun-positions, airfields, bunkers, aircraft, and technical features like fake German devices for signalling in aircraft landings. Field deception was also linked to demolition plans for roads, bridges and water supplies prepared by the Royal Engineers. The overall deception strategy took time to be planned by staff officers and implemented by local command, but by November 1941 the British had secured samples of German stripe devices and the Ordnance Depot was ordered to manufacture 180 to deceive airborne troops. RAF Middle East HQ provided technical data on the building of dummy airfields for a lieutenant acting as ‘deception officer’ in Cyprus. Major Hutton, an expert in such deception, was also dispatched to Cyprus to give advice on the subject.49 However, the commander of the 25th Army Corps, Major-General Mosley Mayne, did not approve the defence arrangements set up by the outgoing 18th Corps, and a new defence plan would be drafted by early January 1942.50 By late October 1941, a dummy airfield was established near Paphos, near where a real one was operating. It was suggested that real pill-boxes should be camouflaged to look like water wheels, and more dummy pillboxes around the airfields constructed to draw the invaders’ attention. The airfield at Limassol, meanwhile, lacked adequate defences, since no units were stationed near the beach, mines and booby traps were laid in dummy coastal buildings.51

The Axis Threat

35

At that time, before SOE was involved into defence planning, Lieutenant Druiff, a deception officer who had initially been attached to the 18th Army Corps, reported that the ISLD (Inter-Service Liaison Department) and Cyprus military-intelligence agents ‘for fifth column activities’ should co-ordinate their operations in the event of invasion. After discussions with General William Ramsden, the commander of the outgoing 18th Army Corps, it was recommended that two dummy airfields be built, together with 40 dummy Hurricane fighters and 40 dummy Bofors anti-aircraft guns. In addition, the salt lake of Larnaca should be ‘drained to give the appearance of dryness but to remain sufficient boggy’ to invite the enemy transport to crash land there and stick in the mud; this scheme was an ‘ecological’ deception difficult to implement. In addition, dummy buildings would be constructed nearby. On the north and north-west coasts dummy bunkers and defence works would deceive German air reconnaissance into spotting installations to be destroyed.52 Eventually, a fake divisional-garrison defence plan was leaked to Italian military intelligence. Bogus brigade HQs at Nicosia, Athienou and Limassol had been set up to deceive Axis signals intelligence. As remarked at the time: ‘It was believed that this very primitive deception [in summer 1941], aided by deliberate careless talk about the arrival of troops, could be kept up for a month . . .’53 Later, British intelligence managed to acquire an Italian military map of Cyprus. This document turned out to be based on the British deception scheme, as well as on the ‘common sense’ of the Italian officer who produced it. ‘Fantasy was the greater part of the document,’ commented an intelligence officer: the ‘airfields’ at Styllos and Aradhipou were identified by Italian intelligence, the latter being ‘revealed’ by a deliberately compromised British cipher used by one ‘Major Gordon’. During the summer of 1941, Italian bombers and reconnaissance aircraft assigned great importance to Paphos, where the Italian map indicated some 5,000 troops were stationed; in reality only 1,200 were stationed in the area.54 The intelligence officer responsible for analysing the Italian military map of Cyprus concluded with the following summary: This map does not show leakage of such valuable information from the island as to compromise the existing defence plan . . . the general appreciation of our lay-out is correct, though in detail it is very inaccurate . . . the strategic deception of summer 1941 had a considerable degree of success . . . the more recent field deception has not yet had its effect (owing mainly to the cessation of Italian reconnaissance flights).55

36

Military Intelligence in Cyprus

By April 1942, Major-General Mayne had redrafted the defence of Cyprus, counting on the concept of ‘mobile columns of all arms’ operating in large areas. Within one to three hours from receipt of tactical intelligence of an airborne assault, the defenders could confront and encircle the Axis paratroopers at their dropping zones; and in order to inhibit and delay the landing of gliders and transport aircraft, Mayne argued in favour of setting up hummocks in open areas. (Believing in the vital contribution of such hummocks to the defence of Cyprus, he allocated £65,000 to the project – approximately the production cost of two heavy bombers.56) By August 1942, the 25th Army Corps estimated that the Axis would attempt an invasion only by first advancing through Southern Anatolia, i.e, invading Turkey; it was considered that for the Axis an attack, either by sea or from the air, without bases in Turkey ‘would be unwise if not impracticable’. The Germans needed air cover for their invading forces, while the British believed more in the danger of a sea-borne assault (in contrast to their view in the aftermath of Crete in 1941). In any event, the battle of Cyprus would be divided into three distinct phases. In the first, the Royal Navy and the RAF would intercept the Axis before their sea-air landing. In the second phase, some enemy forces would succeed in landing on the island, from the sea and air. Mobile forces would therefore pursue the enemy and together with demolition teams would attempt to destroy some of the airfields to inhibit more Axis landings. By the third phase of the battle, all allied aircraft would have been destroyed, and the Allied-controlled airfields could therefore not serve as bases for attacks against the advancing Germans and Italians; air support would be provided by bases in the Levant. As a last resort, the garrison would fight in the Troodos mountains.57 Planners assumed that the central plain of Morphou-Nicosia-Famagusta would be the main objective of the invaders, because of the key communication-hubs and main airfields located there. Thus defending the central plain, as well as holding the northern and southern coastal plains (for reinforcements), would be the main priority of the 25th Army Corps. Staff officers responsible for the defence of Cyprus attempted to think like their German opponents if the latter were planning an invasion: . . . it is the Eastern and Western plains that give him [the enemy] direct access to the centre of the Island, give him room for manoeuvre and areas suitable for landing grounds. The sea approaches to the Eastern end of the Island are narrow and liable to sea and air attack. It is probable, however, that the enemy will accept these risks, and that the main enemy attack will be made on the Western and Eastern plains,

The Axis Threat

37

possibly combined with an attack on the Southern coastal plain . . . it must be assumed that the enemy has a fairly accurate picture of the lay-out of the defences and location of mobile reserves. About one third of the Island is a potential landing ground which will enable enemy parachutists and gliders to land at most suitable points to enable them to concentrate against their selected objectives.58 Finally, it was emphasised that the Axis troops would be aware of the mobile-defence strategy, and thus might find a way of blocking roads to inhibit the reinforcement of areas under threat.59 Still, Middle East Forces HQ did not rule out the possibility of evacuation. In a March 1942 operations instruction it was stated that: Should the enemy invade Turkey and advance to, and across, the Northern frontier of Syria, Cyprus may have to be evacuated. Joint plans will therefore be prepared . . . for the evacuation of the approved garrison and air forces . . . the preparation of these plans will be kept most secret, and known to a very limited number of officers.60 Viscount Cranborne, the new Colonial Secretary, complained to Churchill that the garrison was totally inadequate for defence, and something should have been done to deter an invasion.61 Sir Alan Brooke agreed, adding that he was in communication with Auchinleck (C-in-C Middle East) to consider increasing the garrison.62 For his part, Governor Woolley, participating in a war council at Middle East HQ, argued that in the event of a withdrawal from Cyprus, prior to a German attack, he and the colonial administration should be left behind. In addition, Auchinleck suggested Cyprus be declared ‘an open island’ – a view in which the war council concurred but with which the Colonial Secretary strongly disagreed:63 . . . in such a contingency no useful purpose would be served by declaring Cyprus an open island. Such a declaration would have no effect in international law and would not deter enemy bombing island if he thought it in his interests to do so. It would also have unfortunate moral effect abroad. C-in-C Middle East is being so informed.64 By September 1943 the Cyprus garrison had grown to 10,500 troops: 1,500 British (anti-aircraft, coastal artillery), 6,000 Indian (infantry) and 3,000 Cypriots (administrative units). The 25th Army Corps headquarters, however, ‘was solely for purposes of deception. It is in fact a skeleton HQ’, as

38

Military Intelligence in Cyprus

Alan Brooke told Churchill, who had enquired about sending troops from Cyprus to Greece. The ill-fated campaign in the Dodecanese had started, but the Cyprus garrison could not contribute troops for the operations in the south-east Aegean.65 Furthermore, the island was of limited use to RAF fighters due to its distance from Rhodes.66

3 The Special Operations Executive

By spring 1941, the War Office realised that Cyprus was now encircled by Axis-occupied territories. Greece was invaded by the Wehrmacht in April, Crete fell in late May and the Vichy regime ruled in Syria. The German Africa Corps was advancing in North Africa. The Imperial General Staff’s assessment was that the next target of an Axis invasion could be Cyprus: by occupying the island the Germans could threaten Egypt and support Vichy Syria. On 22 September 1940 the island had already experienced the first bombing by Italian aircraft, and in late May 1941 German and Italian bombers from bases on the Dodecanese islands, with some from Vichy Syria, attacked the island. From spring 1941 onwards the Imperial General Staff and Middle East HQ warned that the Germans could mount an airborne assault backed by seaborne support troops;1 and SOE were soon called upon to plan for a guerilla campaign in the event of an invasion. In the early days of the war the organisation of local intelligence was assigned to the Cyprus police. Acting under the Immigration (Registration of Aliens) Regulation 1939, police authorities kept a close watch on all aliens reaching Cyprus. Italian subjects were arrested and held in the Kyrenia castle and later at the Berengaria Hotel in Prodromos; female enemy subjects held at an interment house in Nicosia. In 1940, a total of 170 aliens were being detained, of whom 113 were later released; another 406 lived on the island under some form of restriction. In mid-July 1941, 246 German and Italian Jews were eventually allowed to leave the island, but another 31 enemy aliens were arrested. Meanwhile, refugees from Europe were massing in the island. In 1942 some 46 Bulgarians, Romanians and Hungarians were

40

Military Intelligence in Cyprus

initially detained, while 15,125 Greek refugees reached Cyprus during the course of the war. The influx of 500 Polish refugees in 1940, together with a consul and his staff, was the first humanitarian crisis to which the colony had to respond. The Poles established a small intelligence bureau which worked with the police to discover if there were secret agents amongst the refugees. None were found, but the Poles’ mail was intercepted.2 Defending Cyprus with a guerilla force, or at least harassing the enemy troops in the first days of the invasion, was the War Office planners’ idea. Churchill himself argued that: . . . if the enemy comes in force before we have got hold of Syria, the fifteen hundred men in Cyprus will have to take to the mountains, which are rugged and high, and there maintain a guerilla [force] as long as possible . . . If the Germans defeat the guerillas in the mountains, we shall probably get a good many away. Chiefs of Staff do not think this is an unfair task to set troops. There are many worse in war . . .3 General Sir John Dill, the Chief of the Imperial General Staff, suggested ‘organising defence on a guerilla basis’. Cypriot garrison troops, particularly security-service personnel and Cypriots, ‘if suitable material exists’ could sabotage Axis aircraft stationed on the island, in the event the Germans had managed to occupy it.4 On 27 June 1941 the Cyprus Commando was hastily formed, composed of 50 Cypriot mountaineers loyal to the British, to operate in the Troodos mountains in the event of an invasion. However, the unit did not prove efficient and or even generally adequate, and was disbanded after six months.5 According to a defence-scheme layout of 6 August 1941, the garrison of Cyprus would also handle ‘fifth column activities.’ During the airborne assault, the teams of agents would be ‘a. passing as Germans (or Italians) with a view of misdirecting people and chalking up in German misdirections [sic] for traffic, etc., b. natives [Cypriots] who could dispose booby traps at night’.6 It was left to SOE to undertake the task of building up this guerilla capability. SOE operational plans for the defence of Cyprus were divided into two separate phases: phase one covered the pre-occupation and phase two the post-occupation period. During phase one, the British established a secret refuelling base in the port of Famagusta. There small ships, caïques and fishing vessels, sometimes equipped with false bulkheads, received instructions, fuel and other supplies; their mission was to facilitate the escape of military personnel and secret agents from Axis-occupied countries, and to transport weapons and war materiel from Greece and Turkey. The SOE managed the

The Special Operations Executive

41

finance and the supplies for these activities. Dumps for money, weapons and explosives were established throughout the island, and the 25th Army Corps assigned some personnel to SOE for guard duties and war-materiel transfer. Wireless operators, mainly of Greek origin, were called up to be on stand-by, ready for military training. An example of this secret recruiting is included in a signal to the military in late July 1942: ‘One Greek wireless transmitter operator is urgently required. He should come in under the cover as a waiter and be suffering from slight epilepsy to cover his non-attendance in the Greek Army.’7 All was now ready for the post-invasion phase two. Air reconnaissance proved valuable in locating rural sites into which supplies and secret agents could be parachuted. Curiously enough, SOE planned to start the military training of the guerillas only on the eve of the German invasion, or even after it. British secret agents had also implemented a scheme of propaganda cells, but this was to operate only after invasion and not before. An SOE officer recommended that ‘a whispering organisation should be set up immediately. The organisation must not, however, be used for SOE activities until Phase II . . . Greek civilians introduced under cover of refugees will probably be the most suitable for these cells.’8 In phase two the British would activate their guerilla warfare assets. SOE staff officers warned that: ‘Phase two activities can only be carried out if the Cypriots become willing to co-operate [with us].’ In other words, nothing was taken for granted: Greek- and Turkish-Cypriots might have their own agendas, and the British effort could end up merely in espionage rather than full-blown guerilla warfare to ‘set Cyprus ablaze’, as Churchill had ordered SOE to do in occupied Europe. Accordingly, the operational priorities of phase two would be: a. The organisation of ‘a go slow’ movement through the cells already formed in the pre-occupational period, b. The subversive political activity by promoting local antagonisms, c. The post-occupational sabotage by agents directed particularly against shipping and air installations, d. The encouragement and support of guerilla activity in conjunction with HQ 25 Corps. Note: Until the Cypriots are prepared to co-operate, activities will be restricted to obtaining information and increasing contacts.9 Perhaps SOE planned to exploit Greek-Cypriot and Turkish-Cypriot antagonisms in order to cause difficulties for the occupation force – the Germans might not be able to manage ethnic rivalries between the two communities. While the British had called up expatriate civilian volunteers and some

42

Military Intelligence in Cyprus

‘loyal Cypriots as guides’ to man their guerilla teams, they were certainly not willing to defend their colony by themselves: if the Cypriots were not interested in siding with them, then they would follow an espionage-only strategy against the Axis. There was a good deal of suspicion towards the Cypriots in general. SOE officers noted that: It is useless to train Cypriots for a guerilla role in a pre-occupational period as they cannot be trusted to carry out their tasks. It is considered that such Cypriots as prove loyal and capable after enemy occupation of the country should be trained for sabotage . . .10 SOE did not admit it in writing, but memories of the 1931 Greek-Cypriot revolt that had ended up in the burning of the Governor’s house were still alive. In political terms Cyprus was starting to become something of a hotbed for British colonialism. The military and SOE had to find ways in time to protect the island from Axis occupation. To this challenge SOE’s reply – that they would commence training commandos only just before the invasion, or even later – was in a sense a controversial one. ‘Let the Germans come first,’ it was thought, ‘occupy the land and then we will organise the locals into resistance groups.’ Meanwhile, the smuggling of military personnel and escapees from occupied countries, as well as supplying the resistance groups with weapons, money, explosives and ‘dutiable goods’, using caïques and other small vessels, was a job for trusted secret agents, English and Dutch, who had made their careers in shipping. In the pre-occupation phase SOE was not involved in the smuggling scheme, which had been unofficially sanctioned by the Chief Secretary of the colonial government.11 Dutiable goods were to be a key source of finance for SOE: it was planned that during the occupation, secret agents would sell them on the Cypriot black market, thus raising money to pay agents for sabotage and subversion. The SOE method of profiteering was as follows: There is already in the island a reasonably sound smuggling organization which it is proposed to use. D/H293’s [code number] chief agent will be responsible for the dumping of small quantities of dutiable goods from one of our caïques. The cut-out will then pay cash down for the stores at a price approximately that of a cost price in Cairo, or at least at no less than cost price. This money will then be refunded to Cairo. The stores will then be collected, and passed through such cells as may be ordered

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by the field commander [of SOE in Cyprus] until finally they are sold to the black market in various parts of the island. The selling price will be considerably higher than cost price and the difference will go to the paying of the various contacts. The field commander will be aware as to exactly who has handled the goods and thus will be able to trace loss. The ‘smugglers’ will in fact be agents who will be paid either by the fact of selling the goods to each other at a profit, or who will be paid by D/H293’s chief agent in proportion to the work and the danger involved . . . D/H293 has now completed his plans and is ready to receive the first consignment of goods from Cairo. He suggests a mixed bag of silk stockings, whisky, gin, cosmetics, cartridges and ten sovereigns as a suitable start . . . these will then be taken out in small quantities in sealed petrol tins . . . The scheme has the approval of the Chief Secretary though naturally those agents who are caught will have to take what punishment is meted out. The risk is small, and in no way can the ‘firm’ [SOE] be involved, as the system of cut-out is complete.12 The black market was fertile territory for business. Another SOE officer remarked that: ‘[The] black market pays and people are not only fed up with it, but they also take it as a regular and legal profession. It would cost more [than court proceedings, fines and imprisonment] in municipal tax to ask for a permit and open a shop.’13 ‘Joppe’ (code number A/H195) and ‘Murat’ (code number A/H195) had been key agents in the smuggling business. Joppe was a ‘wealthy Dutchman and the field commander’s chief agent’. He contributed a great deal to SOE operations, to the extent that: ‘In the event of his death his widow should be paid a pension or gratuity by SOE on the scale of that paid to a Major in the organisation.’ Both Joppe and Murat also received instructions from SIS.14 Relations between SOE and the general staff of the 25th Army Corps in Cyprus were not smooth, regular staff officers remaining unconvinced of the value of post-invasion guerrilla warfare. By January 1943, the ‘Taker Plan’ – the contingency plan for the defence of Cyprus – had been altered: instead of a last line of defence in the Troodos mountains, it was decided that the commonwealth force’s armoured units would defend the island’s central plain, while the infantry protected the airfields. SOE was under strong pressure to change its phase-two plans for post-occupation operations. The key role in the argument between SOE and 25th Army Corps was played by the latter’s new commanding officer, General Hughes. It was controversially remarked that:

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[He] will not consider any mention of the organisation or guerilla forces in the hills or any mention of sanctuary of stragglers in hills from the point of view of morale. Thus SOE plans will have to be done without the knowledge of the military forces. It is considered that the Army will assist any such plans but to what extent is not yet decided.15 In a report dated 29 February 1943, Major A.G. Rumbold (code number D/H426) stated that: There is to be no planned withdrawal from any of the defended areas. The whole plan is based on a final stand in the battle positions. No mention of any organisation for the reception of troops in the hills is allowed until such time as the battle is obviously lost.16 While the prompt planning of the guerilla strategy was being jeopardised by 25th Army Corps officers’ opposition to the concept of guerillas ‘in the hills’, SOE was struggling to find suitable officers for the post-occupation resistance cells. It was decided that an army officer with knowledge of the island and of Greek would be commissioned as an intelligence officer in the 25th Army Corps to undertake the training of 20 ‘rally officers’, who would be assigned to the Cyprus Volunteer Force as liaison officers. These would not be tied up meanwhile in any military duties, and would be ready to be called up by SOE for irregular warfare training. These 20 men would be the first guerilla group leaders. In addition, three caves in the mountains were to be prepared as weapons and explosives dumps. Time was short; SOE had to act quickly to prepare and guard these facilities unwatched by the military. Until early 1943, the dumps had been located in the central plain, where they would be easily traceable by Axis forces after the invasion.17 By February 1943, it was decided that the SOE units in the occupation period would be manned by stragglers and by survivors of the battles with the Axis, as well as by the rally officers and Cypriot fighters. A network of wireless transmitters was established, operated by Greek signalers who also worked for secret agent Joppe and for the propaganda branch of the SOE. The SOE field commander would stay on the island after the coming of the Germans; his mission would be ‘to advise the Military Raiding Force or guerilla commander, supply of SOE stores and money and to train and organise guides for raiding and sabotage parties’.18 Thus SOE had to secure and maintain a six month supply of war materiel in dumps, for about 1,000 fighters undertaking subversion, sabotage

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and propaganda. For the time being the majority of the dumps would remain under military guard, but on the eve of the invasion they would come under SOE.19 ‘All administrative planning has been done on this basis’: the 1,000 were to fight for six months only. SOE and the 25th Corps agreed that by mid-May 1943 all preparations should have been made.20 The rally officers, who could reach 22 in number, would be trained in the forest of Paphos, where all the large dumps would be established. A demolition plan drafted by SOE, with the material assistance of the military, would prepare a prioritised list of roads to be destroyed to protect the forest and the nearby hills from Axis intrusion during the first days of the battle for Cyprus.21 During the occupation, Commandos would guide escapees to this area, which would be a safe haven, and SOE would conduct a ‘whispering campaign in the villages’. However, SOE would not have the military authority in the occupation period: it was decided that: ‘The command of the Raiding Forces will be taken over by Senior Military Officer who reached the safe harbour. D/H293 will be his Chief Adviser and organizer of all SOE duties.’ Major Chapman’s (code number D/H293) headquarters would be staffed by 2nd Lt. Dray (D/H291) of the Royal Artillery as a propaganda officer, Lt. J. Lees (D/H475) as the SOE military-training officer, secret agent Murat (A/H195) as chief agent of the maritime organisation, a Mr Waterer as assistant to Major Chapman, and a Mr. Cullen as ‘chief liaison officer with the local population’. Eventually, 25th Corps provided SOE with 500 rifles, 150 submachine-guns and 2,000 Hawkins grenades. Captured German and Italian arms, like 20 eight-mm Swartzlichen and ten 6.5mm Breda machine-guns were also made available.22 However, the recruitment of Cypriot secret agents was proceeding slowly. SOE’s chief agent for internal organisation was A/H193. He reported that he was working slowly in order to find the best and most loyal informants. Until February 1943, his deputy had brought three trusted men into the workings of British intelligence. The main missions of the internal organisation of SOE in Cyprus were: ‘a. general disruptions of enemy communications, b. thefts from dumps [dumps under Axis guard], c. interference with [Axis] radio transmission, d. ‘go-slow’ movements, e. prevention of the recovery of mines, f. assassinations.’ Assassinations seem the darkest area of the SOE’s planned missions, but unfortunately in the declassified files at the UK National Archives there is no more information to be found on targets and methods. The SOE team that reviewed the plans emphasised that they put more trust in Greeks than in Greek- or Turkish-Cypriots; it was noted that: ‘The majority of this work [SOE missions] will be done by Greeks’.23 In addition, the Cyprus Police were aiming to establish a ‘secret civil-

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ian police.’ A trusted Cypriot secret agent was ordered by Superintendant A.M. Bell to recruit sub-agents and informers. The Cypriot worked on this scheme for some time, but ‘after he got everything ready the whole scheme was turned down.’24 Unfortunately there are no further clues in the files examined but the concept of ‘secret civilian police’ sounds uncharacteristic of the workings of British intelligence; the police had been operating covert surveillance, employing local informers. Why was it necessary to have a ‘secret police by civilians’ in Cyprus? It is a question difficult to answer. In their turn, the 25th Corps signals branch made arrangements for the wirelesstransmitter networks that linked their HQ with the raiding forces’ groups and the SOE field commander.25 Small Cypriot cities and villages, with their dusty roads, were turned into epicentres of propaganda, political espionage, anti-colonial agitation, intrigue and crime. The agents and informers maintained by SOE and SIS acted from a range of different motives and aspirations. The average SOE informer in Cyprus, meanwhile, was paid up to £6 sterling per week.26 SOE officers proved to have a good grasp of the propaganda to be employed in Cyprus. By early 1944, Major Chapman met with Hugh Foot, the new colonial administration Secretary, and both agreed that they needed to do something to boost the morale of the people and persuade them to side with the British war effort. They believed that the colonial government and SOE should draft a joint propaganda strategy, ‘avoiding conflict of policy’. Key propaganda methods would be anonymity, oral dissemination and secrecy. They pointed out that: . . . to be really successful here, propaganda must not be recognizable as such, nor its source recognisable as official British . . . the peculiar value of oral dissemination, which appears more spontaneous, more independent, at a time when printing is controlled and publishing licensed. Under such conditions, indeed, oral propaganda is the only means of preserving anonymity. The absolute need of maintaining secrecy is to ensure that anonymous propaganda is not attributable to Government.27 Foot argued that they needed to develop a propaganda strategy in conjunction with Middle East HQ. He warned that colonial strategies derived from other imperial outposts might not prove useful in Cyprus, where: politics are delicate, complex and peculiar . . . it would be disastrous to transfer staff from, say, Eritrea to Cyprus, in the belief that the experience they had gained there would qualify them to tackle problems

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here . . . it would be necessary for a cut and dried plan to be put up to the Governor [of Cyprus] on a ministerial level, or by the head of our propaganda department in the Middle East, who could speak authoritatively for the organization as a whole.28 Foot did not wish to plan the propaganda strategy with Major Chapman alone; he sought the approval of London and Middle East HQ, thus sharing responsibility. SOE worked hard on a ‘rumours campaign’, to promote support for the British war effort by any means possible; this also involved instilling an element of fearfulness in the local population. By January 1943, all informers reported that the Cypriot public, on hearing of the Allied victories in North Africa against Rommel’s Africa Corps, assumed that the war was about to end and that ‘it [had] ended for Cyprus’. In response, SOE planted rumours to the contrary, making use of German broadcasts proclaiming that the island was a base for attacks against German positions in the Mediterranean; thus Cyprus remained an Axis target, and the public should continue siding with the Allies.29 In addition, British propaganda declared that Greece owed a great deal to Britain and ‘could not be free’ without its aid.30 For their part, the Colonial Office feared the impact of German propaganda on the Cypriots, who were not considered loyal to the British Empire: Berlin was declaring that Britain would never allow Cyprus to be united with Greece, despite Greek-Cypriot aspirations.31 Meanwhile, crime, riots and street brawls were common in areas where British servicemen mingled with the locals; RAF personnel, for instance, were involved in quarrels with Cypriots on New Year’s Day. Having investigated the episodes, SOE argued that ‘British troops and especially the RAF think themselves superior and do not treat Cypriots properly . . . but on the other hand pro-Axis elements make it clear their job is to talk against the Army, Britain and the war effort.’32 In June 1945, the murder of three Cypriots – two taxi drivers and a cyclist – in the same night shocked public opinion. Everybody talked of the Iraqi soldiers whom taxis had transported to Lakatamia village near Nicosia, where the three dead bodies were found; the unfortunate Cypriots had received severe wounds. The military compelled the press not to refer to ‘Iraqi levies’ but to ‘coloured’ suspects. In protest taxi drivers went on a one-day strike, and calls for the army to leave the island were heard. After a month, the police announced that ‘eight persons of a coloured army unit’ had been arrested in the murder case.33 It was also reported that pro-Axis and anti-British propaganda had infiltrated the Cyprus Volunteer Force.34 Meanwhile, Greek-Cypriot trade

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unionists and members of the Progressive Party of Working People (AKEL) were targets of surveillance, due to their anti-British positions. The Communist Party of Cyprus had been established in 1926, but in 1931, after the revolt, the colonial authorities had declared it illegal. In 1941, leading communists founded AKEL as a political front under its Secretary-General Ploutis Servas. In the 1943 municipal election AKEL gained political momentum, Servas being elected mayor of Limassol and another member of his party, Adam Adamantos, mayor of Famagusta. Servas, referring frequently to ‘the dictatorial policy concerning the colonial administration of the island’ was considered ‘a thorn in the flesh’, ‘a clever half-educated man who is actively behind every bit of labour trouble in the island. He is far too astute to get himself into trouble which would call for action against him.’35 Percy Arnold, the editor of the Cyprus Post arrived on the island in 1943, and visited Servas at his party office in Limassol. He later wrote that Servas was: A big‑built, affable person, but with an impatient, nervous speech. I introduced myself; he broke off the lesson – I could not read the Greek on the black­board, but guessed he was teaching either some Marxist dogma or else rules of party organisation – and took me upstairs to his tiny office where, as the custom was, he ordered black coffee. We discussed politics, and the prospect of his political party. He was in those days the secretary of AKEL, the Labour Party of Cyprus. In political leadership, as in oratory, he stood out head and shoulders above his fellows, and some called him the future Lenin of Cyprus – a prophecy which was not fulfilled and he passed into a political eclipse. He had spent some time at a political school in Russia. He spoke English with some hesi­tation and was sometimes at a loss for the right word. One matter that appeared much in his mind was how to fight the pending municipal elections, so that, as he put it, the poor workers’ party could defeat the plutocrats of Limassol. He seemed to have a fear that money would defeat the workers and they might lose the coming election. I formed the impres­sion that I was meeting a born politician of great organising skill and considerable industry and vigour. I could also imagine how hard his task was to organise a comparatively backward working‑class movement along the lines he visualized; and while in that building I could not help but compare the drab and ill‑furnished offices of this Labour headquarters with similar drab, ill‑furnished and dismal Labour Party offices I had seen in many parts of London; in drabness the workers of the world seemed united.36

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Anti-colonial feeling within trade unions was rising. For their part, the Turkish-Cypriots seemed to be backing the Germans. An SOE officer’s assessment was that: The Turks [Turkish-Cypriots] influenced by their Hodjas continue to remain pro-German. This was reported to me from agents in Paphos and Limassol. The Hodjas, I was told, are holding a sort of lectures proclaiming German’s victory for certain. The Hodjas appear to be still with the old school of Turks.37 Colonial Office officials assumed that the Turks, ‘fearful that a British victory [against the Axis] means the cession of Cyprus to Greece, are beginning . . . to develop a pro-Axis tendency’.38 British officers, when referring to the ‘old school of Turks’, remembered the Young Turks and their alliance with Kaiser Wilhelm II during the First World War. However, Turkey was this time to remain neutral. Meanwhile, at Engomi village near Nicosia, a Greek-Cypriot teacher openly spoke against the Allies in his classes. SOE planned to ask the colonial administration to remove him to a distant village, since Engomi provided Cypriot labourers for the military bases; he could be a bad influence on these already agitated workers.39 The main security threat to the British on the island was considered to be the communists of AKEL rather than the Abwehr of Admiral Wilhelm Canaris. SOE assumed that all communist members were hardened ideologues, ready to take up arms against the colonial government. It was thought that communist agents and propagandists operated within the Cypriot Regiment and the Cypriot Volunteer Force. Officers assumed (wrongly, in fact) that AKEL ‘are having men in the Army, men who are at their pay and who act and will act at any moment according to the wish and instructions from the communists’.40 Secret agents estimated that if the municipal election results in Limassol were cancelled by the courts, and Servas lost office, then the communists would launch an armed confrontation with the British. Others warned the colonial authorities of the communists’ intention to blow up the premises of local entrepreneurs. Allegedly, the communists had in their possession rifles, pistols, grenades and explosives.41 According to intelligence reports AKEL planned to send 100 of its members to join the Cyprus Volunteer Force, to increase its influence there.42 In June 1943, the communists held many meetings to decide on their policy, some members of the Cyprus Volunteer Force attending openly. SOE and the police kept these gatherings under close surveillance, as they did the

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financing of the AKEL. British intelligence confirmed that one member of the executive committee, Christodoulos Taveloudis, owner of ‘Cyprus Distributors Ltd’ was the party’s ‘foreign ambassador’. It was clear that: ‘The party continues to receive money from outside via Palestine’ – Taveloudis traveled abroad regularly, and channeled the money through his firm in Cyprus.43 However, no Russian hand in the financing is mentioned in the declassified papers of SOE. There was some anxiety about possible communist plans for a revolt. An SOE officer made a clear reference to this in one of his reports: There is a lot of talk down here of ‘the day of the civil revolution’ which will occur as soon as only a token force of British and Indians is left in Cyprus. The CVF [Cyprus Volunteer Force] is mentioned as a potential revolutionary force. A superior leader of AKEL told me lately that even if the armed riots were ultimately doomed to failure, they would so bring Cyprus into the public eye, that to allay censure from the USA and the sentimental British Public, Whitehall would grant sweeping reforms. ‘It worked in Jamaica,’ he pointed out ‘so why not here?’44 The ‘superior leader’ was referring to the anti-colonial agitation the British faced in Jamaica, where a strike in 1938 had ended in a serious confrontation between the authorities and labourers. The Jamaican People’s National Party exerted considerable pressure on the British, who were using the island as a military base in the Caribbean. London conceded, and in 1944 the first elections with universal adult suffrage were held. The Cypriot public were able to gain an insight into the civil rivalry in Greece between the resistance groups that backed the communists, the royalists or the republicans. Refugees from Greece spoke of violence and the hatred of the communist-dominated EAM-ELAS toward the pro-republican EDES. The fear of republicans and royalists at the prospect of Greece under communist rule became known in Cyprus, but there was no surge in AKEL’s influence.45 By early 1944, SOE reported that developments and political intelligence within Cyprus were covered by only two agents in Limassol, three in Larnaca, three in Nicosia, and one each in Morphou, Lefka, Skarinou and Famagusta. All of them were paid, and handled informers. SOE officers discussed a ‘new scheme’ for their organisation. From now on, the main target of British intelligence operations on Cyprus would be the communists and the pro-enosis supporters, the Cypriots who demanded union with Greece.46 The police and colonial authorities kept a close eye on the

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trade-union movement and their intentions; in March 1944 trade unionists and AKEL managed to hold a strike by government labourers lasting 23 days, holding up work at Royal Engineers’ and government workshops, and on RAF airfields.47 Surveillance, propaganda and the planting of rumours would be SOE’s key methods. Meanwhile smuggler gangs had to be kept under close watch, since some were trading in British small-arms and bribing constables to evade searches and the confiscation of their weapons; one notorious gang based in Famagusta developed branches in other cities. SOE was incensed at the apparent corruption of some constables, who had allowed a suitcase with four hundred revolvers to be retained by the gang after a search operation in a Limassol hotel. (This and other gangs were well versed in the ways of the island.48) In mid-April 1945 the government ordered all Cypriot newspapers to publish the full official text of a law on the trafficking and possession of arms. The Defence (Amendment) Regulations 1945 prescribed that: ‘Anyone caught stealing, receiving or otherwise being illegally in possession of weapons of the Armed Forces or police, could henceforth be sentenced to prison for life and in any case for not less than seven years.’ The colonial administration pledged that persons who, otherwise liable under this law, surrendered their arms to the police would not be punished in the next 15 days. Percy Arnold, editor of the Cyprus Post, commented that: The substance of the new law, the secrecy in which it was hatched, the compulsory enlistment of the Press to publish the law, but at the same time the complete absence of one word of explanation of why the existing law was insufficient and why it would be good for Cypriots who stole even one bayonet from an armoury to receive not less than seven years’ imprisonment, all seemed to indicate either a certain panic in the heart of Gov­ernment or a desire of Government to impress someone with its great zeal – probably someone at the Colonial Office or even the War Office.49 Meanwhile, intelligence officers attended gatherings and cinemas to give themselves a good grasp of local feeling. Sometimes, however, they focused too much on negative reactions by the public. In the Victory cinema in Larnaca, viewers booed King George VI, Churchill and Field Marshal Montgomery when they appeared in newsreels. Two plain-clothes officers reported that: ‘Akelists and trade unionists never applaud or clap their hands for Allied chiefs except when they are Russians.’ On one occasion both sat next to two ten-year-old boys, started a discussion with them and obtained their

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names; the policemen were surprised at the words of one of the boys: ‘We shall now see Stalin and the Russians whom we like so much.’ One officer’s later assessment was that: ‘The young boy has been corrupted by his father. . . a noted member of the trade unions.’50 In 1944, various clubs and institutions send telegrams to Sir Cosmo Parkinson, the Permanent Under-Secretary at the Colonial Office, demanding the union of Cyprus with Greece. The Church of Cyprus, AKEL, the trade unions and the National Party of Cyprus all proclaimed the justice of the enosis cause. While on a visit to the island, Sir Cosmo made it clear that he would not discuss political questions. Members of AKEL and trade unionists argued for strikes and the closing-down of shops. For example on 21 August 1944, 200 labourers at the military installation near Xylotymbou village went on strike, at the instigation of the Larnaca trade unions, demanding a pay increase. Eventually, more money was produced, and the strike (which had lasted only one day) was not characterised as political by the colonial authorities.51 Meanwhile, amongst other measures, SOE maintained an informer within the Cypriot National Party. The man, codenamed Olympios, a clerk, was described as: most reliable and trustworthy. He is a member of the Cyprus National Party, but he firmly believes that the policy of Enosis is not the right one, at least at present. He mixes a lot with people (very good in spreading rumours and very good in sending reports back).52 A tourist agent named Wideson, who was also a journalist for Eletheria daily and the Cyprus Post, and an old lawyer, an Athens University graduate, were considered very good informers. Their handler wrote that ‘Wideson is talkative and reliable. He will never disclose if secrecy is imposed upon him. Very good in reporting inside information on political and police matters. Very good talker.’ The lawyer was in his late sixties: ‘He is good in discussing and spreading rumours but a bit slow in sending reports back, perhaps owing to his age.’53 By late August 1944 an intelligence officer confidently assessed that: It is more than clear that activities for union with Greece leave the man in the street and the bulk of the people indifferent . . . public opinion (all outside the AKEL and the trade unions) declared itself definitely against any unlawful meetings and parades. We understand that opinion within the AKEL and the trade unions of Larnaca

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was also split. The measures taken by the Government [banning the planned demonstrations] to stop revolutionary activity met with approval and great satisfaction.54 In addition: In talks with several men who do not belong to any political party it was said that although Cypriots are always hoping to form a part of Greece one day, yet they disapprove [of ] the way the demand is made and especially the time chosen for such a demand.55 British intelligence assessed that AKEL and especially their leader, Servas, planned to stir up a revolt against the colonial administration. For them, anti-colonialism was a good pretext for public agitation. One SOE officer had conversations with AKEL committee members, at least one of whom hinted at their leaders’ personal ambition. Pro-AKEL demonstrations took place in Larnaca, Nicosia and Limassol after the arrest and conviction of Servas and other Akelites for disregarding the government order to ban such gatherings.56 Agents’ reports now indicated the coming of a communist revolution. The planned date was 28 August 1944, with Servas and AKEL allegedly ready to take up arms. Demonstrations in the cities would turn into an open revolt, with armed insurgents burning government houses; Servas would ‘let loose the hooligans on the town and loot everything’. Pro-AKEL members of the Cyprus Regiment and the Cyprus Volunteer Force would join in, bringing rifles and grenades. Cypriots in uniform would fight against the commonwealth forces and the police. As a precautionary measure, therefore, while the British confronted the demonstrators Cypriot military personnel would be confined to barracks, unable to participate in the troubles. Eventually, the 28 August demonstration was banned in advance, and the British deployed forces in time to avert any uprising. AKEL was not followed by the public; their members later argued that the ‘revolt had been just postponed’. One agent wrongly claimed that AKEL maintained 2,000 armed men ready to join a revolt in the coming months. The ‘28th August’ had been a political ‘fiasco’ for the communists and the trade unionists, estimated the British.57 Percy Arnold described the atmosphere on that day: Some of Government’s precautionary measures were evident. In the outskirts of Nicosia, roads leading to the Secretariat and Government House were guarded by police and military . . . In the towns a number

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of work‑people did not attend work including some employed at Government’s Public Works Department and some other essential works. No newspapers were published. The Nicosia Small Shopkeepers Association claimed that, despite Government’s warning, five-hundred small shops and restaurants were closed; no one considered this to be an understatement. Certainly a number of shops had their shutters at the ready, to go over the windows quickly if need be. The prohibition on vehicular traffic had, as was intended, stopped villagers in any large numbers coming to town, and the Nicosia bazaar quarter, with many shops shut or half-shut, was almost as deserted as on a Sunday, and many shopkeepers passed much of the day in nearby cafes. Shops shut or half‑shut; police, troops and barbed-wire at central points; and round the corners police‑manned fire engines with hoses ready to damp excessive ardour; and the atmosphere somewhat intensified by earlier Government notices prohibiting processions and two Government orders expressly in force to frustrate meetings and assemblies . . . In all the towns and some of the villages meetings were held; most of them at trade union premises or AKEL clubs, and nearly all resolved themselves into prohibited and unlawful processions. Almost everywhere the arrangements were in the hands of AKEL and the trade unions, supported by kindred organisations, but in some places other parties and clubs also co‑operated. In Nicosia the main meeting was held at the trade union premises, and later a small procession marched down Ledra Street and delivered at the commissioner’s office a copy of a resolution, adopted at the meeting, to be send to Sir Cosmo Parkinson . . . The restriction on transport delayed the reports from my correspondents, but as they came in over the next two days they all reported that the National Day had passed off without untoward incident. Tuesday’s papers reported that Govern­ment’s ban on transport was lifted as from Tuesday morning. The crisis, if it was a crisis, was over. The National Day had proved peaceful. Foot could be pleased with his precautions, Servas could be pleased with the discipline of his followers. Each might persuade himself that the honour was his; my own view was that in the battle of wits honours were even. Looked forward to so keenly by the Left and many of their sympathizers and awaited with such apparent apprehension by the British officials (or some of them), that Monday, August 28, 1944, had come and gone; and life went on.58 A month later, on 28 September, the communists were allowed to hold their first official congress (in a municipal hall), without the attendance of police

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constables. British intelligence officers watched the gathering from a distance. Photos of Stalin were sold, and communist ‘anti-imperialist’ speeches were made. Servas declared that now Britain was against Russia. Eventually, an argument erupted outside the hall between Greek-Cypriot communists and Greek sailors, who asked them why they were not holding photographs of King George II of Greece and Prime Minister Georgios Papandreou rather than Stalin. The argument turned into a street fight, and the police intervened.59 An SOE officer commented that: ‘All pro-Germans are now pro-Russians. It looks as if their motto is anti-British by all means.’60 In June and July 1945, 18 members of the Pan-Cyprus Trade Union Central Committee were arrested and charged with seditious conspiracy. Documents with anti-colonial propaganda were discovered by the police. Arnold remarked sarcastically that: ‘None of these dangerous men was kept under arrest; these 18 men were apparently conspiring to overthrow the Government by a revolution . . . they were one and all immediately released, each on bail of one hundred pounds sterling.’ Later, six were sentenced to 18 months’ and 12 to a year’s imprisonment. The Attorney-General, a Cypriot, led for the prosecution in this admittedly political trial.61 Eventually, in October 1945, the colonial administration faced a mutiny, of which the intelligence services had given no warning. On 8 October some 200 Cypriot soldiers mutinied in Famagusta. For some time the military and the colonial government had been wondering what to do with the Cyprus Regiment. The war was over but emergencies in other places, and especially in Palestine, required more troops. As of 31 May 1945 the Cyprus Regiment maintained 6,846 troops abroad and 1,967 on the island. Together with some 1,274 Cyprus Volunteer Force men (abroad and at home) the total of Cypriot forces reached 10,087. Amongst Cypriot soldiers it was said that they would be posted to Palestine to help the British Army there. In legal terms, however, the Cyprus Regiment was under the colonial constitution and not the British Army, and the volunteers sought to return to civilian life and not to end up in the British Empire’s post-war conflicts. As a staff officer had admitted in the early twentieth century, Cypriots were unaccustomed to overseas service. Nonetheless, their war record was commendable: some 37,000 Cypriots fought in the war, and today the graves of 650 Cypriot soldiers are to be found in military cemeteries in 15 countries. In addition, some 2,500 were held as prisoners of war. On Monday 8 October 1945, in Famagusta, Cypriot women gathered to see their loved ones serving in the Regiment prepare to embark for Palestine. They found the barracks under heavy guard; trouble was reported inside. Indian troops were called in; they fixed bayonets, and were

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ordered to disperse the mutineers, who were resisting transfer to Palestine. One sergeant, Takis Kythreotis, was killed and four other Cypriot soldiers were wounded. In protest the women led a march to the Famagusta district commissioner’s house. Addressing the controversial stance of the colonial government, Arnold wrote: A couple of days after the shooting, the Governor, Sir Charles Woolley, having left the island on sick leave, the findings of the tribunal were submitted by the Sub‑Area Com­mander to the Acting Governor, Mr. R.E. Turnbull. They were never published. The communiqué of the tribunal’s findings was, as one might expect in the Colony, ingeniously evasive. It was widely re­garded as unsatisfactory, and was much criticized. The state­ment, which did not even say to what regiment or to what units the men who allegedly disobeyed embarkation orders belonged, did not state whether the sergeant who was killed and the soldiers who were wounded belonged to the unit under orders for embarkation. The statement referred to a crowd; it did not say whether the crowd consisted of soldiers or civilians and gave no indication as to whether women who had come from Famagusta were part of the crowd. It was widely believed that it was only when the Indian troops tried to disperse the women that the Cypriot soldiers made those demonstrations which led to the Indian soldiers opening fire. The official state­ment threw no light on all this; nor on many other strange aspects of the incident. Moreover, as the Cyprus Post pointed out, the official state­ment threw no light on the mysterious expression in the first official communiqué issued soon after the incident, referring to an exchange of shots. The Cypriot soldiers were part of a non‑combatant unit and were admittedly unarmed at the time of the incident. In this case, how did the authorities explain ‘an exchange of shots’? Was there really ‘an exchange’?62 Other small-scale mutinies in Cypriot units overseas took place in Italy and North Africa, together with strikes and demonstrations instigated by AKEL. Demands for self-determination and for union with Greece became louder.63 Turning to irregular warfare, we concluded that bad co-ordination between SOE and the 25th Army Corps was the main aspect of the SOE story in Cyprus. Regular staff officers did not believe in guerilla warfare, and it seems that the SOE officers did not successfully defend their role within the overall defence scheme. Besides, distrust of the Cypriots was so profound that the British plan was encapsulated in the phrase ‘Let the Germans first

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invade and then we will train our guerillas’. To what extent the Germans would have secured their occupation zones within Cyprus is unknown, and the historian should eschew ‘what if ’ scenarios. The only argument one might deploy with reference to SOE plans for creating training locations in forests and mountains is that Cypriot mountains were not as impassable as the Greek, since the colonial administration had since 1878 developed a road network. German mountain-warfare units like the Edelweiss Division could have been deployed there and raided the SOE’s hidden guerilla posts. If the Germans had maintained bases in the plains they could have isolated the British commandos and their Cypriot fighters. Kelling comments that: ‘The geography of the island made guerilla warfare and evacuation mutually contradictory. Once the garrison took to the hills it would have been landlocked.’64 By late 1943, British intelligence and the SOE had rearranged their priorities in Cyprus: the communists and enosis supporters were now seen as constituting the main threats to the colonial government. Some Cypriots had turned informers, and warned the authorities of plans for demonstrations, strikes and political initiatives mounted to embarrass the government. AKEL members and others followed an anti-British and pro-German stance throughout the war. However, it would be wrong to argue that the communists would have revolted against the colonial government in the event of an invasion: the Nazi menace was certainly a threat to the communists. Besides, the communists could not have had as many arms as they claimed. Resistance groups were not formed in Cyprus as they were in Greece, where EAM-ELAS, an organisation influenced by the communists, ended up with massive stocks of materiel stolen from the Axis occupation forces or supplied by the British mission there during the war.

4 Post-War Strategy and Security

By 1944 Cyprus was playing a lesser role as a military base for the Allies. In early autumn, on the eve of the German withdrawal from Greece, the Royal Navy sent an escort-carrier squadron there to attack Axis forces moving north (Cyprus being too far from the Aegean islands to be of any operational use). In Operations Outing I and Outing II, aircraft from HMS Attacker, Hunter, Pursuer, Searcher, Stalker and Khedive attacked the Wehrmacht in the Aegean and in northern Greece. By the end of October 1944, all the German divisions had left the country. In Cyprus early-warning exercises continued; Air HQ Middle East was satisfied with the performance of the Coast Watchers Organisation, the human-intelligence side of the air war. In late January 1944, the commander of 209 Group in Cyprus insisted that the early-warning exercises ‘proved that the Cyprus Coast Watchers Organization forms a very important part of the Air Reporting System in Cyprus’.1 However, the RAF decided to transfer all radar cover from Cyprus – the island did not face any real threat, and with the war continuing against the Axis the equipment and manpower were needed elsewhere. Thus: ‘No advanced warning will be available in the unlikely event of enemy aircraft approaching the island.’2 In his turn, the Governor, Sir Charles Woolley, feared there was trouble in store. He commented: ‘There is every indication . . . that with the end of the European war subversive agitation will enter a more serious phase. A particularly dangerous period will occur when the return of the Cyprus troops [i.e., of the Cyprus Regiment from overseas], many of whom are fanatical followers of AKEL, takes place . . . [AKEL] will do everything pos-

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sible to stir up increased trouble.’3 Ironically, on the same day Woolley wrote this estimation, during the night of 31 March 1945, light-infantry weapons were stolen from a Cyprus Volunteer Force depot 20 miles from Nicosia. The theft of eight Bren guns, six pistols, 58 rifles and some 2,300 rounds of ammunition left the police and colonial administration fearful of revolt. In mid-April the Governor enacted legislation providing for the severe punishment of people holding weapons illegally, with a minimum penalty of seven years’ imprisonment. Eventually, on 19 April, police investigators discovered the arms (except for three pistols) hidden in the garden of the house of a leading AKEL member, a cousin of Secretary-General Ploutis Servas. AKEL members and some CVF military personnel were arrested; five of the former were charged with the theft.4 The October 1945 mutiny in the Cyprus Regiment, referred to in the previous chapter, and the arms theft, as well as continuing AKEL demonstrations and strikes, were interpreted by the colonial government as the signs of a coming storm in Cyprus. Most suspect were the communist leaders: It is to be feared that under the leadership of AKEL Cyprus politics may be entering an altogether tougher and more dangerous phase, as the result of which for the first time there is a risk of violence in the Palestinian sense. But the Cypriots are not made of the same stuff as the Arabs and Jews, and there is reasonable prospect that firm action at the outset may effectively kill any taste for violence that they may be acquiring.5 The post-war Labour government under Clement Attlee examined the future of Cyprus within the British Empire. Foreign Secretary Ernest Bevin was of the opinion that Cyprus should be given to Greece in return for military bases in Greece and Cyprus. The Colonial Office, however, remained obdurate on the need to keep the island. Sir Reginald Leeper, the long-standing British ambassador in Athens, backed Bevin’s view, on moral grounds (as in the case of the cession of the Ionian islands), and M.S. Williams of the Southern Department at the Foreign Office emphasised that: ‘We are also impressed by the strength of the Greek case on ethical grounds’.6 Greece was a loyal and traditional ally of England, and the majority of the Cypriot population wanted union with their motherland. However, the Imperial General Staff, as early as September 1945, voiced a different view: the Joint Planning Staff argued that the island was ‘the only British possession in the Middle East area [and] the only territory in the Middle East where such

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measures as we consider necessary for defence can be carried out unfettered by treaties’.7 For Whitehall: ‘The Chiefs of Staff would clearly throw the whole of their weight against any suggestion for handing Cyprus over to Greece.’8 It was clear that: The strategic importance of Cyprus to the United Kingdom arises not only from the facts that (a) in war it is strategically so placed as to assist in the defence of our interests in the Middle East and for offensive operations and (b) in peace it provides us with alternative air staging bases and naval and air facilities for security control of the Eastern Mediterranean (I am not sure that this control will matter once Palestine has gone) but also from the fact that we must deny control of the island to any potentially hostile power, which might use it as a base for attack.9 The civil war brought Greece near to collapse, and by late 1946 made Bevin review his position. In private consultations he argued that the Greeks, facing internal unrest as well as the external communist threat from the north, would not be able to hold the island if it were ceded to Greece. On 7 December 1946, Bevin told the Greek ambassador in London that it would be simply ‘senseless to hand Cyprus to Greece if that country was on the point of going communist’.10 Prime Minister Attlee himself told Bevin that: ‘It would be inexpedient [for] you to make . . . any mention of the possibility that the people of Cyprus might be allowed their own future.’11 Despite the Colonial Office’s request for a public announcement to the effect that Cyprus would remain within the British Empire, Bevin commented that it would be better to ‘let sleeping dogs lie’, maintaining British rule while avoiding declarations that could offend the Greeks. Meanwhile, the Colonial Office planned to finance a ten-year development plan to allay any grievances Cypriots might have.12 Mary Fisher, a far-sighted civil servant in the Mediterranean Department, understood that: ‘We are driven into a policy of political repression in Cyprus and we think that [the money] may act as a useful douceur.’13 The hidden dates of historical irony for Greek policy over Cyprus are 1915 and 1946. At both times Britain was willing to cede the island to Greece, ignoring the position of the Turkish-Cypriots and of Turkey. Nonetheless, on both occasions Greece, for internal reasons, did not accept the offer. In 1915 the pro-German King Constantine I did not wish Greece to side with Britain and France; in 1945–46, the Greek government was failing to counter the activities of the communist Democratic Army, and Bevin was

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forced to change his policy and retain Cyprus. By 1947, the critical year of the civil war, there was considerable fear that the communists might win or establish their authority in the northern territories, and Britain had no wish to negotiate the union of Cyprus with Greece under these circumstances. Eventually, with the rapid advance of signals-intelligence technology, the establishment of spy bases on Cyprus, the on-going Arab-Israeli conflict and the withdrawal of the British military from Egypt, Cyprus became too precious for Britain’s Cold War strategy to be handed over. In the immediate post-war era, with the occupation of Germany and the confrontation with Russia and its secret services, British intelligence set new priorities. Cyprus was an outpost for observing the Palestine revolt and the eventual Arab-Israeli war, as well as for keeping illegal Jewish immigrants and German prisoners of war in detention camps. One officer at Middle East HQ argued that the German POWs should be transferred out of the island, since there were many incidents of Jewish agitation – the German camps at Famagusta and Dhekelia were close to the Jewish ones, and the POWs might acquire the notion that Britain too had a ‘Jewish problem’. It was thought that: ‘The average prisoner who went to Cyprus to build a camp for Jewish illegal immigrants cannot distinguish easily the difference between such a camp and a concentration camp in Germany.’ Some Jews went on hunger strike in protest of their detention.14 By late 1947 it had been decided to withdraw British military forces from Palestine. According to a Colonial Office study, the geopolitical environment in the Middle East had reverted to that of 1878, the year of Britain’s arrival in Cyprus. Russia was again the main opponent, though this time Turkey was not in a state of decay, as it had been at the time of the Ottoman Empire. Besides, the new Middle East states had good relations with London. The Colonial Office sought to be informed of the War Office’s development plans for Cyprus – there were plans to start the construction of new facilities and infrastructure. It was pointed out that massing troops in Cyprus, ‘behaving as garrisons do, would have the customary effect of creating steadily growing hostility among the civil population’.15 The Colonial Office compared the strategic value of Cyprus with that of Malta during the war, and deemed it limited, since it would have to be supplied with food, and naval superiority would be necessary to deter any aggression against the island. Thus the value of Cyprus in time of war would depend on British or its allies, Turkey, Syria and Egypt. The Colonial Office suggested explaining in confidence to the interested countries that any planned military build-up on Cyprus was not aimed at them:

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We might do well to explain confidentially to the governments of the Near and Middle Eastern states the significance of any important new military moves we may decide to make in Cyprus, i.e. attempt to make it clear that these are part of a regional defence picture and that Cyprus is not being used as an outpost from which we might seek again to ‘dominate’ the Middle East. Unless this is done we might find in a year or two that the Arab League States, having now reached the sea at all points, will add their pressure to the international demand for the British to evacuate and ‘liberate’ Cyprus.16 The RAF had already allocated £3.5 million for the construction of a base at Xylophagou, and the War Office planned to spend a further £5 million on building permanent barracks for HQ Middle East Forces. Suggestions that the Cyprus Regiment should be disbanded were rejected by Lord Winster, the new Governor, in the strongest terms: I can think of nothing more disastrous politically than the disbanding of the Regiment which is foreshadowed. I can take no responsibility for the results which will inevitably follow, and it will be impossible for me to pretend that I agree with such a step. Either we want to keep Cyprus or we do not.17 The Governor argued (wrongly) that: ‘I have ample evidence that the Regiment, which draws its men from all over the Island, is a stabilising factor in the local political situation.’18 General Sir John Crocker proposed to the War Office that a reorganised Cyprus Regiment should be composed of two light anti-aircraft regiments with a British cadre and an animal transport cadre; one regiment would have a colonial and the other an imperial commitment.19 Thomas Herbert Fletcher, a Labour party member and a retired naval officer, had been raised to the peerage in 1942, becoming Lord Winster. He took the colonial assignment on condition that he could leave within 18 months. He was not a Cyprus specialist (he had previously been minister for Civil Aviation) and initially formed mistaken impressions: he believed, for instance, that right-wing Greek-Cypriots were in favour of maintaining the colonial regime, with only AKEL favouring enosis; he assumed that by promoting development schemes he could influence the lower echelons of Cypriot society – the peasants and petty merchants – and find a way to bypass the social elite and the influential Greek-Orthodox Church. He argued that 95 per cent of Cypriots would want a consultative assembly to draft a constitution, but that they could not state this openly because their political

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leaders were in league with the Church.20 In June 1947 the Governor, assuming that he could simply turn down any demands for enosis, proceeded with the formation of a new constitution. It was envisioned that in the new framework two bodies, an Executive Council and a Legislative Council, would be chaired by the Governor himself. The former would have nine members and the latter 26, both Greekand Turkish-Cypriots. There would be no ministerial appointments, and the Governor would be the final arbiter. The Church and right-wing GreekCypriots reacted strongly to this, the latter declaring that they would not attend the consultations. AKEL participated in the consultative assembly, but pressed for a ministerial system. New proposals from the Colonial Office failed to find supporters. By late May 1948 the assembly consultations had collapsed: only Turkish-Cypriots remained in the talks, and the process could not continue. Winster assumed, wrongly, that he had the luxury of ‘[putting] the thing [the consultation] into cold storage . . . Cypriot leaders must come and ask for it.’21 However, only by engaging the Cypriot political world as a whole could the colonial government influence, over the medium term, the agitation for enosis. In December 1948 all but 200 Cypriots were discharged from the Cyprus Regiment, pending its transformation into an anti-aircraft unit. But some colonial officials feared, unjustifiably as it turned out, that once new recruitment started ‘the communists will attempt to infiltrate members of the Party into the regiment in order to create a disruptive influence and undermine loyalty’.22 Winster assigned too much political value to retaining the Cyprus Regiment, in a colony where in the late 1940s there was a clear division between Greek-Cypriots, who wanted enosis, and Turkish-Cypriots, who wanted continuation of colonial rule. Eventually (in 1950) the Regiment was disbanded. Meanwhile, the Security Liaison Officer, the MI5 representative and the intelligence arms of the Royal Navy, Army and RAF on the island were working to cover overseas intelligence requirements. At that time the Cyprus police had no Special Branch: constables and inspectors with no special training had been called up to keep an eye on AKEL, the Church and nationalist activities. The intelligence reports of the police were found ‘very mediocre’ by Lord Winster, and the contemporary troubles in Malaya and the Gulf Coast, along with the fear of similar uprisings, made him consider the reorganisation of the island’s security-intelligence machinery; in effect, he wanted to create a better Criminal Investigations Department headed by an experienced intelligence officer. Winster emphasised that: ‘Cypriots are an excitable people and under the determined leadership of even a small

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number of men could be whipped up to sudden violence as occurred in 1931 . . .’ Perhaps there would not be clear warning on the eve of a new rebellion, and Winster forecast that: ‘Trouble, as things are going, is sooner or later inevitable.’23 The Governor argued that it was necessary to appoint an intelligence officer to overview all source intelligence on a daily basis. The Commissioner of the Cyprus Police was adamant, however, that an Assistant Commissioner for intelligence ‘would be an absurd waste of money . . . he would have the greatest difficulty in finding enough work to occupy his time . . . he would merely collate reports as I [do].’ In addition the new appointee would have to stay for years in Cyprus learn the language, local customs and political landscape. The Commissioner wanted an increase in the rank and file, about 200 extra constables over two years, but Winster correctly warned of the financial burden this would place on such a small colony. He also counted on the military garrison’s help in times of serious crisis with public order. The Governor insisted on upgrading the CID, with the introduction of new methods, and sought to appoint an intelligence expert at Assistant Commissioner level prior to the submission of the reorganisation report by the Commissioner of Police. Winster cut a fine balance between intelligence spending, machinery modernisation and money for social projects in Cyprus, but found himself at odds with the Commissioner.24 In the Governor’s argument with the police he would find an ally in W.C. Johnson, the police advisor to the Secretary of State for the Colonies. Johnson too urged the appointment of a capable intelligence officer to make the Cyprus CID a force capable of taking on domestic espionage and security, while admitting that for the time being there was no officer on the island with the qualifications for such a task. Turning to another serious matter of public security, Johnson pointed out that the total number of explosives thefts in 1948 had reached 13, the highest since 1942; this meant that agitators were amassing useful material to be used in future troubles.25 The reputation of the Cyprus Police was already suffering when the Commissioner found himself exposed by wrongful arrests laid at the door of his constables. In fact, in 1948 50 per cent of all arrests proved mistaken, with the police releasing the arrested individuals after a few hours and without a charge. In a circular the angry Commissioner warned that: ‘The mere fact that a man is a known thief or bad character is not enough to arrest him on suspicion . . . there must be good and sufficient grounds for such action.’26 The problem was so serious that a year later the Assistant Commissioner of the CID headed an eight-week training course for police who acted as prosecuting officers.27

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In principle, the colonial and intelligence officials assigned primary importance to the plans and initiatives of AKEL. After the 1947 election of the ‘nationalist’ candidate Archbishop Makarios II (24 December 1947- 28 June 1950), AKEL’s morale had appeared to be low, having lost much of its following, but that was soon to change with the instigation of strikes and demonstrations (between January to September 1948 AKEL vigorously supported three strikes). Assessing the way the communists promoted their demands and how they conducted their demonstrations, the British spoke of an increasingly aggressive attitude. For example, from January to May, as strikers gathered in the mining area of Skouriatissa, there were two episodes of violent clashes with the police, 26 cases of using explosives and 11 of assault (usually against nationalist workers who wanted to continue working). In the Amiandos mining area between 2 and 30 August new confrontations with the police were reported, with four cases involving the use of explosive and three of attempted arson. The builders’ strike initiated in August did not end until 14 December; the most alarming aspect of the socio-political and financial side-effects of this long protest was that: ‘The acts of violence committed were of a more serious nature than those previously carried out and showed signs of greater cohesion and more efficient organisation on the part of the perpetrators.’28 Demonstrators threw grenades against non-communist fellow workers, assaulted labourers on the streets and demolished a house in Nicosia with dynamite, damaging 60 neighbouring residences. Masked demonstrators with revolvers attacked one RAF sentry at a wireless station, detonating explosives which destroyed part of the building. Another raiding team of masked men had been assaulting and beating Greek-Cypriot right-wing workers. In the period September–December 1948, the police investigated 11 cases of the use of explosives and 33 of assault. Arson, destruction of property and poisoning of animals had also been reported.29 In November 1948 Winster resigned. AKEL sought to exploit this as much as possible in its propaganda, the communist press claiming that it was AKEL which had led the ‘fascist and reactionary’ Governor to resign.30 (According to sources in the police and the colonial administration many Cypriots genuinely believed in the role of AKEL in bringing down the Governor.) By the end of the year, the communists intensified their contacts with Cominform countries and declared a new political slogan: ‘Enosis via Self-Government, via a Constituent Assembly’. Concurrently, they blamed Britain and the United States for turning the whole island into a military base against Russia. Communist leaders openly declared that in the event of war they would fight on the side of Russia.31

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AKEL altered its position on the Cyprus question in early 1949, when its leading members Fifis Ioannou and Andreas Ziartides returned to their homeland. They had made a long journey through Eastern European countries, and met with Markos Vafiades, the leader of the communist Democratic Army fighting the government in Greece. These leaders, competing with the right-wing nationalists and the Church, introduced a new slogan: ‘Enosis and Only Enosis’.32 Security officers maintained that the communists were better organised and mobilised than the Greek-Cypriot nationalists. A senior officer observing the movements of AKEL demonstrators on their way to a rally on 31 October 1948 [was] unpleasantly impressed by the large number of buses on the Limassol-Nicosia road containing sullen-faced youths of eighteen to twenty-five years of age, shaking their fists and spitting whenever they passed a car suspected of containing British nationals. 33 There were now approximately 30,000 people protesting colonial rule. A ‘usually reliable source’ claimed that AKEL supported the Pancyprian Transport Company so as to have a large number of buses available in times of revolt. Another ‘reliable source’ reported that youths were backed by AKEL not to seek employment, so as to be available for communist indoctrination and propaganda. Allegedly, the leaders of AKEL had been developing a nucleus of a fighting group ‘on the same pattern as the Stern gang’.34 An informer warned on several occasions that a hard core of fanatics intended to start a war with the colonial authorities and right-wing nationalists, and to ‘emulate the successes gained in battle by their Greek [communist] and Chinese counterparts’. A spy, a ‘most reliable source’, spoke of the admiration these fanatics expressed for a young man who had severely injured his father for disagreeing with him on politics.35 Some unconfirmed reports were unduly alarmist – one argued that exservicemen from the Cyprus Regiment had been training youths in explosives, sabotage and raiding tactics in the Famagusta area. Allegedly, they had been setting up a list of very important persons on Cyprus (hinting at assassination plans in the event of an uprising). Ironically, a second report spoke of ‘the communists forming a mortal regiment presumably on the lines of the German SS’. In October 1948 pamphlets of the ‘The Cyprus Red Vengeance Society’ appeared, raising the fear of a coming communist assassination campaign; but no further publications by this group were reported.36 The Colonial Office feared that: ‘Should hostilities break out with

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Soviet Russia there would appear to be every indication that the Communists would embark on a form of guerrilla partisan resistance . . . an active attempt to gain control of the island.’37 Raising the stakes, the communist press was ‘violent to the extreme’. The average Cypriot was a keen reader of political journals, and it was remarked that: ‘From the psychological point of view [Cypriots] cannot fail to be impressed by the belligerent tone of articles.’ In addition, communist leaders assigned speakers to organised gatherings in small villages and towns, enhancing their potential influence among the people. AKEL also sided with Moscow on the latter’s rift with Tito, and at a meeting in Larnaca on 8 July 1948 a leading member did not hesitate to declare that the party followed ‘instructions’ from Russia.38 Potential insurgents needed weapons, and the security services discovered that a smuggling network between Lebanon and Cyprus was in operation. In December 1948 a dinghy was discovered on the coast near Famagusta, with a Czech rifle in it; the following month an informer from Beirut claimed that arms for AKEL were being shipped from Lebanon to Cyprus. Meanwhile, the security services doubtless had spies among the AKEL cadres. In December 1948 a ‘very reliable source from Famagusta’ disclosed that a ‘resolution’ had been passed for military works to be sabotaged. However, colonial officials comforted themselves by observing that AKEL were maintaining a ‘strikes-only’ strategy for the time being. The administration feared more the intentions and developing capabilities of AKEL rather than those of the right-wing Greek-Cypriot nationalists, because: ‘The communists are better organised, considerably more efficient, and more politically alert than their opponents. The nationalists are badly led and in comparison, apathetic and incapable of cohesive effort.’39 At that time, the garrison in place to confront an uprising was composed of one British infantry battalion and one Royal Marine Commando battalion, with the RAF and Royal Navy available to provide assistance in times of crisis. The police force was composed of 11 British officers, two Cypriot officers, 126 NCOs and 879 constables.40 By early 1949 the assessment was that the communists had been preparing themselves for the coming municipal elections, and after their ‘victory’ over the resignation of Lord Winster had called off their militant campaign. The reorganised AKEL, however, remained ‘a potential threat to law and order . . . it would appear that a successful communist Party is a quiet one; a communist Party faced with defeat is violent and actively belligerent.’41 Nonetheless, in early 1949 the intelligence flow on the inner workings of AKEL was slowing. After the arrest and temporary detention of Secretary-General Ploutis Servas

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and other leading members the colonial government informed the Joint Intelligence Committee in London that there was a lack of intelligence on what was going on in the inner councils of AKEL – presumably there were no informers on hand to provide accurate insights. However, the arrests did not prompt ultra-violent demonstrations.42 At the Police Commissioners’ conference on 11 February 1949, the Acting Governor of Cyprus laid out a plan to counter AKEL. He admitted that for some time the colonial administration had ‘turned a blind eye’ to enosis declarations by right-wing Greek-Cypriots. The administration would confront AKEL, and not engage the nationalists. The British could not fight on two fronts, against both Left and Right, and should be warned by the latest AKEL slogan (‘Enosis and Only Enosis’), which indicated its intention of finding common ground with the Right. Meanwhile, the colonial authorities would of course not come to any understanding with the Right, but the Governor would work for an ‘implicit truce’ between the administration and the Greek-Orthodox Church, so that the clergy would not undermine its authority.43 (Ironically, the nemesis of the colonial administration would be the charismatic new Archbishop Makarios III.) In August 1949, Sir Andrew Wright took office as Governor. He was an experienced and firm hand in Cypriot affairs; during the 1931 revolt, as a major, he had tried to deal with the demonstrators, and seen his car burned. Wright had been awarded the Military Cross during the First World War, and during the Second had served as inspector of the Cyprus Regiment. He argued in favour of being granted more powers by the Colonial Office so as to deal effectively with those agitating for enosis. He urged the expulsion of the Greek proconsul, whom he accused of subversion and propaganda in the cause of enosis, though the Foreign Office advised restraint; and he protested on Greek radio broadcasts favouring Cypriot self-determination.44 The Cyprus question was being internationalised. In 1949 AKEL asked (unsuccessfully) for a UN-organised plebiscite on the island. Already communists visiting Eastern European countries were making known their goal of enosis with Greece. On the other hand the Church, always suspicious of communist motives and plans, organised its own plebiscite. This pan-Cyprus vote was conducted by the Church in January 1950; it made public the Greek-Cypriot demands for enosis, and would play a major part in consolidating non-AKEL public opinion and strengthening the nationalists. The Foreign Office was not alarmed, however, by this sponsoring of a political act by influential clergy. Diplomats reassured themselves arguing that: Since the attitude of His Majesty’s Government, that there is to be no

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change in the sovereignty of the Island, has been made clear . . . the ‘Plebiscite’ must be meaningless and those who sign the lists will do so in the knowledge that their action will be without result.45 In fact, the plebiscite showed the gradual raising of right-wing Greek-Cypriot consciousness, as well as the leading role of the Church. Secondaryschool students were called up by clergymen for demonstrations; the pupils of 1950 would become the dedicated guerrilla fighters and lieutenants of 1955. In the summer of 1953 celebrations for the coronation of Queen Elizabeth II were overshadowed by students’ demonstrations on the island. It was now too late for Whitehall to change their policy on Cyprus even if they wanted to. The 1947 withdrawal from India, the Berlin crisis, the Palestine conflict, and the soon-to-come crisis with Egypt after the rise to power of Colonel Gamal Abdel Nasser, made Whitehall stand firm in the belief that the colonies had to be defended in the new post-war era. Together with the US and the other NATO allies, Britain had to contain Russia, but also to hold on to her strategically located colonies, such as Cyprus. However, despite the urgings of Lord Winster and W.C. Johnson for the reorganisation of the intelligence machinery, this would not materialise soon; as we will explore in the next chapter, on the eve of the revolt the colonial administration would again attempt to improve secret intelligence and security on the island of Aphrodite.

5 The Insurgency

In the late 1940s, the Greek administration under Prime Minister (and former Major-General) Nikolaos Plastiras, a highly decorated veteran of the Great War and the Greek-Turkish war of 1919–22, faced renewed demands to support Greek-Cypriot calls for self-determination and union with Greece. Plastiras remained cautious, however, foreseeing the side-effects of the Cyprus question on Anglo-Greek relations.1 The new Archbishop of Cyprus, Makarios III, was motivating public opinion in Greece, where in 1949 the civil war had just come to an end, and which, two years earlier, had been united with the formerly Italian-occupied Dodecanese islands. Claims to Greek-inhabited Northern Epirus (South Albania) had failed, but the Greeks were more confident about the future, assuming of having new supporters in the United States via the George Marshall Aid plan. Britain, meanwhile, had lost influence in Greek politics, and strong public feeling on union between Cyprus and Greece was developing. Prophetically, American diplomats had argued in 1948 that: ‘The moment the Slav threat to Greek independence [i.e., the communist guerrilla army during the civil war] is removed, public opinion in Greece will press for a solution of the problem in favour of union.’2 In Britain, the Colonial Office, Foreign Office and Ministry of Defence were in agreement on retaining Cyprus. In 1951, on the eve of the entry of Greece and Turkey into NATO, Prime Minister Sophokles Venizelos made a ‘bases-for-enosis’ offer – Greece would be willing to grant the British military bases within her own territory as well as on Cyprus. Venizelos was pragmatist enough to propose that: His Majesty’s Government should, if they felt that in the light of the international situation they could not agree to [cession], announce

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their willingness to take steps within a reasonable period of time to ascertain the wishes of the inhabitants of Cyprus.3 In addition, Makarios seemed willing to wait. In January 1950, in the middle of the Church-organised plebiscite in Cyprus, he claimed that he could accept a British-organised plebiscite in ten years’ time.4 However, the Greek offer did not specify the status of potential British bases in Greece. The Greek government and political elite could not offer the cession of sovereign territory, if the British were to seek sovereign-base status. In any case, Britain had lost at a very early stage her unique opportunity to secure military and spy bases without a revolt and to maintain close relations with Greece, while also appeasing Turkey. As long as no shots were fired and no bombs exploded in Cyprus, as long as no British, Greek or Turkish blood was shed, there was still a chance of resolving the issue, even via a British-organised plebiscite in ten years time. However, Foreign Secretary Anthony Eden, having witnessed the decline of the British Empire and its military power in the post-war period, notably in India and Egypt, did not intend to negotiate with Greece. In agreement with the Colonial Office and the MoD, Eden wanted to hold on to the island, convinced of its value in Cold War strategy. Meanwhile, the nationalist rising star in Greek politics, retired FieldMarshal Alexander Papagos, the victor of battles in the civil war, was elected Prime Minister in 1952; he made the Cyprus issue central to his political agenda. Eden did not hide his discontent: in a 1953 conversation with Papagos, he asked ‘why Greece was interested in Cyprus . . . Cyprus had never belonged to Greece . . . After all, there was a considerable Greek population in Alexandria and New York . . . the Greek government was not claiming Enosis for them.’ Papagos, insulted, was taken aback: while he was not considered an Anglophile, he wished to maintain the alliance with Great Britain and to promote Anglo-Greek negotiations over Cyprus. Athens assumed, wrongly, that to internationalise the question by asking for UN support was the only option left, since the pressure of public opinion in Greece had increased considerably, while British policy remained unaltered.5 Meanwhile, retired Greek-Cypriot army colonel Georgios Grivas, had convinced Makarios of the need to commence an armed struggle on the island. After the pan-Cyprus plebiscite of 15 January 1950, when GreekCypriots had voted in favour of union with Greece, Makarios and Grivas stepped up the pressure on Athens. Grivas founded the ‘National Organisation of Cypriot Fighters’ (EOKA), with the material and financial support of Makarios and the Greek general staff.6 Grivas was born in Cyprus in 1898, and as a young officer took part in

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the Greek campaign in Asia Minor in 1919 and the Greek-Italian war of 1940–41. He was a staunch anti-communist, the leader of an ultra-rightist armed group called CHI (‘X’) which had not fought the Germans during the occupation and later was responsible for a wave of violence.7 He was an experienced paramilitary leader. By the end of the German occupation of Greece, British intelligence referred to Grivas simply as ‘the head of an Athens military organisation whose aim is to prepare for auxiliary armed reaction in case of an allied invasion and to take over control in case of anarchy [i.e. of a communist coup]’.8 Nobody in London forecast that their ultra-rightist ally could turn into a guerrilla leader determined to oust the British from Cyprus. In Cyprus, Grivas’s aim was always to cause such a cruel reaction against his movement on the part of the colonial administration as to expose Britain before international public opinion. In some captured documents, dating from the summer of 1956 he bluntly states: The Cyprus government must react to armed attacks by harsh and illiberal laws and the use of armed force, and through this, incidents will occur, which I can use as atrocity stories and show the people abroad that the Cypriots are being oppressed and harshly treated, and so damage Britain’s reputation.9 Makarios (in civilian life, Michael Mouskos) was born in Cyprus in 1913. He completed his clerical training there and then moved to Athens. Mouskos stayed in the city during the occupation, studying first theology and then law at the university; later he traveled to Boston for postgraduate studies. Makarios’s mindset was shaped by the experience of the occupation, and by his religious and moral convictions. He believed strongly in the Greek right to incorporate areas, like Cyprus, where the majority of the population were of Greek descent. Greece had fought on the side of the Allies in the war, made sacrifices, suffered thousands of deaths and much destruction, and deserved the cession of the island to her. However, neither Makarios nor Grivas could fully appreciate the new realities of the Cold War and of the balance of power in the Middle East, after the foundation of the state of Israel and then the coming to power of Gamal Abdel Nasser in Egypt. Most significantly, neither of the two Cypriot leaders suspected the strong American backing, political and military, of the British, despite the traditional anti-colonial sentiments of the US State Department. Moreover, they failed to appreciate the value for the British and Americans, in the context of the Cold War, of signals-intelligence bases on Cyprus. For EOKA, Grivas was the leader, the master-mind who designed tac-

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tics and who alone drafted directives. He recruited mainly Greek-Cypriot teenagers and young adults; except for former Greek Army reservist Lieutenant Grigorios Auxentiou, no other member had any military or guerrilla-warfare experience. All blindly accepted Grivas’s orders for bombings, as well as for the assassination of Greek-Cypriots who did not back EOKA or were considered leftists. EOKA was formed into a small, easily-controlled organisation with no leading personalities who could challenge the authority of Grivas. Officialdom in London, having witnessed the political developments on the island since the 1931 revolt, did not take seriously the possibility of an insurgency of an army of youths, led by an ex-colonel. Certainly, Cyprus was to remain a Crown Colony: Henry Hopkinson declared in the House of Commons that Cyprus would never be independent. Officials still assumed that Greek-Cypriots ‘do not really mean what they say. If they did, they would do the same as the Jews and the Egyptians [referring to the Palestine troubles and the coup in Egypt].’ Ironically, it was remarked that: It was all a paper agitation. There is no need for us to do anything about it. The Cypriots are terribly over-civilised people. They will never do anything violent or drastic. They do not really mean all this agitation about Enosis. Why, they have not even killed anyone yet. They have not even let off a bomb.10 However, at the Colonial Office and in the security services there were some who did not hide their anxiety about Greek-Cypriot intentions. In April 1953, Sir Thomas Lloyd proposed the establishment of a Cyprus Special Branch to undertake efficient spying against nationalists, communists, foreign agents, and Greek- or Turkish-Cypriots not loyal to the Crown. Due to bureaucratic inertia it was not until late summer 1954 that an officer from the security services, A.M. MacDonald, was seconded to the Colonial Office to provide relevant advice on how to organise the intelligence machinery. In August 1954 he would visit Cyprus for three weeks, consulting with the police chief, the military and key colonial officials. In his first report MacDonald stated that the Governor received intelligence from district colonial officials and the police, both maintaining open sources. Nonetheless, the Security Liaison Officer (the MI5 representative in Cyprus) had been handling secret intelligence from overseas for some time, without the administration or the police always being informed. Most significantly, ‘the lack of an adequate Special Branch has led to the Security Liaison Officer running certain delicate sources on behalf of the Colony and

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on occasions in the past to the running of a few agents or informers.’11 MI5 had been doing the job of a Cyprus Special Branch, and this had to stop. The colonial administration’s secretariat was receiving intelligence from different channels – the police, district officials and sometimes MI5 – with little joint assessment or collation; and there was considerable duplication of effort. Inter-service competition, rather than team-work, was the result. Besides, ‘too many reports in circulation’ had been leading to confusion. MacDonald argued in favour of establishing two main bodies for assessing intelligence: the Cyprus Intelligence Committee (CIC) and the District Intelligence Committee (DIC). The latter would be chaired by the local District Commissioner. MacDonald believed that: ‘The essential role of the DIC is the creation of a district intelligence team with members co-operating to collect and appreciate intelligence on a local basis.’ The DIC would submit reports to the colonial administration on a weekly and/or monthly basis. In its turn, the CIC would collate and assess. The Senior Assistant Secretary (policy) would chair the committee, with the participation of the Special Branch Superintendent (as secretary), the Security Liaison Officer and representatives of the Army and RAF intelligence departments.12 MacDonald was interested in establishing ‘a single channel of intelligence’, from the districts to the CIC, the secretariat, the government and eventually the Colonial Office. The District Commissioners would not only act as intelligence gatherers, they would also ‘bear the special responsibility for appreciating political trends and developments’. In his turn the Security Liaison Officer would contribute directly to the CIC briefing.13 The DICs did not perform as originally envisioned until April 1955. A security services officer seconded to the Special Branch remarked in his report that: At present the DICs, judged by the reports provided, have not yet come to grips with their task, nor is there a proper appreciation of the necessity for the joint committee work. In part this is due to lack of experience but there is evidently a lingering inclination to perpetuate the old system of an individual commissioner’s report which, useful as it may be in many respects, is not and cannot be a document of intelligence value.14 The CIC had therefore to put pressure on the DIC to work as planned and to address security-intelligence requirements. The Special Branch would become the key intelligence-service, charged with protecting security and with counter-espionage. The organisation would include a ‘Greek Section’ (dealing with nationalists and enosis sup-

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porters), a ‘Turkish Section’ (watching Turkish-Cypriots) and a ‘Press and Publications Section’ (for the study of open-source intelligence). Spying on AKEL would be the task of a ‘Communist Section’, and a ‘Protective Security Section’ would be responsible for guarding Middle East HQ. Special Branch officers would implement a range of measures to deter any leakage of classified military information from the military bases, as well as sabotage attempts by Cypriot nationalists. Interestingly, a small department called the ‘Investigation Section’ would be required to control and handle ‘the delicate source which is shortly to be transferred from the Security Liaison Officer’s office to the Special Branch’.15 The Governor accepted in toto all MacDonald’s recommendations, and Allan LennoxBoyd, the Colonial Secretary, urged MI5 to send two experienced intelligence officers, together with a retired security-services officer, to organise training and the Special Branch registry. The training officer would reach Cyprus in November 1954, and more money would be spent on expanding Special Branch manpower.16 An ex-Punjab Special Branch officer and another from Iraq were lent to Cyprus for six months to contribute to the organisation of the intelligence service; in February 1955 a former MI5 officer was recruited to oversee the new registry of the Special Branch. The secret-intelligence funds were ‘quadrupled’, and the first batch of officers – British, Greek-Cypriot and Turkish-Cypriot – graduated from the security- service course. The newly-born Special Branch was ready for action by mid-February 1955.17 However, Grivas had been also preparing, recruiting youngsters to his group for guerrilla and raiding missions. Young adults and teenagers were too young to be noticed by the police or included in the files at Cyprus Police headquarters. However, British spies did receive some warning of the Greek-Cypriot plans for revolt. On 25 January 1955 HMS Comet intescepted a small caïque named Agios Georgios (‘Saint George’) off the Cyprus coast, with a cargo of explosives and ammunition. Seven crew members were arrested by police patrols already deployed on the coast that night. On board the Agios Georgios British intelligence also discovered a proclamation declaring the struggle for self-determination. It was a setback for Grivas who, furious, spoke of traitors within EOKA. Press coverage in Athens, meanwhile, favoured those arrested.18 Grivas, in hiding in Cyprus, did not abandon his preparations, while Makarios was frustrated with the position taken by the UN. Despite his personal lobbying and Greek diplomatic efforts, in December 1954 the General Assembly had declined to examine the Cypriot application for self-determination (Greece thus suffering a defeat it might have anticipated):

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[The General Assembly] considering that, for the time being, it does not appear appropriate to adopt a resolution on the question of Cyprus, decides not to consider further the item entitled Application, under the auspices of the United Nations, of the principle of equal rights and self-determination to people in the case of the population of the Island of Cyprus.19 Makarios gave in to pressure from Grivas for an armed struggle, but emphasised that no one should be harmed. He planned for only a six-month guerrilla campaign, so as to publicise the Cyprus issue through international press coverage and by new démarches on the part of Greek diplomacy.20 On 1 April 1955 EOKA commenced the bombing of selected government and military installations, without, however, killing or injuring their occupants. By 1954 the Cyprus Police and the internal intelligence and security apparatus had been decaying for almost a decade, and London realised that a lot more had to be done to restore these neglected assets. By the end of the year, MI5 had organised the Cyprus Special Branch as a key service to counter nationalist sentiments on the island, and MI6’s regional station for the Middle East was well established there. However, the local police, relying for the greater part on Greek-Cypriot and Turkish-Cypriot police constables and a few British senior officers, were still severely under-resourced.21 The security services advisor to the Colonial Office, A.M. MacDonald, visited Cyprus again in April, witnessing the atmosphere of the first weeks of the revolt. Observing the police and Special Branch in action he recommended the appointment of a Director of Intelligence from MI5.22 However, in a May telegram to the Colonial Office, the Governor admitted having recruited ‘two high-grade agents’, who had disclosed ‘much information’ about EOKA.23 Grivas’s men had already killed Special Branch Sergeant Costopoulos, a Greek-Cypriot, and wounded a Turkish-Cypriot, Constable Emir. In addition, ‘[a] senior Cypriot officer in Special Branch was in such imminent danger of assassination that he had to go on leave in the United Kingdom.’24 EOKA’s aim was to target Special Branch in a bid to paralyse the ability of the service to respond to the insurgency. Another security-services adviser to Special Branch submitted his report for the organisation of intelligence in April 1955. His recommendations coincided with those of MacDonald, and the report reveals that as early as April 1955, the month EOKA initiated the revolt, British intelligence – and notably Special Branch – had intercepted letters from EOKA lieutenants. It remarked that: ‘The Special Branch operates one top secret source, the

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interception of certain letters. This is a most valuable source of intelligence and one which has paid good dividends.’ The police needed to tap telephone lines, read cables and inland telegrams, a job that was being done for the time being by the Security Liaison Officer. Also: Certain experimental interception operations have been tried in conjunction with the SLO and these have shown that under proper control and providing the product is thoroughly processed against other sources of information, it is possible to make good use of this source of intelligence.25 Nonetheless, surveillance operations against individuals had to abide by the law: relevant warrants would be issued and the consent of the Colonial Secretary, acting on behalf of the Governor, would be required. The security services had to keep in mind that: The use of these technical aids as a blanket operation, except possibly in time of war, is dangerous to security and wasteful of time besides violating the liberty of the subject to which it is desirable that as much regard as possible should be paid even in intelligence operations.26 The security services adviser was aware that the new Special Branch was manned by men of ‘junior rank and limited capabilities’ and that it was vital for the police registries to be reorganised.27 It was noted that: ‘The life-blood of intelligence is a well conducted and adequate system of records.’ Nonetheless: ‘Under the present system and with the present staff, this is largely impossible in [Special Branch] divisions and the work of the Special Branch reflects this.’28 The divisions ‘lacked professional knowledge and systematic direction as well’.29 One key source for counter-insurgency was the local press. The Special Branch investigators and the SLO needed to inform the Press and Publications Section of their daily intelligence requirements so the section could start gathering, from the print media, relevant information on local community leaders and wanted persons. The attitude of editors, journalists, printers and distributors would be assessed and subversive publications discovered. Meanwhile, the Protective Security Section was about to start an assessment of security measures taken to protect police and military installations. By setting up a ‘Key Points Committee’ senior police officers would discuss security weaknesses and remedial methods. In its turn, the Surveillance Section was intended to function as the spearhead of intelligence-gathering

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operations. Special Branch officers in plain clothes would mingle with small local communities and shadow suspected EOKA members and sympathisers. Cypriots were not to be recruited for surveillance work, as they would be easily unmasked in communities where everyone knew each other and their business; surveillance therefore had to be a task for Special Branch alone. The report’s author also sometimes focused on matters which were overly technical, but also touched on comparative trivia, and included some odd suggestions – he urged the buying of more cycles and motorcycles for surveillance purposes, and suggested officers should be supplied with a rich wardrobe so that they could change their appearance while on missions. All dress and headgear would be of the types found only on the island, so that English inspectors could pass as Cypriots (as if 1950s Cyprus was a Middle Eastern village where people wore only traditional clothes). Moreover, the writer recommended the use of a van with darkened windows (unlikely to go unnoticed by the majority of Cypriots, few of whom owned a motor vehicle) to transport secret agents to places of specific interest. One of his oddest ideas was that police officers should enter a competition for the best disguise to be adopted for spying.30 Following the April bombings, Grivas decided to make an attempt on the life of the Governor, Sir Robert Armitage, at the Palace cinema in Nicosia, where he was due to attend a special screening: on 25 May 1955 a time-bomb was placed under his seat. Fortunately for him he left early, and the explosion succeeded only in destroying five rows of seats.31 Grivas had stepped up EOKA activity: he was willing to kill anyone opposed to his organisation, aming at provoking a harsh British response. On 25 September 1955 Field Marshal Sir John Harding, the retiring chief of the Imperial General Staff, and an experienced and strong-minded soldier, was appointed governor. He had joined the Territorial Army in 1914, and a year later saw action as a lieutenant in Gallipoli, fighting Ottoman Turkish Army units led by Colonel Mustafa Kemal (later to be known as Atatürk). During the Second World War, Harding commanded the 7th Armoured Division (the ‘Desert Rats’), the VIII Corps and the XIII Corps in North Africa and in Italy. With the coming of the Cold War, he succeeded Field Marshal Alexander in command of British forces in the Mediterranean. In 1948, he was appointed Commander-in-Chief Far East Land Forces, and in 1951 of the British Army of the Rhine. As Chief of the Imperial General Staff (1952–55) he witnessed the last phase of the Korean War and the withdrawal of the British forces from Suez; by 1953 he had risen to the rank of Field Marshal. In a letter to Harding on 24 September 1955 proposing to appoint him as the next Governor of

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Cyprus, Prime Minister Anthony Eden admitted that it was not a proper appointment for a field marshal: I quite understand how little attraction such a post can have for you at this time. After a brilliant military career there is nothing to be gained, and may be something to be lost, in undertaking such responsibilities, but equally know how little you allow matters of that kind to weigh in the scale when national interest is concerned.32 By September 1955, the Cyprus Intelligence Committee was sufficiently concerned to point out that: ‘There is considerable volume of intelligence from several sources that arms and explosives have been landed clandestinely in Cyprus at intervals since January 1953’;33 and a suspect caïque was supposed soon to be landing war supplies on the north coast. Besides EOKA (in fact, interested more in arms rather than explosives since, according to secret sources, Grivas already had enough of the latter at his disposal) a TurkishCypriot nationalist paramilitary organisation, ‘Volkan’ (‘volcano’) was also suspected of bringing in arms.34 The Royal Navy was called in to help in the interception of vessels attempting to deliver war materiel for EOKA. As of September 1955 a destroyer and four patrol boats (on loan from the Commander in Chief of the Mediterranean fleet) patrolled the waters around Cyprus, backed up by two maritime reconnaissance aircraft and two surface radars installed on the north coast. Middle East Land Forces headquarters asked the MoD to assign in total six radars for coastal sites, two more to be installed on warships, and a Royal Marine Commando regiment, all for the task of interception. The concept of a small joint-operations centre was promoted, but it was deemed unsuitable to base the Royal Marines in one place; thus 14 platoons, in mobile columns, would be located in different places near the coast, ready to jump into action if a gunrunners’ vessel managed to avoid the offshore blockade. The staff officers involved the Foreign Office in their deliberations, because they wished to have the possibility of Turkish help examined, in case suspect vessels might sail from Turkish territorial waters.35 The Chiefs of Staff Committee agreed to these operational requirements, but sought to have the Colonial Office or the government of Cyprus (and not the MoD) pay the final bill for deployment.36 Cabinet ministers, meanwhile, did not agree about involving the Turkish military in the anti-gunrunning operations – Britain might give the impression of weakness in dealing with the problem. They wished only to propose to Ankara that the Royal Navy be allowed to hunt armssmugglers in Turkish waters.37 The Turkish government had no hesitation

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in accepting the British proposals; this accord, formalised in London on 6 September 1955 by the Turkish Foreign Minister, M. Zorlu, implied Anglo-Turkish understanding on the Cyprus questions.38 (It was in the same month that saw Turkish atrocities in Constantinople, with widespread destruction of Greek property, that British and Turkish diplomats and their military chiefs reached this secret agreement on anti-gunrunning operations.) In the diplomatic arena, Athens was surprised when the British government also called for Turkey to take part in the consultations on the Cyprus crisis. The tripartite talks, held from 29 August to 6 September, failed to reach consensus but established Turkey’s status as the third power with interests in the island’s affairs. The Royal Navy informed the Foreign Office that it was not intended that British warships should search suspect caïques in Turkish waters, but rather that the Turks themselves should be asked to carry out this task. After all, ‘Her Majesty’s ships are forbidden by international law from stopping and searching shipping on the high seas outside the territorial waters of Cyprus unless engaged in hot pursuit.’ In addition, London should ask Ankara – following a suggestion from the Flag Officer Middle East – to allow the overflying of Turkish waters by British reconnaissance aircraft.39 General Sir Nevil Brownjohn remained cautious, asking Vice-Admiral W.W. Davis to examine the setting-out of instructions to the captains of British warships for communicating with the Turkish naval authorities prior to entering Turkish waters. He also wanted the Foreign Office to assess the legal aspects of the case.40 At the operational level, commanders experienced difficulties in finding the smuggling caïques. A note to the MoD provided a rather illuminating warning: We cannot rely on obtaining intelligence more specific than general indications of intentions, and even in cases where detailed intelligence is obtained the nature of the coast line and the internal situation in Cyprus would make it relatively simple to evade inadequate patrols by a last-minute change in place and method of delivery. The provision of radar-equipped small craft such as inshore minesweepers in lieu of the destroyers would not in our view meet the threat . . .41 Clearly the Royal Navy and Middle East HQ wished to safeguard themselves against criticism by ministers and the other services involved in the overall counter-insurgency strategy: this was why they informed Whitehall of the operational problems they faced. EOKA’s small boats could slip past the patrols, and soon British intelligence would discover photographs of

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EOKA fighters holding German Second World War automatic rifles, like the advanced MP43 Sturmgewehr – arms smuggled in from Greece, and possibly elsewhere in Europe.42 Eventually, in late October 1955, the Turkish military granted permission for the RAF and Fleet Air Arm to overfly their territorial waters north of Cyprus.43 The deterioration of the internal security situation with the increase in EOKA bombings and assaults alarmed the MoD. On 26 November 1955, Harding declared a state of emergency, and introduced severe punishments: the mere possession of explosives and ammunition led to capital punishment. Members of EOKA, including teenagers, would face the death penalty. Harding’s policy was to become the focus of world opinion and international diplomacy, and the colonial authorities thus played into Grivas’s hands. There would be no campaign for hearts and minds: the way was clear for violence by all sides. The Director of Military Intelligence himself visited the island, and consulted with local commanders on the EOKA issue. This senior intelligence official, who remains unnamed in the archives, admitted that: ‘Up until the arrival of the new governor of Cyprus [Harding] very little had been done to stop the rot [in the police].’44 Surprisingly, colonial officials stated in their consultations with the Director of Military Intelligence: ‘It will be impossible to reach a settlement without promising self-determination in some form or other . . . in the foreseeable future this will inevitably involve a decision for Enosis.’45 While in public the British government sounded intransigent, in private senior colonial and intelligence officials believed that EOKA’s activities were in effect preparing the ground for the abolition of colonial rule. Meanwhile, the intelligence director found it surprising that ‘virtually no colonial service official nor staff spoke Greek or Turkish’ and that they had been living in isolation among the British expatriate community.46 Intelligence-gathering on the ground required basic language skills, and these were not available in the first months of the insurgency – in fact, until right up to its end the inability of patrols to speak Greek made possible the escape of many EOKA couriers; British intelligence staff-officers admitted that: ‘Few high grade couriers were ever apprehended.’47 The military’s assessment was that: The ordinary police are powerless and the fear of EOKA means that almost all the Greek villages in the island are now 100 per cent against the administration and pro-Enosis. The hard core of EOKA is small and efficient. The Enosis movement is much wider and chiefly supported by the teenagers.48

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Back in London, Eden read one of the most astonishing intelligence reports from Cyprus: according to an EOKA member under interrogation, Greek submarines had for some time been delivering agents and explosives to Cyprus. The arrested man revealed that new submarine operations were about to take place, on 28 December 1955 and 2 January 1956. Harding, who had interviewed the Special Branch interrogator, was convinced of the veracity of this intelligence, and hurriedly asked for Colonial Office clearance for the use of anti-submarine weapons if such a submarine were detected. It was a far from easy decision: London and the colonial administration feared the direct involvement of the Greek navy in the insurgency via these clandestine missions.49 Meanwhile, the Commander-in-Chief of the Royal Navy’s Mediterranean fleet ordered his ships not to use live ammunition against submarines until the issue was resolved in London;50 Eden was informed of the controversy. The duty Commander for the First Sea Lord remarked that ‘I hope the Royal Navy will not be asked to depth charge our Greek Allies. I have suggested we should track and hunt to exhaustion dropping grenades as necessary. A decision will be probably be made this evening . . .’51 The MoD proposed contacting submarines and compelling them to surface. Afterwards ‘subject to Prime Minister’s directives’ the captain of the submarine should be asked to visit the Royal Navy ship to see for himself the charts tracking his course. For the suspected 28 December submarine mission a destroyer and four frigates would be deployed in the relevant area. Nonetheless, ‘the only weapons to be employed would be signal grenades.’52 In truth, what the First Sea Lord wanted was no more than to keep track of the submarines, force them to surface, and identify them; his captain would then talk with the Greek captain.53 Had Harding’s suggestion been followed – of launching anti-submarine warfare against Greek submarines (relying solely on information derived from a Special Branch interrogation) – AngloGreek relations would have been seriously jeopardised. Eden, already apprehensive about the ‘submarines affair’, sent his instructions to Cyprus via the Commander-in-Chief of the Mediterranean fleet on 26 December: The Prime Minister has authorised Secretary of State for Colonies to inform the Governor of Cyprus of action which A/S [anti-submarine] forces may take . . . Unidentified submarines are on no account to be attacked. When submarine has surfaced it is not, repeat not, to be boarded but if it has been tracked within the vicinity of Cyprus the Commanding Officer may be invited to inspect track chart if he wishes to challenge its accuracy. If he declines invitation he should be

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informed politely that full report and track chart of his movements will be forwarded to higher authority . . . After submarine has surfaced she is not to be shadowed any further.54 The MoD had warned Eden that: International law cannot be considered to sanction in peacetime forcible action on our part to stop, board or arrest a foreign ship even if that warship were within the territorial waters of Cyprus and acting in a manner obviously inconsistent with innocent passage.55 On 30 December London and Harding were assured by the British Naval Attaché in Athens that all four of the Greek navy’s submarines had for some time been stationed at the Salamis base. There was no chance of these vessels having undertaken any secret missions to Cyprus; no submarine had been in the vicinity of the island on 28 December.56 The Greeks were not interested in jeopardising their relations with Britain, and avoided reckless action in support of EOKA. The Chiefs of Staff Committee decided to inform the Prime Minister immediately that it was certain no Greek submarine had been near Cyprus two days earlier.57 There was also no incident involving a submarine on 2 January. The Special Branch intelligence had been wrong, and Harding had exposed himself as an officer who kept his eyes on his counter-insurgency strategy, rather than on the wider context of Anglo-Greek relations. The Governor – perhaps attempting to save face – sent a message on 31 December, informing the MoD of new intelligence: ‘Limpet mines are soon to be imported [by EOKA] for use against Her Majesty’s ships as well as shore installations.’58 Harding and his intelligence apparatus insisted that: ‘Although it can now be appreciated that no Greek submarines have been in Cyprus waters, recently current reports from ships and intelligence sources of local submarine activity have been too firm to be discounted.’59 By mid-January, Harding had approved the appointment of an intelligence officer responsible for anti-smuggling operations, and later would ask the MoD to supply three Seamew aircraft for reconnaissance missions.60 As for secret intelligence on the island, in December 1955 MacDonald criticised Special Branch’s performance. He submitted new recommendations to the Governor, claiming: It would be futile to deny that the EOKA tactics of making Special Branch a primary target have in large measure succeeded, but I do not

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believe that given resolute leadership in the field the organisation is incapable of rallying.61 The security-services adviser argued in favour of giving operational intelligence to military-intelligence officers, who would handle this better than Special Branch.62 Such officers should form an ‘Operational Intelligence Wing’. While they would of course be co-operating with Special Branch, they would be tasked with ‘collating, appreciating and disseminating all intelligence relating to the strength, location and composition of terrorist gangs’, and with drafting relevant topographical charts.63 MacDonald envisioned intelligence from various sources and agencies (the military, the police, the colonial administration, etc.) flowing first in a ‘single stream at the lowest possible level, i.e., the divisional Special Branch’. The intelligence would be passed to the registry at Special Branch HQ, which would channel it to the Operational Intelligence Wing.64 Special Branch was too weak to handle the crisis alone, and the Security Liaison Officer would have to continue contributing to the intelligence process. Meanwhile, Athens Radio continued to incite young Greek-Cypriots to support the fight for independence (British military intelligence planned to jam its transmissions). The council of ethnarchy in Cyprus, Archbishop Makarios and the Bishop of Kyrenia, were key figures in the pro-enosis movement;65 religious figures carried great weight with public opinion, and EOKA also owed a great deal to Church funding for its survival. The Director of Military Intelligence admitted that: The chief requirement is to penetrate EOKA properly. Efforts to do this so far have been ineffective and many good opportunities seem to have been missed, for instance when about fifty EOKA suspects were locked up in Kyrenia castle . . . [penetration might take] anything from two months to a year according to the amount of good fortune received.66 Until the Director’s visit some penetration operations had been implemented, but nothing significant was achieved: the security services needed informers as well as luck. It was claimed that: ‘Great efforts are being made both on the military and on the civilian side in London to find suitable people to help in the security work.’67 The priorities, as set by the Director, were the penetration of EOKA, strong action against Athens Radio and action against the Bishop of Kyrenia.68 Royal Marines intelligence staff-officers viewed the performance of the police in a similar fashion. ‘The morale of the police is NIL and there is

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practically no information coming in . . . largely because of lack of information the security forces have not yet been able to gain the initiative,’ commented the marines’ commandant.69 Police work, such as anti-riot patrols and protecting police stations from raids, had to be carried out by ordinary army units, which also had to protect convoys, colonial officials and vehicles. 40 Commando was engaged in police security-work in Limassol, and 45 Commando, while patrolling in the Troodos region, suffered two casualties in an ambush, ‘Malaya [insurgency] style’.70 Grivas was soon identified as the EOKA leader, but escaped arrest. The lack of Greek speakers caused considerable concern in the intelligence services, which no longer trusted Greek-Cypriot constables. ‘There is an urgent need for people with a knowledge of Greek and Greece to help on the security/intelligence side,’ stressed the Director of Military Intelligence.71 The insurgency was exposing critical problems in language skills and in basic police intelligence-work. As time passed, intelligence officials, expert in signals intelligence and communication espionage realised that EOKA was using hand-written messages and couriers that circumvented superior espionage capabilities. It was found that: ‘It is fairly certain that wireless was never used [in EOKA communications].’72 In September 1956 the military, the security services and the Colonial Office were embarrassed by two correspondents of the Times of Cyprus who managed to enter Wolseley Barracks, the Middle East Land Forces HQ in Nicosia, unchallenged, reaching the office of the Chief of Staff. In the same month, Nikos Kranidiotis, Makarios’s secretary, was arrested on suspicion of being an EOKA member. In the United Kingdom, Manchester police discovered EOKA propaganda leaflets littering a road.73 Serious problems with the internal security organisation in Cyprus were reported by a special team of UK police commissioners, who, in the middle of the insurgency, argued in favour of modelling the Cyprus Police Force after the British pattern. The military should no longer help the police in their daily duties – ‘the objective now is to build up the force to the point where it can assume its proper responsibility for the maintenance of law and order in the Colony and thus relieve the military of this major commitment.’ The commissioners noted the lack of trained constables and of trustworthy Greek-Cypriot officers. Money was badly needed to pay for a revised salary structure, as well as to construct a new police HQ and detention quarters and to establish a forensic service. The main goal was for the police force to reach a total of 3,000 personnel in the medium term, and for 105 UK police officers to be recruited.74 The reorganisation of the police force needed a great deal of time, but there was little available. Meanwhile, the Cyprus

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question had been internationalised, Anglo-Greek relations had cooled and public opinion in Greece had become truly hostile, while the Greek military were unofficially allowing pro-enosis officers to smuggle weapons and ammunition into Cyprus.75 In April 1956 MacDonald, the security services adviser to the Colonial Office, visited the island again. In a brief memorandum, he repeated the difficulties confronted by Special Branch. The absence of experienced interrogators was a major problem; there were no translators fluent in the local Greek dialect, and the available personnel were incapable of exploiting ‘the technical facilities which the Special Branch now possesses’. Special Branch HQ, however, could cope with the flow of information. MacDonald was pleased with the performance of a secret team, stating that: ‘Much valuable and dangerous work has been done by a small Special Branch/Military Intelligence Wing team, which operates at night in Nicosia and has picked up an astonishing number of EOKA terrorists, harbourers of gunmen and wanted men.’76 Interestingly, interrogation officers reported that informers and arrested Greek-Cypriots changed their attitude on hearing (false) news and rumours about Britain and Makarios reaching an agreement granting self-determination. MacDonald stressed that false political news affected intelligence-gathering from detainees – it was evident that they ceased to co-operate on hearing such rumours, in particular those based on leaks from articles in the British press.77 Meanwhile, British service attachés in Athens complained that the Greek General Staff avoided any contact with them, and information from their counterparts – e.g. about the restructuring of the Greek armed forces – became rare. The Director of Naval Intelligence was informed by the Naval Attaché in Greece that: ‘Should the Cyprus problem be solved, it is probable that the present hostility to the Royal Navy would diminish. It is most unlikely, however, that the Royal Navy would ever be allowed to reassume its former paternalistic attitude toward the Royal Hellenic Navy.’ Ambassador Charles Peake sounded even more pessimistic, commenting that: ‘The historic connection [between the Royal Navy and the Greek navy] is dead.’78 Under Harding’s orders a large-scale manhunt for Grivas in rural areas was organised by paratroopers and Royal Marine commandos.79 (Soon the these units would be called upon to fight against Nasser’s forces in Suez, but the fighting against EOKA cost them in parachuting training and readiness.80) In December 1955, British troops launched Operation Foxhunter, targeting Greek-Orthodox monasteries where allegedly EOKA was hiding its war materiel. In February, Operation Pepperpot resulted in a firefight between EOKA and the British in the Kikos region, where the Grivas team

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operated. In June 1956, Operation Lucky Alphonse was launched in the Troodos mountains, where the British commandos chanced upon Grivas’s camp; the barking of a dog warned him, and he escaped, leaving his pistol and other equipment behind. Most significantly, he had hidden his personal 250,000-word diary, which detailed his secret dealings with Makarios and others, the organisation of EOKA and its methods. A low-grade EOKA member found the diary and sold it to the British. It was an intelligence windfall, and many analyses of EOKA methods and many investigation leads were based on this captured document. In the autumn, Operations Sparrowhawk I and II were launched in the Kyrenia region. During their patrols, British units gathered at roads outside villages and paths that led to the hills, anticipating the guerrillas coming down for food and supplies. Usually, radio-broadcast announcements ‘informed’ the communities of the areas cordoned-off for search, but the British attempted to seal off areas larger than the ones already announced.81 In April and May, Operation Lucky Mac was mounted, but the results were poor, because it was based ‘on speculation without direct information’.82 The arrests of ‘forty four important’ EOKA suspects in Limassol and Larnaca took place in November–December 1956. It was reported that: The security authorities obtained some of the most valuable information about EOKA yet to fall into their hands. As a result of this information, further developments can be expected in the near future on different parts of the island . . . some captured documents confirm that EOKA was modelled very much on communist lines. In most of the main areas there is a group or district leader and, holding equal rank to him, is a political commissar who is one of the few people with direct access to Grivas.83 General Kenneth Darling, the director of operations admitted: ‘There was no easy route to Grivas up the ladder of the organisation.’84 Grivas was protected by a high-grade mole, Special Branch Inspector Georgios Lagodontis, who on occasions warned him and others, including Afxentiou and Abbot Irineos (a pro-EOKA cleric), of impending operations against them. Lagodontis worked in the police operations-room, and allegedly recorded the meetings of senior military and police officers held every morning. A further allegation was that Lagodontis was a double agent (securing a commendation from Governor Sir Hugh Foot for his services). Possibly, Lagodontis’s backing for Grivas was indeed known to the British, who kept him in place to follow his warnings to EOKA members and arrest them. However, they

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failed to reach the head of EOKA. Further research has yet to solve the Lagodontis puzzle.85 The Grivas diary, other confiscated EOKA documents and human sources (i.e., interrogations of arrested EOKA members) were key sources for the British offering them ex post facto intelligence rather than the realtime information a mole within EOKA and close to Grivas could have offered. After June 1956 (following the end of Operation Lucky Alphonse) Grivas had decided to hide in urban centres, making his detection almost impossible. He stayed in a single house for months, but only one or two EOKA members knew his whereabouts. Grivas remained at large, inspiring people with his declarations as well as continuing to issue tactical directives to newly-recruited EOKA fighters. He avoided personal contacts, sending his dispatches by trusted couriers, stayed in urban areas, seldom moved, and played no part in operations; he thus posed a most difficult target for British intelligence to trace. He repeatedly escaped arrest, though EOKA’s structure, methods, organisation and tactics were thoroughly understood. The captured diary and other papers of Grivas, interrogations, and documents confiscated from EOKA members were the key means of reaching this understanding, which provided the basis for surveillance operations. Since mid-1956 British intelligence had had very good information about the Greek-Cypriot group, covering critical anti-guerrilla tasks, and EOKA’s communications networks, concealment practices and financing. Communications were a key guerrilla activity: dozens of EOKA couriers, both men and women, were unsuspected civilians, usually people who by trade had to travel in the countryside daily. These individuals’ names were not to be found on existing police registries and, especially in the 1955–56 period, they could pursue their missions without fear of being shadowed by Special Branch.86 Bus, taxi and truck drivers, merchants and businessmen as well as medical professionals transported Grivas’s written or oral orders and propaganda. They constituted the links in a large and complex chain of couriers, delivering their messages to ‘post boxes’ (e.g., coffee shops, bus and depets, petrol stations, shops and particularly pharmacies). The message was either handed on in person or hidden until someone else collected it. Despite searches and the interrogation of arrested couriers, intelligence officers were forced to admit that the gap left by the arrest of a single courier could easily be filled by others, though it was said that Special Branch surveillance and other operations in the towns ‘had considerable success’ – but against low-grade couriers. Special Branch agents also knew about EOKA’s ‘cutouts’ and the ‘sub-post boxes’ employed in special circumstances.87 Accord-

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ing to an EOKA group leader arrested in 1957, he had received between 30 and 50 letters from Grivas himself, messages covering all aspects of the liberation struggle. The head of EOKA was ‘a very prolific correspondent, sometimes writing twenty letters a day’.88 Though the planning of a courier’s mission was elaborate, the British managed to confiscate documents that disclosed the course of a single message. EOKA opted to transfer messages over a period of 20–24 hours, in a bid to evade Special Branch surveillance. When a letter had to be sent to a town 30 miles away, for instance, the chain of couriers would employ a circuitous route covering some 100 miles until the final destination was reached. According to intelligence, ‘all Grivas’ mail’ passed via the Nicosia secret post-box. Nicosia, Limassol, Kyrenia, Paphos, Famagusta, Lefka and Larnaca had their own post boxes, divided into rural and leaders’ boxes. The former were for messages for guerrillas in the mountains, and the latter for district leaders and urban fighters. ‘Dead-letter’ boxes were also employed. In times of extreme urgency, a high-grade EOKA courier could transfer a message to its destination anywhere on the island within three hours.89 The messages were not always in code (usually only high-level communications were coded), but the addressee and the sender employed code names. Later, typewriters were used to avoid the analysis of the handwriting by the security services. Sympathisers in the public-communication authorities and the police warned EOKA of impeding raids and arrests by telephone. The Greek diplomatic bag was also suspected of transferring messages, propaganda and other material for EOKA, though nothing was ever proved.90 British intelligence located the ‘central post box’ building, and identified a number of couriers in Nicosia and other towns. Raids resulted in the seizing of documents, and ‘the action caused serious disruption to the communications system [of EOKA].’ However, the British realised that they would always confront the dilemma of whether to arrest the couriers or to wait in the hope of discovering their contacts and the area leader. In the event of an area leader’s arrest, EOKA automatically made use of ‘an alternative reserve system of couriers’, a tactic Special Branch was aware of. The security services strove to take advantage of information that could support ‘an island-wide simultaneous operation’, rather than merely a manhunt at local level.91 Meanwhile, EOKA espionage networks penetrated all echelons of the colonial administration. Even the Governor’s security was lethally weak. On 21 March 1956 an EOKA member, employed as a servant in the Governor’s mansion, placed a time bomb under Harding’s bed. The bomb did not detonate because he slept with the window open, and the drop in temperature affected the explosive. In the morning two soldiers discovered the bomb,

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and one young Second Lieutenant found himself with the dangerous job of extracting the device with a shovel. Niceties were long gone in Cyprus: Grivas wanted Harding dead. The two bomb-makers were arrested, but the servant bomber, 20-year-old Neophytos Sophocleous, escaped. Ironically, he was later to be appointed a police inspector, after the establishment of the Republic. According to one account, in a conversation with Noel Baker at a reception in August 1960, Sophocleous asked about Harding (who was then in London), saying arrogantly: ‘Please give him my kind regards.’92 Harding wanted Makarios out of Cyprus because he believed that negotiations with him would lead nowhere and that the Archbishop was protecting Grivas. On 9 March 1956 Makarios was arrested, under Operation Apollo, and ceremoniously put on an RAF plane to Africa; he ended up eventually in the Seychelles.93 Harding felt free to act after five months of secret negotiations with Makarios, stating that: ‘Change is the essence of human affairs . . . it always happens that when one form of leadership fails, another emerges.’ He was referring to the ‘failed’ leadership of Makarios, emphasising that: We therefore decided it was essential to remove him from the island so that we could more effectively tackle EOKA and set about the restoration of law and order. So long as he was here, his tacit approval of the terrorists was bound to make our task more difficult.94 Besides, the security services had ‘broken into the EOKA . . . I won’t say we have broken EOKA, but we are getting more information.’95 Harding sought to present the press with an intelligence coup, and to take the credit for it; but this was far from the truth. With Makarios deported, and resultant feelings of humiliation among Greek-Cypriots, there was now no chance for peace; Grivas was at large; British and Greek-Cypriots (and later Turkish-Cypriots) joined in a more lethal paramilitary struggle; and the colonial administration brought into play a divide-and-rule strategy by recruiting more Turkish-Cypriots into the police; a more hostile atmosphere developed between the two communities. In January 1956 foreknowledge of the security services’ plans led to an EOKA coup. Informed of a British plan to confiscate hunting shotguns, communities were discreetly approached and the guerrillas managed to acquire some 700 shotguns, in good condition. On city streets, EOKA spies watched as Special Branch officers and policemen went about their duties, in a game of cat and mouse in reverse. In 1954, Grivas had written in his diary that his group should put under close surveillance ‘the British, the

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communists and any other enemies in Cyprus’. EOKA aimed to identify British secret agents and pro-British Greek-Cypriots within the colonial administration and to follow the movements of the police and the military, as well as to gather surveillance information about the targets of future raids and bombings.96 Spies (real and imagined) within the police force were a headache for the security services. By 1958, they estimated that there were 138 EOKA suspects (officers and constables) still employed; 53 had already been discharged, and 40 jailed. In total, 225 out of 932 were considered EOKA members. In response, the security services started hiring Turkish constables en masse. At the same time, Colonial Office officials admitted that new problems for intelligence gathering were created: ‘. . . the fundamental objection that [the police] being founded on the loyalty of the Turkish police, it found it very difficult to penetrate EOKA and the Greek-Cypriots’.97 Intelligence officers were aware that within the interrogation centres there were well-placed EOKA informers who informed Grivas of who had been arrested and what had been disclosed to the interrogators. Moreover, Greek-Cypriot detective-constables were called in to investigate sabotage cases because they spoke Greek. Special Branch and CID officers had insufficient knowledge of the language, and valuable information invariably escaped them. Soldiers on patrol could not speak Greek, and the employment of female couriers made body searches more difficult.98 Grivas was always security-conscious and as early as February 1955 ordered ‘the surveillance of all EOKA members lest through weakness of character they reveal secrets’.99 Later he and other guerrillas compiled nominal death rolls for those GreekCypriots, mainly leftist and/or pro-British, to be executed as traitors.100 The leader of EOKA was still worried about the activities of the secret services. In a July 1956 note that was eventually discovered by the authorities he wrote: The enemy has gained valuable intelligence about my organisation through my men talking after capture, informers amongst the civil population, and carelessness in abandoning personal equipment . . . recent success by the enemy against my antartes (guerrillas) and also against the action groups in the towns, coupled with the knowledge that the death penalty will be enforced for acts of terrorism, has lowered EOKA’s morale.101 In early 1957, Operation Black Mac led to the killing of Markos Drakos, the third in line in EOKA’s operational command. Then arrested EOKA mem-

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bers and ‘independent information’ helped to plot the movements of Afxentiou, while the British traced his food supplier.102 On 3 March 1957, following a tip-off from an informer, he was trapped in woodland near Mahairas, and killed after resisting heroically. Afxentiou commanded respect amongst the British army; his entrapment was the result of precise tactical intelligence. Frank Dewsbury of the Special Operations Group remarked that: It is a pity we have to kill people like that. This statement may make me sound like an EOKA sympathiser but I respect good soldiers and brave men doing a hard dangerous job whatever their nationality or cause; most professional military men feel the same. Lieutenant-Colonel Britten of the Grenadier Guards, present in the final phase of the operation against Afxentiou, admitted: ‘He fought back bravely, determined to sell his life dearly.’ Earlier, in another operation against the EOKA leader, a British officer had told Afxentiou’s father: ‘As a soldier of course I want to capture him. He is an arch-terrorist and it’s my duty. As a man I want to congratulate you on having such a splendid son.’103 Grivas was shocked by the loss of Afxentiou. According to his own account the British tried to flush him out a few days later: by leaking information that they knew where exactly he had been hiding, they attempted to lure him into moving, hoping to locate him en route. However, the EOKA leader was convinced that the police could not have known where he was hiding, and stayed in place.104 Back in Athens the same year, Greek counter-intelligence found that a private phone line used by Prime Minister Constantine Karamanlis was being tapped by British Embassy personnel. Foreign Secretary Evangelos Averof-Tositsas informed Ambassador Peake, together with his American counterpart. Eventually, the three spies implicated were quietly deported.105 Greek diplomatic corps had already experienced a break-in at the Greek embassy in Ankara on 25 August 1957; Greek diplomats admitted that four ‘unimportant’ files had been stolen.106 After the deaths of Drakos and Afxentiou, one EOKA mountain-group leader provided the British with a detailed account of new measures Grivas had taken: many young men, for instance, were being promoted to lieutenant. Still no-one challenged the authority of Grivas, who ordered that EOKA members were to have cover stories, in case of arrest.107 Many arrested members provided accurate information on hideouts and abandoned arms dumps in order to lead the security services there, to delay their missions against Grivas himself.108 Again, the British were acquiring ex post facto

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information, rather than the real-time intelligence a spy close to Grivas could have provided. In Britain, propaganda against Makarios and the EOKA ranged from newspaper articles with a wide readership to government booklets for foreign diplomats and international correspondents. Official booklets and information bulletins with titles such as Greek Irredentism and Cyprus (1956), Greece and Cyprus: the Policy behind Terrorism (1957) and Church and Terrorism in Cyprus (1957) were circulated; in the last of these Makarios was presented as an arch-terrorist. In the Foreign Office, some officials warned that the Church should not be assaulted by propaganda, only Makarios personally. English readers interested in fiction found in bookshops and on news-stands novels that mirrored Cyprus, the Empire and the guerrilla campaign. In 1958 John Appleby published Bad Summer (1958) in which: A British officer, Captain Douglas Vincent, has been kidnapped in Nicosia, and is being held as hostage for the reprieve of the Cypriot terrorist Gregoris Stavrou. When Honor Vincent comes to Cyprus to try to save her younger brother from this, his latest predicament, she begins to understand the desperate problems that beset this beautiful and unhappy island. Other publications included M.M. Kayee’s Death Walked in Cyprus and Daniel Nash’s Not Yours the Island, the latter with an endorsement by Field Marshal Harding. Fiction was being used as black propaganda. (However, The Flaming Cassock, an anti-Makarios novel by Arthur Campbell remained unpublished because of calls for moderation on the eve of the Anglo-GreekTurkish negotiations in late 1958.)109 Meanwhile, British intelligence succeeded in finding the sources and methods of EOKA financing. They were greatly helped in this by Grivas’s diary, by documents seized from other EOKA members and by Special Branch surveillance of the Greek-Cypriot clergy. As a rule, the guerrillas did not live off the land, paying their sympathisers the market price for food and other supplies; they sought to avoid propaganda accusations of ‘banditry’. Grivas had experienced the German occupation of Greece and remembered the despair of poor civilians when they were required by guerrillas to give them food. The Greek-Orthodox Church of Cyprus was the main source of money, though contributions from Greece and from Greek communities in the United States also played a significant role.110 The money was collected, in cash, in regular and special church contributions by individuals, monasteries and bishoprics. Archbishop Makarios and other top clerics de-

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posited the money in church safe-houses and gave special couriers the sums requested by Grivas. On 2 February 1957 British intelligence discovered a full account of monthly EOKA expenditures, and were amazed at the financial discipline Grivas maintained. According to the confiscated documents, EOKA spent an average of £1,540 sterling per month in 1956. In a period of five months, Grivas allocated 29.5 per cent of the funds to maintaining his guerrilla groups, 19.2 per cent to family allowances for EOKA members, 16.3 per cent to war materiel (on the Cyprus black market), 17 per cent to smuggling, 5 per cent to propaganda (for purchasing paper and paying printers) and 2.5 per cent to medical expenses. The remaining 10.5 per cent of the funds was spent in legal fees for EOKA members on trial and on courier expenses and other petty activities. British accountants admitted that the cost of maintaining the guerrillas was relatively low.111 The acquisition of war materiel was the principal cost incurred by the anti-colonial struggle. For example, from May to September 1956 Grivas allocated £913 for arms, ammunition and explosives, buying pistols for £5 and a British submachine-gun for only £2. He paid £377 for explosives and detonators, the former coming mainly from Cyprus mines (rather than the Greek military). However, from 1957 onwards British services noted the use of the US-made M3 submachine gun, a weapon issued to Greek Special Forces at that time.112 Intelligence officers commented: [EOKA] was run with remarkable economy and, in consequence, did not need large sums of money for its maintenance. EOKA was never hampered by lack of funds. The Orthodox Church was the main source of finance for EOKA . . . there has perhaps never been an underground movement so well documented as EOKA and we know how much they paid for such items as boots and clothing.113 Another area of counter-insurgency on which the British were well-informed was EOKA hideouts. The Greek-Cypriot fighters maintained an array of these in occupied houses, farmhouses and, in the mountains, shelters camouflaged with bushes and tree branches. Cypriots had a reputation as experts in masonry. (To the surprise of troops on one search mission, they discovered a bidet in full working order – it turned out to be the entrance to an EOKA hideout.) False walls, fireplaces and ceilings were places of concealment for EOKA fighters during raids. In farmhouses, EOKA sympathisers intentionally kept the secret entrances of the hideouts filthy and smelly in order for the troops quickly to lose patience with their search. However, the patrols admitted that a thorough house search could have resulted in a

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lot of material damage: ‘political considerations’, physical effort and shortage of time inhibited more in-depth searches.114 EOKA fighters shot and killed military and police officers, or GreekCypriots considered ‘traitors’, in cold blood and in broad daylight. One Greek-Cypriot constable was shot in hospital after visiting his wife, who had just given birth. Another Greek-Cypriot (accused of being an informer) was murdered in a church. The wife of a British sergeant was shot without reason, causing violent retributions that resulted in the death of three GreekCypriot civilians (including a child) at the hands of British soldiers bent on revenge. Ledra Street in Nicosia was renamed ‘Murder Mile’ by British servicemen. Tactical warnings in the moments before an attack proved to be impossible. Usually two to three EOKA fighters, young men in their early twenties, approached the target and discharged pistols at close range. Certainly, trigger-happy members of EOKA (like the fanatic Nikos Sampson, who even managed to take a photograph after shooting two British soldiers, and then sold it to a newspaper before being arrested) played a significant role in the violent inter-communal incidents of the 1960s, as we will show in the next chapter. Eventually, British special forces deployed snipers on the rooftops of key buildings overlooking avenues to confront the assassination squads.115 The cold-blooded incidents in Ledra Street escalated the conflict, and showed that such acts made no contribution to freedom; international correspondents assumed that EOKA had lost the moral high ground.116 By killing informers and Special Branch officers in churches and hospitals, Grivas was following a Mafia-style approach to the self-determination struggle. On 18 March 1956, during communion in the church of Kithrea, EOKA members killed Manolis Pieridis, an insurance agent accused of being an informer, in cold blood. On 15 April 1956, Kyriakos Aristotelous, a Special Branch officer, was shot in a hospital while visiting his pregnant wife.117 Making the best of these incidents, Harding asked rhetorically in a press interview: ‘Is it patriotic to walk into a church and shoot someone?’118 Grivas may have been a capable organiser of guerrilla warfare, and an expert in tactics and propaganda, but he was trapped in a mindset of escalating violence, without understanding the international implications of his campaign. Meanwhile, the Cold War was intensifying, and Greece had sided with the Western alliance. In hiding, he had been isolated, issuing orders, tactics, directives and propaganda declarations on a daily basis, never allowing anyone else to take over such tasks. He was at once sergeant, captain, colonel and commanding officer in EOKA, with a high regard for his own skills and abilities.

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Assessing the option of Ledra Street assaults, Grivas assumed that by lethally provoking the military he could be sure of tactical excesses by young servicemen. Grivas did not seek to defeat the British in battle: he could have attempted that by a massive recruitment campaign – ‘all Cypriots against the British Empire’. He opted for a small organisation of youths with a right-wing or ultra-right-wing ideology. By involving small boys in anticolonial propaganda, Grivas put them in harm’s way, while laughing at photographs of British soldiers with submachine-guns next to Greek-Cypriots pupils with their hands up. British intelligence understood Grivas’s provocative tactics, but excesses by servicemen could not be entirely averted: on another occasion the British freed Greek-Cypriots next to a Turkish-Cypriot village, leaving them to be slaughtered by Turkish-Cypriots. This occurred on 22 June 1958, in the village of Kionelli. A British patrol had arrested 20 Greek-Cypriots from the village of Kontomenou who were returning from Nicosia. Eventually they were released, but had to walk through Kionelli, a Turkish-Cypriot village, and while doing so were attacked by a mob of some 200 Turkish-Cypriot men. Eight Greek-Cypriots were murdered in cold blood and nine severely wounded. This episode sparked a Greek-Turkish clash which lasted for three months, until late August. In total, 107 civilians were killed, of whom 56 were Greek-Cypriot and 51 Turkish-Cypriot. June 1958 was a bad month in another respect: on 7 June, a bomb exploded at the entrance to the Turkish consulate in Nicosia – leaving Turkish-Cypriots ready to take their revenge on Greek-Cypriots. Some assumed it was a provocation; others blamed EOKA. Not until 1984 did Rauf Denktas, the Turkish-Cypriot leader, admit that the bomb had been placed by the Turks themselves, to ‘make it known that Turkish-Cypriots were interested in Cyprus’.119 Meanwhile, the RAF and military intelligence had coordinated Operation Sky Shout, and in April 1957 Operation Loud Hail, in which messages were broadcast over rural areas, calling on EOKA fighters to surrender. Sky Shout was the official designation of psychological operations by air. Loud Hail and then Sky Hail concentrated on dropping leaflets on towns. Two Pembroke aircraft fitted with tape-players and loudspeakers patrolled the island, dropping some 100,000 leaflets urging EOKA fighters to surrender. The propaganda condemned Grivas, blaming him for crimes against Cypriots and for establishing ‘a kingdom of terror’. The public needed to know ‘what EOKA offers: blood, sadness, fear, destruction of children, loss of a peaceful life, economic troubles, confinement to your house, terrorism, shootings, that’s the bad name they [EOKA] give Cypriots all over the world . . .’ RAF Sergeant Eric Bradley served in a Pembroke on these propaganda

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missions, and believed that the outcome was not positive. He remarked that: ‘Greeks thought that it was just another thing the crazy British did: ignore it and it will go away.’ Bradley also disclosed a conversation he had had with a ‘black operations’ officer at the time, who told him that on at least one occasion, in 1957, his team had discovered a cache of explosives. Instead of seizing it, however, they replaced the seven-second fuses with three-second fuses. A few weeks later a number of casualties among EOKA bombers were deemed to have resulted from this operation. Irrespective of the veracity of this particular account, it was certainly the practice of the British to leave explosives and ammunition found in a cache and to keep it under surveillance so as to arrest EOKA fighters returning to it.120 On 26 November 1957, EOKA fighters penetrated undetected into the RAF base at Akrotiri, entered a hangar and placed bombs on two Canberra bombers. Eventually the explosions destroyed four Canberras and a Venom jet fighter, as well as the hangar itself. Grivas claimed in his memoirs that this operation, under a 17-year-old schoolboy, cost the RAF £4.5 million.121 The Cyprus Mail estimated the damage at £4 million, commenting that: ‘The saboteur responsible, if there has been a saboteur, could not but have rubbed his hands with glee at his night’s work. The most expensive sabotage attack in the thirty months old history of EOKA.’ Nonetheless Jock Devlin, a retired RAF NCO, claimed that he was told by an RAF security officer at Akrotiri that the explosions were caused by a spark from a security light in the hangar. At that time, following the Suez crisis, the base remained on high alert; allegedly, the servicing crew had refuelled all the aircraft in the hangar, but forgotten to close a couple of fuel caps. One of the lights on the wall of the Canberra hangar was faulty, and caused a spark, which in turned ignited high-octane fumes to cause an explosion. The security officer claimed that the RAF chose not to admit the truth and run the risk of accusations of incompetence, and so allowed EOKA to claim a coup.122 The truth or otherwise of the Akrotiri story remains as yet unresolved. The resignation of Harding on 22 October 1957 marked London’s intention of cutting a deal with Greece and Turkey over Cyprus. However, in late 1958 the new Governor, Sir Hugh Foot, complained to the Foreign Office about the inefficiency of the intelligence services. He commented that: I must frankly say that those which have had experience of successful political warfare activity in such places as Malaya and Kenya have not been able to give us much practical assistance in our unique circumstances . . . we need someone to organise intelligence.123

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Indeed, there was still a problem of intelligence co-ordination between the police force, the security services and the military. However, a former special-forces sergeant who had served in Cyprus admitted that the Governor was not always kept informed of secret operations to locate Grivas and other EOKA members. Allegedly, some members of the Special Air Service and Special Boat Squadron (based abroad, not in Cyprus) conducted secret operations against the EOKA, involving espionage as well as surprise raids on dwellings, and close quarter engagements.124 The key espionage method was ‘Q-patrolling’: usually an eight-member team dressed like the guerrillas appeared in a village pretending to be EOKA fighters who needed supplies or were trying to contact other members of their group.125 However, the Q-patrols did not have much success against top EOKA members because many Greek-Cypriot villagers always suspected strangers. Q-patrols sometimes contained turned EOKA members under the command of British specialforces officers; according to a rumour circulated in British ex-servicemen’s communities, at least two British officers impersonated Grivas to trick villagers or Greek-Orthodox clerics.126 By late 1958, Special Branch, under Sir John Prendergast, had been trying to put under surveillance a few individuals who could be in contact with Grivas. The Anglo-Greek-Turkish diplomats’ contacts were under way, and the British assumed that the ever-ambitious Grivas could not afford to continue protecting his security by remaining isolated – Prendergast knew that Grivas needed to contact Makarios or others in Church circles to make known his own views on the resolution of the Cyprus question.127 Since the beginning of the anti-colonial insurgency the elimination of Grivas had been codified as Operation Sunshine, but in February 1959 it was under Operation Mare’s Nest that the Black Watch raided the Troodos mountains, employing armoured vehicles and air assault by helicopter; but Grivas was not near the area.128 The same month, while the Greek Foreign Minister, Averof, was visiting London to reach an agreement on the Cyprus issue, Special Branch on the island located the house in Limassol where Grivas was hiding. On 16 February, Prendergast informed the Director of Operations, General Kenneth Darling, that he had located Grivas. Prendergast was required to fly immediately to London to get authorisation to mount a raid. British diplomats, meanwhile, were preoccupied with the AngloGreek-Turkish negotiations at Lancaster House; on the evening of the same day Macmillan held discussions with Averof, and allegedly asked him a rhetorical question about the consequences if Grivas were to be killed in an arrest attempt, whereupon Averof warned him of the resulting collapse of

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the negotiations and of a new cycle of violence. Later the same day, Averof sent an urgent telegram to the Greek Consulate in Cyprus, which we can assume was intercepted by British intelligence, since MI5 kept the communications of the Greek Embassy in London under close surveillance.129 The Prime Minister was convinced that diplomacy and not ‘drastic action’ was in Britain’s best interests, and to the dismay of Special Branch, which had been hunting Grivas for years, he cancelled Operation Sunshine.130 For his part, Grivas in his 1961 memoirs argued that though he was informed of the supposed intelligence on his whereabouts, he remained unconcerned as he was sure they could not possibly know his location. The EOKA leader was confident that the leaking of information to Averof was a British ploy to make him move, and then to capture him. Grivas believed that if Special Branch had had intelligence on his hide out they would have mounted an assault without waiting for clearance from London.131 The last time British agents and officers saw their valuable target was on the morning of 17 March 1959, when Grivas, in full guerrilla regalia, boarded a plane to Athens, while dozens of Greek-Cypriots celebrated: he was untouchable. Predergast waited silently in the shadows; he stayed in Cyprus until early June 1960, then transferred to Hong Kong. The historian can ask ‘what if ’ questions (‘virtual history’), always aware of the danger of being drawn into the realm of multiple hypotheses. What would have happened if Special Branch had found Grivas’s hiding place and stormed it, leading to the EOKA leader’s death? Averof had warned Macmillan of further bloodshed and chaos, and we can be sure that in the short term demonstrations and violent incidents would have occurred, leaving Makarios to handle the conflict alone, with all EOKA members loyal to Grivas on the loose against the Turkish-Cypriots and the British. In their turn, Turkish paramilitaries would have attacked Greek-Cypriot communities. Without Grivas there would be no strong EOKA controlled by one man, but rather many would-be war lords: Grivas’s leadership and firm grip was charismatic for a small organisation with only a limited cadre of really experienced fighters. Fifteen years later, on 27 January 1974, Grivas died while in hiding, planning to topple Makarios with his new organisation, EOKA B. After the death of Grivas and the Cypriot police campaign against EOKA B, the latter was paralysed to the extent that the Cypriot National Guard became the key force behind the 15 July coup against Makarios.132 After more than a decade of organising paramilitary forces, Grivas had been able only to build groups of fighters and petty war lords, dependent on him. Possibly, if Grivas had been shot dead in a police assault, the TMT – the Turkish-Cypriot nationalist paramilitaries backed by Ankara – might have gained the upper hand in

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their confrontation with the Greek-Cypriots over the following six months, as long as they maintained a consolidated leadership structure (manned and directed by the Turkish military). EOKA’s Greek-Cypriot lieutenants would have spent a long period of time in internecine disputes, and in arguments with Makarios and the Greek government, before again making EOKA a disciplined force to be counted upon. After the departure of Grivas from Cyprus, negotiations on the sovereign bases lasted for a further 16 months, until July 1960. Building the new state dominated the agenda of Makarios, and the Turkish-Cypriot leaders. Meanwhile, MI6 maintained a spy within Makarios’s entourage, who gave warning of the Archbishop’s intentions, though there remained critical intelligence gaps. As former SAS and MI6 officer in Cyprus in 1958–59 Sir Stephen Hastings, put it, his service ‘knew practically everything he [Makarios] said to his aides and advisors, yet never throughout the interminable negotiation for the sovereign bases did we learn with any certainty what Makarios’s next move would be’.133 Indeed, an espionage coup cannot always help diplomats in their negotiations at critical times: the unpredictability of leaders should never be underestimated, even when they are considered to be in a weak bargaining position and with a spy close to them. At that time, Greek intelligence (KYP) multiplied their human sources within the island, reporting mainly on the secret transfer of arms from Turkey to the island and on British attitudes in the negotiations.134 According to intelligence reports reaching the Greek government, in the year from summer 1959 the colonial government put strong pressure on the Cypriot pound, took no measures to counter rising unemployment and inflation, and urged the transfer of investments to the United Kingdom. Rumours of a coming devaluation of the Cypriot pound were spread.135 By late May 1960, Greek intelligence argued that there were indications of a secret Anglo-Turkish agreement: allegedly, the Turks would back the British in the negotiations over the bases, and the British would support the Turkish-Cypriots in their argument with the Greek-Cypriots, to the effect that all the provisions of the new Cypriot constitution safeguarding Turkish-Cypriot rights should be implemented immediately.136 In parallel, propaganda influenced the local newspapers to publicise the rift between Makarios and Grivas – the latter did not agree with the Zurich and London agreements signed by Greece and Makarios.137 Also, in September 1959 it was reported that the TMT had assassinated two Turkish-Cypriot Special Branch officers who were investigating illicit arms transfers from Turkey.138 Most significantly, KYP had information from a secret source to the effect that British military intelligence on the island feared an armed Turkish-

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Cypriot attack against the Greek-Cypriots after the declaration of the republic, or once the British troops had withdrawn to their sovereign bases. The Turkish-Cypriots were dissatisfied with the new constitution, even though it granted them disproportionate privileges with respect to their population; allegedly, they aimed to divide Cyprus – this was why Turkish reserve officers came to Cyprus in secret to train Turkish-Cypriot militias. According to the KYP source, the British assessment was that the Turkish-Cypriots counted on the active support of Turkey to gain more posts in the Cypriot government and the new bureaucracy.139 Strong pressure was put on Makarios in February 1960 to agree with the British. KYP reported that all preparations for the cession of sovereignty were cancelled, together with the anticipated exit of British units. The 2nd and 12th Battalions of the Paratroop Regiment designated to leave Cyprus were held back in areas outside the sovereign bases. In addition, police constables were called up from Britain.140 This sort of pressure, together with rising inflation, rumours of devaluation and the exit of funds to the United Kingdom, continued into March.141 Governor Foot had a secret meeting with some anti-Makarios Greek-Cypriot leaders on 18 May 1960 to discuss how to proceed with the negotiations. Allegedly, he was planning for the continuation of colonial administration until the end of the year.142 Meanwhile, KYP spies in Cyprus eventually identified the First Secretary in the newly-established High Commission, as an MI6 intelligence officer, and put him under close surveillance.143 The protracted negotiations ended in July ‘without impressive gains from either side but with an important fall in the Archbishop’s prestige as well as in British credibility’, reported the KYP. The Republic of Cyprus was now a sovereign state.144 By late October 1960, KYP would report information on hydrogen bombs held at the Akrotiri base.145 Indeed, for the RAF: [Cyprus] a. remains the only available base from which to support the Baghdad Pact, b. remains an important base for the support of NATO, particularly in relation to early warning, c. continues to be an indispensable and irreplaceable centre for providing ‘Y’ service intelligence, and communications.146 In the United States, the Pentagon considered the British bases on Cyprus would function as a back-up to the American base in Adana, Turkey, in the event of war with the Soviet Union. The Americans knew that some Cypriot leaders were aware of the intelligence value of the British sovereign bases; still, Washington assumed that these Cypriots would not go public.147

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Gathering intelligence on guerrillas can be difficult, due to time constraints. A guerrilla security-apparatus always finds ways to block the counter-insurgency forces’ access to vital information on plans for future attacks. British services had very good intelligence on the EOKA organisation, its methods, tactics and operations, but until early 1959 Grivas was kept safe and continued to lead EOKA, though suffering casualties in the ranks of fighters and their lieutenants. Tactical intelligence on the whereabouts of the guerrilla leader remained hard to come by. Intelligence organisations can acquire voluminous information on the military capabilities of foreign states and on guerrilla groups, though the latter have always been a particularly difficult target to locate and assess. The key is to locate the insurgency’s centre of gravity, by which is meant the single politico-military factor whose neutralisation would have a direct negative effect on the group’s goals and strategy. Charismatic guerrilla leaders like the Yugoslav Josip Broz (Tito) and the Chinese leader Mao Tse-Tung were that centre of gravity in their respective conflicts, their leadership proving decisive at critical moments. Mao spoke of time, space and will in a revolt: the revolutionaries need time to develop their propaganda, communicate with the masses and agitate; space to withdraw for essential regrouping; and most significantly, the will of the common people to side with them had to be inspired. He also taught that the mere survival of the revolutionary is already a political victory, and that the guerrilla ‘can always sink back into the peaceful population, which is the sea in which the guerrilla swims like fish’. These lessons were relevant also to Grivas, who proved to have a very good understanding of tactics, as well as of using propaganda, during the critical period of 1955–59. Moreover, despite the loss of experienced lieutenants, so long as he was supported by Church funds, Grivas could continue his struggle; the source of financing for an insurgency is a very important but understated factor in many conflicts.148 The difference between Grivas and Mao was a key one: the former did not want a massive movement, or a massive revolutionary army, but rather an easily-controlled, relatively small group of armed men, with a mass of sympathisers for propaganda and logistics. He sought to draw his opponents into retaliating excessively against any of his provocations. Those with guns had to be loyal to Grivas personally. Grivas boasted in his book on guerrilla-warfare tactics that ‘the British had been hunting rats [the EOKA] with an army of tanks. However, rats could be hunted only by cunning cats or mousetraps.’149 Until the full declassification of the British intelligence operations this argument could sound convincing; this chapter, citing the most recently-released files, has shown that the gathering of tactical-intelligence warnings of attacks and bombings and the location of

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the guerrilla leaders constitute by far the major objectives of intelligence collection. Credible intelligence in advance of an event is rare. The British in Cyprus acquired ex post facto information from interrogations and EOKA documents. Success in tactical terms (i.e., locating Grivas) could come only from secret sources within EOKA close to the leader, but this was an impossible task given the strong pro-Grivas feelings of the majority of Greek-Cypriots, as well as the extent of his security measures. With time, the secret services managed to acquire a good understanding of EOKA’s methods, organisation and operations; however, the guerrillas were able to retain the military and political initiative. Finally, international negotiations and the Anglo-Greek-Turkish agreements led to the creation of the sovereign state of the Republic of Cyprus. ‘Drastic measures’, covert action and counter-intelligence did not have ‘all the time in the world’; they operated subject to politics. Paraphrasing Carl von Clausewitz: ‘Espionage and counter-intelligence are merely the continuation of policy by other means’ and, we may add, have a limited shelf-life.

6 Middle East Strategy and Cyprus

The British sites on Cyprus were to play a key role in maintaining the fragile military structure of the Central Treaty Organisation (CENTO, formerly the Bagdad Pact), an alliance considered today the least successful West-inspired defence organisation of the Cold War. With the United Kingdom as the leading power, with the other member states of Turkey, Iran and Pakistan, and the US as an associate member, CENTO was established in August 1959, after the withdrawal of Iraq from the Baghdad Pact; it was envisioned as the NATO of the Middle East, able to contain Russian influence. Despite the urging of American diplomacy that the alliance play a more active role, CENTO degenerated into an organisation with no forces assigned to it except for the RAF’s Cyprus-based bomber squadrons. Although the US participated in the military committee of the organisation, many states suspected CENTO was a British ploy to maintain post-imperial power in the oil-rich Middle East. 1958 was a year of post-Suez Middle East interventions. In Operation Blue Bat US Marines landed in Lebanon on 15 July, to protect the government of Camille Chamoun from Syrian-backed rebel forces. Harold Macmillan, the British Prime Minister, did not contribute troops directly to this endeavour, but placed 3,700 in Cyprus as a reserve for the Lebanon operation.1 In the same month, London dispatched a force to Jordan, to bolster the regime of King Hussein; Cyprus was the main station for the troops heading by air to Amman.2 In March 1959, the RAF was compelled to leave its bases in Iraq, Habanniya and Shaiba. In 1961 Britain intervened again in the Middle East, to deter an Iraqi invasion of Kuwait, Cyprus functioning as a valuable logistics base for Operation Vantage, the deployment of British forces to Kuwait in July – 2 Para was stationed on the island before being ordered to the Gulf. The UK military required strategic mobility to contribute to its deterrence capability, and Cyprus was a base for supporting possible

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future CENTO operations as far away as the Indian Ocean and the Gulf.3 London boosted CENTO in the belief that this would meet Tehran’s security requirements. Iran mattered because it was the only non-Arab member of OPEC, and was not included in an alliance such as NATO. Nonetheless Britain sought to avoid any CENTO involvement in Arab-Israeli wars or Indo-Pakistani confrontations. In an April 1964 memorandum the Foreign Office admitted that: CENTO remains a weak organisation in constant need of moral and material bolstering by the United Kingdom and the United States. CENTO’s weakness derives mainly from its dubious credibility as a military organisation and from the divergences in aims and policies amongst its members. The maintenance of the military credibility of CENTO depends to a considerable extent on the United Kingdom commitment of four Canberra squadrons in Cyprus . . .4 The Pakistanis sought the backing of the alliance, but London viewed Russia and not India as the opponent against whom British strategy should be directed. Pakistan went to war against India in 1965, and again in 1971. On 30 January 1972, after the recognition of Bangladesh by the UK, Pakistan left the Commonwealth. Although the Pakistanis also intended to withdraw from SEATO (the Southeast Asia Treaty Organisation), they showed increasing interest in CENTO. Meanwhile, China maintained good relations with Pakistan, but failed to back Islamabad during its wars with India. Though Britain wished Pakistan to remain in CENTO, despite its withdrawal from the Commonwealth, India remained a policy priority for London: . . . because of her influence, size and democratic traditions [India] is of much greater importance to British interests and should be treated accordingly . . . the main factor in deciding what level of defence cooperation the UK should undertake with Pakistan is the UK recognition of the importance of India. It would be clearly unwise to give military assistance to Pakistan to the extent that the present Indian goodwill towards the UK was alienated and Russia’s position correspondingly improved . . . [on arms sales to Pakistan] current policy is governed largely by political factors and will only permit sales [of ] items to Pakistan which are not likely to have any seriously damaging effect on British sales to India, which is a much larger sales market . . . sales [to Pakistan] will not include any major items . . .5

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Since the 1965 war with India, Pakistan was deemed an ‘unenthusiastic member of CENTO’, not participating for five years in the alliance’s air and naval exercises. It was 1972 before the Pakistanis seemed willing to attend such exercises, in an effort to upgrade their military – they continued to view India as the main threat to their national security.6 While Turkey was considered a loyal member of CENTO, . . . she is often unforthcoming, secretive and inscrutable outside. Her uncooperative attitude to repeated requests by the UK for lowlevel flying routes over Turkey for Vulcan aircraft . . . to fly training missions similar to those which might be flown in war in support of CENTO, is a specific and frustrating example of this; as also is her attitude of suspicion and the constraints which she places upon Western attachés, including our own within Turkey.7 By 1965, Whitehall was considering ways of approaching the Shah of Iran, to inform him of the need to decrease the number of nuclear-armed RAF bombers assigned to CENTO: London was seeking to cut military spending by replacing the Canberras on Cyprus with a smaller number of V-bombers. British diplomacy assumed that CENTO was a fragile alliance, and that even the withdrawal of the nuclear force from the island ‘[would] lead to the collapse of CENTO . . . the cost to us (in political and other terms) of having to deal with the consequences of the demise of CENTO was likely to be greater than the cost of its continued existence.’8 For his part, the Shah seemed seriously agitated about the British withdrawal from Aden in November 1967; but Britain needed to economise. The Secretary of State for the Commonwealth insisted that one squadron of V-bombers could substitute for two of Canberras. In time, however, the introduction of the Polaris nuclear submarines in 1969 would lead to a restructuring of the RAF’s strategic nuclear force.9 The Commonwealth Relations Office did not have a free hand in the defence spending-cuts. The Chiefs of Staff did not wish to countenance any mention of force reductions, emphasising that the same number of Vbomber squadrons should replace the Canberra squadrons – two squadrons would be based on Cyprus and two others (also assigned to CENTO) in the UK.10 The MoD, clarifying the military aspects of the case, also informed the Foreign Office that the defence of Kuwait from future Iraqi aggression required the RAF to maintain a minimum of 18 Canberras at 24 hours’ notice in Cyprus. Senior officers pointed out that this was the primary military mission which determined the level of the RAF’s presence on Cyprus at that

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time, not the CENTO requirements.11 The Foreign and Defence Secretaries shaped the argument to be presented to the Shah, arguing that CENTO did not face an imminent Soviet threat, and that the bomber force on Cyprus could therefore be restructured. They were careful, meanwhile, not to let the Shah approach Russia. It was pointed out by the MoD that: It is common ground between us and the Shah that the threat of overt Soviet aggression had receded. If we protest too much on this point, the Shah will either get suspicious of some ulterior motive and react in the opposite sense; or use this as evidence against us on some future occasion when we have cause to reason with him that he is going dangerously far in his relations with the Russians . . . we should speak to the Turkish government [on the planned reduction of bombers] very shortly after we have spoken to the Shah. We believe that so far as CENTO is concerned, their main preoccupation, like ours, will be with Iranian reactions. Their first question is in fact likely to be: ‘How will the Shah take it?’ But they will also of course be interested in the Cyprus aspects.12 Iran valued its membership of CENTO highly, seeking to gain military expertise in joint-service exercises, signalling its intent to assume ‘an increased responsibility’ in the security of the Persian Gulf. As the Chiefs of Staff noted, Iran, though publicly projecting cultural ties and friendship with other CENTO members, ‘is strangely suspicious of their intentions and is noticeably reluctant to divulge national secrets to them. A practical example of this lack of trust has deadlocked progress within CENTO over the exchange of air defence information with Turkey.’13 Iran wanted to share air-defence data with Turkey only ‘during high tension or times of war although she will exchange routine information for combined exercises’’14 The RAF dispatched Canberras to north-east Iran for CENTO reconnaissance missions, but staff officers were frustrated by the Iranian stance. The alliance lacked a developed command structure and ‘the Iranians’ sensitivity over national communications security, makes the tasking and employment of this force [the Canberras] rather cumbersome.’15 It was considered Turkey and Pakistan needed to address problems in their military communications: the link between Ankara and the British bases in Cyprus was deemed of ‘low efficiency’, and the air-defence communication link between the Turkish base at Diyarbakir and the Tabriz base in Iran was prone to breakdowns.16

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CENTO’s members retained divergent security and foreign-policy priorities, and were suspicious of one another; Turkey antagonised Greece (a traditional ally of Britain), and eventually invaded Cyprus in 1974; Pakistan prepared for another war with India; and Iran seemed the only member to view the alliance (besides concluding bilateral agreements with Washington and London) as a platform for securing valuable defence aid. By early 1972, the Shah declared his country’s ‘independent national policy’ and embarked on an ambitious arms-procurement programme that would upgrade Iran into a major regional player. The State Department’s Bureau of Intelligence and Research assumed that the Shah was aiming to confront subversion by Arab states like Iraq, and to undertake security responsibilities in the Gulf; so Tehran pressed for the accelerated delivery of arms from the US. The Shah feared ‘Soviet encirclement’; Moscow would try to mount aggressive support for Iran’s antagonists in the region, such as Iraq, South Yemen or India; Iraq was deemed the major national security threat, operating as it did 91 Mig-21s, 33 Mig-17s, 62 Su-7s, 46 Hawker Hunters and nine Tu-16 bombers, and in addition 785 tanks, the majority of them T-54s and T55s. Iran maintained 862 tanks (M-47s and M-60s), 56 Phantom F-4s and 109 F-5s. Seeking even more arms, the Shah also bought Soviet armoured personnel-carriers and trucks despite his pro-US foreign-policy orientation. He personally pressed for the acquisition of the new F-15 fighter-bomber, ordered almost 300 Chieftain main battle-tanks, seemingly wishing ‘to restore Iran to a position of greater prominence’ and to ‘expand Iran’s role in regional affairs’.17 In May 1972, in a conversation with President Richard Nixon, the Shah sounded willing to co-operate with Ethiopia and South Africa in a common policy on the Indian Ocean. In the Middle East, Turkey was viewed as ‘an essential element’ of Iran’s security. Nixon willingly agreed to provide Iran with laser bombs, F-14s and F-15s.18 But in 1979 the Shah would fall from power, and the Russians would invade Afghanistan; in the same year, despite the Russian action, CENTO would be dissolved, following the withdrawal of Iran and Pakistan. It was an alliance that had failed to influence the divergent security agendas of its members. Meanwhile, Cyprus, Malta and Gibraltar still composed the constellation of British post-imperial bases in the Mediterranean, able to facilitate logistics and deployments for NATO, CENTO or for British-only military endeavours, and with Cyprus and Malta as launching pads for British forces assigned to CENTO. Whitehall was strongly interested in the Middle East alliance having some real forces to count on in case of emergency. On the eve of the Six Day War, British military contingency-planning required the RAF

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bomber squadrons based on Cyprus to participate in a deterrent initiative against Nasser’s blockade in the Straits of Tiran, under American command (together with the aircraft-carriers HMS Hermes and Victorious and the US Sixth Fleet task force).19 Nonetheless, these plans were not implemented. In 1970, the Chiefs of Staff Committee argued for the strategic value of retaining Cyprus. The Sovereign Base Areas (SBAs) on the island and the US Sixth Fleet in the Mediterranean could ‘reduce the freedom of action of the Russian naval units and supporting reconnaissance aircraft within surveillance range off Cyprus’ in times of crisis. Cyprus was close to the Egypt-based Russian forces, which had reached 20,000 troops. Already the Soviet Navy maintained bases in Syria, Somalia and the People’s Democratic Republic of Yemen. Therefore it was ‘important to the West and particularly to NATO that the Republic of Cyprus remains at least as much within the Western sphere of influence as she is at present.’20 President/Archbishop Makarios had linked himself with the non-aligned states of Yugoslavia and Egypt, and upset NATO by deciding to procure Czech-made weapons. The Chiefs of Staff admitted that there was always a danger of a Turkish invasion of Cyprus, and reported that Ankara had assigned forces in southern Anatolia for such a task. Britain therefore had to pay close attention to GreekTurkish relations on the island.21 In addition to the signals-intelligence, and to the reconnaissance coverage provided by USAF U-2 spy planes, the Cyprus bases provided UNFICYP and CENTO with logistics support. The Americans reassured the British that ‘the CENTO alliance still has a useful if limited role to play in countering Russian subversive and military ambitions’ in the Middle East. In total, two Vulcan bomber squadrons, a Lightning all-weather fighter squadron, a Hercules transport squadron and a Whirlwind helicopter squadron were stationed on the island. It would be very difficult to relocate these forces and their training facilities to a base in a CENTO member state, since an agreement would have to be negotiated in advance. Besides, the UK would also have to pay the host nation for facilities granted. The sites on Cyprus were guarded by an infantry battalion, and defended by a Bloodhound antiaircraft missile squadron and an armoured-car squadron. In fact the Vulcans based at the Akrotiri SBA were ‘the only declared nuclear force in CENTO’, and the island played a unique part in CENTO’s air route for the transfer of forces east of Suez in time of war. The radar stations and the fighter squadron were considered an extension of the NATO air-defence system; the bomber squadrons were assigned until 1971 to the external defence of Kuwait.22 The Akrotiri base was a military requirement – it could not be abandoned, since bases in Malta, Greece, Turkey and Iran could not provide

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the same service to the RAF squadrons as was available in Cyprus. It was assumed that these countries might impose operational restrictions in time of war, on political grounds.23 Thus, ‘without Cyprus, CENTO air routes would have an inadequate capacity for major reinforcement East of Suez and would be much more vulnerable to political restrictions.’24 Makarios was not a problem in operating the bases, and the vociferous AKEL had simply to be tolerated. The Chiefs of Staff emphasised the ‘very great importance’ of the SBAs to the UK and the Western alliance, pointing out that: Since the main facilities are on Sovereign British territory President Makarios is able to avoid any direct responsibility for their use. He is unlikely to take any extreme anti-British position. Choosing rather not to notice what he cannot publicly approve . . . The involvement of UK Cyprus bases in a non-NATO/CENTO conflict, for instance in a Middle East war, could possibly countenanced on a ‘one-off’ basis, but the subsequent repercussions by the Cyprus government could well seriously inhibit UK use of the SBAs.25 The defence of the bases was incorporated in contingency planning. In April 1972, under the joint-theatre plan Near East No. 102, Operation Ottershaw was drafted: in the event of a Middle East conflict the SBAs’ air-defence system would be reinforced by the immediate dispatch to Akrotiri of the RAF’s 48 Squadron of Tigercat surface-to-air missiles. The deployment of 25 missiles on Cyprus could be completed in 47 hours.26 Vulcans and Lightings flew missions from Cyprus in the annual CENTO air-defence exercise Shahbaz ’72, and in the annual naval exercise Midlink ’73. Curiously, in 1969 Britain was the host in Cyprus for Nejat, a search-and-rescue exercise, but ‘this was subsequently agreed to be unsatisfactory for . . . political difficulties inherent in basing Turkish aircraft at Akrotiri.’27 In 1973 the Chiefs of Staff Committee reiterated the strategic value of the Cyprus SBAs and other sites for NATO and American intelligence services, as well as for any contingencies arising for CENTO. Besides, ‘Western Europe and the United States are becoming increasingly dependent on oil produced by countries in the vicinity of Cyprus.’28 The Shah of Iran continued his interest in the presence of Vulcans on Cyprus and in CENTO’s nuclear-deterrence capability. In a May 1974 conversation with Air Marshal Sir John Aiken, commander of British Forces Near East, the monarch inquired about the operational performance of the Vulcans, and stated that: ‘He saw no need for his country to embark upon a nuclear weapons programme.

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He believed that he needed to prepare for a level of warfare on his borders below the nuclear threshold.’ However, a week later a nuclear-weapons test took place in India, and Aiken assumed that the Shah might have changed his mind;29 and the monarch did indeed start pressing the Americans to be granted technology for nuclear reactors. Lengthy negotiations led to the signing in 1978 of a US-Iranian Nuclear Co-operation Agreement.30 Senior British officers argued that the nuclear bombers assigned to CENTO should only be located on the island ‘to achieve maximum efficiency and to obtain maximum effect on the regional members of the alliance’. Of major strategic value were the sites at Troodos (designated site A2), Mount Olympus (A3) and Cape Greco (A6). At Olympus, the highest point on the island, air-defence radars were in operation, linked to Troodos. In addition, the communications systems assigned to the joint air-traffic control centre at Nicosia, and the radio relays for internal-security networks, were deemed of primary importance. The RAF support base for Olympus radars, as well as signals-intelligence stations manned by 9 Signals Regiment (‘whose role [was] essential to the British defence interests’), were all located at Troodos. The US intelligence bases were not sited within the SBAs, however, but on Cypriot sovereign territory: the Americans operated a site near Nicosia, though this was due to close in 1974.31 At Cape Greco a NATO Ace hightroposphere-scatter station serving NEAF (Near East Air Force), 6 ATAF (Sixth Allied Tactical Air Force), AFSOUTH (Allied Forces South Europe) and COMARAIRMED (Commander Maritime Air Forces Mediterranean) was built. It was considered ‘of direct strategic importance to the UK as a member of NATO and is also essential to the air defence of the SBAs’. The site A9 at the port of Famagusta was the ‘most important logistic facility’ for the support of British forces. Defence policy took also into consideration the utility of training areas outside the SBAs – territories of the Republic of Cyprus assigned to UK military training. Staff officers admitted that they had to continue making use of these areas because in Europe national armies wanted to make use of suitable terrain for their own training; for example, West Germany was calling for the British Army of the Rhine and the RAF to find training areas elsewhere.32 Most significantly, the contribution of the SBAs to US intelligence would turn into a debacle between London and Washington, causing friction in the ‘special relationship’ in times of conflict. During the October 1973 Yom Kippur War, Washington requested USAF SR-71 spy flights based on Cyprus to fly over the Sinai, as well as British assistance in the urgently-needed provision of military hardware to Israel, under Operation Nickel Grass. Both requests were declined by the FCO, showing British

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determination not to follow a pro-Israel policy that could damage its longterm relations with Arab states. The Cypriot government also declared that it would not allow reconnaissance missions over the Middle East. The Cypriots’ stance was worried for the British, since it could obstruct the current function of the SBAs, and might also threaten the future employment of the sites. Eventually, on 13 October 1973, two SR-71s based in Iran covered the urgent intelligence requirement for flights over the Sinai. Britain also denied provision of an RAF reconnaissance flight from Mesirah, in Oman, to support a US Navy task force, which, according to US Defense Secretary James Schlesinger, was about to ‘show the flag’ in Gulf states endeavouring to join an oil embargo that would cripple Western economies. By late November 1973, London had assumed that despite US sabre-rattling no operation to take over Gulf oilfields was imminent.33 Nonetheless, Anglo-American signals intelligence had to avoid internecine quarrels, since the Soviet Navy had deployed an immense number of ships by the end of the war in the Mediterranean; these 96 warships and supporting vessels were vital targets for intelligence-gathering – they were bringing a total of 63,000 tons of war materiel to Egypt and Syria, in addition to 12,500 tons brought in by air.34 Following the policy of Prime Minister Harold Wilson for the de-escalation of commitments in the Middle East and the Far East by 1975–76, under the 1974 Defence Review the FCO and the MoD were assessing ways of reducing defence spending in non-NATO areas, and examined the possibility of withdrawing forces from Cyprus. At the time, an infantry battalion, an armoured reconnaissance-squadron, 12 Lightings, 16 Vulcans, nine Hercules and a squadron of Bloodhound surface-to-air missiles were stationed there. Two Vulcans, eight Canberras and three Nimrods based in Malta were assigned to CENTO. The MoD calculated that a total withdrawal from Cyprus could save up to £38 million annually from 1976 onwards, but ‘this would be extremely damaging particularly in our relations with the Shah and to a lesser extent with the Americans.’ Tehran praised the UK contribution to CENTO: the UK was the only power that had earmarked forces for the alliance. Besides, an exit from Cyprus could detonate a Greek-Turkish clash over the future of the SBAs. The option of a partial withdrawal – keeping Akrotiri as a forward base for the Vulcans, which would be stationed elsewhere – could save up to £26 million annually. However, ‘There would still be a risk with the Shah,’ remarked J.F. Mayne, the Permanent Undersecretary at the MoD.35 London was always keen to listen to Iran’s concerns, but a decision had to be made: either NATO or CENTO should be the policy priority for defence spending. James Callaghan, the Foreign Secretary, also agreed that

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a complete withdrawal from the bases (in addition to the diminution of intelligence capability) could cause fighting between the Greeks and Turks on the island, over who would take them over. In June 1974 the head of the Turkish delegation to the CENTO consultative body, Major-General Saltik, asked what was the British official policy on the SBAs under the new Defence Review. Rumours were circulating to the effect that the Dhekelia SBA could be handed over; but London had no plans to give up the base.36 In an inter-departmental note Mayne admitted that the SBAs, in the event of a British withdrawal, should be handed over to the Nicosia government, because the Republic of Cyprus had been one of the signatories to the treaty establishing the bases.37 Britain could also cut spending by negotiating the reduction of her contribution to UNFICYP, which would reduce it in turn to a mere token force.38 NATO was the ‘lynch pin’ of British defence policy. The UK’s resources simply ‘[did] not permit an independent defence against the present and growing Soviet threat. The security of the nation is increasingly bound with that of the North Atlantic Alliance.’39 It should also be pointed out that until then there was no military contingency-planning in existence for the UK forces on Cyprus to support NATO’s southeastern flank in time of war.40 Apart from the air forces assigned to CENTO, our forces in the Sovereign Base Areas are there for National purposes. But although none of them are declared to NATO, their presence is regarded as valuable by our NATO allies . . . because in extreme case, our forces in Cyprus could be used to assist operations on the Southern flank of NATO (though no contingency plans for such a deployment exist).41 In any case, the Shah had to understand that Britain could not be the only power assigning forces to CENTO, and paying for it as well. The discussion of scaling down military commitments on Cyprus continued in Whitehall. The option of concentrating troops and operations on a single base was deemed unsuitable, on political and economic grounds. Expenditure on equipment transfer and the building of new quarters would increase, and tension between the communities would mount over who would inherit the base areas to be handed over.42 Also, Washington was agitated at suggestions of British withdrawal: the FCO was afraid of a harsh reaction that ‘could be on such a scale as to alter American readiness to share their intelligence product with us’.43 The UK-US special relationship on intelligence could suffer seriously from differences over the Cyprus bases. In addition to signals-intelligence operations against Russia and the Middle East, U-2 spy

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planes stationed at Akrotiri undertook the monitoring of the ceasefire after the 1973 Yom Kippur war.44 Henry Kissinger, the US Secretary of State, and later James Schlesinger, the Defense Secretary, were insistent that Britain should retain the SBAs. It was disclosed that during the Defence Review: Dr. Kissinger reacted strongly to Minister’s initial conclusion that we should withdraw our forces from Cyprus, if possible presenting this withdrawal in the context of a satisfactory settlement of the Cyprus problem [after the 1974 Turkish invasion]. The US Government, after being told in confidence of our proposals, sent a team of officials to London to explain their concern, which arose mainly from the stabilising effect they believed a British presence exercised in the Eastern Mediterranean. Ministers therefore adopted a modified conclusion that our presence should be reduced and complete withdrawal postponed until circumstances permitted.45 Sir Peter Ramsbotham, the UK’s ambassador in Washington, commented that Washington wanted Britain to be ‘in some sense a global partner’. The Americans agreed to reductions on cost grounds, but not to the British leaving Cyprus.46 Kissinger pointed out to the British the strategic importance of CENTO, following the 1973 Yom Kippur war, although he did not intend to proceed with the allies in drafting a CENTO charter (making more institutionally robust the commitments amongst the member states). He argued that the US would not now enjoy nuclear superiority in the defence of the CENTO area, and that the opening of the Suez Canal would provide the Russians with valuable opportunities to increase their influence; in addition the Soviet Navy showed its intent to deploy in CENTO waters. The Diego Garcia base granted by the British to the Americans was a key component in the new strategy for the defence of CENTO. For their part ‘the regional members should search for a greater cohesion so that CENTO’s solidarity could be clearly demonstrated.’47 However, Britain did not share Kissinger’s enthusiasm for CENTO; Sir Horace Phillips, the UK’s ambassador in Ankara, commented that: ‘The current [British] policy seems to be one of dragging our feet while trying to make the regional members (Turkey, Iran and Pakistan) believe that we are not.’48 Eventually, the MoD pulled the RAF bombers back from Akrotiri. The base continued to play an important role in British strategy for the Middle East, but defence spending-cuts made it necessary not to station aircraft there permanently, as well as to reduce the British force to 3,600 by 1976. The only unit assigned to stay there was 84 helicopter squadron, for troop

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transport and search-and-rescue missions and also to support the UN forces on the island.49 The Hercules, Vulcans and Lightings returned to Britain and were replaced, on a rotating basis, with smaller detachments of aircraft based in the UK.50 Akrotiri was to operate on a restricted-hours basis to save more money. Britain was struggling with her NATO commitments, and could not continue as the only one to invest in CENTO while the other members had been unwilling to make a joint effort. In the long run, the MoD under the 1974 Defence Review planned to spend £15 million annually by 1983–84 for the Cyprus bases (instead of the £42 million then allocated). Surprisingly, target spending on CENTO (which in 1974 had reached over £30 million) was reduced to nil for 1983–84.51 London sought to disengage itself from the costs of maintaining the ‘alliance of the unwilling’, as CENTO, with the benefit of hindsight, could be called. At the other end of the Mediterranean, Gibraltar was a staging point for UK operations at national or NATO level. International air and naval traffic (including submarines) could be tracked from there; with the Suez Canal closed, the Straits of Gibraltar were the only western entry into the Mediterranean. The Chiefs of Staff believed that the Rock’s strategic importance would increase in the years to come, especially after the withdrawal from Malta.52 Naval operations in the Atlantic and Mediterranean could be directed from the underground maritime headquarters operated in times of exercises or crises. Emergency repair, logistic and docking facilities could host an aircraft carrier as well as nuclear submarines. There was also a plan to turn Gibraltar into the main overseas refueling station for Royal Navy ships assigned to NATO in time of war. However, the Chiefs of Staff admitted a serious deficit in air-defence radar: only two Hunter fighters were assigned precautionary air-defence duties. In time of war ‘the lack of a full air-defence system would place some limitations on the use of Gibraltar as an operational base.’53 For their part, the Spanish regarded the Rock as a foreign base on their national soil and exerted pressure to prevent the British from expanding the airport runway to fully accommodate the RAF Phantoms, Nimrods, Buccaneers and Lightings. The costs of extending the runway could reach £6 million, and would meet with a strong diplomatic reaction from Spain. In addition, problems for aircraft were caused by high turbulence under certain weather conditions, and by the lack of modern landing-gear.54 The docking of Royal Navy ships during exercises was made more difficult after Spanish complaints; but Madrid ‘tolerates [in practice] the present level of military activity’.55 In the event of an international crisis or a war with Warsaw Pact forces, the Spanish government might try to restrict naval-base activities

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to NATO tasks, but the Chiefs of Staff were reassuring: ‘In practice Spain would be unlikely to wish to impose any significant limitations.’56 Gibraltar communicated with other NATO bases and headquarters, including those in Rome, Lisbon, Naples, Malta, the UK, Montijo (on the Portuguese coast), Docimommanu (in Sardinia) and Rota (an American base in southern Spain). Unlike Malta and Cyprus, Gibraltar was the only UK base that enjoyed popularity amongst the local population. It was remarked that ‘the domestic political scene offers greatest security.’57 Malta was another important Mediterranean base. Under the 1964 Anglo-Maltese defence agreement, the British stationed one infantry battalion, two air-reconnaissance squadrons and various ships for national and NATO purposes. The Luqa airfield was run jointly by the Maltese government and the RAF; the British also operated the Hal Far airfield, where RAF Nimrods and Canberras assigned to CENTO were based, with Akrotiri as a forward air-base.58 In 1971, the Maltese Prime Minister, Dom Mintoff, denounced the treaty and requested the starting of negotiations for a new one. He demanded that London make a greater financial contribution, and that the use of the Malta bases be restricted to NATO purposes. The 1971 Defence Facilities Agreement allowed the UK forces to employ their bases on the island for national and NATO purposes until 1979. In their turn, the Chiefs of Staff admitted the strategic value of the island, and had no fear of the Russians: in 1972 the Soviet forces left Egypt, and ‘lost virtually all their land-based air surveillance capability in the Mediterranean’. The Maltese government negotiated hard with London. The Russians were not to have facilities there in the ‘foreseeable future’. Moscow could have wished for an Anglo-Maltese break-up, but remained cautious in seeking the appointment of a resident mission on the island. In any event, the Russians ‘almost certainly regard Mintoff as unreliable,’ remarked the Chiefs of Staff.59 NATO’s and the Americans plans had not been affected by the British withdrawal from Malta, since their bases in Crete (Suda, Irakleion and Timbakion) and in Athens (Helliniko and Nea Makri) satisfied communication, logistics and training requirements.60 In Cyprus, the 1960 constitution had proved unworkable. The proportionate appointment of police constables according to ethnic populations and the raising of taxes had been key areas of Greek-Turkish dispute, and the Greek-Cypriots argued that the rights claimed by the Turkish-Cypriots (with only 18 per cent of the total population) under the constitution were disproportionately generous. In November 1963 Makarios took the controversial decision of proposing to amend the constitution without Turkish-Cypriot acquiescence; the President thus found himself at odds with his

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Turkish-Cypriot Vice-President. The constitutional order was in fatal jeopardy: Turkish-Cypriots confined themselves to their communities, armed and supported by the Turkish force on Cyprus (granted together with the Greek Force Cyprus under the 1960 treaty). Ankara and the Turkish-Cypriots assumed that Makarios was playing into their own hands, preparing the conditions for civil strife and for the eventual partition of the island into two ethnic communities. Greek-Cypriot paramilitaries, former EOKA members engaged their Turkish-Cypriot counterparts, the ‘Turkish Resistance Organisation’.61 Greece strongly objected to any infringement on the treaty by the Greek-Cypriots, but failed to state this openly.62 The British High Commissioner, Sir Arthur Clark, accepted the possibility of making changes to the constitution, and proposed the partial revision of the agreements of 1959–60, after negotiations to deter Makarios from acting unilaterally. In such a case, British diplomacy would urge the Turks to understand the need for some kind of reform; but Turkish Foreign Minister Erkin replied that they were willing to examine practical issues, but not the revision of the constitution. The British seemed to have a plan for, first, communal negotiations and then later consultations between the guarantor powers and the Cypriot government that would seal the agreement between the two communities.63 Makarios handed Clark a list of the points he wanted revised. Clark himself sent them to London – or those of them he judged to be the most important. Glafkos Clerides, the President of the Chamber and a politician close to Makarios, later admitted that the absence of response from London led Makarios and the Cypriot government to wrongly assume that the British backed the revision plan. Clark characterised Makarios’s draft as ‘logical’ and as ‘a possible basis’ for negotiation, but London and Washington realised that Makarios’s amendments could not be accepted by the Turks.64 Makarios was seeking a reduction in the number of Turkish-Cypriots in the public service or the police by 10 per cent (from 30 to 20 per cent). He also proposed that the President and the Vice-President of the assembly should be elected by the chamber and not by ethnic parties. Makarios aimed to abolish the President’s and Vice-President’s veto powers, as well as the separate ethnic municipalities and the special majority provisions for voting on tax issues. Clark urged the Foreign Office to consult with the Turks to persuade them to accept some amendments, to make the constitution workable. (The Foreign Office assumed later, in 1964, that Clark had exceeded his instructions.65) Makarios was gambling, taking a serious risk. On 21 December 1963 two Turkish-Cypriots declined to be searched by the police. The event led to a gunfight, in which they were both killed. The

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very next day, Greek-Cypriots confronted Turkish-Cypriots: violence was back in Cyprus. On 26 December the British intervened, asking Makarios to accept a peace force on the island. The ‘green line’ was drawn by the UK Cyprus Truce Force in Nicosia, separating Turkish- and Greek-Cypriot quarters. The Turkish-Cypriot leadership assumed the task of organising its enclaves as a small state within Cyprus, implementing plans for eventual partition.66 From December 1963 to March 1964 the Cyprus Truce Force (being composed of the 16th Para Brigade, the 3rd Green Jackets and the 1st Gloucestershire, among others) was the only foreign group separating the belligerents. Talks in London in January 1964 between Greek- and Turkish-Cypriots failed to reach a consensus, each side presenting demands unacceptable to the other. Makarios, very confident of his negotiating position with respect to the Turkish-Cypriots, sought to bring the issue to the United Nations. A February 1964 letter from Nikita Khruschev to US President Lyndon Johnson had played an important part in shaping Makarios’s contemporary thinking, and in his over-confidence: the Russian leader had emphasised the sovereignty and independence of Cyprus, and demanded that no foreign powers should intervene in its domestic affairs. The Archbishop assumed that Moscow would back him in the future and that he could continue his policy without serious repercussions.67 In Greece, after the rise to power of the centrist government of Georgios Papandreou, arms and troops were sent in secret to Cyprus to reinforce the defences in case of a Turkish invasion. The first dispatch of troops was scheduled for May 1964. Grivas, the head of EOKA (disbanded after the revolt), arrived in June to assume the leadership of the Greek Force Cyprus and the Cypriot National Guard. By late 7 August, 428 troops and 957 officers from Greece were deployed on the island. The Turks, for the rime being, appeared to tolerate this change in the balance of power, while Greek-Cypriots wrongly assumed that the day of enosis was near.68 After the December crisis was over, diplomats and senior officers understood that it was a dangerous game for British interests for London to continue to keep the balance between Turks and Greeks; they believed Britain should not again be militarily involved in a future crisis. This was the conclusion of a meeting between the British commander sent to Cyprus and the Deputy High Commissioner in Nicosia. Their memorandum of January 1964 established the ‘hands-off’ policy to be implemented ten years later, during the Turkish invasion of 1974: both agreed that in a future crisis the UK forces should concern themselves with no more than the protection of British subjects’ lives and the security of the bases. It was noted that the

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Greek-Cypriots sounded willing to side even with non-aligned countries like Egypt and Yugoslavia, and might turn against the SBAs if they assumed that the British were backing the Turks.69 Besides, Turkey was a CENTO and NATO member state, and Britain had an interest in cultivating strong ties with Ankara. The USSR’s influence had to be barred from the Mediterranean, though Makarios seemed to be following a ‘neutral policy’.70 At the Foreign Office, the Permanent UnderSecretary Sir Harold Caccia (an experienced hand in Greek affairs since the Second World War) believed in the strategic value of Turkey for the Western alliance, and feared that Turkey could even break with NATO and CENTO over the Cyprus imbroglio and the Greek-Cypriots’ drive for enosis.71 Some pro-enosis arguments were heard in Whitehall corridors, and in the Defence and Overseas Policy Committee the views of the British High Commissioner in Nicosia were aired: it was pointed out that enosis could benefit UK interests and the SBAs in the sense that: ‘It might be easier [to operate the bases] with Cyprus as a province of a NATO ally [Greece] than with Cyprus tempted to cash in on the benefits of neutralism [via the non-aligned foreign policy of Makarios].’72 Fighting between paramilitaries escalated on the island, and in February, March and June 1964 Turkey threatened invasion. Alexandretta was turned into a hub for Turkish military preparations, a development of which Greek military intelligence was aware. An American proposal to London to mount a joint intervention operation, together with Greece and Turkey, received a British rebuke, the UK threatening to withdraw its forces unless UNFICYP arrived soon. In March, the Turks expressed their confidence in UNFICYP, and abstained from aggression.73 Prime Minister Papandreou argued, in a conversation with Sir Ralph Murray, the British ambassador in Athens, that he was himself interested in enosis, as a way of avoiding having to deal later with a ‘Cuba of the Mediterranean’; Cyprus united with Greece would boost NATO; neither partition nor independence could avert the spreading of communism. Papandreou was playing the ‘communist threat’ card to convince London to back enosis, but Turkey (seeking partition) remained a valuable British ally.74 By 4 June Turkish Prime Minister Ismet Inönü was threatening an invasion of Cyprus: American intelligence had information to the effect that on 5 or 6 June the Turkish-Cypriot Vice-President would call on Ankara to invade Cyprus so as to protect the Turkish-Cypriot minority, whose areas he would declare to be Turkish territory. In the Alexandretta area Turkish forces were on ‘exercises’. President Johnson and Secretary of State Dean Rusk reacted instantly, warning Inönü not to proceed with such an act of war, and

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the Supreme Allied Commander General Lyman Lemnitzer was sent to Ankara to consult with hard-line Turkish generals. In a letter Johnson blamed Inönü for seeking partition in contravention of the 1959–60 agreements; if Turkey intervened then there could be a Greek-Turkish war, and Soviet intervention would be very possible. NATO allies would not then back Turkey, since Ankara had acted unilaterally in Cyprus without consulting them. Besides, the American-Turkish defence agreement of 1947 prohibited the use of US-made arms for aggression.75 The President was crystal clear: . . . Moving to the practical results of the contemplated Turkish move, I feel obligated to call to your attention in the most friendly fashion the fact that such a Turkish move could lead to the slaughter of tens of thousands of Turkish-Cypriots on the Island of Cyprus. Such an action on your part would unleash the furies and there is no way by which military action on your part could be sufficiently effective to prevent wholesale destruction of many of those whom you are trying to protect. The presence of United Nations forces could not prevent such a catastrophe. You may consider that what I have said is much too severe and that we are disregardful of Turkish interests in the Cyprus situation. I should like to assure you that this is not the case. We have exerted ourselves both publicly and privately to assure the safety of Turkish-Cypriots and to insist that a final solution of the Cyprus problem should rest upon the consent of the parties most directly concerned. It is possible that you feel in Ankara that the United States has not been sufficiently active on your behalf. But surely you know that our policy has caused the liveliest resentments in Athens (where demonstrations have been aimed against us) and has led to a basic alienation between the United States and Archbishop Makarios. As I said to your Foreign Minister in our conversation just a few weeks ago, we value very highly our relations with Turkey. We have considered you as a great ally with fundamental common interests. Your security and prosperity have been a deep concern of the American people and we have expressed that concern in the most practical terms. You and we have fought together to resist the ambitions of the communist world revolution. This solidarity has meant a great deal to us and I would hope that it means a great deal to your Government and to your people. We have no intention of lending any support to any solution of Cyprus which endangers the Turkish Cypriot community. We have not been able to find

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a final solution because this is, admittedly, one of the most complex problems on earth. But I wish to assure you that we have been deeply concerned about the interests of Turkey and of the Turkish-Cypriots and will remain so. Finally, Mr. Prime Minister I must tell you that you have posed the gravest issues of war and peace. These are issues which go far beyond the bilateral relations between Turkey and the United States. They not only will certainly involve war between Turkey and Greece but could involve wider hostilities because of the unpredictable consequences which a unilateral intervention in Cyprus could produce. You have your responsibilities as Chief of the Government of Turkey; I also have mine as President of the United States. I must, therefore, inform you in the deepest friendship that unless I can have your assurance that you will not take such action without further and fullest consultation I cannot accept your injunction to Ambassador Hare of secrecy and must immediately ask for emergency meetings of the NATO Council and of the United Nations Security Council. I wish it were possible for us to have a personal discussion of this situation. Unfortunately, because of the special circumstances of our present Constitutional position, I am not able to leave the United States. If you could come here for a full discussion I would welcome it. I do feel that you and I carry a very heavy responsibility for the general peace and for the possibilities of a sane and peaceful resolution of the Cyprus problem. I ask you, therefore, to delay any decisions which you and your colleagues might have in mind until you and I have had the fullest and frankest consultation. Sincerely, Lyndon B. Johnson76 Inönü, surprised, backed down. Johnson had grasped the strategic implications of an invasion: Greece and Turkey, two key NATO allies, could very soon be at war. The ethnic communities’ paramilitary fighting on the island should not become an issue directly affecting NATO credibility and capabilities with respect to the Warsaw Pact. Besides, the Turks had nowhere to go except the West: they could not join either the USSR or the non-aligned group; they would be frustrated, they might possibly increase diplomatic contacts with the Soviets – for appearances only – but they would continue to support NATO.

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For some time Johnson took a tough stance and pressed the Greek government hard to accept the granting of a Turkish base on Cyprus, as well as one on another Greek island, in return for enosis. Since mid-1964, AngloAmerican diplomacy had been reviewing schemes for an agreement whereby Greece would surrender sovereignty in Thrace or in the Aegean islands to persuade Turkey to accept enosis. The Turkish ambassador in London sounded willing to discuss the handing over of western Thrace, as far as the city of Komotini, since he estimated that the (hypothetical) offer of Rhodes in return for the surrender of the Cyprus areas held by the Turkish-Cypriots, and any claims of Turkey as well, would not constitute an acceptable bargain.77 However, the Greek government could never have countenanced the surrender of sovereign territory. According to another scheme tabled, the Turks would secure the Karpasia peninsula, where they would install a large military base. The Americans tried to convince the Greeks that under this scheme enosis would be achieved, while in parallel telling the Turks that this was some way short of partitioning Cyprus. For his part, Makarios was against these designs, which came to be known by the umbrella term ‘the Acheson plan’, after the former American Secretary of State who had urged the two parties to reach an agreement. In 1964, ‘the President of Cyprus though he spoke of enosis acted in favour of independence,’ remarked Andreas Papandreou, the son of the Greek premier.78 In August 1964, Grivas’s campaign against the Turkish-Cypriots (presumably mounted with Makarios’s agreement) caused Turkey to respond by sending aircraft to bomb his forces. Eventually, a further escalation of the crisis was averted by the passing of a UK- and US-backed resolution in the UN Security Council (No. 193) demanding a cease-fire, but not referring to Turkey as the aggressor force. Nicosia accepted the resolution because annexed to it were previous resolutions declaring the sovereignty and independence of Cyprus. Georgios Papandreou was frustrated, but confident that Grivas’s and Makarios’s aspirations and plans could not be checked. The President seemed inclined to lean towards Moscow, but Grivas remained a fanatical anti-communist, aiming for enosis without regard to the longterm Turkish strategy of partition. Athens abandoned the ‘Acheson plan’, the ambitious but complex American scheme to resolve the Cyprus question; Papandreou informed Acheson that he feared if Greece pressed Nicosia hard, Makarios would openly seek Soviet help.79 But Makarios wanted independence, not enosis. Meanwhile, the Archbishop was concerned about the Turkish bombing, and soon initiated a plan to buy Soviet-made surface-to-air missiles (SAMs). It was a daring and controversial move; bringing Soviet-made high-technol-

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ogy equipment to the island, Anglo-American intelligence naturally became very interested in this scheme. Diplomats in Athens pressed Papandreou that the missiles held in Egypt not reach Cyprus. Secret intelligence indicated that Greek subjects, presumably former crews of the Hawk missile system, had received training in Alexandria from Soviet personnel. USAF senior officers were interested in finding out whether Makarios had asked for Soviet crews to man his missiles pending the completion of the Greeks’ training. Papandreou (who still sought enosis) denied any official Greek involvement, arguing that the Hawks were for defence against any future Turkish aggression, claiming that Makarios had a right to act to maintain Cypriot sovereignty. The Greek premier admitted that Greek subjects had been trained, and that they had at their disposal secret technical data on the SAMs. Ambassador Labouisse, the top American diplomat in Athens remarked: I noted USG [the US government] had not been informed by GOG [the government of Greece] that it is in possession of such data but that we would welcome receipt of it. However, price is much too high and we would prefer not have secrets than see Greek soldiers trained by Soviets and Soviet missiles introduced in Cyprus. Eventually, [Papandreou] attempted to bargain for cessation of shipments of Soviet anti-aircraft missiles to Cyprus and apparently saw controversy over SAMs as opportunity to present his favorite proposal for US ‘guarantee’ that there be no outside military intervention in Cyprus. When he saw this was not possible, he agreed to exert his efforts to stop any further shipments, although it remains to be seen whether he can actually produce on this. His argument that Makarios and Cypriots may not be willing to follow his advice on this ‘illogical’ line seems to me quite possible. Leaving Soviet equipment, emphasis on defensive nature of the missiles will have popular appeal here [in Athens] and on the island.80 The Greek premier realised the gamble Makarios had initiated to obtain Russian backing, and after exerting strong pressure convinced him not to import the missiles: Makarios conceded. Nonetheless, he would soon launch another controversial scheme, this time to procure weapons from Czechoslovakia, sparking another crisis with Athens, Washington and Ankara. On 15 November 1967, new Greek-Turkish clashes took place. Makarios

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agreed with Grivas’s plans for operations in Agioi Theodoroi, a Turkish-Cypriot enclave. Washington and the UN urged their abandonment, but it was too late: fighting between the paramilitaries resulted in the deaths of 20 TurkishCypriots, and next day Ankara again threatened invasion. Strong American pressure made the junta in Athens (which had come into power seven months earlier) to order Grivas to return to Greece. On 25 November, at 2000 hours, Makarios called US Ambassador Belcher in Nicosia, telling him that he had intelligence to the effect that the Turks would invade. Allegedly, Turkish Foreign Secretary Caglayangil was interested in establishing a bridgehead so as to negotiate with the Greeks and the Cypriot government from a better position. Makarios warned that such an action would be considered an act of war.81 Former US Secretary of State Cyrus Vance, President Johnson’s special emissary, met with Caglayangil and later with Makarios, in a shuttle-diplomacy effort to avert the worst outcome, a Greek-Turkish war. Gradually proposals were formulated for the Greeks to withdraw the infantry division sent by Papandreou in 1964. Meanwhile, at the Pentagon, military intelligence were estimating the balance of power between the Greeks and the Turks. General Earle Gilmore Wheeler, the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, argued that in the event of war the Turkish military could even reach the city of Salonika. While the Greeks maintained naval superiority, the Turks based their plans on ground and air superiority and abundant resources. In Cyprus, [the Turkish military] could put several divisions, probably on the north coast, in the Kyrenia area, in two to three weeks. They could gain control of the island despite Greek opposition. If the Turks attack, it would take them twenty-four hours to gain air superiority by pre-emptive air strikes on Greek bases. They would probably invade Cyprus but probably would not invade Greece from Thrace.82 The Greek junta, fearing a Greek-Turkish war and eventual defeat, reached the controversial decision to withdraw the infantry division from Cyprus within 45 days: Cyprus would be undefended against any future Turkish military initiative. However, Makarios was content: his fears of a Greek projunta coup against him had temporarily abated.83 Dean Rusk, commending Vance’s mediation in a meeting with Johnson, remarked cynically: Greece could do this [the withdrawal of the infantry division] only under a dictatorship so we should try to get this disengagement from Cyprus before a democratically elected government comes into of-

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fice in Greece . . . public opinion would not permit a democratically elected government to reduce its commitment.84 Makarios was interested in infantry small-arms for his supporters as well as in being able to confront the Turkish-Cypriots in times of trouble. He had already secured six Soviet-made small coastal patrol-boats, and in 1966, 1972 and 1973 he and his close associates arranged for consignments of Czech rifles, pistols, mortars and heavy machine-guns to reach Cyprus. Agreements with UNFICYP for the inspection of arms depots had not always been observed, especially the arms imported in 1966 (some of which were used during the 1967 clashes between Greek- and Turkish-Cypriots). British intelligence did not have an up-to-date estimate of the arms in circulation, but according to fragmentary reports Makarios admitted in 1966 and early 1967, in conversations with the British, that he had brought in 1,000 rifles, 1,000 machine-guns, 20 mortars and 20 bazookas. Diplomats assumed that these figures were a minimum: in early 1967, a JIC survey estimated that 2,350 light weapons had been imported. At the prescribed UNFICYP arms inspection in November that year, the force commander counted 8,100 grenades (3,600 for launchers and 4,500 for mortars). UNFICYP was informed that some weaponry had been issued to the Cypriot police from 1967 onwards, but gradually it became apparent that heavy machine-guns had reached the Police Tactical Reserve and Makarios’s Presidential Guard. On 6 September 1973, UNFICYP allowed the British defence adviser of the UK High Commission to take a glance at the latest weapons list. He reported that inter alia 500 FN automatic assault rifles and 500 sub-machine guns were in store. Six to eight bazookas, two heavy mortars and four heavy machine-guns had been handed over to Makarios’s security detail.85 The President of Cyprus also acquired some 32 dated T-34s main battle-tanks; hardly sophisticated armour, but assets for future ethnic paramilitary clashes. By the early 1970s Makarios was facing a deadly threat. After staying for a while in Athens after the 1967 clashes, Grivas had returned to the island and founded a new paramilitary organisation, ‘EOKA B’ (i.e. EOKA II). With the help of the Greek military units on Cyprus, his aim was to topple Makarios (whom he considered a leftist) and declare enosis with Greece. Grivas urged the Greek junta to send him weapons and money for his supporters. Violence, murder and arms thefts became a weekly reality, while the Greek-Cypriot/Turkish-Cypriot inter-communal talks continued. In 1973 11 Greek-Cypriots were killed and 21 injured; the Greek-Cypriot Minister of Justice was kidnapped and held for a month by EOKA B. Forty-six police

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stations were attacked and 13 destroyed, and there were a total of 389 bomb explosions – 157 were attributed to Grivas’s supporters, 118 to Makarios’s and 114 to ‘politically’ unidentifiable sources. Some 100 policemen considered to be pro-Grivas were arrested.86 Makarios was himself the target of would-be assassins using bombs.87 In British eyes Makarios was not to be trusted when he denied in 1973 any importation of new weapons. Some diplomats assumed that he could be up to something behind the backs of his ministers – ‘this would indeed be quite a normal method of practice.’88 EOKA B supporters raided police stations and storage depots, stealing weapons from the 1966 Czech consignment (though the 1972 consignment was held under UNFICYP supervision and remained intact).89 Secret intelligence pointed to Makarios intending to procure more weapons from Czechoslovakia by autumn 1973. David Beattic of the British High Commission emphasised in a dispatch that: There have been in fact two reports from secret sources that the Archbishop’s nephew (with or without his uncle’s knowledge) is trying to import large quantities of arms and ammunition ... Archbishop Makarios has a continuing need for small arms. The heavy arms are particularly interesting from the political point of view . . .90 The police and paramilitary forces backing Makarios received the major part of the new weaponry. Anglo-American diplomacy pressed Markarios hard (though discreetly) not to import more weapons, fearing a possible break-up of the inter-communal talks. Thus: If the news of the Archbishop’s latest attempt to get hold of the 1966 and 1972 arms leaks out, the Turkish-Cypriots and Turks are bound to object most strongly. The resulting row would have deleterious effects on the inter-communal talks.91 Turkey had to be kept in the dark despite the occasional campaign of rumours, launched by Ankara, of new arms reaching the island. The British simply assumed that the Turks had been spreading such rumours to elicit answers and statements; they had as yet no firm evidence of new arms in Greek-Cypriot hands.92 By early December 1973 the Americans received secret intelligence indicating that a cargo ship loaded with arms was heading for Cyprus. Together with the British they made strong appeals to Makarios not to disembark the weaponry.93 Makarios denied everything when meeting on 13

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December 1973 with the American ambassador, who had information from ‘a very sensitive source’ (unavailable to the British) that a close associate of Makarios planned to import more Czech arms.94 The Turks, for the time being, were not supposed to be taking any action, but a British report disclosed a Turkish contingency plan to parachute arms to the Turkish-Cypriot enclaves, and then to call on the UN to take over all the latest consignments of arms, from both sides.95 Anglo-American diplomacy now called for the import of arms to be banned, for the benefit of the inter-community talks; but in June 1974 British intelligence again reported Makarios’s personal involvement in secretly bringing in more weapons, with some caches being stored at the Archbishop’s residence – secret sources had disclosed the transfer of weapons to the presidential palace. The British High Commission in Nicosia stated explicitly that secret sources were claiming that arms had come in, in secret, aboard a civilian aircraft from Beirut early in the same year. More light arms came in by sea, in small vessels. According to UN General Prem Chad, who had a discussion with Makarios in April 1974, the Archbishop admitted that arms were stored in the presidential palace. The High Commission assumed that Makarios was importing small quantities of arms each time so as not to alert Anglo-American diplomats or the Turks, as had happened with the Czech consignments in 1966 and 1972. The President of Cyprus viewed the formation of the Cypriot National Guard, under Greek officers, with regret; he aimed to build a strong police force for internal security. It was remarked that: ‘It is odd that a head of state should feel obliged to smuggle arms into his own country.’ Though Makarios knew very well that Greece, Britain, Turkey and the US were all hostile to the formation of a strong, independent Greek-Cypriot force, fearing the resumption of the ethnic clashes, he needed to protect himself from the Greek junta and from EOKA B. While the Turkish paramilitaries in Cyprus did not procure more weapons in the first six months of 1974, they maintained two secret factories for gun assembly, in Nicosia and in Lefka, producing dated Thompson submachine-guns at a rate of approximately seven per day.96 The FCO was worried about the ensuing violence among Greek-Cypriots. EOKA B had been deemed an organisation under the tight control of Grivas, but on 27 January 1974 he died, while in hiding. Meanwhile, the Athens junta, under the military police’s Brigadier Dimitrios Ioannidis since November 1973, was ready to take action against Makarios and achieve enosis. According to a classified British High Commission study, EOKA B was an organisation militarily capable of mounting a coup against Makarios. Grivas had structured it as a system of local cells, but there was

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evidence that his (anonymous) successors were turning it into a military hierarchy. Police stations and military barracks were raided by paramilitaries in January, April and May 1974 to secure more light arms. While the organisation could remove Makarios, it did not have the capability to install its own regime after a coup. EOKA B remained very dangerous – it was ‘a sizeable body of well-armed and violent men, with no real political philosophy’. However, there was no hard evidence to suggest that the Athens junta would order it to kill the President of the Republic of Cyprus. Soon after the death of Grivas there was evidence of a breakdown in EOKA B’s morale and discipline. Already some members had tried, in October 1973 and ‘without authorisation’ from Grivas, to kill Makarios. EOKA B was thought to consist of 200–500 hardcore members (and according to Tassos Papadopoulos, a Makarios supporter, some 4,000 members in total). Its image was boosted by the general emotion after the death of Grivas, but it did not increase in size. For his part, Makarios was confronting political difficulties, in addition to the physical danger from would-be assassins. British diplomats reported that: Many present and former Makarios supporters, including nationalist ‘politicians’ who by no means favour EOKA, have been complaining to us recently about the Archbishop’s alleged political dependence on AKEL and his tolerance, if not encouragement . . . Indeed, a vicious circle is now in being; for as these people withdraw their support from the Archbishop and float aimlessly in the middle of the political spectrum, so the Archbishop appears to be increasingly indebted to the left.97 It would be an exaggeration to suggest that Makarios was a ‘prisoner’ of AKEL; indeed, the communists were visibly annoyed when he visited China.98 The High Commission assumed that EOKA B was run by a central leadership (but had no names to report to London), and claimed that ‘enotist secret sources maintain that EOKA is well supplied with modern weapons, chiefly of Soviet make.’99 The National Guard and the Greek Force Cyprus maintained liaison with EOKA B, but the organisation itself remained independent. The most interesting part of the High Commission’s report covered relations between EOKA B and the Turkish-Cypriots, who always feared union with Greece. Allegedly: EOKA B have so far shown no disposition to attack the Turkish-Cypriots . . . An EOKA attack on the Turkish-Cypriots is unlikely, unless

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it is intended to precipitate a crisis which in some devious way might then be blamed on Makarios.100 According to a secret source: The Turkish-Cypriots, for their part, have recently shown interest in making contact with EOKA B for the purpose of working against Makarios and bringing about an inter-communal settlement, not excluding partition. These approaches can hardly have been made without authority from Ankara . . . we do not know whether the Turkish-Cypriots have yet succeeded in making contact with EOKA B, nor, if so, whether EOKA B have responded positively.101 In the event of a coup Makarios could count on his dispersed 800-man Police Tactical Reserve (the key unit used to hunt down the EOKA B), 4,000 police and the Presidential Guard, a group ‘whose number and status are obscure’.102 The High Commission was mistaken in its stated belief that the National Guard and the Greek Force Cyprus would remain neutral if EOKA B were to launch a coup.103 Almost three weeks prior to the coup the FCO was informed that the two military units would take no part, while in the event it was they which stormed the presidential palace, with the explicit aim of killing Makarios. Meanwhile the Police Tactical Reserve were ruthlessly hunting down EOKA B, arresting its members and discovering secret arms caches, to the extent that by early July 1974 the group was incapable of staging a coup, or even of participating in one. Ioannidis, the leader of the Greek junta, was obsessed with Makarios, believing him to be pro-communist, and against union with Greece; allegedly, he had ordered EOKA B to stir up chaos in the months after Grivas’s death. While the Greek Force Cyprus and the National Guard prepared the coup’s operations, involving armour and special-forces units, EOKA B was about to start a campaign of murder that would have escalated into a coup. However, on 18 June 1974 the Police Tactical Reserve, acting on sound intelligence, raided the EOKA B headquarters; Leuteris Papadopoulos, the group’s leader, escaped after setting fire to his files, but the fire was soon extinguished and the archives recovered. On hearing of this, many members lost heart and withdrew from the coup preparations. EOKA B was disintegrating – the coup would go ahead, but led by the Greek military, which would afterwards call on the paramilitaries to man the new regime.104 The High Commission was not alone in failing to predict a coup. Colo-

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nel Stocker, the defence advisor, in a lengthy April 1974 report on GreekCypriot, Turkish-Cypriot and Greek military capabilities on the island, confidently stated: I do however find it impossible to give any credence to the current spate of rumour which prophesies a coup d’état by EOKA B working in conjunction with mainland officers of the National Guard and mounted with the full support of Athens.105 The colonel assumed that the Police Tactical Reserve was an ‘enigma and a potential source of evil’, with their commanding officer being supplied with intelligence by Makarios himself. For their part, the Turkish-Cypriot police and paramilitaries’ morale remained high.106 The intelligence role was a key aspect of the defence advisor’s mission: With the Joint Intelligence Staff Near East and with a British element in the United Nations Force in Cyprus my handling of intelligence in this way had been of no consequence . . . a great deal of intelligence comes his [the defence advisor’s] way without overt effort on his part. I am in fact as well and often better informed than my attaché colleagues and suspect that my apparent indifference so bewilders [Cypriot] people that they find themselves compelled to tell me things that they feel I should know but which they would not disclose to me were I probe them for it.107 This was a boastful statement, from an overly-confident but misinformed officer – a fortnight later a coup d’état would take place. On the morning of 15 July, confusion prevailed in the High Commission: Greek special forces had attacked the presidential palace. Makarios, taken by surprise, escapel at the last moment, and after an adventurous time requested the British to take him by helicopter to a British sovereign base, to be flown to Malta and then to London to consult with Prime Minister Harold Wilson. An EOKA paramilitary leader and publisher, Nikos Sampson, was installed as President by the National Guard and the Greek Force Cyprus. To Henry Tasca, the American ambassador in Athens, Sampson was just ‘an out and out gangster, a gorilla-type with no compunction against murder and assassination.’108 Before Makarios’s flight to London, he met Dom Mintoff, the Maltese prime minister, who later told James Callaghan, the Foreign Secretary, that the President of Cyprus ‘was in bad shape both physically and morally. He

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had neither clothes nor money.’ Makarios arrived in Malta with only three bodyguards, and asked for some of his close associates to be flown to London to meet him. Callaghan sounded willing to help, but wanted any evacuation through the SBAs to be in secret, to avoid trouble with Sampson.109 By 17 August, the MoD assessment put the National Guard and the Greek Force Cyprus in full control of internal security. On the island, the Turks were ‘in a high state of alert but in a low posture’. Despite the denials of the Athens junta, the MoD remarked there was no doubt of their culpability in staging the coup. Sir John Killick, the Deputy Under-Secretary at the FCO, discussing the situation with Callaghan, admitted that Britain confronted a dilemma: if HM Government backed Makarios without being able to restore him, they jeopardised the chances of establishing a working relationship with the Cypriot junta. Besides, Makarios might turn to Moscow providing the Russians with a good opportunity to get involved in Cypriot affairs. For his part Sampson (if treated properly) could delay the declaration of enosis with Greece and would not object to the function of the SBAs. However, it was not clear how long Turkey was willing to wait while simply watching the new regime in Cyprus.110 Indeed, with the coup against Makarios, Ankara was granted a precious opportunity for direct military intervention, under the pretext of needing to restore the 1960 constitution and protect the Turkish-Cypriot minority. Eventually, on 20 July, Turkish forces invaded the island. At the time of the Turkish landings, President Richard Nixon, in a telephone conversation with Henry Kissinger, his Secretary of State and National Security Advisor, remarked that the Turkish government was domestically weak, seeking ‘a foreign adventure to prove their toughness’. Kissinger replied that the coup had been ‘a great opportunity [for Ankara] . . . the Turks did what they have been wanting to do for fifteen years, establish a predominant position on Cyprus.’111 With Turkey a member state of both NATO and CENTO, Anglo-American diplomacy, recognising the value of the country to their Cold War strategy, found itself unwilling to deter the aggression or check the offensive operations.

7 Intelligence and the Invasion

The Turkish invasion of Cyprus was in the nature of a Pearl Harbour for the Greeks, as well as a Middle East crisis for London and Washington. In the context of the Cold War, the Turkish offensive put Anglo-Greek and Anglo-Turkish relations to a hard test. British intelligence gave no warning of the Turkish deployment until the very last moment. Prime Minister Harold Wilson and Foreign Secretary James Callaghan took no action to deter the aggression, since they had been deceived by Ankara’s assurances and by mistaken assessments of Turkish intentions. Later London and Washington did not do anything to check the Turkish advance. Greek military intelligence in Athens also failed to predict any offensive until the last moment, and even then the warning provided by the KYP station in Cyprus was disregarded by its headquarters, making any attempt to defend the island futile. Lieutenant-Colonel Georgios Tsoumis, the acting station-head, himself was handling a secret source, a Turkish-Cypriot militia lieutenant, and his KYP station had intercepted Turkish military communications. Signalling from their base in Anamour, Southern Anatolia, Turkish generals coordinated their forces as the latter deployed from the north. According to Tsoumis, KYP had only to read the Anamour signals to get a good picture of where the Turkish divisions were heading. In the first minutes of 19 July, Tsoumis sent a flash signal to Athens warning of the coming offensive. His wording was clear: ‘Turks of the 39th Division manning their landing craft. No vehicles loaded. The 28th Division transferred by railway from Ankara area. The invasion is imminent.’ Athens reacted strangely. At 0200 hours on 19 July the angry director of the KYP, Stathopoulos, reached Tsoumis on the telephone. He insisted that Tsoumis’s signal was wrong, that no invasion would take place and that he should immediately return to Athens. Tsoumis arrived in the capital at 1400 hours

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and met Stathopoulos, who maintained, together with the junta’s intelligence rank and file, that the Turks ‘were planning military manoeuvres and nothing more. There was no threat to Cyprus.’ In a second meeting with other officers, at 1700 hours, Tsoumis’s estimate was again questioned. Eventually, KYP dispatched their official estimate to junta leader Ioannidis. The Turks ‘could land one division and paratroopers to establish a bridgehead. An invasion could take place only if the international politico-strategic conditions allow it.’ In effect, the emergency tone of Tsoumis’s signal was scaled down considerably to fit the junta’s wishful thinking that Ankara would not invade the island after the 15 July coup against Makarios – this Ioannides strongly believed, allegedly after secret American assurances. According to a memorandum prepared, on 10 September 1974, by the director of Intelligence and Research at the US State Department, the CIA did not warn of the 15 July coup, and had been deceived by Ioannidis. According to a CIA report after the coup, when asked about foreign reactions to the coup Ioannidis had simply replied that: ‘The Americans are okay.’ The State Department memorandum commented that Ioannidis ‘could have concluded that he had a free hand, insofar as the United States was concerned, as long as his gambit was intra-Greek’.1 According to another account, ‘other US embassy elements [presumably the CIA] had used their own channels to convey the US position against any resort to violence in Cyprus’ before the coup. On 29 June Henry Tasca, the American ambassador in Athens, declined the State Department’s suggestion of presenting a démarche to the junta, to the effect that the US was ‘strongly opposed to any effort to remove Makarios’. Tasca replied that he felt Athens was very well aware of the American position, that Makarios should remain untouched: he did not need to repeat it.2 When Tsoumis boarded a civilian aircraft to return to Cyprus on the morning of 20 July, he was informed by the pilot that ‘something had happened in the airport there [in Nicosia], but we don’t know what. We can’t fly there’. The KYP deputy station-chief realised that the invasion had materialised.3 Eventually, Tsoumis reached Cyprus by sea. Three days earlier, at 0230 on 17 July, Wilson had met Makarios in London. The Cypriot President, now considered the doyen of Commonwealth heads of state, admitted his mistake in giving no credence to hints that the junta and the Greek military on the island might initiate a coup. Wilson told him that he would not recognise Sampson as President. Makarios told of hearing gunshots while in his office, without suspecting that the military were coming after him. Once he understood the gravity of the situation, and urged by his staff, he fled. He managed to escape because the units which had mutinied failed to surround the presidential palace on time. Wilson asked Makarios about his expectations as to the British stance on the crisis; the reply was simply that

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Sampson would not be recognised as President. His only comment was that the British government’s House of Commons statement on the coup ‘should have been stronger’. The Prime Minister then posed a delicate question: to what extent did the coup have ‘some of the characteristics of an invasion’ (and thus constitute a breach of the 1960 treaty)? Makarios agreed that it was indeed a kind of invasion, and wanted the US, Turkey and Britain to put pressure on Greece to restore him to his position. Besides, the Turks had in any event been against enosis. The President remarked that ‘he was not sure the Turks liked him very much but he thought they preferred him to Sampson.’4 The same day, the Turkish Prime Minister, Bülent Eçevit, was pressing his British counterpart to agree to a joint Anglo-Turkish intervention under the 1960 treaty, but Wilson abstained from condemning Greece and joining forces with Turkey. The junta did not back the coup in public, but did not send a representative to London for consultations, as Callaghan had asked.5 Military intelligence drafted a special secret briefing for Wilson to prepare him for the meeting with Eçevit. The Prime Minister was informed that ‘Greek mainland forces are on alert but are poorly placed geographically to intervene in Cyprus in the face of Turkish opposition’. Turkish forces were also on alert, and ‘they would probably be able to invade Cyprus provided the weather was favourable, in sufficient strength to defeat the Cyprus National Guard and the Greek forces.’ The MoD admitted that there were ‘no unusual concentrations of Greek or Turkish forces’, but the latter were observed to be gathering in Mersin and Marmaris.6 Callaghan asked for the MoD’s assessment of a plan to restore Makarios by military force. It was a hasty study that made only a rough calculation of operational requirements. The Greek-Cypriot fighters who supported the Cypriot junta were deemed to be only lightly armed, with dated weaponry; they consisted of 9,300 troops, with 650 Greek officers and NCOs and 30,000 reservists, with a militia of up to 16,000. The Greek forces, two infantry battalions with a total of 950 troops, had some heavy weapons such as mortars and anti-armour artillery. In the event of a British intervention, the Greek-Cypriots could launch guerrilla warfare, and the Greek troops would obey Athens’s orders (whatever they might be). British troops might have had to organise mopping-up operations against guerrillas of EOKA B and the National Guard, who would be supported by part of the civilian population. Staff officers warned that: We might well end up by facing an open-ended and expensive situation, similar to Northern Ireland . . . it is of interest to recall that our previous experience of an IS [insurgency situation] on the island tied up the equivalent of three divisions.7

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Callaghan and Wilson were urged to remember the operations against EOKA in the 1950s. Undoubtedly, the Prime Minister faced a very tough decision – a minimum of three brigades would be needed for Makarios’s restoration, as well as close air support by fighters and bombers, and a minimum of two weeks for preparation. One brigade would be assigned to the protection of Makarios and his seat of government in Nicosia, and units of the other two would be deployed in Famagusta, Larnaca and Limassol, with the tacit agreement of UNFICYP. Nonetheless, such an operation would considerably affect the deployment of UK forces in Northern Ireland, and furthermore in the first stages of the operation as many as 17,500 British subjects living outside the SBAs ‘would be entirely at the mercy of the opposing forces, who would undoubtedly resort to typical and extreme terrorist measures, eg the taking of hostages.’ If Britain attempted to evacuate the civilians in advance of the operation, it would be a warning to the regime and the safety and security of the UK subjects would be put in immediate danger.8 In his discussion with Wilson and Callaghan, Eçevit called on them to allow the Turkish military to use the SBAs; both rejected this unequivocally. Earlier, the British Prime Minister had been warned by the FCO that: ‘It is not clear whether Turkish intentions are to genuinely attempt to solve the Cyprus problem though consultations and diplomatic pressure or whether they want their hands free for unilateral action.’ From Ankara a ‘good source’ of the Defence Attaché’s claimed that the Turks were not considering an invasion for the time being.9 The Turkish Prime Minister, repeating the need to protect the Turkish-Cypriot community from the Cypriot junta, led Wilson to admit that a unilateral action would not meet British opposition: Wilson was not willing to deter Turkey from invading: The Prime Minister said that he thought that he understood the meaning of Mr Eçevit’s remarks. If the situation of the Turkish community on the island deteriorated, Turkey would feel it necessary to intervene . . . the Foreign and Commonwealth Secretary asked what British help in these circumstances would involve. Mr Eçevit meant that he hoped Britain would not put up obstacles and would persuade the United States not to do so. The Foreign and Commonwealth Secretary said he would consider this suggestion, but did not think that the British government could help in any way. He believed that this would constitute a breach of the Treaty. Was the Turkish government asking Britain to facilitate a bloodless landing? Mr Eçevit said that the Turks would not necessarily land on the coast . . . the Turks felt that they had already done their duty

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in calling for consultations. The Prime Minister said that he understood Mr Eçevit’s remarks as an expression of the Turkish wish that Britain would not blockade an action of the kind contemplated by Turkey, but that they would blockade the Greeks. Mr Eçevit asked if Britain would be ready to do so. The Foreign and Commonwealth Secretary said it was not impossible. Mr Eçevit said that the Greeks were already reinforcing their forces by air. The Prime Minister said that action against aeroplanes was more difficult . . . The Foreign and Commonwealth Secretary then suggested that it would be wrong to confuse the [possible] restoration of democracy in Greece with a return to the status quo ante in Cyprus.10 Wilson and Callaghan made no reference at all to the employment of military force as a British option, and Eçevit tried to lead them to admit that they would not react, in the event of a Turkish invasion. Each party was free to make their own interpretations of this finely-balanced discussion of what was about to happen in the sovereign state of Cyprus. It seemed also that the reference to the restoration of democracy in Greece (which materialised in the early hours of 24 July with the formation of a national coalition government under Constantine Karamanlis) was based on the (accurate) British estimate that eventually the Cyprus crisis would bring about the junta’s downfall. Curiously, the legal department at the FCO argued at the time that the Turkish request for intervention was a legitimate one, and that Article IV of the 1960 treaty gave Ankara the right to unilateral action if Britain failed to act.11 However, in January 1964 the same department had argued that Turkey did not have the right to intervene in Cyprus – since the latter was a sovereign state; such an act would be contrary to the UN charter.12 After the November 1967 Greek-Cypriot/Turkish-Cypriot clashes the FCO’s legal department had issued an assessment of the UK’s 1960 treaty obligation (under Article IV) to assist Cyprus in the event of Turkish invasion. The law officers had been clear and concise: No such obligation was imposed by the Treaty . . . Article IV set out comprehensively the rights and obligations that were conferred and imposed on the guaranteeing powers by the Treaty in the event of breach and that the language of the article indicated that, while there would then be an obligation on the three powers to consult together with respect to the possibility of concerted action, it did not purport to impose any obligation on any of the guaranteeing powers to take unilateral action if such concerted action did not prove possible; instead it merely reserved to each of them the right to do to . . . [the] interpretation of

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Article IV, though apparently required by the actual wording of the article, might be said to produce a surprising result for the Treaty as a whole if the Treaty were to be regarded as a Treaty under which the Republic of Cyprus was accorded protection against action by any of the three guaranteeing powers . . .The law officers were instructed that there were numerous instances of breaches of the Treaty having been committed by the government of Cyprus [since 1963] in particular by the passage of legislation which was contrary to the Basic Articles of the constitution. On this footing and leaving aside the question whether the threatened invasion of Cyprus by Turkish forces would in fact put the Turkish government in breach of the Treaty so as to found the basis for action under article IV, the law officers considered that it would be open to the United Kingdom government, if Ministers thought fit, to adduce these breaches by the government of Cyprus as a reason for rejecting the request of that government for action by the United Kingdom government.13 Nonetheless, the legal department repeated that a Turkish invasion would be contrary to the UN charter. Only an intervention requested by the Cypriot government to defend the island from invasion would be sanctioned by the treaty and the charter.14 British inaction in July 1974 was founded both on the argument quoted above shaped by the FCO’s legal department and on the UK’s strategic interest in maintaining good relations with Turkey. The legal argument against aid to the Greek-Cypriots had been formulated back in November 1967, and influenced the mindset of senior civil servants in the FCO: there had been a long-established intention not to act in the event of a Turkish invasion. On 18 July the MoD warned of ‘indications that the Turkish authorities may be contemplating early unilateral intervention in Cyprus’. Thus the Chiefs of Staff recommended to Roy Mason, the Defence Secretary, bringing additional forces to 72 hours’ notice to defend the sovereign bases, because ‘in the event of a Turkish intervention, the attitude of the [new] Cypriot regime [towards the SBAs] could not be predicted.’15 Next day, 19 July, the Joint Intelligence Committee warned Callaghan of ‘an invasion of Cyprus by Turkish forces in the next few days in accordance with the JIC expectation of the Turkish plan of operations’.16 Reports about the ‘increasing likehood of Turkish intervention’ reached Wilson before leaving Paris, where he had met with French President Valérie Giscard d’Estaing during the afternoon. Callaghan and Wilson, in front of the French foreign minister, discussed the situation on receiving intelligence that a Turkish naval force had left Mersin. On returning to England, Callaghan consulted with his advisers

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on the need to warn UK subjects in Cyprus of the gloomy developments, and to ask them to take refuge within the SBAs at dawn next day. However military intelligence proved more reassuring: The information and assessments reaching us suggested that the Turks would not be likely to invade early on Saturday morning, because it was thought Mr Eçevit required rather longer to reach a decision after returning to Ankara from London earlier that day. We also felt that it would be unlikely that Turkey would decide to intervene while Mr Sisco [the US Under-Secretary of State] was actually in Ankara. Certain items of secret information tended to support that view.17 At a joint MoD/FCO conference on 19 July, it was decided to direct the High Commission in Nicosia to contact Sampson and convince him to allow British subjects, if they so wished, to drive to the SBAs: the Cypriot regime should not put any obstacles in the way of any British subject seeking to reach a base. ‘Strong rumours of imminent invasion’ were heard in Nicosia. Again, the JIC estimated that in the event of invasion the Turks ‘could succeed’ in 48 hours (however, it did not clarify the Turks’ main objective). William Colby, the CIA director, in consultation with Kissinger, spoke of indications of a Turkish invasion by 21 or 22 July, or ‘possibly earlier’.18 For their part, British diplomats in Ankara had been completely in the dark, merely passing on anti-Greek, nationalistic press accounts. The Defence Attaché reported a substantial deployment of Turkish troops on the South Anatolian coast. At 1912 hours on 19 July, the Embassy informed the High Commission in Nicosia that with respect to a possible invasion: No political decision on this has yet been taken [in Ankara], nor is there likely to be one before 20 July, that is until the [Turkish] prime minister has reported on his visit to London . . . but the influential commanders of the armed forces may have the last word. So the danger of an early invasion certainly cannot be ruled out.19 On 20 July Callaghan told Russian ambassador Lunkov that the Turkish ambassador in London and his government had deceived both himself personally and the British ambassador in Ankara, having reassured them the previous evening that no invasion would take place.20 In Whitehall the alarm bells rang at 0220 hours on Saturday 20 July. The Cabinet Office duty intelligence-officer telephoned Callahan’s staff to inform them that an RAF Nimrod on patrol over the sea north of Cyprus had reported

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a ‘Turkish invasion force some 15 miles off Kyrenia’. Mason telephoned Wilson, who was in Durham, passing on this finding. It was suggested that a unit of Royal Marines from HMS Hermes should be dispatched as soon as possible to protect the intelligence sites at Mount Troodos and Olympos from a Turkish incursion. These troops should also help with the transfer of civilians to the SBAs. However, it was pointed out that if British and Turkish troops were deployed at about the same time, the impression of Anglo-Turkish collusion would prevail: the Royal Marines mission was put on hold (though over the telephone Wilson sounded willing to authorise such a mission ‘if news of the invasion were confirmed.’)21 The Turkish naval force turned north but about 0300 hours the Defence Intelligence Staff received tactical information to the effect that the Turkish ships were approximately five miles off Kyrenia. Forty minutes later the invasion was deemed ‘definite’. However, the Royal Marines’ mission was not yet authorised: they would remain on board HMS Hermes.22 Shortly after 0700 hours Wilson was woken to the news that there existed a state of war. Signals intelligence, spies’ and the defence attaché’s reports, as well as assessments by experienced diplomats had failed to provide a prompt and accurate assessment of Turkish intentions and capabilities. It was an intelligence failure. On Saturday 20 July 1974, at 0400 hours, in an operation labelled ‘Attila I’, the Turkish military launched a sea- and air-borne attack on northern Cyprus. Turkish-Cypriot fighters took up arms, and fierce fighting erupted in Nicosia and Kyrenia. Nicosia airport was bombed, but Turkish paratroopers could not establish a presence there. Between 0445 and 0700 hours Callaghan spoke on the telephone with Kissinger as well as with the Greek chargé d’affaires and the Turkish and Russian ambassadors in London. The Foreign Secretary called on the Turks to cease hostilities, blaming the Greeks for causing the crisis by their 15 July coup. Wilson sent immediate orders for a UK task force to sail to Cyprus; the force was composed of 40 and 41 Commando Royal Marines, an infantry battalion, Hermes with 18 transport helicopters, the guided-missile destroyer Devonshire, the frigates Rhyl and Andromeda and support vessels. The remit of the UK force was to defend the SBAs and to facilitate the evacuation of UK and foreign nationals.23 There was no intention of confronting the Turks – the last time British forces had engaged the Turkish army had been in the Great War. Ministers in London and British tactical commanders in the SBAs knew very well that a small-scale Anglo-Turkish incident, in the chaos of battle, could spark an Anglo-Turkish war and the total collapse of NATO’s south-eastern flank. In tactical terms the British, employing more sophisticated weapons, might have won, but in Cold War strategic terms the West, NATO and CENTO would have

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lost. London could perhaps, to deter the invasion, have employed the same ‘fear factor’ tactic as Johnson had in 1964. (As we have seen in the previous chapter, Johnson’s letter to Ankara had toyed with Turkey’s fears and its traditional insecurity at the prospect of Russia entering the war.) Perhaps this might have been the key to deterring Ankara from landing troops on Cyprus; but while Wilson had mentioned the Russian factor in his discussions with Eçevit on 17 June, he did not dwell on it, simply remarking that ‘there was a danger of Soviet intervention, and for this reason it was important to take early action to avoid sterile debate in the United Nations. We should therefore pursue the proposal of tripartite talks [among the guarantor powers].’24 This was language for placating the Turks, not for deterring their invasion. At 0700 hours, Air Marshal Sir John Aiken, the commander of British Forces Near East and administrator of the SBAs (having at his disposal at that time one squadron of Hercules transports, two of Vulcan bombers and one of Lighting fighters) broadcast that: ‘Britain is not involved in any way in the action which began in the Republic of Cyprus at dawn this morning.’ He made no reference to invasion as such. UK subjects and servicemen’s dependants were told to listen for instructions on their safe transfer to the SBAs.25 At about the same time, Kissinger called Colby, asking him of Turkish plans – his main question being whether Ankara aimed to seize the whole island. Reassuring him, Colby replied that the Turks ‘apparently are going for Kyrenia . . . they would be after Famagusta and Kyrenia and a kind of line between the two’;26 this proved an accurate assessment by the CIA. Colby believed that a ceasefire could be negotiated and a Greek-Turkish war avoided if Washington could ‘get the Greeks not to fight’.27 British policy aimed to convince Greece not to respond to the Turkish aggression, to go ahead with three-party talks and to press the Turkish military to stop their advance. There was no intention of blockading Turkish reinforcements or supplies to the invading forces. Callaghan, in his communication with the Greek chargé d’affaires, made it clear that Greece should refrain from acting, i.e. from escalating the situation.28 Kissinger, meanwhile, was informed by Under-Secretary Joe Sisco that the Greek junta might threaten Turkey with war, and immediate enosis. In Sisco’s eyes the junta had been trying to find a face-saving settlement to avoid the dishonour of defeat. Athens, meanwhile, assumed Britain had been aware of the Turkish action in advance.29 The Americans were about to threaten that military aid to the Greeks would be cut off if Athens reacted to the invasion. The British Foreign Secretary instructed the ambassador in Athens to ‘urge the [the Greek government] in the strongest terms . . . that they should not (repeat not) escalate the situation’.30 Callaghan pressed both sides to send representatives to London for con-

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sultations (neither Callaghan nor Turkish foreign minister Günes could imagine, of course, that their conversations were being monitored by the KGB).31 The NATO Council backed the option of Greek-Turkish talks. The UN Security Council, on 21 July, adopted Resolution No. 353, calling for ‘general ceasefire, and [no] foreign military intervention, withdrawal of foreign military personnel other than those present under the authority of the international agreements on Cyprus, and negotiations between Greece, Turkey and the United Kingdom’. On the island itself Greek forces and Greek-Cypriot fighters resisted, armed only with light infantry weapons. On the morning of 20 July, back in Athens, a general military mobilisation was declared, and the 10th Division moved east towards the Greek-Turkish border in Thrace. The Cypriots attempted to arrange a ceasefire agreement in Nicosia, but they failed and throughout the day the heavy fighting continued. Refugees, both Greek- and Turkish-Cypriots, sought safety in the SBAs. The British managed to negotiate a ceasefire in the Limassol area to move their own people out of harm’s way. Greek-Cypriot fighters occupied some Turkish-Cypriot enclaves. By early afternoon, 6,000 Turkish troops were deployed in the northern Turkish-Cypriot enclaves and around the Nicosia area, while Greek-Cypriots held some 10,000 Turkish-Cypriot civilians under UN supervision.32 Next day heavy fighting continued in the Kyrenia and Nicosia areas. The Turkish government informed Sisco that they would agree to a ceasefire, but wanted American assurances as to how the Greeks would behave. They did not accept the other parts of the UN resolution calling for the withdrawal of troops. Callaghan spoke twice on the telephone with Eçevit. Kissinger told Callaghan that both Greeks and Turks would agree to a ceasefire. Sisco feared that fanatical junta officers might take over and that this could lead to a fullscale Greek-Turkish war. NATO informed London that Greek officers serving in Brussels had received orders to return to Greece immediately. The southeastern flank of the NATO alliance was in a state of near-collapse. Kissinger and Callaghan agreed to exert pressure on both sides to reach a ceasefire, and to seek the diplomatic cooperation of all NATO and EEC member states in doing so.33 Turkish paratroops reinforced the Turkish-Cypriot fighters in Nicosia, while Greek-Cypriot positions were bombed by the Turkish air force. However, the paratroops failed to advance to Nicosia airport. In the early hours of 22 July, the Greek military dispatched a special-forces squadron in Noratlas transports, but one (out of 15) was shot down in error by Greek anti-aircraft artillery. The joint MoD-FCO assessment of 22 July stated:

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It seems clear that the Turks badly misjudged both the potential extent of the National Guard resistance and the ability of outlying TurkishCypriot enclaves to hold out until relieved. They made no attempt to secure the deep water port of Famagusta; and their failure to gain control of Nicosia airport prevented the rapid build-up essential for a successful operation. If the conflict continues, the Turks would probably be able gradually to gain the initiative if they succeeded in reinforcing quickly, but there is no question now of a quick victory, and the Greek-Cypriots will be able to use Turkish-Cypriot enclaves as a bargaining counter when the situation turns against them.34 The Americans agreed with this assessment. The incoming chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, General Walters, in a discussion with Kissinger admitted that: ‘The Turks have not made the headway they expected. They underestimated Greek resistance and overestimated Turkish support on the island.’35 At 0030 hours on 22 July, Kissinger telephoned Callaghan to inform him that the Turks had accepted a ceasefire, to take effect from 1400 hours. At 0245 hours the State Department was informed by Athens that the Greeks had also agreed to stop fighting. However, London and Washington did not want Makarios to attend the Greek-Turkish talks; they would start in Geneva on 25 July, but no Cypriot would attend – it was a matter for Greek, Turkish and British foreign ministers to discuss.36 In Athens, at dawn on 24 July, the conservative politician Constantine Karamanlis returned from Paris, where he had stayed in self-imposed exile, to lead the first post-junta national coalition government, Ioannidis’s junta having collapsed when the chiefs of staff had refused to follow him into war against Turkey. Ankara was fearful of Greek reinforcements reaching Cyprus. When Turkish bombers on 24 July mistook the Turkish destroyer Koçatepe for a Greek warship off Cyprus, they attacked and sank it, in one of the worst blunders of Turkish tactical intelligence. HMS Andromeda and Sea King helicopters from a Royal Fleet Auxiliary joined in a search-and-rescue mission, saving a total of 72 crew members.37 Events on the ground in the afternoon of 24 July led Wilson to telephone Eçevit, who thanked him for the rescue effort. However, it appeared that Turkish forces had not only violated the ceasefire but intended to advance to Nicosia airport, where British defence installations and UNFICYP troops were located. Reportedly, Turkish troops and tanks were deployed some 500 yards from the airport perimeter-fence – apparently an ‘eye-ball to eyeball’ situation was developing. Wilson feared a Suez-style fiasco if there was an engagement between British and Turkish forces.38 Wilson and Eçevit’s conversation, over a bad telephone line, became some-

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what heated. There was indeed confusion over what exactly had been happening – Turkish tactical intelligence and reporting back to Ankara faced more difficulties than British military intelligence. However, Eçevit recognised the legal status of British installations in the airport, and repeatedly tried to remove any suspicion Wilson might harbour that the Turkish forces would assault the British unit there (the 16/5th Lancers) and the UNFICYP troops: Eçevit: Our people have strict orders not to fire and not to cause any confrontation with the UN forces. Either British, Canadian or otherwise. Wilson: . . . attack on the airport tonight . . . E: No. No. I am telling you. Our orders to our people are to the contrary. No attacks to anyone in or around the airport. W: . . . military operation tonight on the airport by your ground forces. E: No. No. W: No? E: No. Because, well you see . . . our information is based on different . . . I wish we could both go and see the situation by our own eyes. Our people claim, maybe they are too optimistic, that they have already got control of the airport. The UN say ‘no, we have got control of it’. Whichever may be true, our military people are not going to attack at all. They have strict orders not to attack . . . W: Well, as long as this is clear . . . just in case of any doubt, because it is difficult to hear one another. I have to say that in so far as any attack on the airport which could involve risk to any of the UN forces, we cannot stand by . . . Royal Air Force have instructions to present [sic] the attack . . . as long as there is no attack on the airport tonight . . . E: No. No. W: That’s what we want to hear.39 Next day, Callaghan himself instructed Sir Robin Hooper (the UK’s ambassador in Athens) to inform the Greeks that the deployment of RAF Phantom F-4s to Akrotiri was ‘a precautionary measure in view of the possible need to support the UN forces, particularly at Nicosia airport’.40 The Foreign Secretary admitted to the lack of tactical information on Turkish intentions: ‘The MoD had no information on the preparation of attack against the airport.’ It was reported by naval intelligence that 19 Turkish vessels were heading for Cyprus, carrying vehicles and supplies.41 Karamanlis asked in vain for Britain, as a guarantor power, to stop these ships with their cargoes of reinforcements, which constituted another breach of the ceasefire.42 By 26 July British military intelligence estimated that the Turkish forces on the island had reached 10,000

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troops, 40 tanks and 88 helicopters.43 Sir Horace Phillips, the UK’s ambassador in Ankara, argued against any thought of a blockade against the Turkish ships, assuming that it was only with difficulty that Eçevit had persuaded his generals to accept the 22 July ceasefire. Chauvinism and Pan-Turkism had considerable influence over Turkish domestic opinion, and the military wanted more ground on Cyprus; the ambassador argued that UNFICYP had not been granted any mandate to confront the Turks. Besides, ‘it would be dangerous for the UK to take the lead’ in an operation to stop the Turkish advance, and ‘we could presumably not deny them the right to keep this force supplied.’44 For his part, Hooper urged that action be taken against these reinforcements; London should use ‘something more than political deterrence’, though by then the ships had already discharged their cargoes in Kyrenia. The continuation of the Geneva talks, the future of Anglo-Greek relations and the political survival of Karamanlis required Britain to take ‘vigorous action . . . we should also consider urgently what further action, including the display or threat of force, we can take.’45 Meanwhile, the RAF sent a Nimrod on tactical-reconnaissance missions over Cyprus, which annoyed the Turkish military. The chief of intelligence of the Turkish general staff requested (via the British defence attaché in Ankara) that these Nimrod flights be stopped, warning of ‘the risks of a serious incident arising’. In reply, the attaché reminded him of Turkish fighters flying unchallenged over the SBAs, as well as the British rescue efforts after the sinking of the Koçatepe.46 The counsellor in the Turkish embassy in London requested that: ‘The information gathered [by the RAF Nimrod flights] should not be passed in any form whatsoever to agencies to which other interested parties might have access in any form.’47 While Callaghan put pressure on the Turks not to attack Nicosia airport, it could be argued that he was bluffing: a scheme to involve UNFICYP and the RAF against the Turks on the ground would be utterly contrary to his own policy of mediation and of preserving Anglo-Turkish relations within NATO and CENTO. Two days later, on 27 July, Callaghan decided against further intelligence-gathering, to appease the Turks and lead them to an agreement in Geneva. In strong terms he passed a message to the MoD that the RAF was to stop immediately all reconnaissance flights over Turkish-occupied territory. Flights over the sea, to monitor reinforcements, would continue but at a lower rate and scale.48 The FCO’s (mistaken) assessment was that this curtailment of flights ‘has no strategic implications for us. We have a clear picture.’ The commander of British Forces Near East retained discretion to dispatch RAF aircraft if he received intelligence ‘of unusual military activity’ from other sources.49 (One might have asked how much more ‘unusual military activity’ there could

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be, since Cyprus was now ablaze.) The Turkish deployments and operations continued well into August. There remained serious intelligence gaps, to the extent that the Chiefs of Staff Committee admitted on 12 August that: In view of the lack of intelligence on Turkish forces in Cyprus and their intentions it was necessary to seek a general easement of the present embargo of air reconnaissance, and unless this was agreed there was very little chance of obtaining any military warning of a Turkish breakout.50 Imagery intelligence proved to be a key source of information, which since 27 July Callaghan had opted to ban, to placate Ankara. Sir John Killick asked him to authorise flights by one RAF Canberra from Malta, reassuring Callaghan that the risk of an incident with the Turks was negligible.51 The Canberra flew the very day of the second Turkish offensive, on 14 August. By 25 July, meanwhile, UNFICYP had reported that despite the ceasefire: ‘The Turks are pushing in every direction . . . all this activity represents a determined bid to extend Turkish control in the north whilst the opportunity lasts.’52 Karamanlis, angered by the Turks’ continual violations of the ceasefire, sent a message to Wilson that he should intervene, in order ‘to prevent the otherwise unavoidable generalisation of the conflict’.53 The Secretary-General of the Greek Ministry of Foreign Affairs warned of Karamanlis’s fear that a Greek-Turkish war would lead to the fall of his government, and the return of the military to power. The ‘inevitable defeat’ would cause civil war, eventually opening the door to a leftist government under Andreas Papandreou, who would side with Russia.54 London did not wish to condemn the Turks in public, however, and pointed out to the British ambassadors that they should maintain a ‘degree of even-handness [sic] in their consultations’.55 Wilson himself replied to Karamanlis that Britain, already contributing to UNFICYP, was doing quite enough. Besides, the reinforcement of UNFICYP ‘rather than unilateral action is, I am sure, better calculated to prevent the generalisation of the conflict,’ remarked the Prime Minister. Callaghan and Wilson made clear to Eçevit the absolute need to observe the ceasefire.56 On 20 July John Brynmor, the MoD’s Under-Secretary of State for the RAF, visited the island to assess the developing situation in person, as well as to oversee the evacuation of UK subjects. In his report he included HQ NEAF’s assessment of the Turkish operations. Staff officers argued that: Their [the Turkish armed forces’] performance had not been as good as expected and they had, for example, wasted considerable effort, on trying to secure Nicosia airport. The Greek-Cypriot National Guard, on the

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other hand, did better than expected and this strongly suggests that they had been heavily reinforced before the coup from mainland Greece.57 From Geneva, Callaghan reported on his wide-ranging mediation effort, disclosing confidential contacts with the Turks: Even Turks can be unusually frank in the middle of the night or when on the edge of exhaustion. From a variety of conversations at varying levels I have come to the conclusion that the Turkish delegation here is, and feels itself to be, a cipher. Officials in my party [the UK mission] have privately been advised by the Turks that the only way we can hope to reach ‘agreement’ in Geneva is to get rough and put the maximum pressure on Ankara. At this point, some of our Turkish sources said that the problem is not merely the military but the eccentricities of Eçevit himself and his parliamentary problems.58 On 30 July ‘some heavy transatlantic arm twisting’ eventually made Eçevit understand the need for moderation. Callaghan was optimistic, ready to sell to Georgios Mavros, the Greek foreign secretary, a plan for the withdrawal of forces.59 The first round of the Geneva talks ended with a declaration to the effect that the pre-invasion constitutional order would be restored and that the island would be divided into two administrative areas, separated by a buffer zone under UN supervision. The Security Council voted (Resolution No. 355) to demand respect for the sovereignty, independence and territorial integrity of Cyprus. The conflict was still unfolding on the island when Sir Michael Carver, Chief of the Defence Staff, asked the Secretary of State to release HMS Hermes and 41 Commando from their Cyprus commitments by the end of the month, so they could take part in NATO exercises.60 By 31 July, the MoD was again making the case for withdrawing forces from Cyprus for other missions. A total of 11,700 UK troops had already been deployed on the island since the invasion. The show of force ordered by Wilson was over; Britain had never contemplated the possibility of intervening against the Turkish military. The SBAs were not deemed to be under serious threat. On 25 July the Defence Intelligence Staff reassured the Chiefs of Staff that any threat to the bases derived from ‘random criminal activities and from individual aggressive acts rather than full scale inter-communal clashes or positive anti-British clashes’. Indeed, in the event of a truce and with the prospect of a long-term settlement there was some fear of EOKA B-style terrorist assaults, though not against the British.61 The majority of the UK subjects had now been evacuated to Britain. The MoD pointed out

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a number of operational commitments: HMS Hermes, 41 Commando and logistics ships were needed for two large-scale NATO exercises, ‘Bold Guard’ and ‘Northern Merger’. The Phantom squadron had to return to the UK, since the RAF was implementing a restructuring in which this unit was to play a key part. Hermes and 41 Commando received orders to leave Cyprus; they would be followed by HMS Brighton and Onslaught. In mid-August, 40 Commando and the Royal Fusiliers battalion would be replaced by a battalion of the Gurkha Rifles. The FCO insisted that the Gurkhas were to be deployed only within the SBAs, which the MoD accepted.62 The Royal Marines were required for ‘Northern Merger’. At about the same time two formations of the Royal Corps of Transport would also leave, as would, by the end of September, an armoured reconnaissance-squadron. The Phantoms had to return to Britain ‘as soon as possible’. Overseas commitments, in short, did not allow for the continuation of the British deployment on the island.63 Wilson, though unwilling to intervene by force, pressed Eçevit strongly to ensure that the Turkish forces respected civilians, referring to being disturbed by reports from several sources . . . that the [Greek-Cypriot] villagers are being evicted from their homes in the Kyrenia area . . . men are held as hostages . . . I appeal to you to instruct your forces on the island to show restraint . . .’64 Meanwhile, the new round of the Geneva talks commenced on 8 August. On 10 August in Geneva, Callaghan received a secret report claiming that the Turks ‘might have plans considerably to extend’ the occupation zone.65 The anxious Clerides, President of the Cyprus House of Representatives (who had assumed the presidency after the resignation of Sampson), told the Foreign Secretary that Greek-Cypriot troops had arrested a Turkish major and discovered plans and a map for future offensive operations. To Clerides, Callaghan seemed already aware of this piece of information, calmly telling Clerides that there could be an ‘operation’ to expand the Turkish bridgehead, and urging the Greeks to reach an agreement to avert new fighting.66 Callaghan warned Arthur Hartman, the US Assistant-Secretary for European Affairs, that if Anglo-American diplomacy did not get the parties to reach an agreement, ‘serious fighting’ would erupt on the island, possibly leading to a Greek-Turkish war.67 Hartman informed Sisco of Callaghan’s fears, which were based on a British intelligence report predicting that the Turks would attack on 20 August, aiming to establish a line drawn five miles east of Morphou to Nicosia and Famagusta. The operation would be completed by an infantry division within 18 hours. Hartman reported

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on Callaghan’s suspicion of the Turks, and on his reference to the use of force against the Turkish military – Callaghan had even mentioned that ‘Wilson liked to play with soldiers’, so as to persuade the Americans of the need not to rule out the military option. He insisted that there could be no justification for another Turkish assault.68 However, Kurt Waldheim, the UN Secretary-General, told Callaghan on 10 August (and Wilson later) that there was no mandate for UNFICYP to oppose the Turks. Wilson himself seemed against the military option, despite Callaghan’s hints.69 In his turn, Kissinger was strongly against confronting the Turks with the threat of military force or a withdrawal of military aid. In a 13 August meeting with President Gerald Ford and Brent Scowcroft (the new National Security Advisor) he insisted on the need to keep the Greeks out of any war with the Turks: If the Turks run loose on Cyprus, the Greeks could come unglued. We certainly do not want a war between the two, but if it came to that, Turkey is more important to us and they have a political structure which could produce a Qadhafi . . . there is no American reason why the Turks should not have one-third of Cyprus.70 Hartman established a rapport with the occasionally angry Callaghan, to the extent that the American wrote to Kissinger: I gradually nursed him [Callaghan] (with no great opposition on his part since he was really letting steam off) to the point where he began to see his role as impartial chairman [of the Geneva talks] and not a moral arbiter of equities.71 Aiken, the commander of British Forces Near East (and thus commander on the ground, receiving all intelligence), was in the dark as to Turkish intentions to launch another offensive. Discussing the subject of evacuating the remaining British civilians to the SBAs, it was explicitly stated that: [He stood] a reasonable chance of getting warning of a major Turkish military initiative from intelligence sources beforehand. He is prepared, if necessary, to undertake evacuation at night [on 13 August] which might take a little longer than six hours . . . we should not implement our evacuation plans yet.72 He was wrong: the new Turkish operation, under the code-name ‘Attila II’,

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would be launched next day. However, three days earlier Turkish foreign minister Günes had reassured Anne Warburton (an FCO representative, and soon to become the first UK female ambassador) on 11 August in Geneva that Turkey would not use force any further.73 Callaghan had already understood that Kissinger’s pro-Turkish stance had had the effect of sidelining the British mediation effort. In a 12 August telegram to Sir Peter Ramsbotham, the UK’s ambassador in Washington, he remarked: I would like to get across to Dr. Kissinger my strong wish for complete frankness and trust between us in the handling of the Cyprus problem . . . in the past 48 hours this mutual confidence has been somewhat impaired. There may be some genuine differences of assessment between myself and Dr Kissinger . . . My view is that the approach to the Turks must proceed on parallel lines, namely on the diplomatic and the military level. I do not forget that four hours before they landed on 20 July our Ambassador in Ankara was assured that no orders had been given for landing. Nor do I forget their firm intention to take over Nicosia airport from which they were finally diverted in part at least because I told Eçevit that I would not stand by and see the 16/5th Lancers slaughtered. Although I have been here in contact with Günes [the Turkish foreign minister] for a total of eleven days now, it is still not possible to fathom his real intentions. Every assurance about no further military advance is hedged about in some way. The Americans here have professed concern about what they see as the introduction by us of a new military dimension into the situation the day before yesterday, but they must not forget that the military dimension is constantly hanging over our heads in the form of the Turkish army . . . I would have expected to learn from the Americans direct rather that through the Turks here that Kissinger’s letter [to Eçevit] contained thoughts on the island’s future constitutional arrangements . . . it is evident that Eçevit was invited to consider the cantonal approach . . . if we and the Americans are to work together on this I must know exactly what is in Kissinger’s mind . . . I told [Sisco] that I did not propose to be the ‘dummy in the middle’. I hope he has got the message . . .74 The Turkish government now presented an ultimatum. Unless they were granted a wider occupation zone in North Cyprus, doubling their gains, they would leave the Geneva talks and, obviously, would initiate hostilities. Kissinger’s advisors proposed to threaten Ankara with cutting off military aid if they proceeded, but the Secretary of State declined to do anything that could put

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real pressure on the Turks.75 Warburton reported that Denktash, the TurkishCypriot leader, had told her that Günes was ‘under instructions from Eçevit to finish the talks here tonight [12 August]’, and spoke of ‘mad Turks . . . quite prepared to fight their way through UNFICYP’.76 At the MoD in London there was no intention of employing fighter aircraft in the event of a new assault. The acting Chief of the Defence Staff pointed out that employing the RAF’s Phantom F-4s would invite the Turks to bomb the Akrotiri base. He strongly advised against further reinforcement of UK forces in Cyprus: ‘Neither artillery nor Phantoms should be offered to the UN.’77 Operation Attila II commenced at 0515 hours on 14 August, expanding the occupation zone since neither the Greek nor the Greek-Cypriot forces on the island had been able to put up a strong resistance, their only remaining reinforcements being the commandos brought in with the Noratlas mission on 22 July. At a meeting with Callaghan, the Minister of Defence and the acting Chief of the Defence Staff, Wilson repeated that: Britain should concentrate on the diplomatic initiative in the UN, and with its EEC and NATO partners. There was no purpose in thinking that British troops could or should take on the Turks. The UN [UNFICYP] had no capability to stop the Turks militarily.78 If Callaghan were asked by the Greeks for British military assistance, he should answer that London did not contemplate any military role in the crisis. Indeed the Foreign Secretary took the view that: ‘There was no possibility of stopping the Turks from achieving their military objectives.’ Besides, Ankara was not interested in the SBAs and would not threaten any British installations.79 Fifteen minutes before the meeting, Callaghan spoke to Kissinger on the telephone, remarking that: . . . the Turks will carry on until they have got this line that they have figured out on the map, and cynically, let’s hope they get it quickly . . . it is Greece who will need massaging [not to respond] because the Turks are too jingoistic, indeed too close to Hitler for my liking.80 William Colby, the CIA director, consulting with Kissinger on 14 August, judged that the Turks wanted to expand their occupation zone, but not to conquer the whole island.81 President Gerald Ford (Nixon had just resigned over the Watergate scandal) stated that: ‘The United States disapproves of the Turkish military action on Cyprus and strongly urges immediate compliance’ with the Security Council resolution demanding a ceasefire.82 Kissinger telephoned

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Karamanlis, warning him of the impeding end of the Turkish operation, but the frustrated Greek premier stated that a Turkish fait accompli could not lead Greece to negotiations.83 Fierce fighting continued. The FCO and the Chiefs of Staff discussed contingencies in the event of Turkish troops in ‘hot pursuit’ hunting Greek-Cypriots within the SBAs. It was decided that no fighting should be allowed on SBA territory: if Greek-Cypriots entered, they should not be disarmed and left outside to me slaughtered by the Turks, nor should they be arrested. If Turks accidentally trespassed on SBA territory, they should be ‘peacefully approached and told firmly’ that they should leave at once. The impression of the Turks was that ‘they are genuinely anxious to respect the SBAs and to avoid the slightest danger of a brush with British troops’.84 However, According to Tsoumis on at least one occasion on 16 August 1974 the British military allowed Greek troops from an infantry company onboard civilian buses to pass through the Dhekeleia SBA to reach Famagusta; some British officers were aware that the Greeks were armed. At a roadblock within the SBA, Tsoumis (serving with Greek intelligence) took secretly a photo of a British and Turkish officer (who came in with his jeep and staff) discussing; at the same time the Greek troops drove via other roads (within this SBA) to Famagusta. (see plates section) Callaghan assumed that the end of hostilities would come with the fulfilment of Turkish military objectives; the Turkish mission in Geneva handed him a map with their plans on 14 August.85 Next day, at a meeting with Wilson, Makarios backed talks with Ankara once the Turkish assault had ended. He stated that he had not had the time to study and propose a resolution to the constitutional problem because for a lengthy period of time (since 15 July) he had been absent from the island. Makarios was against the sending of fresh Greek forces to Cyprus because that would only lead to a Greek-Turkish war. In a few hours the Turks would control their enlarged occupation zone, establishing a fait accompli.86 At midday on the same day Mavros asked Ambassador Hooper for UK air-cover for the transfer of a Greek division to the island, but Wilson’s reply to Karamanlis two days later was negative: new troops would only mean new fighting.87 Fighting would end only with Turkish success and Greek passivity. Following the second Turkish offensive and the expansion of the occupation zone – which now covered 38 per cent of the island, cutting it into north and south – Karamanlis had no other option: Greece had to leave the NATO military command in protest, its Western allies having failed to back a traditional friend. Close ties with NATO and the EEC were always a policy priority for Karamanlis. However, he was bitter that the Anglo-Americans had been unable to contain Turkish ambitions. Greek public opinion had been

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exasperated by American support for the junta, and now by the outcome of the Cyprus conflict. Karamanlis announced the withdrawal from NATO on 14 August. The CIA assumed that though ‘Karamanlis does not share the average Greek citizen’s view about the extent of US responsibility for Greek reverses on Cyprus . . . he is genuinely upset with US Cyprus policy.’ Anti-American gestures like this increased Karamanlis’s popularity, expanding the pool of his supporters.88 Unshaken by the crisis, Kissinger argued that only the US could guarantee Greek security in time of war with Russia and their allies. He also considerably increased the perceived value of Turkey within NATO defence strategy: it had ‘enormous value’ for American-NATO interests. French President Giscard d’Estaing, on very good terms with Karamanlis, understood the new Greek security concerns but did not side publicly with Athens on Cyprus or on the Aegean continental-shelf dispute with Turkey. The German Chancellor, Helmut Schmidt, disapproved of the Greek initiative in leaving NATO. British diplomacy, meanwhile, sought to maintain Greece’s links with NATO in the intermediate period of the withdrawal; in a bid to preserve NATO-Greek communication, Callaghan convinced NATO Secretary-General Joseph Luns not to visit Athens as he had intended, aiming to put pressure on Karamanlis to think twice.89 Luns had already told the Greek ambassador to NATO that ‘his government should be given a chance to reconsider their decision, from which Greece was unlikely to benefit’, and Callaghan that ‘the Greeks were behaving in an arbitrary and naïve manner.’90 In the eyes of Greek public opinion, a visit fom Luns to persuade the Greek premier of the NATO’s value to Greece would add insult to injury. A new ceasefire was set for 16 August at 1600 hours. Callaghan wrote to Karamanlis, praising his ‘statesmanlike attitude towards Cyprus’, and urging him not to send a Greek division to the island. New troops ‘would also raise the spectre of a disastrous extension of the fighting outside Cyprus, with little prospect of outside intervention to protect the interests of Greece’. Athens should not count on any support from London. It was a clear and blunt message. Thus, ‘the best way of bringing the Turkish government to a more realistic frame of mind is to avoid any action likely to prolong the fighting.’91 At the UN Security Council a series of resolutions were passed, with No. 360 (16 August) condemning the new Turkish operation, which ‘constituted a most serious threat to peace and security in the Eastern Mediterranean’. Despite the ceasefire Turkish operations continued well into 17 August. Kissinger impressed on Ankara that the continuing hostilities must cease.92 Two days later, he was taken aback by the news that the US ambassador in Nicosia, Rodger P. Davies, and his Greek-Cypriot secretary had been murdered by sniper fire during a demonstration outside the embassy.

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The Turkish military had advanced until an occupation zone was established incorporating almost the whole of the north coast and a large part of the east coast, well beyond Famagusta. Cyprus remains today the only EU member state divided as though by a Berlin wall, the result of the Turkish invasion. For the British the 20 July invasion had clearly been an intelligence failure, though the performance of UK signals intelligence remains a mystery, given the less sophisticated communication systems of the Turkish military. Wilson and Callaghan were deceived by the Turks’ assurances that they had no intention of invading. Once the offensive commenced the UK assigned primary importance to the evacuation of UK subjects, caring for refugees gathered in the SBAs, and urging a ceasefire. Wilson and Callaghan’s crisismanagement strategy went in parallel with Kissinger’s pro-Turkish policy, and never allowed for the commitment of UK forces to check the August offensive. The focus was on convincing Greece not to react, so as to avoid a Greek-Turkish war and the total collapse of NATO’s south-eastern flank. The MoD and the Chief of the Defence Staff also played a part, in warning as early as 24 July that the deployment of UK forces on the island should be scaled down to meet NATO exercise commitments. In their view Britain should not even pretend to play the military card to deter the Turkish advance. By following this policy of mediation rather than military activity, Britain showed the world that it had not taken a stand against aggression. Leopoldo Galtieri, the Argentinian dictator, drew a lesson from the Cyprus crisis: in 1982 he launched the invasion of the Falklands, claiming sovereignty, in the belief that Britain, as in the case of Cyprus, would fail to react militarily.93 For their part, the US intelligence community, in a January 1975 study, commented on ‘exemplary successes’ during the conflict, including advance warning to American policy-makers of the 20 July invasion, and blaming Kissinger and the State Department for the failure to take action. The CIA admitted their own failure to predict the coup against Makarios, arguing that: [It] seems to rest in part on an old and familiar analytical bias: the perhaps subconscious conviction (and hope) that, ultimately, reason and rationality will prevail, that apparently irrational moves . . . will not be made by essentially rational men [in this case Ioannidis]. 94 The study pointed out that: ‘The bulk of information on the Cyprus crisis, especially in the early stages, was supplied by human sources . . . clandestine reporting concerning the possibility of a Turkish invasion of Cyprus was also very good.’ Reporting by embassies could not match that of the

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intelligence community. A special table presented the relation between intelligence and policy:95 Date

Event

Intelligence

Policy initiative

June 1974

Ioannidis threatens action against Makarios

Intelligence provides explicit warning of growing confrontation

Embassy passes message to Ioannidis seeking to discourage action against Makarios

3–15 July

Ioannidis plans coup against Makarios; passes reassuring message to USG

Intelligence reassures consumers; provides no warning

No preventive action; USG clearly caught off guard

15–20 July

Turks plan Cyprus invasion

Intelligence provides explicit warning, including date

State Department takes little, if any, preventive action; claims it did not get the message

20–25 July

Greeks threaten Thrace offensive

Intelligence provides strong warning

Not declassified

20–30 July

Soviets react benignly

Intelligence provides reassuring appraisal

State Department accepts intelligence appraisal and remains relaxed about possible Soviet initiatives

1–15 August

Turks plan Phase II offensive

Intelligence warning is confused and unconvincing

State Department takes no action to dissuade; is clearly caught off guard

The Cyprus invasion was a Mediterranean as well as a Middle East crisis for British diplomacy. While London sought to preserve good relations with

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Ankara, because Turkey was a member of both NATO and CENTO, diplomats became concerned at Turkey’s military strategy in the near term, against Greece. The FCO’s estimate of Turkish intentions was bleak, E.E. Orchard of the Southern Department arguing that: ‘A resurgence of Turkish irredentism might occur.’ The factors influencing Turkish policy, he wrote, had been: i. the weakness of Greece; ii. the easiness of the Turkish victory (combined with the influence of the Turkish high command and the willingness to resort to arms); iii. major Turkish interest in the [oil] resources of the Aegean; iv. qualified super-power support for the Turks [i.e. American support]. A possible line of Turkish action, if circumstances were favourable might be to make trouble over the offshore islands with the intention of seizing them with or without a request for revision of the Treaties. The mind boggles at what that might entail for the Eastern Mediterranean.96 The State Department followed similar reasoning, fearing that: The more real danger is that the Turks, with their appetite whetted by their success, will be tempted to force a ‘final solution’ of all their problems with Greece. They could take such drastic steps as moving on the Greek islands.97 By September 1974 the assessment of British diplomats and intelligence officers was that altogether some 13 Greek light-infantry brigades, mainly reservists, plus artillery and armour, defended the Aegean islands. Their weapons were ‘a motley assortment of out-dated equipment’. Many beaches close to Turkey had been mined and wired; London claimed that: ‘The Greeks have long infringed the provisions for demilitarisation of the Dodecanese arising from the 1947 Italian peace treaty by deploying a garrison on Rhodes, but this had hitherto been disguised as gendarmerie.’98 The FCO admitted that they would not raise the issue of the Italian treaty or of the Treaty of Lausanne: [The Greeks] seem to have a good case in arguing that the Montreux Convention supersedes it and ends the obligation to demilitarise . . . nor would we give support to any Turkish move to exacerbate the crisis by invoking the treaties. The Greek government and public opinion would be outraged if they were to be subjected to any international pressure to leave the Aegean islands undefended at this juncture. Such pressure would have no effect on their military dispositions but would cause great and perhaps decisive damage to their relations with NATO. The most

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lively Greek fear at the moment is that Turkey, having got away with aggression in Cyprus (as the Greeks see it), will at some stage try to use the Aegean dispute over sovereignty and territorial waters to grab the Aegean islands nearest the Turkish coast. This would be of course a casus belli.99 As for CENTO, this organisation ‘was not involved in the conflict but Pakistan and Iran, were helpful [towards Turkey] and may well offer further moral and material support in any future Turkish quarrel with Greece’.100 Meanwhile, in Cyprus the post-invasion inter-communal talks proceeded slowly; Perceval, First Secretary in the British High Commission, remarked cynically: In my view, the merit to the inter-communal talks is that there is no danger of their leading to a Cyprus constitutional settlement. There never has been any such danger, ever since the talks began in 1968 . . . The real, as opposed to the formal purpose of the 1968–1971 and 1972–1974 series of inter-communal talks was surely to further the international and more specifically Western aim – negative but highly important – of preventing the Cyprus problem from starting a war between Greece and Turkey.101 According to British military intelligence, by November 1975 the ‘Turkish Peace Force Cyprus’ (the invasion force deployed by Ankara) consisted of two infantry divisions and a tank battalion – a total of 25,000 troops – and more than 150 tanks. In addition, 6,000 men of the ‘Turkish-Cypriot Fighters’ organisation were employed on garrison duties patrolling the ‘green line’ in Nicosia. The Turks also maintained clear air-superiority, with mainland Anatolia only 40 miles away. The Greek-Cypriot National Guard was composed of five regiments and three special-forces battalions, in sum 18,000 troops, with only 11 obsolescent tanks. The Greek Force Cyprus was only 1,000-strong, plus an additional 300 officers and NCOs seconded to the National Guard. In the event of a new clash, the Turks would enjoy speedy success, given their overwhelming offensive capabilities. The Greeks could only cause a brief delay, but would later gain considerable tactical advantage if fighting continued in the mountains – arms caches (from the time of EOKA B) were located all over the island, and light infantry weapons for guerrilla teams would thus be available. It was deemed that: ‘Turkish aggression on a large scale is unlikely although under provocation they could make substantial local advances’, and that the Greek-Cypriots could defend the southwest and ‘probably excel at terrorist activity’. The reference here to ‘terrorist activity’ reveals pro-Turkish leanings, even though Turkey had been the aggressor and Cyprus the victim. Both

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Greek-Cypriots and the Turkish military, it was judged, could pose a threat to the SBAs in times of conflict.102 Meanwhile, the Cold War was still on, and the SBAs had been the target of Soviet/Warsaw Pact espionage. A total of 40 foreign subjects had been identified as hostile intelligence agents, members of diplomatic and trade missions from Eastern European countries in Nicosia. Fifty or more suspect social approaches to British servicemen by Russian subjects had taken place between 1960 and 1971. In 1975, a number of cases of Russian ‘talent-spotting’ among the British military had been investigated. Finally, international terrorism and the Palestinian Liberation Organisation (PLO) were considered as posing a ‘potential rather than actual threat’ to the SBAs; the Syrians objected to the British presence on the island, blaming London for backing Israel and the US. The PLO maintained an office in Nicosia, and traffic to Arab ports (especially Beirut) remained uninhibited by the authorities. There was a fear that ‘the stage is well set for terrorist action’.103 In May 1978, Abdul Rahim, the PLO representative, in a conversation with D. Gordon of the High Commission, inquired about rumours that the British were to leave the Dhekelia base, which Gordon denied; Rahim ‘appeared to welcome this’.104 It seems that the PLO was not hostile to the British presence on Cyprus. In any event the island of Aphrodite remained an arena for Middle Eastern and Cold War spy games.

8 Aftermath

The government of Cyprus now had to care for the refugees, plan new defence procurements in case of a future Turkish offensive, and co-ordinate its policy with Greece; the post-1974 economy, meanwhile, was in total disarray. Now terrorism struck the island: on the morning of 18 February 1978 Youssef Sebai, a prominent pro-Sadat Egyptian editor, was murdered by a Kuwaiti and a Jordanian at the Nicosia Hilton hotel. The 66-year-old Sebai was about to address the Russian-sponsored Afro-Asian Peoples Solidarity Organisation (AAPSO), of which he was Secretary-General, when he was gunned down next to the bookshop in the hotel lobby; his assailants then stormed the conference room, brandishing a grenade and revolvers. They held 50 delegates hostage, among them two PLO members, in the hotel cafeteria, and used them to negotiate their way out; two Cypriot police constables were compelled to hand over their revolvers. Vassos Lyssarides, the vice-president of the AAPSO presidium, offered himself as an emissary. The terrorists demanded to talk with Veniamin, the Minister of the Interior, who duly arrived after a telephone call from Lyssarides, and then offered himself as a hostage. Non-Arab delegates and women were soon released. By 1400 hours, the Cypriot government had agreed to let the terrorists escape on an aircraft. The 15 remaining hostages, plus Lyssarides and Veniamin, reached Larnaca airport by bus. They stayed there until 2000 hours, when three more hostages were freed, together with Veniamin. The other hostages and the assailants boarded a Cyprus Airways DC-8 (‘which with unconscious irony assumed the flight number 007’). British airline captains Melling and Cox, Greek-Cypriot pilot Marios Koutsouftides and flight engineer Hajicostis manned the plane, which carried the two terrorists and 12 hostages (four Egyptians, three Palestinians, two Syrians, one

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Moroccan, one Sudanese and one Somali). The hijackers, who were ‘in a highly nervous state’, as Melling later remarked, chose their first destination as Tripoli, Libya, but as the plane approached Benghazi the Libyan authorities refused to give it landing permission. The terrorists, seeming surprised and confused by this rebuff, gave new instructions for South Yemen, but again the local authorities refused to allow them to land. Eventually, at 0430 hours on 19 February, the DC-8 reached Djibouti, where it was refuelled; but no-one except Koutsouftides was allowed to leave the aircraft, since the Djibouti authorities had no wish to allow the terrorists their freedom. From the control tower Koutsouftides tried desperately to communicate with Nicosia; eventually a telex line through the Cyprus embassy in Paris enabled him to do so. The hostages appealed to their governments to accept the DC-8, but were once more rebuffed. Via Koutsoftides, President Kyprianou offered the hijackers Cypriot passports as well as safe passage off the island if they flew back to Larnaca. Lyssarides assumed the role of chief negotiator in this never-ending hostage crisis, while Kyprianou was in communication with Yasser Arafat, the head of the PLO, who was most anxious to save the lives of the PLO members held hostage.1 The President agreed to allow 16 unarmed PLO fighters to come to Larnaca to help in the event of a rescue operation, and a close associate of Lyssarides flew to Beirut to accompany the Palestinians. Both Kyprianou and the PLO later denied that this team had in any way participated in the fighting which was to follow.2 The acceptance of the PLO mission was a political gesture by Kyprianou to an organisation he did not wish to alienate. At noon Kyprianou spoke with Egyptian President Sadat by telephone to express his personal interest in the issue and his hope for a peaceful resolution. Sadat thanked him, while making no mention whatever of sending a crack Egyptian anti-terrorist unit to Larnaca. At about 1740 hours the DC-8 landed at Larnaca airport, and parked some 100 yards from the terminal building. Five minutes later the Egyptian Prime Minister telephoned the Under-Secretary to the President of Cyprus, informing him that his Minister of Information was en route to Cyprus to observe the negotiations; again, there was no mention of sending troops or of a proposal for joint action.3 After the battle, Sadat claimed that the Cypriot official had been told (rather cryptically) that ‘sons of ours coming to help them [the Cyprus government] face this aggression [the terrorists’ actions]’. However, the Cyprus government remained in the dark. Using a radio-telephone from the control tower, Kyprianou himself tried to persuade the hijackers to surrender, almost 35 minutes after they had landed. It was a daring and controversial move for the President of the Republic to be directly involved in negotia-

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tions with terrorists. Nonetheless, they declined to surrender, demanding instead to negotiate only with Lyssarides in person.4 At 1835 hours Lyssarides began the task of negotiating, accompanied by Colonel Hadad, the Syrian military attaché. Both men approached the aircraft carefully, talking to a hijacker from the foot of the staircase. He demanded Cypriot passports, and air tickets to a communist country, mentioning Bulgaria and Czechoslovakia. Lyssarides returned to the control tower, where Kyprianou consulted with his ministers before accepting the terrorists’ demands – but telling his entourage that once the hostages were released the terrorists would be arrested. At 1840 hours an Egyptian military transport, a C-130H, approached the airport, where the authorities naturally assumed that it was bringing the Egyptian Minister of Information, as arranged, and duly gave it permission to land. The aircraft parked some 800–1,000 yards from the DC-8, and neither the terrorists nor the hostages were aware of its presence.5 The Cypriot Minister of Communications and Works and the chief of police now drove to the C-130H to greet the Egyptian visitor. There they realised that in his place was Task Force 777, an anti-terrorist unit numbering 70 men, with a jeep; the Cypriot officials were stunned. The police chief and his bodyguard climbed into the plane to be next to the signaller communicating with the control tower, while the minister returned to Kyprianou. Foreign Secretary Christophides summoned the Egyptian ambassador, making it clear that no permission had been granted for a commando operation. Kyprianou himself warned the ambassador that in the event of an assault by the commandos, the National Guard would open fire on them; the diplomat replied with a promise that no assault would take place.6 Western diplomats observing the developing situation assumed that the Cypriot government had underestimated the determination of the Egyptians to mount a rescue attempt. The control tower did not instruct the C-130H to take off, and the National Guard troops remained hidden so as not to provoke the terrorists. Cypriot police snipers in plain clothes were also deployed, invisible to the Egyptians and the hijackers. It was truly surprising, meanwhile, that no in-bound or out-bound flights were suspended on security grounds. The traffic in an airport facing a hostage crisis was simply extraordinary: in a period of less than three hours that evening, the airport witnessed the arrival of three airliners, four private planes and a charter plane carrying journalists, and the departure of two airliners and three private planes. Nicosia later emphasised that ‘embarking and disembarking passengers passed on foot within one hundred and fifty yards of the DC-8, clearly indicating that the Cyprus government did not at any time anticipate

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violence.’7 This traffic showed that Kyprianou and Lyssarides hoped and expected that negotiations would succeed and that there would be no need for a rescue operation. For his part, the commander of Task Force 777 paid no attention to the commercial flights, nor to the safety of transit passengers who might have found themselves caught in cross-fire between the Egyptian commandos and the terrorists. At 1915 hours, Lyssarides commenced a new round of negotiations with the hijackers, but at that very moment the Egyptian defence attaché and another Egyptian officer ‘surreptitiously approached the negotiators by the side of the aircraft’. Cypriot police disarmed them on the spot and led them from the tarmac (though they could not arrest the attaché because he enjoyed diplomatic immunity). Kyprianou witnessed the incident from the control tower. Clearly the attaché aimed to become the hero of the day, potentially at the expense of the lives of both negotiators and hostages, who might have been caught in cross-fire at close quarters; in the event they all remained unaware of the attaché’s attempt.8 Lyssarides had by now reached agreement with the terrorists to be handed passports; at this point the hijackers appeared to relax as they prepared to take passport photographs with a Polaroid camera. At 2025 hours the Egyptian defence attaché approached the C-130H to talk to the commandos. In front of the Cypriot chief of police he spoke in English, telling the Task Force’s commanding officer, General Nabil Shukry, not to attack. However, the Egyptians then started talking in Arabic among themselves. A minute or two later the police chief was pulled inside the aircraft and held. According to the defence attaché (who spoke to the British later) at that moment Shukry, who had overheard the DC-8’s radio communication with the control tower, wrongly assumed that negotiations had stalled. This is what Sadat suggested later at the funeral of the commandos in Cairo.9 At 2030 hours a white jeep appeared on the ramp of the transport, and drove at high speed up close to the DC-8. Egyptian troops followed on foot, shooting at cockpit level and above. The National Guard troops were immediately ordered to fire on the Egyptians, on the grounds the latter were violating the sovereignty of Cyprus and conducting an operation without its government’s authorisation. A grenade was thrown at the jeep, killing the three-man crew, while the C-130H was blown apart by a 106 mm anti-tank gun of the National Guard. (It is not clear why this weapon had been brought in, since the terrorists could have been adequately dealt with by small arms.) Three of the Egyptian aircraft’s crew were killed, but the Cypriot chief of police

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miraculously escaped unhurt. The intense fighting lasted almost an hour. Kyprianou, who remained in the control tower, had to seek shelter when the Egyptians fired at the windows. The commandos, having taken cover behind two parked airliners, continued firing. An Arab Wings airliner and another of Cyprus Airways were hit; the DC-8 was riddled with bullets, though no-one inside was even wounded. A surreal moment occurred then: an unarmed Palestinian from the PLO mission ran onto the tarmac shouting hysterically at both sides to stop fighting.10 The FCO later assumed that ‘the National Guard were not given precise orders and once the firing started everyone blazed away’.11 The CIA estimated that ‘an apparent breakdown in communication between Cyprus and Egypt led Cypriot troops to fire’ on the Egyptian commandos.12 Kurt Waldheim, the UN Secretary-General, attempted to mediate during the fight over the telephone with Kyprianou. Eventually, the commandos surrendered; they had suffered 15 dead and 16 wounded. The two hijackers, seeing the battle and with no idea of what might happen next, but fearing the worst, were persuaded by the British pilots to give themselves up. Once the shooting had stopped, the hostages left the aircraft. On the Cypriot side there were eight wounded. The angry Sadat (who had wanted an anti-terrorist triumph on foreign soil, and ended up with a fiasco) talked in public of ‘treason’, blamed Kyprianou and curtailed diplomatic relations with Cyprus. Syria and Libya sided with Cyprus, and the Soviet press blamed Sadat. An Izvestia 23 February article claimed that: ‘The Egyptian soldiers were the victims of the irresponsible behaviour of their government, which had violated the norms of international law.’13 The Yugoslav government was asked by Kyprianou to mediate with Egypt, and the Yugoslav Under-Secretary for Foreign Affairs judged that Sadat appeared to be ‘emotionally involved’, upset by the murder of his friend Sebai: ‘[He] seemed to be in an unstable frame of mind: the Afghan president, who was in Yugoslavia, had just had a message cancelling his visit to Egypt,’ reported the Under-Secretary.14 In addition, a false story of a Cypriot constable shooting a wounded Egyptian soldier after the surrender further increased tension. The Cypriot government took legal action against John Bierman, a Reuters correspondent responsible for the story, who eventually apologised after the mediation between the British High Commission and the Reuters Ankara correspondent.15 In a phone conversation with Lord Mountbatten, Sadat claimed that he ‘could not understand’ the Cypriot response, asking rhetorically: ‘How could the arrival of sixty Egyptian soldiers constitute an aggression against

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the sovereignty of Cyprus?’16 Most significantly Sadat threatened to recognise the international status of the Turkish Federated State of Cyprus (i.e. Turkish-occupied northern Cyprus) under President Rauf Denktash. For the time being, the Turkish leader ‘refrained from his habitual provocative comments’ toward Nicosia, but was happy to see Sadat’s anger at the Greek-Cypriots.17 The two hijackers were condemned to death by a Cypriot court, but Kyprianou, anxious to avoid any accusations from anti-Sadat Arab organisations, commuted the sentence. Since diplomatic staffs had been withdrawn from the respective two capitals, Nicosia asked the UK embassy in Cairo to represent Cypriot interests, and the Romanian mission in Cyprus made a similar agreement with the Egyptians.18 Britain could make representations on behalf of Cyprus according to normal diplomatic practice, but if Sadat attempted to accord full recognition to the Turkish Federated State, British diplomacy could not take sides or give the impression of backing Cyprus.19 A PLO representative visited the UK embassy in Beirut to present the organisation’s position on the Larnaca episode. The mission, authorised by Arafat, had not carried arms and simply sought the liberation of the PLO members held hostage. If called upon they would have assisted the Cypriot government in negotiations and ‘[arrest] the killers if they did not surrender to the Cyprus government’. They would also have investigated the background of the assailants. On the incident of the Egyptian defence attaché trying to approach the DC-8, the PLO stated that the officer had ‘tried to open fire on a kidnapper but was prevented by police’. Three PLO members stayed with Kyprianou in the control tower, while others remained in the airport hall; the majority stayed at a hotel. Two Palestinians from the PLO established communication with the Egyptians, so as to deter any action, and diplomats from other Arab countries warned the Egyptians against taking action while the Cyprus government was handling the negotiations. The PLO mission would have received arms from the Cypriots in the event of a rescue operation: ‘[The PLO] were envisaging the possibility of such an action, but short of a direct military attack which would have led to the killing of all the hostages.’20 Back in London, Prime Minister James Callaghan wrote to Sadat expressing his sympathy at the assassination of Sebai. At a cabinet meeting on 23 February, David Owen, the Foreign Secretary, referred to the ‘Rejectionist Front’, a terrorist group aiming to subvert Sadat’s peace initiatives with Israel, as being responsible for the murder of the Egyptian editor. It was argued that at the level of international diplomacy the outcome of the Larnaca shootout would be to make some countries less keen in future to allow foreign anti-terrorist missions on their soil. There was also a reference to plans made

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after the Entebbe incident for the SAS to undertake anti-terrorist operations in another country, given the authorisation of the local government.21 The FCO judged that it had been a controversial decision by Lyssarides to undertake the negotiations, since it was well known that he retained contacts with al-Fatah and other extremist Palestinian groups; besides, he held no office in the Cyprus government. The countries that had refused to allow the DC-8 to land were wary of Egypt’s reaction, and aimed to demonstrate a policy of co-operation in confronting international terrorism.22 The Egyptian commandos were duly deported via the Akrotiki base, and were not charged under Cypriot law. The MoD in London was asked by Cairo for help in recovering the wreckage of the C-130H; eventually it was moved to the Akrotiri base.23 Colonel C.W. Huxley, the defence advisor in the High Commission, remarked on the Larnaca battle in his annual report: Neither the Cypriots nor the Egyptians emerged with much credit from the affair, though it is probably true to say that outside Egypt there is little sympathy for their action and a feeling that if they didn’t deserve the awful slaughter their commandos received, at least they were taking a dreadful risk in having a shoot out in someone elses [sic] country. And there is little doubt that whoever threw the grenade that destroyed the Egyptian jeep, thereby stopping the troops in it from firing, saved the lives of not only the hostages, but also the two British pilots – all of whom were likely to have been hit by the next burst of machinegun fire, as the bullet-ridden fuselage of the Cyprus Airways 707 bore witness . . . One outcome of the affair which is important to all of us is that the Cyprus government has at last been provoked into implementing far stricter security measures at the airport.24 Greece, under Prime Minister Constantine Karamanlis, remained cautious and detached, making no clear statement on Kyprianou’s decision to order the National Guard to open fire on the commandos. In a statement three days after Sebai’s murder and the start of the crisis, Karamanlis expressed his sorrow at the damage to relations between Cyprus and Egypt, countries bound by traditional friendship, claiming that: It is obvious that both governments were involved in an adventure that was the repercussion of events out of their control. No hostile intentions should be assigned to them. I hope and pray that after the justified excitements caused by the Larnaca events, more calm thought would prevail, and would lead to the resolution of misunderstandings.25

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It is useful to refer to the terrorist threat that Greece itself faced at that time: post-junta, the Greek security services were investigating ultra-right-wing terrorism, and the coming of ultra-left/anarchist terrorism in the form of groups like the ‘17 November’.26 Despite serious incidents of Arab terrorism and the discovery of arms caches and explosives the security services did not seem to be focusing on the Arab threat. D.J.M. Dain of the British Embassy in Athens was critical of this, arguing that: In any event there is little sign that they [the Greek security services] are pursuing the enquiries [into the murder of a Lebanese and the discovery of arms caches in August] with much vigour. This comparative complacency of the Greek authorities as regards the Arab terrorist threat is worrying. Distances within the Eastern Mediterranean are short and airport and other security fairly lax. There is much coming and going between here and the Lebanon and Cyprus, which is now an established base for Arab terrorists . . . We have heard that the Greek authorities have reason to suspect the existence of other caches of arms and explosives. The danger of Arab terrorist attack upon purely Greek targets within Greece is probably not all that high . . . Greece’s stance on Arab/Israel questions tends to favour the Arab point of view . . . The fairly casual attitude of the security authorities does, however, mean that Greece, and particularly Athens, might be regarded as a good theatre for operations by Arab terrorists for either settling scores amongst themselves . . . or attacking Western targets.27 For his part, Kyprianou was fearful of Sadat’s vengeance. Georgios Pelaghias, a ‘somewhat depressed and worried’ Director-General of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, was another who feared Egyptian intentions. ‘Rumours’ had it that an Egyptian commando force in North Cyprus might attempt to snatch the hijackers from the central prison where they were being held pending trial. The Egyptian defence attaché asked permission to remain on the island, on grounds which Pelaghias considered ‘pretty insubstantial’. Moreover, 31 Egyptian mechanics, ‘an excessive number’, came in to dismantle the wreckage of the C-130. All these men could mean trouble – there was information that there was a large cache of arms stored in the Egyptian embassy building. The British High Commission was aware of rumours, emanating from a Beirut news agency: a Palestinian source, in turn quoting an Iraqi source, was talking of a coming operation. However, Pelaghias was reassured by the High Commission that a commando operation to rescue the hijackers would need the help of the Turkish-Cypriot leader Denktash,

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and thus of Ankara – and Eçevit would avoid doing anything that might damage the inter-communal talks due to start the following month, and thus cause an American reaction. Pelaghias accepted this argument, but cited ‘confirmation of the story [of commandos intending to storm the prison] from Arab sources here’. He avoided specifics, adding that: ‘The country [that had provided this intelligence] had since spoken in strong terms to Eçevit in Ankara, discouraging any such venture.’28 There now came fresh intelligence to alarm Kyprianou. On 4 March, Christophides, the Cypriot foreign minister, told the High Commission that secret intelligence received from an unnamed country had revealed Sadat’s order to his secret service ‘to make arrangement for the deposition or assassination’ of Kyprianou and the assassination of Lyssarides. A Greek-Cypriot evening newspaper disclosed a plan to poison Kyprianou because of his intransigence in the negotiations with the Turkish-Cypriots. The Cypriot government informed the American, French and Yugoslav government of the intelligence concerning Sadat’s order.29 Six days later London replied that British intelligence had no information corroborating the claim of assassinations being ordered by Sadat. I.S. Winchester of the FCO’s Southern European Department commented that this was ‘another instance of extreme Cypriot nervousness, similar to their unfounded [earlier] claim the Egyptian Navy was about to invade Cyprus’.30 It is certain false intelligence was being planted, causing Kyprianou (who desperately wanted to maintain a balance in Greek relations with extremist Arab groups) to fear Egypt’s intentions. On several occasions in talks with British diplomats, the President complained of being deceived by the Egyptian government during the hostage crisis, but he remained willing to work towards an improvement of relations with Cairo;31 indeed, on 8 March Alecos Michaelides, the President of the House of Representatives, flew to Cairo to consult with the Egyptian government.32 A sentence of capital punishment for the terrorists, in a Cypriot court, would not lead to the executions Sadat had demanded (he argued that the execution would deter new terrorist attacks). Pelaghias wanted Iraq to influence the Arabs not to mount any operations in Cyprus: he believed that commuting the sentence to 20 years’ imprisonment in ‘very lenient conditions’ would appease the extreme groups. He told the British, cryptically, that: ‘The Iraqis for their part would give an undertaking that there would be no attempt to release them by force . . . then after five years or a bit more, the Cypriots would take some convenient opportunity to grant an amnesty.’33 It seems that throughout the summer of 1978 some Cypriot ministers and security officials continued to fear an Arab operation to snatch the prisoners. However, Pelaghias’s scheme to involve Iraq did not materialise.

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Kyprianou stalled over the executions, aiming simultaneously to appease both Sadat and the extremist Arab groups. As the British High Commission reported: ‘Kyprianou’s dilemma is that as long as the murderers remain in custody the chances of a terrorist incident to secure their release remains.’34 It was evident that Middle Eastern sources were planting rumours to exacerbate the Cyprus government’s fears. When the death sentence was commuted to life imprisonment, Egypt recognised the new sentence but pressed for the hijackers to be transferred to an Egyptian prison. Allegedly, on hearing over the telephone of Cypriot doubts that the hijackers would escape execution once transferred to his country, Sadat shouted: ‘Do they [the Cypriots] take me for a brigand?’35 The Egyptian president now threatened to recognise Denktash as the president of the Turkish Federated State of Cyprus, and to turn against Cypriot interests in Egypt. The Turks were happy enough to ask for the ‘the maximum recognition possible’. At a press conference in Cairo on 30 May, Sadat declared that: ‘We consider him [Kyprianou] to be the president solely of the Greek-Cypriots.’36 Greek diplomacy remained calm, informing the British that a ‘good authority’ in Egypt maintained that the government there would go no further than simply issuing threats.37 The Greeks were right: Sadat did not upset the inter-communal talks. T.L.A. Daunt of the Southern Department at the FCO wrongly argued that: ‘It may be no bad thing for the Cyprus government to see that “creeping recognition” of the TFSC is a very real factor, providing an incentive for them actively to seek a settlement.’38 The British, representing Cypriot interests in Egypt, did not intervene in favour of Nicosia to persuade Sadat not to act against Cyprus. In British eyes: The Cyprus government, as they demonstrated at Larnaca [during the hostage drama], evidently attach more importance to good relations with the Palestinians and the Arab states opposed to the Camp David agreements than to their relations with Egypt and the moderate Arab states. I [Daunt] see little reason to encourage the Cyprus government to believe that they can escape the consequences of such policies by getting their Western friends to take up the cudgels on their behalf.39 High Commissioner Gordon considered that: ‘[The Cypriots] if forced to choose between two evils . . . may reluctantly decide that the lesser damage to their interests is likely to be done by continuing to refuse to hand over the two men to the Egyptians.’40 Similarly the Americans were not willing to talk to Sadat on behalf of Nicosia. They rejected a Cypriot request to convince him to abandon further efforts to extradite the two hijackers; Wash-

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ington was at the time pressing the Egyptians to keep in prison the assassins of American diplomats in Khartoum, and ‘[the US] could not have two policies on the subject.’41 However, in 1984 the hijackers were eventually extradited to Egypt; only in May of that year were diplomatic relations between Nicosia and Cairo re-established. After the murder of Sadat in 1981, Kyprianou intensified his efforts to improve relations with Cairo, though he did not apologise for the Cypriot response to the Egyptian commandos’ action – they had violated Cypriot sovereignty. In 1979 the Iranian revolution led to the fall of the Shah. CENTO collapsed, but the rise of new American-Soviet antagonisms, following the Russian invasion of Afghanistan, upgraded the strategic value of Turkey via-à-vis Greece within American Cold War strategy; it was only after long negotiations that Greece managed in 1980 to re-enter the NATO military command. The Cypriot government cultivated good relations with the administration of the SBAs, despite the majority feeling among the GreekCypriots that Britain had done nothing to deter the Turkish aggression of 1974. (Still today, 38 per cent of Cyprus is occupied by the Turkish military and the self-proclaimed ‘Turkish Republic of Northern Cyprus’.) A notable example of Cypriot support for the UK bases was the call of Kyprianou to Muammar Qadhafi, the Libyan leader, during the April 1986 crisis that resulted in the bombing of Libya by USAF F-111s. Kyprianou, taking into consideration the close ties between Britain and the US, as well as reports of American aircraft being refuelled at the SBAs, telephoned Qadhafi urging him not to attack the bases in retaliation.42 In the early 1980s the Lebanon civil war, after the bombing of the US marines’ barracks in Beirut, became the epicentre of secret counter-terrorism operations. The US Delta Force was the key organisation involved in these still classified missions. As former Delta Sergeant Eric Hanley remarked: ‘We spent so much time in the region that it was seriously suggested we position a squadron in Italy or Cyprus from May until September [the key months of terrorist activity against airliners].’43 Until then the Americans had operated intelligence sites on Cyprus but had not stationed specialforces units there on a permanent basis; only a couple of US Navy helicopters assigned to the US embassy in Lebanon were deployed, in addition to two Blackbirds for surveillance missions over the Sinai. The CIA insisted that Hezbollah and the Iranians were developing networks on the island; and Israeli intelligence later disclosed a Hezbollah operation to lure a former Israeli officer to Cyprus so as to kidnap him.44 In the mid-1990s, Western and Israeli intelligence sources argued that Iran’s secret services were using Cyprus as a regional base for their operations in Europe. Israeli intelligence

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feared the setting-up of Iranian networks that could launch terrorist attacks against Israel.45 On 3 August 1986 the Akrotiri and Dhekelia bases were indeed hit by three groups employing a rocket launcher, mortars, assault rifles and grenades. The surprise attacks resulted in injuries to two wives of British NCOs. Sandra Edwards, a pregnant 25-year-old, witnessed the assault: At first I thought it was our soldiers fooling around, then shooting got bad. I saw three men, Mediterranean types in shorts, shooting down the beach. The children in the car screamed. I intended to get them to the clubhouse nearby but was hit in the leg, so I got in the car. The windscreen shattered. They were firing at the car. A 15 year-old boy sailing a dinghy faced a terrorist wielding a Kalashnikov assault rifle: ‘I saw a man on one knee near the perimeter fence on the beach shooting. He turned, saw me, and pointed the weapon at me. I overturned the dinghy and dived under’. The terrorists, who escaped, belonged to an previously unknown group called the ‘United Nasserite Organisation’.46 Washington publicly accused Libyan-sponsored organisations – the ‘Nasserites’ had made reference to retaliation for the bombing of Tripoli in April. British intelligence remained cautious, avoiding allocating blame without evidence; a senior British official dismissed as ‘rubbish’ the allegation that the terrorists had flown out of Cyprus dressed as Libyan aircrew. Cyprus police cooperated assiduously with the British to locate the assailants, and a few days later, a 25-year-old Lebanese was arrested after the discovery in his house of 18 grenades, a pistol and a silencer.47 Meanwhile, in the US, Lieutenant-Colonel Oliver North, while coordinating the secret arms-transfer to Iran, made reference to Cyprus as a location for refuelling aircraft loaded with satellite communications equipment for Tehran.48 Cyprus had become a key outpost for Middle East covert operations. On 15 February 1988, three high-ranking PLO members were killed in a car explosion in Limassol. A remote control device was employed by the assailants, and the PLO blamed Israel, with the Israeli ambassador firmly denying his country had any connection with the incident. Earlier, in 1985, three Israeli tourists had been murdered by two Arabs and a Briton in a yacht at Larnaca marina.49 During the 1991 Gulf War the SBAs were turned into key allied militarytransport sites. An overestimation of Iraqi capabilities led some to argue that Scud missiles could even reach Cyprus. A former director of GCHQ called the bases ‘the jewel in the crown’ of signals intelligence. However, the intelligence

Aftermath

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contribution of the bases to the war effort was limited by the fact that the Iraqi military employed fibre-optic lines to connect Iraqi units in Kuwait; ‘in the overall picture, useful sigint [signals intelligence] from Cyprus was swamped by that acquired from the [US] National Security Agency’s satellites.’50 By the mid-1990s, Cyprus was deemed the most militarised island in the world: UN Secretary-General Boutros Boutros-Ghali warned of its ‘excessive level of armaments and forces’. Some 35,000–40,000 Turkish and Turkish-Cypriot troops, with 300 units of armour, faced 11,000 Greeks and Greek-Cypriots. Tensions on the island were raised with Turkey’s acquisition from the US, in late December 1985, of the army tactical-missile system, an advanced surface-to-surface weapon. The following month the Greek-Turkish crisis over the sovereignty of the Imia islets in the southeastern Aegean further contributed to the atmosphere of antagonism in Greek-Turkish affairs.51 In response the Cypriot government, now under President Glafkos Clerides, announced the purchase of an advanced Russian air-defence missile system, the S-300, to enable Cyprus to defend her air-space, often violated by Turkish fighters. Nicosia was now aiming to join the European Union, and pressed for the start of entry negotiations without the precondition of first resolving the Cyprus question. Ankara threatened to attack the S-300s once they were installed. Washington and London urged the cancellation of the purchase; Athens saw both advantages and disadvantages in it.52 Clerides backed the procurement, but Costas Simitis, the Greek premier, feared that Greece and Cyprus might be dragged into a military confrontation with Turkey over the S-300s; Nicosia should rather concentrate on diplomatic efforts to join the European Union. Eventually it was agreed to install the missiles on Crete; Turkey was sidelined, and Cyprus joined the EU.53 On the eve of the 2003 invasion of Iraq, Royal Marines used the beaches of the Akrotiri base to practise amphibious landings, with elements of 40 Commando participating.54 A final effort to resolve the Cyprus question, the ‘Annan Plan’, named after UN Secretary-General Kofi Annan and backed by the Turkish-Cypriots, the US and Britain, failed to satisfy the GreekCypriots, who voted against it in the plebiscite of April 2004. Britain and the US had offered Cyprus a £288m aid package;55 In addition, during the negotiations Lord Hannay, the mediator, offered the two communities part of the SBA territories as an incentive for continuing their efforts to reach agreement. On the eve of the referendum, President Tassos Papadopoulos, in an emotional appeal against the plan, stated that: ‘I undertook [to lead] an internationally recognised state. I would not hand back a community.’ It was meant to be an influential message.

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Cyprus, as a UK military base, had always been intregal to the evolving British strategy in the eastern Mediterranean and the Middle East, from the late nineteenth century to the 2003 invasion of Iraq and beyond – UK troops for the on-going Afghan campaign remained there as a strategic reserve. By December 2008, Prime Minister Gordon Brown had stated that 300 troops on Cyprus would be heading for Afghanistan, where a total of 8,300 were already serving.56 In 2004, Brigadier Francis Henn, submitting written evidence to the House of Commons Foreign Affairs Select Committee, argued that: Few of the contingencies for which the SBAs were originally required now exist, but the importance to Britain (and the West) of the strategic airfield at Akrotiri and of monitoring facilities elsewhere remains; Britain should refrain from any action which might prejudice the unfettered continuing operation of these.57 The SBAs are invaluable as a launch pad for any future Anglo-American operations. They are a key asset that can influence the drafting of future British strategy, foreign policy and security policy in the Middle East. The future technology of spy satellites may make the SBAs’ intelligence facilities redundant. However, the operational support, the air base, the logistics and training capabilities on the island are irreplaceable. For future British strategists Cyprus will remain a safe base (despite some 40,000 Turkish occupation troops in North Cyprus) from which to observe the volatile Middle East. During the 2006 war in Lebanon two Royal Navy destroyers, HMS Gloucester and York, undertook evacuation missions for civilians. In addition, the aircraft carrier llustrious and the commando assault ship Bulwark were sent to Lebanon, and brought more evacuees safely back to Cyprus.58 In 2007, Cyprus surprised both Anglo-American and Turkish diplomacy by signing a defence agreement with France. This covered joint training and exercises, and facilitated the use of a modern air-base by the French military. The contribution of Cyprus to the evacuation of French subjects from Lebanon the previous year had been commended by Paris. On 1 January 2008, amidst celebrations and spectacular fireworks, the Republic of Cyprus entered the euro zone, abandoning the pound, a currency introduced with the coming of English colonial rule in 1878. SBAs personnel and their dependants would henceforward also use euros in their transactions.59 Observing the location of Cyprus, a general, a spy and a diplomat would all agree that this island in the Eastern Mediterranean, close to North Africa and the Middle East, would always enjoy strategic value.

NOTES

Introduction 1 Lancellot, Francis, The Queens of England and Their Times: From Matilda, Queen of William the Conqueror, to Adelaide, Queen of William the Fourth, Vol. I. New York: Appleton, 1858, p. 80. 2 Epistolae Cantuarienses, cited in Edbury, Peter W., The Kingdom of Cyprus and the Crusades, 1191–1374. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1991, pp. 5–6. 3 Poem quoted by Lancellot, The Queens of England, p. 80. 4 Ibid, The Queens of England, p. 81. 5 Edbury, The Kingdom of Cyprus, p. 11. 6 Ibid, pp. 11–12. 7 Letters cited in Koumoulides, John T.A., Cyprus and the War of Greek Independence, 1821–1829. London: Zeno, 1974, pp. 76–7. 8 Ibid, p. 77. 9 Monypenny, Willian F. and Buckle, G. E., The Life of Benjamin Disraeli Earl of Beaconsfield, Vol. VI. London: Murray, 1920, p. 291. 10 Ibid, p. 291; see also Lee, Dwight T., Great Britain and the Cyprus Convention Policy of 1878. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1934. 11 Entries for 22 July and 25 July 1878 in Cavendish, Anne (ed.), Cyprus 1878: The Journal of Sir Garnet Wolseley. Nicosia: Popular Bank, 1991, pp. 9, 15. 12 Koumoulides, John A., ‘Early Forms of Ethnic Conflict in Cyprus: Archbishop Kyprianos of Cyprus and the War of Greek Independence, 1821’. Cyprus Review, Vol. 8, No. 2 (Fall 1996), pp. 24–37; entry for 4 August 1878 in Cavendish (ed.) Cyprus 1878, p. 39.

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13 Entries for 24 July and 30 July 1878 in ibid, pp. 10, 22, 28. 14 W.E. Forster to Lord Salisbury, 21 Mar 1879, in ibid, pp. 169–72. 15 Entry for 16 Aug 1878 in ibid, p. 50. 16 Entry for 18 Aug 1878 in ibid, pp. 51–2. 17 Note attached to a letter from Kitchener, 6 April 1885, Kichener Papers, PRO 30/57/1 TNA. 18 DMGJ Minute, 2 July 1902, WO 32/7527 TNA. 19 Major J.H. Bor to Nicholson, 19 Aug 1902, WO 32/7527 TNA. Chapter 1 1 2

3

4 5

6

Committee of Imperial Defence, The Attack on Cyprus by Austria, 9 May 1912. Paper prepared for the General Staff. CAB 38/20 TNA, pp. 1–4. Venizelos to Ramsey, 6 November 1931. Quoted in Christodoulou, Miltiades, Η Πορεία Μιας Εποχής – Η Ελλάδα, Η Κυπριακή Ηγεσία και το Κυπριακό Πρόβλημα (‘The course of an era – Greece, the Cypriot leadership and the Cyprus problem’). Athens: Floros, 1987, p. 28. Stavridis, Sir John, diary entry for 22 November 1912. Quoted by Michael Llewellyn Smith, Ionian Vision. London: Hurst, 1998, p. 16; Pikros, Giannis, ‘Ο Βενιζέλος και το Κυπριακό’ (‘Venizelos and the Cyprus question’). In Veremis, Thanos and Dimitrakopoulos, Odysseas (eds.), Μελετήματα Γύρω από το Βενιζέλο και την Εποχή του (‘Studies on Venizelos and his era’). Athens: Philipotis, 1980, p. 178; Fotakis, Zisis, Greek Naval Strategy and Policy, 1910–1919. London: Routledge, 2005, pp. 58–65. Sheffy, Yigal, ‘British Intelligence and the Middle East, 1900–1918: how much do we know?’ Intelligence and National Security, Vol. 17, No. 1 (March 2002), pp. 38–9, 45. On the story of Turkish prisoners of war, see Goldman, Danny, ‘Famagusta’s historic detention and refugee camps’. Journal of Cyprus Studies, Vol. 11, Nos. 28–9, 2005; McHenry, James A., The Uneasy Partnership on Cyprus, 1919–1939: The Political and Diplomatic Interaction Between Great Britain, Turkey, and the Turkish Cypriot Community. London: Garland, 1987; Lucas, Sir Charles Prestwood (ed.), The Empire at War. Oxford: Milford and Oxford University Press, 1926. D Branch Report on the establishment of a Special Intelligence

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Service in the Colonies and Overseas Dominions, Cyprus Section, November 1918, KV 1/18 TNA, pp. 2–6. 7 Ibid, p. 15. 8 Ibid, pp. 16–19. 9 Ibid, p. 23. 10 Ibid. 11 Ibid, pp. 26–7. 12 Ibid, p. 26. 13 Ibid, pp. 34–5. 14 Ibid, p. 35. 15 Ibid, p. 37. 16 Ibid, p. 39. 17 Quoted in Pikros, ‘Ο Βενιζέλος και το Κυπριακό’, p. 283, n. 41. 18 Bonar Law to Clauson, 16 October 1915. FO 371/2273 TNA; Lloyd George, David, The Truth about the Peace Treaties. London: Gollancz, 1938, pp. 1217–18. 19 Christodoulou, Η Πορεία Μιας Εποχής, p. 29. 20 Pikros, ‘Ο Βενιζέλος και το Κυπριακό’, p. 194. 21 Lloyd George, The Truth, p. 1025. 22 Ibid. 23 Christodoulou, Η Πορεία Μιας Εποχής, pp. 30–2, 35. 24 De Robeck to Secretary of the Admiralty, 18 September 1919. AIR 2/1465 TNA. 25 Lloyd George, The Truth, pp. 1238–9. 26 Stevenson to Churchill, 16 March 1922. FO 286/830 TNA. 27 Committee of Imperial Defence, Cyprus Defence Scheme 1922. CAB 9/19 TNA. p. 3. 28 Ibid, p. 2. 29 Ibid, p. 3. 30 General Staff Intelligence Headquarters, British Troops in Egypt, to First Secretary, Residency, Cairo, 23 October 1931. FO 141/728/7 TNA, pp. 1–4; OC Troodos, Cyprus, to Egypt Force, Cairo, 22 October 1931. FO 141/728/7 TNA. 31 Supplement No. 3 to The Cyprus Gazette, No. 2588, 28 May 1937. FO 141/616 TNA; see also Crawshaw, Nancy, The Cyprus Revolt: An Account of the Struggle for Union with Greece. London: George Allen & Unwin, 1978. 32 Quoted in Christodoulou, Η Πορεία μιας Εποχής, p. 43.

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33 Michalakopoulos, 27 March 1931, quoted in ibid, p. 44. 34 McHenry, The Uneasy Partnership, p. 61. 35 Cabinet meeting, 23 June 1936. CAB 23/84 TNA, p. 4. 36 Report by the Joint Planning Subcommittee, 21 July 1936. FO 371/20383 TNA. 37 Extract from minutes of the Committee of Imperial Defence, 17 June 1937. FO 371/21142 TNA, p.2. 38 Committee of Imperial Defence, Cyprus Defence Scheme 1937. CAB 9/21 TNA, p. 4. 39 Ibid, p. 5. 40 H.M. Wilson to Undersecretary of State, War Office, 22 August 1939. Chapter IV: Military Measures to be taken in Peace, during the Precautionary Period, and on the Outbreak of War, pp. 4–5, WO 201/140 TNA. 41 Extract from minutes of the Committee of Imperial Defence, 7 April 1938. FO 371/22367 TNA. Chapter 2 1 See CO 323/1731/7 TNA. 2 ‘Memories of RAF Marham – Despite the Elements’. At http://www. raf.mod.uk/rafmarham/aboutus/memory7.cfm. Accessed 4 April 2008. 3 Kelling, G.H., Countdown to Rebellion – British Policy in Cyprus, 1939-1955. London: Greenwood, 1990, pp. 47–50. 4 Woolley to A.B. Acheson, Colonial Office, 29 March 1940. CO 323/1737/8 TNA. 5 Medium-wave broadcast from Breslau, In Greek for Greece, 25 February 1940. CO 323/1737/8 TNA. 6 Ibid, 18 March 1940. CO 323/1737/ 8 TNA. 7 Ibid, 10 April 1940. CO 323/1737/8 TNA. 8 Battershill to Guinness, 19 May 1941, ‘Secret’. CAB 80/28 TNA. 9 Note from Colonial Secretary (W.E. Guinness), ‘Cyprus Air Defence’, to War Cabinet, Chiefs of Staff Committee, 24 May 1941. CAB 80/28 TNA. 10 Merrillees, R.S., ‘Australia and Cyprus in the Second World War’. Defence Force Journal – Journal of the Australian Profession of Arms, No. 43 (November/December 1983), pp. 47–50; Handel, Paul, Australian Armour in Cyprus – May to August 1941. Available at: http://anzacsteel.

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hobbyvista.com/Armoured%20Vehicles/armouroncyprusph_1.htm. Accessed 10 June 2008. 11 Ibid. 12 Estimate of the Garrison Required, Eastern Mediterranean. Report by Joint Planning Staff, 26 May 1941, ‘Secret’, Annex I, p. 6. AIR 8/547 TNA. 13 Menzies to Churchill, 8 June 1941. PREM 3/113 TNA. 14 Churchill to Auchinleck, 17 September 1941. PREM 3/113 TNA. 15 Joint Planning Staff, War Cabinet, 23 April 1941, ‘Secret’. CAB 79/11 TNA. 16 Eastern Mediterranean. Report by Joint Planning Staff, 26 May 1941, ‘Secret’, p. 1. AIR 8/547 TNA. 17 Ibid, p. 2. 18 Ibid. 19 Ibid. 20 Memo by Colonial Secretary (W.E. Guinness), ‘Most Secret’. CO 968/6/9 TNA. 21 Kelling, Countdown to Rebellion, p. 39, n. 65. 22 Notes by David Carter, co-author of Britain’s Small Wars website. 23 Eastern Mediterranean, Annexes I and II. 24 Scale of Attack on Cyprus (appreciation, 26 May 1941). Report by Joint Intelligence Sub-Committee, ‘Secret’. AIR 8/547 TNA. 25 Eastern Mediterranean, Annex I, Estimate of the Garrison Required, p. 1. 26 Scale of Attack on Cyprus, p. 10. 27 Eastern Mediterranean, Annex I, p. 5. 28 Ibid, p. 6. 29 Ibid. 30 Scale of Attack on Cyprus, p. 10. 31 Mideast to Air Ministry, ‘Most Secret’, 30 May 1941. AIR 8/547 TNA. 32 Weekly Intelligence Summary, 4 June 1941. WO 208/2251 TNA. 33 Extract from Chiefs of Staff Committee, 195th Meeting, 30 May 1941. CAB 121/538 TNA. 34 Ibid. 35 War Office to Commander in Chief Middle East, 30 May 1941. CAB 121/538 TNA. 36 War Diary, Cyprus Commando, WO 218/165 TNA. 37 Paper of GSI (d)/23, 6 August 1941, p. 3. WO 169/24925 TNA. 38 Guinness to Battershill, 30 May 1941. CO 968/6/9 TNA.

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39 Battershill to Guinness, 5 June 1941, ‘Secret’. AIR 8/547 TNA. 40 Future of Cyprus, memorandum by Anthony Eden, 31 May 1941, ‘Secret’, p. 2. PREM 3/113 TNA. 41 Future of Cyprus, pp. 1–6. PREM 3/113 TNA. 42 Prime Minister’s Office to J.M. Martin (Foreign Office), 27 January 1942. PREM 3/113 TNA. 43 Leontios, Bishop of Paphos, to Sir Charles Woolley, 20 December 1941. PREM 3/113 TNA. 44 Paloulian, Kyriakos, ‘Οι Αεροπορικές Επιχειρήσεις της RAF από την Κύπρο’ (‘RAF Air Operations from Cyprus’). Polemos kai Istoria, Vol. 79 (December 2004), pp. 18–25. 45 Siaketano, Uberto, ‘Οι Επιχειρήσεις της Regia Aeronatica πάνω από την Κύπρο’ (‘The Regia Aeronatica Operations over Cyprus’). Polemos kai Istoria, Vol.79 (December 2004), pp. 26–9. 46 Notes by David Carter. 47 Ibid. 48 Hart, Liddell, The German Generals Talk. New York: Morrow, 1948, pp. 160–1; Jacobson, Hans-Adolf, Kriegstagesbuch für das Oberkommando der Wehrmacht, Band I, 1 August 1940 – 31 Dezember 1941. Bernard & Graefe: Frankfurt am Main, 1965, p. 328, all quoted in Kelling, Countdown to Rebellion, pp. 39–40, n. 77. 49 Druiff, Lt. P.D., Deception Officer, to GSI (d) GHQ, MEF, 30 November 1941, ‘Most Secret’. WO 169/24925 TNA. 50 Report on ‘The Circumstances in Which the Mission of Lieutenant Druiff to Cyprus Terminated’, 9 December 1941. WO 169/24925 TNA. 51 Lt. Druiff to GSI (d) GHQ, MEF, 2 November 1941, ‘Most Secret’, p. 1. WO .169/24925 TNA. 52 Ibid, pp. 2–3. 53 ‘Italian Map of Cyprus, Deception Scheme (Summer 1941)’, 6 January 1942, p. 2. WO 169/24925 TNA. 54 Ibid, pp. 2–4. 55 Ibid, p. 6. 56 Major-General Myane to GHQ MEF, 27 March 1942, ‘Most Secret’. WO 201/145 TNA. 57 Cyprus Defence Scheme, Part I, ‘Policy’, August 1942, pp. 1–2. WO 201/148 TNA. 58 Ibid, p. 3. 59 Ibid, p. 3.

Notes

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60 Extract from GHQ MEF, Operation Instruction No. 114, 18 March 1942. PREM 3/113 TNA. 61 Cranborne to Churchill, 23 April 1942, ‘Most Secret’. PREM 3/113 TNA. 62 Chiefs of Staff Committee, 134th Meeting, ‘Cyprus Garrison’, 29 April 1942. PREM 3/113 TNA. 63 Woolley to Cranborne, 5 May 1942. PREM 3/113 TNA. 64 Cranborne to Woolley (undated), PREM 3/113 TNA. 65 CIGS to Churchill, 1 October 1943, PREM 3/113 TNA. 66 Gooderson, Ian, ‘Shoestring Strategy: The British Campaign in the Aegean, 1943’. Journal of Strategic Studies,Vol. 25, No. 3 (September 2002), p. 8. Chapter 3 1

Eastern Mediterranean. Report by Joint Planning Staff, 26 May 1941, Annexes I and II. AIR 8/547 TNA. 2 Humfrey, E.B., ‘The Cyprus Police during World War 2’; unpublished notes of David Carter, co-author of Britain’s Small Wars website. 3 Churchill to Menzies, The Second World War: Grand Alliance, Vol.3 London: Weidenfeld & Nicolson, 1950, p. 771. 4 War Office to Commander-in-Chief Middle East, 30 May 1941. CAB 121/538 TNA. 5 War Diary, Cyprus Commando. WO 218/165 TNA. 6 Paper by GSI (d)/23, ‘Most Secret’, 6 August 1941, p. 3. WO 169/24925 TNA. 7 Directive for SOE Field Commander Cyprus, ‘Most Secret’, 27 July 1942, pp. 1–3; Appendix A, p. 2. HS 3/120 TNA. 8 Ibid, pp. 1–3. 9 Ibid, pp. 1–4. 10 Ibid, Appendix A, p. 2. 11 Ibid.. 12 DSO (A) to DFA, ‘Most Secret’, 11 March 1943. HS 3/120 TNA. 13 Report, 28 August 1944, p. 1. HS 3/120 TNA. 14 Directive for SOE Field Commander Cyprus, 27 July 1942, Appendix A, p. 2. HS 3/120 TNA. 15 Visit of D/H293 from Cyprus, ‘Most Secret’, 30 January 1943. HS 3/120 TNA. 16 Report on visit to Cyprus by D/H426 (Major A.G. Rumbold),

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19–29 February 1943, p. 1. HS 3/120 TNA. 17 Visit of D/H293 from Cyprus, ‘Most Secret’, 30 January 1943. HS 3/120 TNA. 18 Minute of meeting held on 2 February 1943 to discuss SOE plans, ‘Most Secret’. HS 3/120 TNA. 19 Ibid. 20 Report on visit to Cyprus by D/H426, p. 1. 21 Ibid, p. 4. 22 Ibid, pp. 2–3. 23 Ibid ,p. 5. 24 Report from 18 December 1942 to 17 January 1943. HS 3/118 TNA. 25 Report on visit to Cyprus by D/H426, p. 5. 26 A full list of agents’ names and payments is included in HS 3/118 TNA. 27 Captain R.A. Dray to DSO(A), ‘Special Propaganda – Cyprus’, ‘Most Secret’, 10 March 1944, p. 1. HS 3/120 TNA. 28 Ibid, p. 2. 29 Report from 18 Dec 1942 to 17 Jan 1943, HS 3/118 TNA. 30 Report from 30 January 1943 to 13 February 1943. HS 3/118 TNA. 31 Situation Report, May 1941. CO 67/314/10 TNA. 32 Report from 18 Dec 1942 to 17 Jan 1943, HS 3/118 TNA. 33 Arnold, Percy, Cyprus Challenge :A Colonial Island and its Aspirations: Reminiscences of a Former Editor of the ‘Cyprus Post’. London: Hogarth, 1956, pp. 199–200. 34 Report from 18 Dec 1942 to 17 Jan 1943, HS 3/118 TNA. 35 Minutes of meeting between Acheson and Battershill, 1–2 April 1942. CO 67/314/12 TNA, quoted in Kelling, pp. 52–3. 36 Arnold, Cyprus Challenge, pp. 86–7. 37 Report from 18 Dec 1942 to 17 Jan 1943, HS 3/118 TNA. 38 Situation Report, March 1942; Minute by Acheson, 24 March 1942. CO 67/314/12 TNA. 39 Report from 30 Jan 1943 to 13 Feb 1943, HS 3/118 TNA. 40 Report up to 11 June 1943. HS 3/118 TNA. 41 Ibid. 42 Report up to 14 June 1943, p. 2. HS 3/118 TNA. 43 Ibid, p. 1. 44 Ibid, p. 2.

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45 Report on EAM-ELAS (‘National Liberation Front’-‘National Popular Liberation Army’) and EDES (‘National Democratic Greek Liaison’), up to 18 February 1944. HS 3/118 TNA. 46 Ibid. 47 Arnold, Cyprus Challenge, p. 58. 48 Report 5 May 1944. HS 3/118 TNA. 49 Arnold, Cyprus Challenge, pp. 173–4. 50 Report 29 August 1944, p. 1. HS 3/118 TNA. 51 Additional Report 22 August 1944. HS 3/118 TNA. 52 Notes on persons employed by the Organization. HS 3/118 TNA. 53 Ibid. 54 Report to 29 August 1944, pp. 1–2. HS 3/118 TNA. 55 Report to 25 August 1944, p. 1. HS 3/118 TNA. 56 Ibid. 57 Report 1 September 1944, p. 1. HS 3/118 TNA. 58 Arnold, Cyprus Challenge, pp. 152–4. 59 Report 28 September 1944, p. 1. HS 3/118 TNA. 60 Ibid. 61 Arnold, Cyprus Challenge, p. 184. 62 Ibid, pp. 208–10 63 On the Famagusta episode see CO 537/1502 TNA. 64 Kelling, Countdown to Rebellion, p. 32. Chapter 4 1 2 3 4 5 6 7

Wing Commander 209 Group to Governor of Cyprus, Air Reporting Centre, Nicosia, 27 January 1944. AIR 23/6845 TNA. Captain D.G.H. Spencer to Flag Officer Levant and Eastern Mediterranean, 16 September 1944. AIR 23/6845 TNA. Woolley to Colonial Office, 31 March 1945. CO 67/327/16 TNA, quoted by Kelling, Countdown to Rebellion, p. 67. Woolley to Oliver Stanley (Secretary of State for the Colonies), 19 April 1945. CO 67/ 324/5 TNA. Memo to Sir A. Dawe, Permanent Under-Secretary in the Colonial Office, 25 April 1945. CO 67/324/5 TNA. Minute by M.S. Williams, 9 April 1946. FO 371/38760 TNA, quoted by Kelling, Countdown to Rebellion, p. 71. Chiefs of Staff memorandum (45) 215, 5 September 1945. CAB

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79/39 TNA, quoted by Kelling, Countdown to Rebellion, p. 69. 8 Memorandum to Bennett, 15 December 1947. CO 537/2486 TNA, p. 2. 9 Memorandum to Sir T. Lloyd, 18 December 1947. CO 537/2486 TNA. 10 Minutes of conference between Bevin and Aghnidis, 7 December 1946. FO 371/58891 TNA, quoted in Kelling, Countdown to Rebellion, p. 72. 11 Attlee to Bevin, 12 February 1947. FO 371/67081 TNA, quoted by Kelling, Countdown to Rebellion, p. 73 12 Minute by Sir Arthur Dawe, 6 September 1945. CO 67/327 TNA; Bevin to Hall, 26 September 1946. FO 371/58761 TNA, quoted by Kelling, Countdown to Rebellion, p. 70 13 Kelling, Countdown to Rebellion, p. 88. 14 MELF to Foreign Office, general situation on POW labour, Cyprus, 6 August 1947. FO 939/78 TNA. 15 Future of Cyprus in relation to the withdrawal from Palestine, ‘Top Secret’, 14 November 1947. CO 537/2486 TNA, p. 2. 16 Ibid, p. 3. 17 Extract from note by Lord Winster to Arthur Creech Jones, 17 December 1947. CO 537/4114 TNA. 18 Lord Winster to Arthur Creech Jones, 4 November 1947. CO 537/4114 TNA. 19 General Sir John Crocker to Lord Winster, 26 August 1948. CO 537/4114 TNA. 20 Kelling, Countdown to Rebellion, p. 75. 21 Ibid, p. 78. 22 Sequence of events from 17 September 1948 to 28 February 1949. CO 537/4309 TNA, p. 5. 23 Lord Winster to Arthur Creech Jones, 15 September 1948. CO 537/2770 TNA, p. 3. 24 Ibid, 27 September 1948. CO 537/2770 TNA, pp. 6–7. 25 W.C. Johnson to Colonial Secretary (Nicosia), 18 January 1949. CO 537/4982 TNA, pp. 2, 5. 26 Circular from J.H. Ashmore, Commissioner of Police, 24 January 1949. CO 537/4982 TNA. 27 Wright to James Griffiths, 31 August 1950. CO 537/ 6245 TNA. 28 Sequence of events from 17 September 1948 to 28 February 1949.

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CO 537/4309 TNA, p. 1. 29 Ibid, p. 2. 30 Ibid. 31 Ibid. 32 Ibid, p. 3. 33 Ibid. 34 The ‘Stern Gang’ (also known as the ‘Fighters for the Freedom of Israel’) was an underground Zionist faction that operated against the British military in Palestine. 35 Sequence of events from 17 September 1948 to 28 February 1949. CO 537/4309 TNA, p. 4. 36 Ibid, p. 4. 37 Ibid, pp. 4-7. 38 Ibid, pp. 4–5. 39 Ibid, p. 5. 40 Available security forces. CO 537/4384 TNA. 41 Sequence of events from 17 September 1948 to 28 February 1949. CO 537/4309 TNA, p. 7. 42 Internal security situation in Cyprus, ‘Top Secret’, 16 February 1949. CO 537/4309 TNA. 43 Acting Governor, opening Commissioners’ Conference. 11 February 1949, CO 537/4309 TNA, pp. 3–4. 44 Kelling, Countdown to Rebellion, p. 99. 45 Foreign Office intelligence report no. 12, 13 January 1950. DEFE 11/30 TNA, quoted by Kelling, Countdown to Rebellion, p. 103. Chapter 5 1 Hatziantoniou, Costas, Νικόλαος Πλαστήρας – Ιστορική Βιογραφία (‘Nikolaos Plastiras – Historical Biography’). Athens: Iolkos, 2006, p. 232. 2 Department of State Policy Statement, 11 June 1948. FRUS, 1948, Vol. 3. Washington, DC: GPO, 1948, p. 1100. 3 Morrison to Norton, 2 May 1951, FO 371/95133 TNA, quoted in Kelling, Countdown to Rebellion, p. 109. 4 Durrell, Lawrence, Bitter Lemons. London: Faber & Faber, 1957, pp. 116–17, quoted in Kelling, Countdown to Rebellion, p. 109. 5 Svolopoulos, Constantine, Η Ελληνική Εξωτερική Πολιτική, 1945–1981 (‘Greek Foreign Policy, 1945–1981’). Athens: Estia, 2005, pp. 82–6;

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Peake to Foreign Office, 22 September 1953. FO 371/107499 TNA, quoted in Kelling, Countdown to Rebellion, p. 137. 6 Grivas, Georgios, Aπομνημονεύματα Αγώνος ΕΟΚΑ (‘Memoirs of the EOKA Struggle’). Athens: 1961, pp. 14–15. 7 Woodhouse, C.M., The Struggle for Greece, 1941–1949. London: Hurst, 2002, p. 163. 8 Political Warfare Executive, Greece: Basic Handbook, Part 1, ‘PreInvasion’, p. 33. 9 Appreciation of the Situation by Digenis, 5 July 1956, CO 926/454 TNA. 10 Parliamentary Debates, House of Commons, Vol. 540, col. 1950, January 1955; col. 1962; Hopkinson’s statement in Parliamentary Debates, House of Commons, Vol. 531, col. S07, quoted by Bowyer, Bell, On Revolt: Strategies of National Liberation. New Haven: Harvard University Press, 1976, ch. VI. 11 MacDonald to Governor of Cyprus, 21 August 1954, Organisation of Intelligence in Cyprus, ‘Present Organisation’, pp. 1–2. CO 1035/98 TNA. 12 Ibid, pp. 2–3. 13 Ibid, p. 3. 14 Final Report by the Security Service Adviser to the Cyprus Police Special Branch, Part I, ‘Top Secret’, p. 20. CO 1035/98 TNA. 15 Organisation of Intelligence in Cyprus, App. B. CO 1035/98 TNA. 16 Secretary of State for Colonies to Governor of Cyprus, 6 October 1954, ‘Secret’. CO 1035/98 TNA. 17 Note on action taken to strengthen the intelligence organisation in Cyprus, 18 February 1955. CO 1035/98 TNA. 18 The Agios Georgios Trial in Cyprus: Greek Press Coverage. FO 371/117633 TNA. 19 United Nations General Assembly Resolution No. 292, 20 December 1954. FO 371/117620 TNA. 20 Drousiotis, Makarios, ΕΟKA – Η Σκοτεινή όψη (‘EOKA – the Dark Side’). Athens: Stahi, 2000, pp. 68–77. 21 Grivas, Georgios, Αγών ΕΟΚΑ και Ανταρτοπόλεμος (‘EOKA’s Struggle and Guerilla Warfare’). Athens: 1962, pp. 14–19. 22 Note on action taken to strengthen the Intelligence Organisation in Cyprus. CO 1035/98 TNA. 23 Governor of Cyprus to Secretary of State for Colonies, note on work of the Cyprus Special Branch, 16 May 1955, CO 1035/98 TNA.

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24 Ibid. 25 Final Report by the Security Service Adviser to the Cyprus Police Special Branch, Part II, ‘Top Secret’, pp. 3–4. CO 1035/98 TNA. 26 Ibid, p. 5. 27 Ibid, p. 2. 28 Ibid, p. 21. 29 Ibid. 30 Ibid, pp. 6–11. 31 Grivas, Απομνημονεύματα Αγώνος ΕΟΚΑ, p. 43. 32 See Carver, Michael, Harding of Petherton, Field Marshal. London: Weidenfeld & Nicolson, 1978, ch. 12. 33 Cyprus Intelligence Committee. ‘The current threat of arms smuggling’, September 1955, p. 1. DEFE 11/78 TNA. 34 Ibid, p. 2. 35 MECOS 40, ‘Prevention of Arms Smuggling into Cyprus’, Middle East Land Forces HQ to MoD, 25 August 1955. DEFE 11/78 TNA. 36 Chiefs of Staff Committee, note on JP (55) 103 Final, 5 September 1955, ‘Top Secret’. DEFE 11/78 TNA. 37 General Sir Nevil Brownjohn, minute, 6 September 1955. DEFE 11/78 TNA. 38 Kirpatrick to Brownjohn, 6 September 1955. DEFE 11/78 TNA. 39 Peck to Young, 14 September 1955. DEFE 11/78 TNA. 40 Brownjohn to Vice-Admiral W.W. Davis, 8 September 1955. DEFE 11/78 TNA. 41 Middle East Land Forces HQ to MoD, 30 August 1955. DEFE 11/78 TNA. 42 Photo No.HU 69935, ‘Three EOKA fighters pose for the camera’. Imperial War Museum, London. 43 Secretary, Chiefs of Staff Committee to Middle East Land Forces, 29 October 1955. DEFE 11/78 TNA. 44 Informal Record of Visit to Cyprus by the Director of Military Intelligence and Mr. Dean to Foreign Office, 26 October 1955, ‘Top Secret’. WO 216/889 TNA. 45 Ibid, p. 1. 46 Ibid. 47 WO 33/2736, p. 90, TNA. 48 Informal Record of Visit to Cyprus by the Director of Military Intelligence and Mr. Dean to Foreign Office, 26 October 1955,

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‘Top Secret’. WO 216/889, p. 2, TNA. 49 FOME to C-in-C Mediterranean, 25 December 1955. DEFE 11/78 TNA; CSO (I)ME to C-in-C Mediterranean, 25 December 1955. DEFE 11/78 TNA. 50 C-in-C Mediterranean to FOME, 25 December 1955. DEFE 11/78 TNA. 51 Duty commander for the First Sea Lord to C-in-C Mediterranean, 26 December 1955. DEFE 11/78 TNA. 52 MoD to C-in-C Mediterranean, 25 December 1955, DEFE 11/78 TNA. 53 Ibid. 54 MoD to C-in-C Mediterranean, 26 December 1955, DEFE 11/78 TNA. 55 MoD to Prime Minister, Naval Anti-Smuggling Operations off Cyprus. DEFE 11/78 TNA. 56 Ibid. 57 Chiefs of Staff Committee (55), 30 December 1955. DEFE 11/78 TNA. 58 CSO (I)ME to CSO (I) Mediterranean, 31 December 1955. DEFE 11/78 TNA. 59 FOME to C-in-C Mediterranean, 1 January 1956. DEFE 11/78 TNA. 60 GHQ MEF to MoD, Smuggling of Arms into Cyprus, 12 March 1956. DEFE 11/78 TNA. 61 MacDonald to Harding, 22 Dec 1955, CO 1035/98 TNA. 62 Ibid. 63 MacDonald to Harding, Organisation of Intelligence in Cyprus, 22 December 1955, p. 1. CO 1035/98 TNA. 64 Ibid, p. 2. 65 Informal Record of Visit to Cyprus by the Director of Military Intelligence and Mr. Dean to Foreign Office, 26 October 1955, ‘Top Secret’. WO 216/889, p. 2, TNA. 66 Ibid, p. 3. 67 Ibid. 68 Ibid. 69 C.R. Hardy, Commandant-General, Royal Marines, to First Sea Lord, 30 November 1955, pp. 1–2. WO 216/903 TNA. 70 Ibid, pp. 1–3.

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71 Informal Record of Visit to Cyprus by the Director of Military Intelligence and Mr. Dean to Foreign Office, 26 October 1955, ‘Top Secret’. WO 216/889, p. 4, TNA. 72 WO 33/2736, pp. 75, 88, 90, TNA. 73 Yorkshire Post, ‘Pressmen Walked into Cyprus HQ’, 6 September 1956. CO 926/523 TNA. 74 Note on Report of the Cyprus Police Commission, Colonial Office, 25 May 1956, pp. 1–5. CO 1037/10 TNA. 75 Major-General (ret.) Georgios Tsoumis, interview with the author, 24 June 2006. In the 1950s Tsoumis served as a captain in units in Northern Greece, and was aware of the unofficial Greek military support to EOKA. 76 Note on Security Intelligence Adviser’s visit to Cyprus, 12 July 1956. CO 1035/98 TNA. 77 Ibid. 78 Report on Royal Hellenic Air Force by Air Attaché, Athens Embassy, to Foreign Office, 15 January 1957, pp. 1–3. FO 371/130051 TNA; Report on Hellenic Navy for 1956, Peake to Selwyn Lloyd, 4 January 1957, pp. 1–3. FO 371/130050 TNA. 79 George Grivas and KHI Organisation: Colonial Office request for information, 1956. FO 371/123916 TNA. 80 Kyle, Keith, Suez: Britain’s End of Empire in the Middle East. London: I.B. Tauris, 2002, p. 167. 81 Foley, Charles and Scobie, W.I., The Struggle for Cyprus. Stanford, CA: Hoover Institution, 1974, p. 94; Thomson, Julian, The Royal Marines: From Sea Soldiers to a Special Force. London: Pan, 2001, pp. 438–44; Holland, Robert, Britain and the Revolt in Cyprus, 1954–1959. Oxford: Clarendon, 1998, p. 154; Harclerode, Peter, Para: Fifty Years of the Parachute Regiment. London: Weidenfeld Military, 1992, pp. 216–20; West, Nigel, The Friends: Britain’s Post-war Secret Intelligence Operations. London: Weidenfeld & Nicolson, 1988, p. 73. 82 WO 33/2736, p. 38, TNA. 83 Cyprus Deputy Governor to Secretary of State for Colonies, 13 December 1956, pp. 1–2. CO 926/454 TNA. 84 General Kenneth Darling, ‘The Final Round’. General Darling Papers, Imperial War Museum, London, quoted in Holland, p. 312. 85 All quoted in Carter, David ‘Death of a Terrorist- Birth of a Legend: The Story of Grigoris Afxentiou’ in Britain’s Small Wars at http://

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www.britainssmallwars.com/cyprus/Davidcarter/deathofaterrorist/ deathofaterrorist.html. Accessed 20 June and 5 July 2008. 86 WO 33/2736, p. 84, TNA. 87 Ibid, p. 19. 88 Ibid, pp. 19, 84. 89 Ibid, pp. 85–6. 90 Ibid, pp. 87–9. 91 Ibid, p. 90. 92 Carter, David, ‘Grivas Orders: Kill This Bloodstained Ogre’. In Britain’s Small Wars. At http://www.britains-smallwars.com/cyprus/ harding/killharding.html. Accessed 20 June 2008. 93 Operation Apollo, Conveyance of Archbishop Makarios to Seychelles, reports by HMS Loch Fada and Resident Naval Officer East Africa. ADM 1/26534 TNA; Operation Apollo: report and release of photographs of departure of major Cypriot political leaders. ADM 1/26590 TNA. 94 Bigart, Homer, ‘Harding pledges firm Cyprus grip’, New York Times, 19 March 1956. 95 Ibid. 96 WO 33/2736, pp. 19–20, TNA. 97 Dean to Ross, 27 October 1958. FO 371/136284 TNA. 98 WO 33/2736, pp. 71, 90, TNA. 99 Ibid, p. 73. 100 Ibid. 101 Appreciation of the Situation by Digenis. 102 Ibid, p. 37. 103 Carter, ‘Death of a Terrorist – Birth of a Legend’. 104 Grivas, Απομνημονεύματα Αγώνος ΕΟΚΑ, p. 188. 105 Averof-Tositsas, Evangelos, Ιστορία Χαμένων Ευκαιριών: Κυπριακό, 1950-1963 (‘History of Lost Opportunities: The Cyprus Question, 1950–1963’), pp. 218–22; full report of ΚΥΠ in Papahelas, Alexis ‘How they managed to tap the phone of Karamanlis in 1957’, To Vima tis Kyriakis, 28 May 2006. 106 US Embassy (Athens) to Department of State, 28 August 1956. FRUS, 1964–68, Vol. XXIV, p. 394. Washington, DC: GPO,1999. 107 WO 33/2736, p. 38, TNA. 108 Ibid, p. 75. 109 Carruthers, Susan, Winning Hearts and Minds: British Governments,

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the Media and Colonial Counter-insurgency, 1944–1960. Leicester: Leicester University Press, 1995, pp. 206, 212, 214, 221, 231. 110 WO 33/2736, p. 21, TNA. 111 Ibid, pp. 43–4. 112 Ibid, pp. 20, 25. 113 Ibid, pp. 46, 65. 114 Ibid, pp. 47–8. 115 Grivas, Αγών ΕΟΚΑ και Ανταρτοπόλεμος, p. 88; Drousiotis, EOKA, p.372. 116 On assassination tactics, see Drousiotis, ΕΟΚΑ, pp. 97–111. 117 Ibid, pp. 111–12. 118 Bigart, ‘Harding pledges firm Cyprus grip’ New York Times, 19 March 1956. 119 Interview with Rauf Denktas by producers of End of the Empire: Cyprus, Britain’s Grim Legacy, ITV (UK), 26 June 1984, quoted in Drousiotis, ΕΟΚΑ, pp. 214–17. 120 Carter, David, ‘Sgt. Eric Bradley – The Man who Talked to Grivas’. In Britain’s Small Wars. At http://www.britains-smallwars.com/cy prus/Davidcarter/manwhotalkedtogrivas/manwhotalkedtogrivas.html. Accessed 29 July 2008; communication between author and Eric Bradley, 31 July 2008. 121 Grivas, Απομνημονεύματα Αγώνος ΕΟΚΑ, p. 214. 122 Jock Devlin, conversation with David Carter, 2004. 123 Foot to Foreign Office, 9 November 1958, in Aldrich, Richard J. (ed.), Espionage, Security and Intelligence in Britain, 1945–1970. Manchester: Manchester University Press, 1998, p. 167. 124 Interview with British researcher 5 September 2006. 125 WO 33/2736, p. 36, TNA. 126 Interview with British researcher, 5 September 2006. 127 Darling, ‘The Final Round’, quoted in Holland, p. 312. 128 Rose, C., ‘The Black Watch (RHR) in Cyprus, 1958–1962’. In Britain’s Small Wars. At www.britains-smallwars.com/cyprus/C-Rose/ C-rose.html. Accessed 17 May 2008. 129 Wright, Peter, Spycather: The Candid Autobiography of a Senior Intelligence Officer. New York: Viking, 1987, p. 142; Holland, Britain and the Revolt in Cyprus, pp. 312–14. 130 Aldrich, The Hidden Hand, p. 578; Foley and Scobie, The Struggle for Cyprus, pp. 119–21; Dorril, Stephen, MI6 – Fifty

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Years of Special Operations. London: Fourth Estate, 2000, p. 556. 131 Grivas, Απομνημονεύματα Αγώνος ΕΟΚΑ, pp. 391–5. 132 Drousiotis, Makarios, EOKA B & CIA – Το Ελληνοτουρκικό Παρακράτος στην Κύπρο (‘ΕΟΚΑ Β and the CIA: The Greek-Turkish Parastate in Cyprus’). Nicosia: Alphadi, 2003, p. 377. 133 Hastings, Stephen, The Drums of Memory: An Autobiography of Sir Stephen Hasting MC. London: Pen & Sword, 1994, pp. 186–7. 134 Eliades, Manos (ed.), Το Απόρρητο Ημερολόγιο της ΚΥΠ για το Κυπριακό (‘The Secret Diary of KYP over the Cyprus Question’). Athens: Sideris, 2007, pp. 150–8. 135 Cyprus Intelligence Report, 8 March 1960, ibid, p. 69. 136 Ibid, 23 May 1960, p. 70. 137 Ibid, 13 July 1959, p. 125. 138 Ibid, 7 September 1959, p. 138. 139 Ibid, 31 October 1959, p. 156 140 Ibid, 16 February 1960, p. 225. 141 Ibid, 8 March 1960, p. 231. 142 Ibid, 23 May 1960, p. 266. 143 Ibid, 9 September 1960, p. 305. 144 Ibid, monthly report, July 1960, p. 290. 145 Ibid, 30 October 1960, p. 333. 146 RAF Requirements in Cyprus, AIR 20/10328 TNA. 147 National Security Council Report, Statement of US Policy Towards Cyprus, 9 February 1960, FRUS, 1964–1968, Vol. XXV. Washington, DC: GOP, 1999, pp. 819–21. 148 Drousiotis, EOKA B & CIA, pp. 259–91. 149 Grivas, Αγών ΕΟΚΑ και Ανταρτοπόλεμος, p. 62. Chapter 6 1

Marines in Lebanon, 1958. Washington, DC: Marine Corps Historical Branch, 1966, p. 24. 2 See Blackwell, Stephen, British Military Intervention and the Struggle for Jordan: King Hussein, Nasser and the Middle East Crisis, 19551958. London: Routledge, 2008. 3 Alani, Mustafa M., Operation Vantage: British Military Intervention in Kuwait 1961. London: Laam, 1990, p. 40; Darby, Philip, British Defence Policy East of Suez 1947–1968. London: Oxford University

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Press, 1973, p. 153. 4 The Problems of CENTO, 7 April 1964. FO 371/175613 TNA. 5 Chiefs of Staff Committee, Military Implications of Pakistan’s Decision to Leave the Commonwealth and SEATO and Possible Withdrawal from CENTO, 1 December 1972, pp. A3–A5. DEFE 5/195 TNA. 6 Ibid, p. A7. 7 Chiefs of Staff Committee, Review of the Year in CENTO, 1 December 1972, p. A4. Annex A to COS 12/73, DEFE 5/195 TNA; for Anglo-Turkish relations and CENTO in the early 1960s, see Göktepe, Cihat, ‘The Forgotten Alliance? Anglo-Turkish Relations and CENTO, 1959–1965. Middle Eastern Studies, Vol. 35, No. 4 (October 1999), pp. 103–29. 8 Secretary of State for the Commonwealth to Secretary of Defence, Defence Expenditure in Cyprus, 21 December 1967, ‘Top Secret’, pp. 1–2. DEFE 13/539 TNA. 9 Ibid. 10 Secretary of State for Defence to Foreign Secretary, 17 April 1967. DEFE 13/539 TNA. 11 R.M. Hastie-Smith (MoD) to R. Parsons (FO), 25 April 1967. DEFE 13/539 TNA. 12 Secretary of State for Defence, Defence Expenditure in Cyprus, 1 May 1967, pp. 3, 6. DEFE 13/539 TNA. 13 Chiefs of Staff Committee, Review of the Year in CENTO, p. A2. DEFE 5/195 TNA. 14 24th Meeting of the CENTO Military Committee, Item 5: CENTO Air Matters, p. 1. DEFE 5/195 TNA. 15 The Deployment and Roles of RAF Units in Cyprus and Commanded from Cyprus Now and Post-April 1976, 23 November 1975, ‘Secret’, p. D3. DEFE 68/90 TNA. 16 23th Meeting of the CENTO Military Committee, Item 6: CENTO Communications System, pp. 1–2. DEFE 5/195 TNA. 17 Iran: Arms and the Shah, 28 January 1972, Bureau of Intelligence and Research, State Department, ‘Secret’. At http://www.state.gov/ documents/organization/70694.pdf. Accessed 22 October 2008. 18 Memorandum of Conversation between President Richard Nixon, the Shah of Iran and Henry Kissinger, 31 May 1972. At http://www.state. gov/documents/organization/70743.pdf. Accessed 22 October 2008.

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19 McNamara, Robert, ‘Britain, Nasser and the Outbreak of the Six Day War’. Journal of Contemporary History, Vol. 35, No. 4 (October 2000), p. 627. 20 The Importance to the UK of the Sovereign Base Areas in Cyprus, Chiefs of Staff Committee, 8 March 1971, p. A1. DEFE 5/189 TNA. 21 Ibid, p. A2. 22 FCO Brief for Visit of CENTO Secretary-General to the UK, 6–13 March 1976. FCO 8/2652 TNA. 23 The Importance to the UK of the Sovereign Base Areas in Cyprus, pp. A3–6. DEFE 5/189 TNA. 24 Chiefs of Staff Committee, Strategic Importance of Cyprus, 26 September 1973, ‘Top Secret – UK Eyes Only’, p. A3. FCO 46/1917 TNA. 25 The Importance to the UK of the Sovereign Base Areas in Cyprus, p. A10. DEFE 5/189 TNA. 26 Chiefs of Staff Committee, Joint Theatre Plan Near East No. 102, 24 April 1972. DEFE 5/192/44 TNA. 27 24th Meeting of the CENTO Military Committee, Item 7: CENTO Combined Exercises Programme, pp. 1–4. DEFE 5/195 TNA. 28 Director of Naval Plans, Strategic Importance of Cyprus, 24 September 1973, ‘Secret’. FCO 46/ 1017 TNA. 29 Extracts from letter, AOCinC NEAF to CAS, following the former’s visit to Iran, May 1974, p. 2. DEFE 25/386 TNA. 30 Burr, William (ed.), The Iranian Nuclear Programme, 1974–1978 (a full list of US State Department declassified files held in the National Security Archives, Washington, DC. At http://www.gwu. edu/~nsarchiv/.) Accessed 10 April 2009. 31 The Strategic Importance of Cyprus, Draft 6, 3 October 1973, ‘UK Eyes Alpha’. FCO 46/1017 TNA. 32 The Importance to the United Kingdom of Military Facilities in Cyprus, Chiefs of Staff Committee/Defence Policy Staff, 23 October 1973, ‘Top Secret – UK Eyes Alpha’, pp. A2–7, A15. FCO 46/1018 TNA. 33 FCO to Missions, No. 313, 6 October 1973. FCO 93/254 TNA, quoted in Hughes, Geraint, ‘Britain, the Transatlantic Alliance, and the Arab-Israeli War of 1973’ Journal of Cold War Studies, Vol. 10, No. 2, Spring 2008, pp. 21–5, 33. 34 Ibid, p. 24.

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35 Non-NATO Commitments, Note by Secretary of State, MoD, 5 June 1974, ‘Secret’, p. C6. DEFE 25/222 TNA. 36 Defence Review: Consultation over Cyprus, 14 June 1974. DEFE 25/223 TNA. 37 Political Implications of the Curtailment of British Defence Commitments Outside NATO, Note by Secretary of State, MoD, 21 May 1974, ‘Secret – UK Eyes Alpha’, p. 31. DEFE 25/221 TNA. 38 Note by the Foreign and Commonwealth Office, 12 June 1974, ‘Secret. DEFE 25/223. 39 United Kingdom Defence Policy, Part VII: Conclusion, Annex B, p. B1. DEFE 25/221 TNA. 40 Political Implications of the Curtailment of British Defence Commitments Outside NATO, p. 31. DEFE 25/221 TNA. 41 Political Implications of the curtailment of British Defence commitments outside NATO, Note by the Secretary of MoD, ‘Secret-UK Eyes Alpha’, 21 May 1974, p.31, DEFE 25/221 TNA. 42 British Presence in Cyprus After the Defence Review, ‘Secret’, p. 3. DEFE 68/90 TNA. 43 Non-NATO Commitments, Note by FCO, ‘Secret’, 12 June 1974, ‘Secret’. DEFE 25/223 TNA. 44 British Presence in Cyprus After the Defence Review, p. 4. DEFE 68/90 TNA. 45 Cyprus Background Note. DEFE 68/90 TNA. 46 Record of meeting, Sir Michael Cary/Sir Peter Ramsbotham, 9 July 1975. DEFE 68/90 TNA. 47 Ramsbotham to FCO, 12 March 1974. FCO 9/2216 TNA. 48 Phillips to Wright, 15 March 1974. FCO 9/2116 TNA. 49 The Deployment and Roles of RAF Units in Cyprus, p. D1. DEFE 68/90 TNA. 50 British Presence in Cyprus After the Defence Review, p. 2. DEFE 68/90 TNA. 51 Non-NATO Commitments, p. 2. DEFE 25/222 TNA. 52 Chiefs of Staff Committee, Strategic Importance of Gibraltar to the United Kingdom, 5 June 1972, p. A6. DEFE 5/193/17 TNA. 53 Ibid, pp. A3–A6. 54 Ibid, p. A6. 55 Ibid, p. A2. 56 Ibid.

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57 Ibid. 58 Future Aircraft Use of Akrotiri, 8 December 1975. DEFE 68/90 TNA. 59 Chiefs of Staff Committee, Strategic Importance of Malta, 12 December 1972. pp. 2–5. DEFE 5/194/24 TNA. 60 US Defense and Broadcasting Interests in Greece. FRUS, Greece, 1969–1976, Vol. XXX. Washington, DC: GPΟ, 2008, pp. 44–5. 61 On the crisis over the Cyprus constitution and the Anglo-American response, see Rizas, Sotiris, Ένωση, Διχοτόμηση, Ανεξαρτησία – Οι Ηνωμένες Πολιτείες και η Βρετανία στην αναζήτηση λύσης για το Κυπριακό, 1963-1967 (‘Union, partition, independence: the US and Britain in the quest for a solution to the Cyprus iIssue, 1963–67’). Athens: Bibliorama, 2000; Hatzivassiliou, Evanthis, ‘Cyprus at the Crossroads, 1959–1963’. European History Quarterly, Vol. 35, No. 4 (2005), pp. 523–40. 62 Drousiotis, Makarios, ΕΟΚΑ Β & CIA – Το Ελληνοτουρκικό Παρακράτος στην Κύπρο (‘EOKA B and the CIA: the Greek/Turkish parastate in Cyprus’). Nicosia: Alphadi, 2003, p. 64. 63 On the Anglo-American plans, see minute of D.S.L. Dodson, 18 June 1964. FO 371/174750 TNA; Read to MacBundy, 28 October 1963. FRUS, 1961–1963, Vol. XVI. Washington, DC: GPO, 1994, pp. 579–80. Quoted in Rizas, Ένωση, Διχοτόμηση, Ανεξαρτησία, pp. 31–2. 64 Clerides, Glafkos, Η Κατάθεσή μου (‘My testimony’). Athens: Alithia, 1988, Vol. 1, p. 180. Quoted in Rizas, Ένωση, Διχοτόμηση, Ανεξαρτησία, p. 32. 65 Minute of D.S.L. Dodson, 18 June 1964. FO 371/174750 TNA. Quoted in Rizas, Ένωση, Διχοτόμηση, Ανεξαρτησία, p. 34. 66 Rizas, Ένωση, Διχοτόμηση, Ανεξαρτησία, p. 42. 67 Ibid, pp. 62–6. 68 Drousiotis, EOKA B & CIA, pp. 70–2. 69 Cleary to Commonwealth Relations Office (CRO), 11 January 1964, FO 371/174745 TNA. Quoted in Rizas, Ένωση, Διχοτόμηση, Ανεξαρτησία, p. 48. 70 Greenhill to Rennie (FO), 31 March 1964 FO 371/174751 TNA. Quoted in Rizas, Ένωση, Ανεξαρτησία, Διχοτόμηση, p. 83 71 Minute of J.O. Rennie, 17 April 1964. FO 371/174750 TNA. Quoted in Rizas, Ένωση, Ανεξαρτησία, Διχοτόμηση, p. 88. 72 Mottershead to Permanent Under-Secretary, Foreign Office, 27 April 1964, FO 371/29840 TNA, quoted by Mallinson, William,

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‘Britain’s Elginism and the Evolution of Its Attitude Towards the SBAs: A Historical Overview’. Defensor Pacis, Vol. 18, p. 93. 73 Bruce to Department of State, 12 March 1964. In National Security Files/Country File: Cyprus, Vol. V, 3/64 box 119, Lyndon Johnson Presidential Library, Austin, Texas. Quoted in Rizas, Ένωση, Ανεξαρτησία, Διχοτόμηση, p. 77. 74 Murray to Foreign Office, 7 May 1964. FO 371/174751 TNA. Ibid, p. 90. 75 Note of Gaccia, 5 June 1964. FO 371/174752 TNA. Ibid, p. 102. 76 Johnson to Inönü, 5 June 1964. At http://www.state.gov/r/pa/ho/frus/ johnsonlb/xvi/4757.htm. Accessed 27 October 2008. 77 Minute of B.A.B. Burrows, 5 May 1964. FO 371/174750 TNA. Quoted in Rizas, Ένωση, Ανεξαρτησία, Διχοτόμηση, p. 93. 78 Ibid, p. 159. 79 Papandreou to Acheson, 22 August 1964. In Papageorgiou, Spiros (ed.) Τα Κρίσιμα Ντοκουμέντα του Κυπριακού (‘Critical documents on the Cyprus issue’). Athens: Ladia, 1983, pp. 309–10. 80 Labouisse to State Department, 16 March 1965. At http://www.state. gov/r/pa/ho/frus/johnsonlb/xvi/4770.htm. Accessed 26 October 2008. 81 Belcher to State Department, 25 November 1967. At http://www.state. gov/r/pa/ho/frus/johnsonlb/xvi/4761.htm. Accessed 26 October 2008. 82 Summary notes of the 579th Meeting of the National Security Council, 29 November 1967. At http://www.state.gov/r/pa/ho/frus/ johnsonlb/xvi/4761.htm. Accessed 26 October 2008. 83 Rizas, Ένωση, Ανεξαρτησία, Διχοτόμηση, p. 224. 84 Notes of the President’s meeting, 5 December 1967. At http://www. state.gov/r/pa/ho/frus/johnsonlb/xvi/4761.htm. Accessed 26 October 2008. 85 Notes on the 1966 Czech Arms, ‘Secret’, pp. 1–2. FCO 9/1698 TNA. 86 Summary of violence within Greek-Cypriot Community, January 1973–January 1974. FCO 9/1973 TNA. 87 On EOKA B terrorist activity, see Drousiotis, ΕΟΚΑ Β & CIA, pp. 259–90. 88 Olver to Goodison, 20 December 1973. FCO 9/1698 TNA. 89 Miles to Davies, 12 February 1973. FCO 9/1698 TNA. 90 Beattic to Davies, 21 September 1973, pp. 2–3. FCO 9/1698 TNA. 91 Beattic to Davies, 21 September 1973, p. 3. FCO 9/1698 TNA.

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92 Olver to FCO, 19 December 1973, p. 1. FCO 9/1698 TNA. 93 Olver to FCO, 8 December 1973. FCO 9/1698 TNA. 94 Olver to FCO, 13 December 1973. FCO 9/1698 TNA; Goodison to Goulding, 14 December 1973. FCO 9/1698 TNA. 95 British Embassy (Ankara) to FCO, 10 December 1973. FCO 9/1698 TNA. 96 Arms Procurement, Olver to Goodison, 28 June 1974, ‘Secret-Eclipse’. DEFE 11/729 TNA. 97 EOKA B since Grivas, British High Commission (Nicosia) to Goodison, 26 June 1974, ‘Secret’, p. 3. FCO 9/1889 TNA. 98 Ibid, p. 5. 99 Ibid, p. 7. 100 Ibid, p. 10. 101 Ibid, p. 10. 102 Ibid, p. 12. 103 Ibid, p. 13. 104 Drousiotis, ΕΟΚΑ Β & CIA, pp. 370–80. 105 Stocker to Olver, 4 April 1974, p. 13. FCO 9/1973 TNA. 106 Ibid, pp. 1–2, 11. 107 Ibid, p. 3. 108 Tasca to State Department, 16 July 1974. FRUS, 1969–1976, Cyprus, Vol. XXX. Washington, DC: GPO, 2008 , p. 301. 109 Killick to Goodison, 17 July 1974, ‘Secret’. FCO 9/1915 TNA. 110 Ibid. 111 Transcript of telephone conversation between President Nixon and Secretary of State Kissinger, 19 July 1974. FRUS, 1969–1976, Cyprus, Vol. XXX. Washington, DC: GPO, 2008, p. 338. Chapter 7 1

Memorandum from the Director of the Bureau of Intelligence and Research to Secretary of State Kissinger, 10 September 1974. FRUS, 1969–1976, Cyprus, Vol. XXX, p. 494. 2 Ibid, p. 492. 3 Lieutenant-General (ret.) Georgios Tsoumis, interview with the author, 20 December 2003. 4 Record of conversation between the Prime Minister and President Makarios at 2.30 pm on Wednesday 17 July 1974 at 10 Downing

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Street, pp. 1–8. PREM 16/19 TNA. 5 Mallinson, William, ‘US Interests, British Acquiescence and the Invasion of Cyprus’. Defensor Pacis, Vol. 16, p. 166. 6 Brief No. 2: Greek and Turkish military strengths, pp.1–6. PREM 16/19 TNA. 7 Re-instatement of President Makarios in Cyprus by means of British military support, 17 July 1974, ‘Secret – UK Eyes Alpha’, p.3. PREM 16/19 TNA. 8 Ibid., pp. 1–5. 9 Background brief for the Prime Minister’s working dinner for the Turkish Prime Minister and acting Foreign Minister, Mr Eçevit and Mr Isik, 17 July, p. 1. PREM 16/19 TNA. 10 Record of conversation between the Prime Minister, the Foreign and Commonwealth Secretary and the Defence Secretary and the Prime Minister [of Turkey], the acting Foreign Minister and Minister of the Interior after dinner at 10 Downing Street on Wednesday 17 July 1974, pp. 11–12. PREM 16/19 TNA. 11 Fairbrother to Cornish, 16 July 1974. FCO 9/1953 TNA. Quoted in Mallinson ‘US Interests, British Acquiescence’, p. 163. 12 Vallat to Lord Chancellor, 2 January 1964. FO 371/174745 TNA. Quoted in Rizas, Ένωση, Ανεξαρτησία, Διχοτόμηση, p. 50. 13 Position of United Kingdom Government in international law in relation to the threatened Turkish action against Cyprus: Advice of Law Officers, pp. 1–2. FCO 27/166 TNA. 14 Ibid, p. 3. 15 Cyprus Contingency Planning, 18 July 1974, ‘Secret – UK Eyes Alpha’. DEFE 24/1794 TNA. 16 Thomson to PM’s Private Secretary, 19 July 1974. FCO 9/1894 TNA. 17 Note for the Record, 22 July 1974, p. 1. PREM 16/19 TNA. 18 Minutes of Meeting of the Washington Special Action Group, 19 July 1974. FRUS, 1969-1976, Cyprus, Vol. XXX, p. 325. 19 Phillips to High Commission (Nicosia), 19 July 1974. FCO 9/1894 TNA. 20 Callaghan to British Embassy (Moscow), 20 July 1974. PREM 16/19 TNA. 21 Note for the Record, 22 July 1974, pp. 2–3. 22 Ibid, p. 3. 23 The Cyprus Crisis, MoD/FCO report to the Cabinet, 22 July 1974,

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‘Secret’, pp. 3–4. CAB 129/178 TNA. 24 Record of conversation between the Prime Minister, the Foreign and Commonwealth Secretary and the Defence Secretary and the Prime Minister [of Turkey], p. 8. 25 Message, British Forces Broadcasting Service, 0700 GMT, Saturday 20 July 1974. PREM 16/19 TNA. 26 Transcript of telephone conversation between Secretary of State Kissinger and Director of Central Intelligence Colby, 19 July 1974. FRUS, 1969–1976, Cyprus, Vol. XXX, p. 334. 27 Ibid, p. 335. 28 Callaghan to Hooper, tel. 152, 20 July 1974. PREM 16/19 TNA. 29 Bridges to Wilson, 21 July 1974, ‘Secret – UK Eyes Only’. PREM 16/19 TNA. 30 Callaghan to Hooper, tel. 153, 20 July 1974. PREM, 16/19 TNA. 31 Andrew, Christopher, The Mitrokhin Archive: The KGB in Europe and the West. London: Allen Lane, 1999, p. 451. 32 The Cyprus Crisis, p. 1. CAB 129/178 TNA. 33 Ibid, p. 5. 34 Ibid, p. 2. 35 Minutes of Meeting of the Washington Special Action Group, 22 July 1974. FRUS, 1969-1976, Cyprus, Vol. XXX, p. 376. 36 The Cyprus Crisis, p.6. CAB 129/178 TNA. 37 Search and rescue incident for survivors from Turkish destroyer ‘Koçatepe’ – sequence of events in HMS Hermes, 7 August 1974. DEFE 24/703 TNA. 38 Wilson, Harold, Final Term: The Labour Government, 1974–1976. London: Weidenfeld & Nicholson, 1979, p. 64. Quoted in O’Malley, Brendan and Craig, Ian, Η Συνομωσία της Κύπρου- ΗΠΑ, Κατασκοπεία και η Τουρκική Εισβολή (‘The Cyprus Conspiracy – the United States, Espionage and the Turkish Invasion’). Athens: Sideris, 2002, p. 352. 39 Record of a telephone conversation between the Prime Minister and the Prime Minister of Turkey, 24 July 1974, pp. 1–5. PREM 16/19 TNA. 40 Callaghan to Hooper, 25 July 1974. FCO 9/1900 TNA. 41 Callaghan to British Mission (Geneva), 25 July 1974. FCO 9/1900 TNA. 42 Hooper to FCO, 25 August 1974. FCO 9/1900 TNA. 43 Note for the Prime Minister, 26 July 1976. PREM 16/19 TNA. 44 Phillips to Callaghan, 26 July 1974. PREM 16/19 TNA.

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45 Hooper to British Mission (Geneva), 25 July 1974. FCO 9/1900 TNA. 46 Defence Attaché to FCO, 25 July 1974. FCO 9/1900 TNA. 47 FCO to British High Commission (Nicosia), 25 August 1974. FCO 9/1900 TNA. 48 Callaghan to FCO, 27 July 1974. DEFE 11/907 TNA. 49 FCO to Callaghan, 27 July 1974. DEFE 11/907 TNA. 50 Chiefs of Staff Committee, record of decision taken at a meeting to consider the Cyprus situation, 12 August 1974. DEFE 11/908 TNA. 51 Killick to Callaghan, 13 August 1974. DEFE 11/908 TNA. 52 Olver to FCO, 25 August 1974. FCO 9/1900 TNA. 53 Karamanlis to Wilson, 28 July 1974. PREM 16/20 TNA. 54 Hooper to FCO, 28 July 1974. PREM 16/20 TNA. 55 Bridges to Wilson, 28 July 1974. PREM 16/20 TNA. 56 Wilson to Karamanlis, 29 July 1974. PREM 16/20 TNA. 57 Brynmor to Lord Bridges, 29 July 1974, pp. 2–3. PREM 16/20 TNA. 58 Callaghan to Wilson, 29 July 1974. DEFE 11/730 TNA. 59 Callaghan to Wilson, 30 July 1974. PREM 16/20 TNA. 60 Carver to Mason, 24 July 1974, ‘UK Eyes B’. DEFE 11/907 TNA. 61 Note by the Defence Policy Staff, Chiefs of Staff Committee, 25 July 1974, ‘UK Eyes Alpha’, pp. 5, 7. DEFE 11/ 907 TNA. 62 Cyprus Force Levels, 25 July 1974, ‘Secret’. DEFE 11/907 TNA. 63 Cyprus Force Levels, Mason to Callaghan, pp. 1–2, 31 July 1974. PREM 16/20 TNA. 64 Wilson to Eçevit, 4 August 1974. PREM 16/20 TNA. 65 Callaghan to FCO, 10 August 1974, p. 2. PREM 16/20 TNA. 66 O’Malley and Craig, Η Συνομωσία της Κύπρου, p. 368. 67 Callaghan to FCO, 10 August 1974. PREM 16/20 TNA. 68 Telegram from Mission in Geneva to Department of State, 9 August 1974. FRUS, 1969-1976, Vol. XXX, pp.415–16. 69 Callaghan to UK Mission (New York), 10 August 1974. PREM 16/20 TNA; Record of conversation between the Prime Minister and the Secretary-General of the United Nations at 4.00 pm on Wednesday 14 August 1974 at 10 Downing Street, pp. 1–2. PREM 16/20 TNA. 70 Memorandum of conversation, 13 August 1974. FRUS, 1969-1976, Cyprus, Vol. XXX, p. 424. 71 Telegram from the Mission in Geneva to the Department of State, p. 418.

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72 MoD to Forrester (FCO), 13 August 1974. DEFE 11/908 TNA. 73 Warburton to Callaghan, 11 August 1974, p. 3. PREM 16/20 TNA. 74 Callaghan to Ramsbotham, 12 August 1974. PREM 16/20 TNA. 75 Ramsbotham to Callaghan, 12 August 1974. PREM 16/20 TNA. 76 Warburton to Callaghan, 12 August 1974. PREM 16/20 TNA. 77 Further Reinforcement of UNFICYP, 13 August 1974, p. 3. PREM 16/20 TNA. 78 Record of meeting at 10 Downing Street at 03.00 pm on Wednesday 14 August 1974, p.3. PREM 16/20 TNA. 79 Ibid. 80 Record of telephone conversation between the Foreign and Commonwealth Secretary and Dr. Henry Kissinger and the President of the United States, at 2.45 pm on Wednesday 14 August 1974, pp. 2, 8. PREM 16/20 TNA. 81 Minutes of meeting of the Washington Special Action Group, 14 August 1974. FRUS, 1969-1976, Vol. XXX, p. 433. 82 Ibid, p. 442, n. 4. 83 Transcript of telephone conversation between Secretary of State Kissinger and Greek Prime Minister Karamanlis, 15 August 1974, pp. 446–7. 84 Callaghan to Phillips, 14 August 1974. DEFE 11/908 TNA; Phillips to Callaghan, 14 August 1974. DEFE 11/ 908 TNA. 85 Acting Chief of Defence Staff to Commander British Forces Near East, Summary of Ministerial Decisions, 14 August 1974, ‘Secret’. DEFE 11/908 TNA. 86 Note of meeting between the Prime Minister and the President of Cyprus at 10 Downing Street on Thursday 15 August 1974 at 11.30 am, pp. 5–6. PREM 16/20 TNA. 87 Wilson to Karamanlis, 17 August 1974, in Κωνσταντίνος Καραμανλής - Αρχείο: Γεγονότα και Κείμενα (‘Constantine Karamanlis – Archive: Events and Texts’), Vol. 8. Athens: Karamanlis Foundation/ Kathimerini, 2005, p. 98. 88 Paper prepared in the Central Intelligence Agency, 29 August 1974. FRUS, 1969-1976, Cyprus, Vol. XXX, p. 87. 89 Hooper to FCO, 16 August 1974. FCO 9/2006 TNA. Quoted in Rizas, Sotiris, ‘Atlanticism and Europeanism in Greek Foreign and Security Policy in the 1970s’. Southeast European and Black Sea

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Studies, Vol. 8, No. 1 (March 2008), pp. 54–6. 90 Record of meeting between the Secretary of State for Foreign and Commonwealth Affairs and the Secretary General of NATO, 15 August 1974, p. 2. PREM 16/20 TNA. 91 Callaghan to Karamanlis, 16 August 1974, pp. 1–2. PREM 16/20 TNA. 92 Telegram from Department of State to Embassy in Turkey, 17 August 1974. FRUS, 1969–1976, Cyprus, Vol. XXX, p. 454. 93 Cavalini, E., ‘The Malvinas/Falklands Affair: A New Look’. International Journal of Intelligence and Counterintelligence, Vol. 2, No. 2, 1988, p. 208. 94 Study prepared by Intelligence Community Staff for Director of Central Intelligence Colby, January 1975. FRUS, 1969-1976, Cyprus, Vol. XXX, p. 581. 95 Ibid., p.583. 96 Orchard to Killick, 16 August 1974. FCO 9/2012 TNA. 97 Memorandum from Director of the Bureau of Intelligence and Research to Secretary of State Kissinger, 21 August 1974. FRUS, 1969-1976, Cyprus, Vol. XXX, p. 464. 98 ‘ Greece and NATO’, UK Embassy (Athens) to FCO, 26 September 1974. FCO 41/1485 TNA. 99 Ibid. 100 Turkey’s attitude to NATO and CENTO, 11 September 1974. FCO 9/2216 TNA. 101 Perceval to Fort, 29 July 1976. FCO 9/2386 TNA. Quoted by Mallinson, William, ‘1976: British Cyprus and the Consolidation of American Desires in the Eastern Mediterranean’. Defensor Pacis, Vol. 21, p. 18. 102 CIO’s brief to the Defence and External Affairs Sub-Committee on Expenditure, 23 November 1975, pp. 1–3. DEFE 68/90 TNA. 103 Ibid, pp. 3–4. 104 Gordon to Hawkins, 19 May 1978. FCO 9/ 2730 TNA. Chapter 8 1

The Assassination of Yusef Sebai and the Egyptian Commando Action at Larnaca Airport, 1 March 1978, pp. 1–4. FCO 9/2730 TNA. 2 Ibid, pp. 8–9.

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3 Diary of events in Nicosia and at Larnaca airport on 18 and 19 February 1978, p. 3. FCO 9/2730 TNA. 4 Ibid, p. 4. 5 Ibid, p. 5. 6 Ibid, p. 6. 7 Ibid, pp. 5–7. 8 Ibid, p. 7. 9 The Assassination of Yusef Sebai and the Egyptian Commando Action at Larnaca Airport, 1 March 1978, pp. 7–8. FCO 9/2730 TNA. 10 Ibid, pp. 4–7; British Embassy (Beirut) to FCO, 27 February 1978. FCO 9/2730 TNA. 11 The Assassination of Yusef Sebain, p. 8. 12 International Terrorism in 1978 – A Research Paper. CIA/National Foreign Assessment Center, March 1979. At http://www.terrorisminfo. mipt.org/pdf/1978PoGT.pdf. Accessed 19 January 2009. 13 Band to Bone, 1 March 1978. FCO 9/2730 TNA. 14 Scott to Tomkyns, 2 March 1978. FCO 9/2730 TNA. 15 The John Bierman Affair, Lockhart to FCO, 27 February 1978. FCO 9/2730 TNA. 16 Morris to FCO, 6 March 1978. FCO 9/2730 TNA. 17 Marden to FCO, 28 February 1978. FCO 9/2730 TNA. 18 Time Magazine, ‘Murder and Massacre on Cyprus’, 9 March 1978. 19 Owen to Gordon, 11 December 1978. FCO 9/2730 TNA. 20 Wakefield to FCO, 1 March 1978, pp. 1–3. FCO 9/2730 TNA. 21 Conclusions of meeting of Cabinet, 23 February 1978, ‘Secret’, p. 1. CAB 128/63/7 TNA. 22 FCO to UK mission (New York), 2 March 1978. FCO 9/2730 TNA. 23 DSB to Short, 14 April 1978. FCO 9/2730 TNA. 24 Huxley to Secretary, Chiefs of Staff Committee, Annual Report: Defence, Military and Air Advisers Nicosia, 31 May 1978, p. 10. FCO 9/2731 TNA. 25 Κωνσταντίνος Καραμανλής- Αρχείο: Γεγονότα και Κείμενα (‘Constantine Karamanlis – Archive: Events and Texts’), Vol. 10. Athens: Karanlis Foundation/Kathimerini, 2005, p. 129. 26 See Kassimeris, George, Europe’s Last Red Terrorists: The Revolutionary Organization 17 November. London: Hurst, 2000. 27 Arab Terrorism in Athens, Dain to Coltman, 12 September 1978. FCO 93/1344 TNA.

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28 Gordon to FCO, 2 March 1978. FCO 9/2730 TNA. 29 Ibid, 5 March 1978. 30 Winchester to Sutherland, 10 March 1978. FCO 9/2730 TNA. 31 Gordon to FCO, 3 March 1978. FCO 9/2730 TNA. 32 Ibid, 9 March 1978. 33 Murder of El Sebai, 2 August 1978. FCO 9/2730 TNA. 34 Brown to FCO, 30 September 1978. FCO 9/2730 TNA. 35 Morris to FCO, 30 December 1978, p. 3. FCO 9/2730 TNA. 36 Brown to Short, 8 June 1978. FCO 9/2730 TNA. 37 Barrington to FCO, 15 December 1978. FCO 9/2730 TNA. 38 Daunt to Fergusson, 5 December 1978. FCO 9/2730 TNA. 39 Ibid. 40 Gordon to FCO, 30 December 1978. FCO 9/2730 TNA. 41 Morris to FCO, 28 December 1978. FCO 9/2730 TNA. 42 Written evidence of Dr Claire Palley, former UK Representative to the UN Sub-Commission on Prevention of Discrimination and Protection of Minorities, and former constitutional consultant to the President of Cyprus, submitted to the House of Commons Foreign Affairs Committee, Cyprus, Second Report, Vol. II, February 2005. London: Stationery Office, p. 127. 43 Haney, Eric L., Inside Delta Force: The Story of America’s Elite Counterterrorist Unit. New York: Random House, 2002, p. 276. 44 Bergman, Ronen, The Secret War with Iran: The 30-Year Clandestine Struggle against the World’s Most Dangerous Terrorist Power. London: Free Press, 2008, pp. 172, 191, 261, 45 Jane’s Intelligence Review, ‘Iran setting up intelligence base in Cyprus’, April 1995. 46 The Times, ‘Concern grows about extent of Cyprus raid as troops find mortar’, 5 August 1986. 47 The Guardian, ‘The base line of security’; ‘Alert at Cyprus bases as Beirut group admits raid’, 5 August 1986; ‘Narrow escape for British children in Cyprus base attack’, 6 August 1986; ‘Arms case man held’, 15 August 1986; The Observer, ‘Reagan’s man calls to rally the allies’, 31 August 1986. 48 Oliver North to John Poindexter, 19 and 20 May 1986. In Blanton, S. Thomas, White House Email: The Top Secret Messages the Reagan/Bush White House Tried to Destroy. New York: New Press, 1995. 49 The New York Times, ‘A car bomb kills 3 PLO officers in Cyprus’, 15

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February 1988. At http://query.nytimes.com/gst/fullpage.html?res=940D E3D61430F936A25751C0A96E948260&sec=&spon=&pagewanted=p rint. Accessed 10 December 2008. 50 Urban, Mark, UK Eyes Alpha: The Inside Story of British Intelligence. London: Faber & Faber, 1996, p. 159. 51 Tuck, Christopher, ‘Greece, Turkey and Arms Control’. Defence Analysis, Vol. 12, No. 1 (1996), p. 28. 52 Truesdell, Amy, ‘Nicosia raises the stakes on Cyprus’. Jane’s Intelligence Review, April 1997, pp. 166–9; Robins, Philip, Turkish Foreign Policy since the Cold War. London: Hurst, 2003, pp. 119, 166. 53 Clerides, Glafkos, Ντοκουμέντα μιας Εποχής, 1993-2003 (‘Evidence of an Era, 1993–2003’). Nicosia: Politeia, 2007, pp. 151–61. 54 Associated Press, ‘British Royal Marines practice amphibious landings in Cyprus ahead of possible Iraqi war’, 29 January 2003. 55 Howden, David, ‘US and Britain offer Cyprus £288m to accept UN plan’. The Independent, 16 April 2004. At http://www.independent. co.uk/news/world/europe/us-and-britain-offer-cyprus-acircpound288m-toaccept-un-plan-560139.html. Accessed 10 October 2008. 56 Burns, John, ‘Britain adds 300 soldiers to support Afghan Force’. The New York Times, 16 December 2008. At http:// www.nytimes.com/2008/12/16/world/europe/16britain.html?_ r=1&partner=rss&emc=rss. Accessed 20 December 2008. 57 House of Commons Foreign Affairs Committee, Cyprus, Second Report, Vol. II, February 2005. London: Stationery Office, p. 104. 58 Marsden, Sam, ‘FCO unveils plan to evacuate all remaining Britons’. The Independent, 19 July 2006. At http://www.independent.co.uk/news/ world/middle-east/fco-unveils-plan-to-evacuate-all-remaining-britons408531.html. Accessed 10 November 2008. 59 Kambas, Michele, ‘Cyprus ditches pound for euro’. The Independent, 1 January 2008; At http://www.independent.co.uk/news/world/europe/ cyprus-ditches-pound-for-euro-767578.html. Accessed 28 November 2008.

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Mallinson, William, Cyprus: A Modern History, London: I.B. Tauris, 2008. Mallinson, William, ‘US interests, British acquiescence and the invasion of Cyprus’ Defensor Pacis, Vol. 16. Mallinson, William, ‘Britain’s Elginism and the evolution of its attitude towards the SBAs: a historical overview’ Defensor Pacis, Vol. 18. Mallinson, William, ‘The year after: Cyprus and the shipwrecking of British sovereignty’ Defensor Pacis, Vol. 18. Mallinson, William, ‘1976: British Cyprus and the consolidation of American desires in the Eastern Mediterranean’ Defensor Pacis, Vol. 21. Marines in Lebanon, 1958, Washington, DC: Marine Corps Historical Branch, 1966. Merrillees, R.S., ‘Australia and Cyprus in the Second World War’ Defence Force Journal: Journal of the Australian Profession of Arms, No. 43 (November/December 1983). McNamara, Robert, ‘Britain, Nasser and the outbreak of the Six Day War’ Journal of Contemporary History, Vol. 35, No. 4 (October 2000). McHenry, James, The Uneasy Partnership on Cyprus, 1919–1939: The Political and Diplomatic Interaction between Great Britain, Turkey, and the Turkish Cypriot Community, London: Garland, 1987. Nicolet, C., ‘The development of US plans for the resolution of the Cyprus conflict in 1964: “the limits of American power” Cold War History, Vol. 3, No. 1 (October 2002). O’Malley, Brendan and Craig, Ian, Η Συνομωσία της Κύπρου- ΗΠΑ, Κατασκοπεία και η Τουρκική Εισβολή (‘The Cyprus Conspiracy: the United States, Espionage and the Turkish Invasion’), Athens: Sideris, 2002. Paloulian, Kyriakos, ‘Οι αεροπορικές eπιχειρήσεις της RAF από την Κύπρο’ (‘RAF air operations from Cyprus’) Polemos kai Istoria, Vol. 79 (December 2004). Papageorgiou, Spiros (ed.), Τα Κρίσιμα Ντοκουμέντα του Κυπριακού (‘The Critical Documents on the Cyprus Issue’), Athens: Ladia, 1983. Rappas, Alexis, ‘The elusive polity: imagining and contesting colonial authority in Cyprus during the 1930s’ Journal of Modern Greek Studies, Vol. 26, No. 2 (October 2008). Richelson, Jeffrey, The US Intelligence Community, Cambridge MA: West-

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view, 2007. Rizas, Sotiris, Ένωση, Διχοτόμηση, Ανεξαρτησία: Οι Ηνωμένες Πολιτείες και η Βρετανία στην αναζήτηση λύσης για το Κυπριακό, 1963–1967 (‘Union, Partition, Independence: the United States and Britain in the Quest for a Solution to the Cyprus Issue, 1963–1967’), Athens: Bibliorama, 2000. Rizas, Sotiris, ‘Atlanticism and Europeanism in Greek foreign and security policy in the 1970s’ Southeast European and Black Sea Studies, Vol. 8, No. 1 (March 2008). Rizas, Sotiris, ‘Managing a conflict between allies: United States policy towards Greece and Turkey in relation to the Aegean dispute, 1974–76’ Cold War History, Vol. 9, No. 1 (2008). Robins, Philip, Turkish Foreign Policy since the Cold War, London: Hurst, 2003. Sheffy, Yigal, ‘British Intelligence and the Middle East, 1900–1918: how much do we know?’ Intelligence and National Security, Vol. 17, No. 1 (March 2002). Siaketano, Uberto, ‘Οι Επιχειρήσεις της Regia Aeronatica πάνω από την Κύπρο’ (‘Regia Aeronatica operations over Cyprus’) Polemos kai Istoria, Vol. 79 (December 2004). Simitis, Costas, Πολιτική για Μια Δημιουργική Ελλάδα, 1996-2004 (‘Policy for a Creative Greece, 1996–2004’), Athens: Polis, 2005. Smith, Michael, New Cloak, Old Dagger: How Britain’s Spies Came in from the Cold, London: Gollancz, 1996. Smith, Michael, The Spying Game: The Secret History of British Espionage, London: Politico, 2003. Stefanidis, Yiannis, Isle of Discord: Nationalism, Imperialism and the Making of the Cyprus Problem, London: Hurst, 1999. Svolopoulos, Constantine, Η Ελληνική Εξωτερική Πολιτική, 1945-1981 (‘Greek Foreign Policy, 1945–1981’), Athens: Estia, 2005. Thompson, Julian, The Royal Marines: From Sea Soldiers to a Special Force, London: Pan Books, 2001. Urban, Mark, UK Eyes Alpha: The Inside Story of British Intelligence, London: Faber & Faber, 1996. Veremis, Thanos and Dimitrakopoulos, Odysseas (eds.) Μελετήματα Γύρω από το Βενιζέλο και την Εποχή του (‘Studies on Venizelos and his Era’),

214

Military Intelligence in Cyprus

Athens: Philipotis, 1980. Vryonis, Speros Jr., The Mechanism of Catastrophe: The Turkish Pogrom of September 6–7, 1955, and the Destruction of the Greek Community in Istanbul, New York: Greekworks, 2005. West, Nigel, The Friends: Britain’s Post-war Secret Intelligence Operations, London: Weidenfeld & Nicolson, 1988. West, Nigel, MI5, 1945–1972: A Matter of Trust, London: Weidenfeld & Nicolson, 1982. Wilson, Harold, Final Term: the Labour Government, 1974–1976, London: Weidenfeld & Nicholson, 1979. Woodhouse, C.M., The Struggle for Greece, 1941–1949, London: Hurst, 2002. Wright, Peter, Spycather: The Candid Autobiography of a Senior Intelligence Officer , New York: Viking, 1987.

Press/Media Associated Press Jane’s Intelligence Review The Independent The New York Times Time The Times To Vima tis Kyriakis Yorkshire Post

Internet Resources http://www.state.gov http://anzacsteel.hobbyvista.com http://www.britains-smallwars.com http://www.terrorisminfo.mipt.org

Index

1st Gloucestershire, 119 2nd Para, 105 3rd Green Jackets, 119 7th Infantry Division, 29 9th Signals Regiment, 112 16th Para Brigade, 119 18th Army Corps, 35 25th Army Corps, 34,36,37,41, 43-4,56 40 Commando, 86,148,171 45 Commando, 86 84 Helicopter Squadron, 116 209 Air Group, 59 1922 Defence Scheme, 19 1923 Treaty of Lausanne, 19 1938 Defence Scheme,22 1960 Treaty (Cyprus Republic), 118, 135,137 1964 Anglo-Maltese Agreement,117 1971 Defence Facilities Agreement,117

Abdul, Rahim, 158 Abwehr, 42 Aden, 107 Amman, 105 Annan, Kofi, 171 Aeronautica Egeo, 26,33 Aeronautica (Regia), 26 Afghanistan, 109, 169,172 Africa, North,17,23,26,28,33,39, 47,56,79,91,172 Afxentiou, Grigoris, 88,93 Aiken, John, 111-12,141,149 Aimery (Lusignan royal house),3 AKEL (Communist Party of Cyprus), 48-54,56-57, 59-60,63-64,6669,76,111,129 Alan-Brooke, Francis, 37-38 Alexander the Great,1 Alexandria,49,13,29,72,124 Ankara,80-81,93,100,108,110,115, 118,120-121,124-25, 127,130, 132-34,136-37,139, 141,144-47,150-53,156-

216

Military Intelligence in Cyprus

57,163,167,171 Anthemius, Archbishop, 1 Appleby, John, 94 Arafat, Yasser, 160,164 Armitage, Robert,79 Army Act, 8 Asquith, Herbert, 16 Athens,12,16,19,21,52,60,7273,76, 81,8485,87,93,100,117,120121,123-26,128-29,131-35, 141-44,153,166,171 Auchinleck, Claud, 27,37 Australian forces, 26-7 Averof-Tositsas, Evangelos, 93, 99-100 Axis,23,25-26,28-31,33-32,34-37, 39-40,42,44-45,47,49,57,59 Balkans,16 Battershill, Sir William, 26,31 Beirut, 68,128,158,160,164,166 ,169 Berengaria, Queen of England, 2-3, 39 Berlin,47,70,154 Bevin, Ernest,60-61 Black Watch, 99 Bragadino, Marcantonio,5 Britten (Lt-Colonel Grenadier Guards), 93 Brownjohn, Nevil, 81 Broz, Josip (Tito),103 Brynmor, John,146

Bulmer, R.,33 Cabinet, 16,22,28-29,80,139,164 Caglayangil, 125 Cairo,4,21,34,42-43,162,164-65, 167-69 Callaghan, James,114,131-33, 135-54,164 Campbell, Arthur, 94 Canberra, 98,106-108,113,117,146 Central Intelligence Agency (CIA),134,139,141,151,15354,163,165 Central Treaty Organisation (CENTO),11417,120,132,169 Chad, Prem,128 Chamberlain, Neville,22 Chamoun, Camille,105 Chiefs of Staff,22,30,40,51,61, 80-81,84,107-8,110-11,11617,125,138,143,146-47,152 Chiefs of Staff Committee, 80,84,111,146 Clauson, John,13-14,16 Clark, Arthur,118 Clerides, Glafkos,23,118,148,171 Colby, William,139,141,151 Colonial Office,8,12,17,19,2-, 22-23,26,31,37,46-47,49, 52,60-62,64,67,69,71-72, 74-78,80,83,86-87,92 Comnenus, Isaac, 2-3 Cominform,66

Index

Committee of Imperial Defence (CID),65,92 Commonwealth Relations office (CRO),107 Constantine I, King of Greece, 16-17,61 Constantinople,1,3,6,81 Crete,26-29,31-34,36,39,117,171 Criminal Investigations Department (CID), 65 Cyprus Intelligence Committee (CIC),75 Cyprus Volunteer Force (CVF),50,60 Cyprus Commando,30,40 Czechoslovakia,124,127,161 Dain, D.J.M.,165 Darling, Kenneth,80,99 Davies, Rodger,153 Davis, Hart,20 Davis, W.W.,81 Defence Intelligence Staff (DIS),140,147 Denktash, Rauf,97,151,164,166,168 D’Estaing, Giscard,138,153 Dill, Sir John,30,40 Dodecanese, 26,32,38-39,71,156 Drakos, Markos,92-93 Duke of Edinburgh,6 EAM/ELAS (National Liberation Front/ National Liberation

217

People’s Army),50,57 Eastern Mediterranean Special Intelligence Bureau (EMSIB),13-15 Eçevit, Bülent, 135 Eden, Anthony,22,28,31,72,80,8384 Egypt,4,8,13,15,20,26,28,39,62,70 , 72-74,110,113,117-120,124, 159-164,166-69 Egyptian Expeditionary Force (EEF),15 Elizabeth II, Queen of the United Kingdom, p.70 Emperor Zeno,1 Erkin,118 Euro,172 Falklands,154 Famagusta,3-5,12,14,18,21,24, 26-27,29-30,33,36,40,48, 50-51,55-56,62, 67-68,90,112,136,141,143, 148,152,154 Fletcher, H.Thomas (Lord Winster),63 Ford, Gerald,149,151 Foreign and Commonwealth Office (FCO),113-14,128,130,132, 136-139,142, 145,148,150,152, 156,163,165,167-68 Foreign Office,1,16-17,2223,60,69,71,80-81,94,98,

218

Military Intelligence in Cyprus

106-7,118,120 France,11,17,25,61,172 Genoa,4 German invasion,23,26,28,30, 32-33,35-37,39-45,57 German propaganda,24-25 Gibraltar,1,22,109,116-17 Gledhill, L.,33 Government Communications Headquarters (GCHQ),170 Greece,5,7,12,15-18,23,26-27, 32-33,38-40,47,49-50, 52-53,55-57,59-62,67,69, 71-73,76,82,86-87,94,96,98, 101,109-110,118-120,122126, 128-130,132,135,137, 141-42,147,151-154, 156-157,159,165-66,169,171 Greek-Cypriots,5,9,14,16,2021,23,32-33,6364,69,72,74,85,87,91-92, 96-97,100-101,104, 117-120,126,128,135,138, 142-143,152,157-58,164, 168-69,171 Greek-Turkish War (1919-1922),71 Grey, Edward,16 Günes,142,150-51 Guinness, W.E.,31 Gurkha Rifles,148 Hannay, Lord Richard,171

Hartman, Arthur,149-49 Hercules transport,110,113,116,141 Hezbollah,169 Hill, Sir George,5 Hitler, Adolf,22,32,34,151 HMS Andromeda,140,143 HMS Attacker,59 HMS Brighton,148 HMS Bulwark,172 HMS Comet,76 HMS Devonshire,140 HMS Gloucester,119,172 HMS Hermes,110,140,147-48 HMS Hunter,59 HMS Himalaya,6 HMS Khedive,59 HMS London,20 HMS Onslaught,148 HMS Pursuer,59 HMS Rhyl,140 HMS Searcher,59 HMS Stalker,59 HMS Shropshire,20 HMS Victorious,110 Hooper, Robin,144-45,152 Hong Kong,100 Hopkinson, Henry,74 House of Commons,74,135,172 Ierax (warship),18-19 India,6,27,37,50,55-56,70,72,106107,109,112 Inönü, Ismet,120-22

Index

Inter-service Liaison Department (ISLD),35 Ioannidis, Dimitrios,128,130,134,143,154-55 Iran,1,105-113,115,157,169-70 Iraq,47,76,105,107,109,16667,170-72 Israel,62,73,106,11213,158,164,166,169-70 Jamaica,50 Joint Intelligence Committee (JIC),126,138-39,159 Joint Intelligence Sub-Committee,29-30 Joint Planning Staff,28,60 Johnson, Lyndon,119-125,141 Johnson, W.C.,65,70 Karamanlis, Constantine,93,137,143-46,15253,165 Kayee, M.M.,94 Kell, Vernon,16 KGB,142 Khruschev, Nikita,119 King Richard I of England,2,4 Kiko, 8,87 Kissinger, Henry,115,132,139143,149-151,153-54 King Hussein of Jordan,105 Kithener, Lord,8,16,20 Killick, John,132,146 Koçatepe (warship),143,145

219

Kriegsmarine,30 Kuwait,105,107,110,159,171 KYP (Central Intelligence Service, Greece),101-2,133-134 Kyprianos (Archbishop),5 Kyprianou, Speros,160-69 Kyrou, Alexandros,20-21 Labouisse, Henry,124 Lang, R.H.,7 Larnaca,12,21,29,33,35,5053,68,88,90,136,159160,164-165,168,170 Leeper, Reginald,60 Lemnitzer, Lyman,121 Lennox-Boyd, Allan,76 Lepanto,5 Libya,160,163,169-170 Liddell, Hart,34 Lloyd-George, David,12,17-18 Lloyd, Thomas,74 London, 6-7,11-13,16,19-21,30, 32,47-48,50,61-62,69,73 -74, 77,81,83-85,91, 98101,105-107,109,112120,123,129,131-135,139143,145-146,151,153, 155-56,158,164-65,167,171 Luftwaffe,23,33 Luns, Joseph,153 Lyssarides, Vassos,159-163,167 MacDonald, A.M.,74-77,84-85,87 Makarios II (Archbishop),66

220

Military Intelligence in Cyprus

Makarios III (Archbishop/ President),69,71-73,7677,85-88,91,94,99102,110-11,117-121,12332,134-36,143,152,154-55 Malta,1,62,109-110,113,11617,131-32,146 Mao Tse-tung,103 Marshall, George,71 Mason, Roy,138,140 Mayne JF.,113 Mayne, Mosley,34,36 Mavros, Georgios,147,152 Meaux Chronicle,4 Mediterranean,1,4-6,8,11217,22-23,28-29,47,61,7980,83,109-110,112-12,11517,120,153,155-56,166,170,172 Menzies, Robert Gordon,27 MI5 (Security Service),13,16,64,74-77,100 MI6 (Secret Intelligence Service),77,101-102 Michalakopoulos, Andreas,21 Middle East,1,3,12,20,27-28,6061,63,73,105,109 Middle East HQs (Cyprus),29,34,37,39,4647,59,62-63,77,80 Middle East, Security Intelligence (SIME),76,81,86 Midlink,111 Military Cross,69 Ministry of Defence (MoD),72,80-

84,107-108,113,115,161, 132,135,138-39,142,14448,151,154,165 Ministry of Foreign Affairs (Greece),146 Mount Olympus (Cyprus),112 Mount Troodos (Cyprus),2122,30,36,40,43,86,88 Mussolini, Benito,22,99,112,140 Nash,Daniel,94 Nasser, Gamal Abdel,70,73,87,110 National Security Agency (NSA),171 Nejat,111 Nicosia,5,12-13,20-22,26,29,3233, Nixon, Richard,109,132,151 Noel-Baker, Philip,91 North Atlantic Treaty Organisation (NATO),70-71,102,1056,109-113,116-17,12023,132,140,142,145,14748,151-54,156,169 Northern Ireland,8,25,135-36 Nuclear weapons,107,110-112, 115-16 Operation Attila I,II,140,149 Operation Black Mac,92 Operation Blue Bat,105 Operation Foxhunter,87 Operation Ottershaw,111 Operation Outing I, II,59

Index

Operation Loud Hail,97 Operation Lucky Alphonse,88-89 Operation Lucky Mac,88 Operation Mare’s Nest,99 Operation Nickel Grass,113 Operation Pepperpot,87 Operation Sky Shout,97 Operation Sparrowhawk I,II,88 Operation Sunshine,99-100 Operation Vantage,105 Organisation of Petroleum Exporting Countries (OPEC),106 Ottoman Empire,4,8,62 Pakistan,105-109,115,157 Palmer, Herbert Richmond,21 Palestine,3-4,19,21-22,33,50,5556,61-62,70,74 Palestinian Liberation Organisation (PLO),170 Papadopoulos, Leuteris,130 Papadopoulos, Tassos,129 Papagos, Alexander,72 Papandreou, Andreas,123,146 Papandreou, Georgios,55,119120,123-125 Paphos,5,21,26,29,34-35,45,49,90 Patricia, Princess,23 Phillips, Horace,115,145 Plastiras, Nikolaos,71 Pearl Harbour,133 Pentagon (US),102,125 Polaris,107 Police Tactical Reserve,126,130-31

221

Prince of Battenberg,12 Qadhafi, Muamar,149,169 Ramsbotham, Peter,115,150 Ramsden, William,35 Rhodes,29,38,123,156 Royal Air Force (RAF),20-23,3334,36,38,47,51,59,6364,66,68,75,82,91,97-98,102,105,107109,111-113,115-17,139,144-46,148,151 Royal Corps of Transport,148 Royal Institute of International Affairs,32 Royal Engineers,34,51 Royal Marines,20,80,140,148,171 Royal Welsh Fusiliers,21 Rusk, Dean,120,125 Russia,1,6,11,28,48,5052,55,62,66-68,70,105106,108-110,115,117,119,12 4,132,139-141,146,153,158159,169,171 Sadat, Anuar,159-160,162-64,16669 Salamis,12,33,84 Sampson, Nikos,96,131-32,13435,139,148 Saltik,114 Seamew,84 Security Liaison Officer (SLO),78 Servas, Ploutis,48-49,53-55,60,68 Shah,107-109,111-14,169

222

Military Intelligence in Cyprus

Shahbaz,111 Schlesinger, James,113 Schmidt, Helmut,153 St. Varnavas,1 Sophocleous, Neophytos,91 Sovereign Bases Areas (SBAs),110115,119-20,132,136,13842,145,147-49,15152,154,158,169-72 Soviet Navy,110,113,115 Special Branch,64,74-77,83-85,8792,94-96,99,100-101 Special Operations Executive (SOE),31,35,39-57 Stavridis, Sir John,12, Stevenson, Malcolm,19 Storrs, Ronald,20-21 Student, Kurt,34 Sturmgewehr, MP43,82 Swinton, Viscount,22 Sykes-Picot,17 Syria,17,19,23,26,28-29,33-34,3940,62,105,110,113,15859,161,163 Tasca, Henry,131,134 Tsoumis, Georgios,133-34,152 Turkey,5-8,13-14,19,22,28,32,3637,40,49,61-62,71-72,81, 98,101-102,105,107110,115,120-23,12728,132,135-39,141-43,149150,153,156-57,169,171 Turkish-Cypriots,8-9,14-15,17-

18,21,23,41,45,49,61,64 ,74,76-77,80,91,97,100102,117-123,125-133,13637,140,142-43,151,157,16667,171 Turnbull, R.E.,56 U-2 spy plane,110,115 United Nations Force in Cyprus (UNFICYP),110,120,12627,149 United Nations General Assemnly,77 United Nations Security Council Resolutions, 123,142,147, 151-53 United States Air Force (USAF),110,112,124,169 Vance, Cyrus,125 V-bomber,107 Veniamin,159 Venice,4 Venizelos, Eleutherios,12,1618,21,71 Vickers VIA,27 Vickers Victoria,21 Vienna,12 Volcan,80 Von Clausewitz,Carl,104 Vulcan,107,110-11,113,116,141 Walter of Guisborough,4 Waldheim, Kurt,163

Index

War Office, 8-9,11-12,1718,23,25,39-40,51,62-63 Warburton, Anne,150-51 Wavell, Archibald,26 Wehrmacht,26,39,59 Wheeler, Gilmore Earle,125 Wilson, Harold,113,131,133138,140-41,143-44,146149,151-52,154 Winchester,I.S.,167 Woolley, Charles,24,37,56,59-60 Wolseley, Sir Garnet,6-8 Wright, A.B.,20,69 Xeros,26 Zaimis, Alexander,16

223

A RAF Vickers Victoria flying over Larnaca during the October 1931 revolt; HMS London is seen off the coast. Courtesy of IWM.

Major General Mosley Mayne CB, DSO commander of the 25th Army Corps. Courtesy of IWM.

Unloading war materiel in Famagusta port (1943). Courtesy of IWM.

Major General Ramsden commander of the 18th Army Corps (on the left) with his staff during paratroop mopping up exercises at Kondea (23 September 1941). Courtesy of IWM.

Governor Sir William Battershill takes a peep through the sights of an anti-tank gun during an inspection on 21 May 1941. Courtesy of IWM.

At Kondea, Green Howards on a high ridge spraying the enemy with Bren gun and rifle fire at an exercise (23 September 1941); Courtesy of IWM.

A Bren carrier of the Green Howards in exercises in Kondea, September 1941; Courtesy of IWM.

Hurricanes based on Cyprus ready to take off for a patrol. Courtesy of IWM.

Paratroopers mopping up exercises at Kondea; motorized infantry of 150th Brigade of the Green Howards (23 September 1941). Courtesy of IWM.

Prime Minister Anthony Eden. Courtesy of IWM.

Field Marshall Sir John Harding. Courtesy of IWM.

EOKA fighters holding assault rifles amongst else one WWII German Sturmgewehr 43 machine gun. Courtesy of IWM.

Prime Minister Harold Macmillan. Courtesy of IWM.

Archbishop Makarios leaves his car at RAF Luqa airport, Malta, prior to boarding an RAF Comet bound for London, 17 July 1974. Courtesy of IWM.

A Fusiliers lieutenant consulting with two Turkish lieutenants at a checkpoint at the Dhekelia SBA (16 August 1974 midday). London would not let Turkish

troops hunt Greek-Cypriots within the bases; almost the same hour Greek troops drove to Famagusta via another road within the Dhekelia SBA. Courtesy of MajorGeneral (ret.) Georgios Tsoumis.

A Gurkhas rifleman at the checkpoint of the Dhekelia SBA (16 August 1974). Courtesy of Major-General (ret.) Georgios Tsoumis.

A Fusilier checking a Turkish jeep at a checkpoint at the Dhekelia SBA (16 August 1974). Courtesy of MajorGeneral (ret.) Georgios Tsoumis.

A Scimitar reconnaissance vehicle at an outpost of the Dhekelia SBA (16 August 1974). Courtesy of MajorGeneral (ret.) Georgios Tsoumis.

Fusiliers at an outpost of the Dhekelia SBA (16 August 1974), Courtesy of Major-General (ret.) Georgios Tsoumis.