An Cosantóir

www.military.ie the defence forces magazine | 21 six months but that is what was expected. On the last day of my shift rotation, I went down to the Junior Ranks mess for a little R&R, where I indulged too much but thought: "No problem, I can sleep in late tomorrow." I left the mess about 2:00am, stumbled up to my room and passed out, only for the Duty Sergeant to arrive around 4:00am banging on every- one's doors and telling us to put on our flak jackets and helmets and get downstairs. When we got to the foyer of the Ledra Palace, where we were staying, we were issued with live rounds, which my sleep-deprived brain told me was not a good thing. A patrol had been caught in a crossfire and an officer had been sent down to get our people out. We were told in no uncertain terms that if the negotiations failed we would be going out to ex- tract the patrol. I remember being so tired as I listened to the sergeant, leaning against a wall so I wouldn't fall over, and hoping we would not have to go out. We waited for three hours in full web gear and flak jackets until the word came down that our guys were safe. I had a few close calls dur- ing that six-month period. At one point I had been tasked with going out on a roving night patrol consist- ing of a Canadian sergeant, a Canadian private (me) and a Turkish liaison officer. I, being the low man on the totem pole, got to carry the radio on my back. It was my duty to monitor the radio on my headphones and keep our base informed of our whereabouts. The purpose of the patrol was to inspect behind the Turkish lines to ensure that agreements were being honoured. It was early in the morning and we had been walking for a while, checking positions. With the headphones on I could hear a voice but couldn't distinguish what it was saying and thought it was my sergeant talking to the Turkish officer so I kept walking. Once again I heard a voice and, this time I realised it wasn't speak- ing English. I also heard another sound that made me stop in my tracks; the sound of a weapon being cocked. I looked to my left and then my right but nobody was there. Then I looked behind and approximately five feet back stood my sergeant with the Turkish officer who spoke to the figure in the darkness. Nothing happened. Our Turkish LO then slowly walked forward; a brave man to approach a startled soldier who had no idea who he was. Although the night was quite dark, I strained my eyes until I finally could make out a tall Turkish soldier standing with a gun aimed at my midsection. A quick move on my part and it would have been all over for me and for the other two as well. These kinds of communications breakdowns were common between all sides during our tour. Another day, while on patrol by myself, I noticed a pack of hun- gry looking dogs on my left. We had been warned in Canada that all dogs in Cyprus were diseased and were to be "disposed of" so I put a round in the chamber of my rifle and removed the safety, which was strictly against regulations. I finally arrived at the Greek checkpoint, which was manned by three Greek Cypriot soldiers, unshaven, untrained, undisci- plined, and heavily armed with AK 47s and other weapons. None spoke English and I did not speak Greek. I was calling our base camp to give them my SITREP when one of the Greeks touched my radio. Bad move! It was not like they had never seen a radio before. Then, one of his buddies perpetrated a cardinal sin; he touched my rifle! I motioned to the one who had touched my rifle to come close. Apprehensively he moved forward. I started to pull back the action of my rifle, just so he could see the brass colour of the cartridge. Now he knew it was loaded and ready. I pointed to the bullet with my finger and then I tapped him on the forehead. Some gestures are universally understood. I could see the fear in his eyes and all three moved away from me. I turned around and walked back to camp. Soon our six-month tasking was over. It had been exhausting but the days went by fast. The time spent peacekeeping in Cy- prus was an eye-opener for me and cer tainly changed my perspective of the world and life in general. Frank is the author and self-publisher of '1972-1979 A Canadian Soldier at Peace' (ISBN: 978-1-927371-55-8), it is available digitally for $1.99 through Smashwords, hard copy visit www.artistsreids.ca or directly from frankwreid57@yahoo.com. M-113 APC from Canadian Contingent at OP BRAVO ONE shortly after the cease-fire was restored, on 16th August 1974. © UN Photo/ Yutaka Nagata A view of an OP, manned by members of the Canadian contingent and of the Turkish Force, as seen from the gun turret of a Canadian Lynx armoured vehicle in 1974. © UN Photo/Yutaka Nagata An M-113 APC with 106mm recoilless anti-tank gun of the 2nd Command Group of the Canadian Contingent on security patrol at the UN controlled Nicosia airport. Left is a destroyed Cyprus Airway's trident, on runway 14 in 1974. © UN Photo/Yutaka Nagata

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