The assassinations of police officers, both on and off duty, were so intense that after only six months the skeptics about the movement were saying ‘We are EOKA, too.’ By the summer of 1955, the EOKA campaign was attracting worldwide attention.

Britain turned to another country with a stake in Cyprus – Turkey. Approximately twenty percent of the Cypriot populace was Turkish. This minority’s safety worried Turkey, as well as seeing the situation slipping out of British hands. The Greek police were giving EOKA British anti-terrorist plans. The Greek customs officers were allowing arms to be smuggled in for EOKA. Turkey became the British ally with a special Turkish police force to combat EOKA.

Britain brought in their top soldier. Field Marshall Sir John Harding, Chief of the General Staff, and made him the Governor of Cyprus. Makarious liked Harding at first, and after a number of amicable meetings he made an offer to drop his claims for Enosis, if Harding managed to achieve assurances from the Government to grant Cyprus self-determination in the near future.

Harding flew back to meet the cabinet and returned with a carefully worded document, which became known as 'the double negative'. This was presented to Makarious on the 21st November 1955. It read:

"It is not our position that the principle of self-determination can never be applicable to Cyprus. It is our position that it is not now a practical proposition, on account of the present situation in the Eastern Mediterranean. This meant self-determination not never, but not now."

Makarios rejected the document. Nicos Kranidiotis, his political secretary at the time, said to Makarios, “Your worship, I am confused, you have managed to make the British give you the assurances you wanted for future self-determination, which will let us all embrace Enosis, and you reject the document. Why?”

“Nicos, we have what we wanted, this we keep in our pocket and make it better.”

EOKA stepped up it’s campaign of violence, and Harding prepared to go to war against the movement for the first time, deciding politics had run their course.

After eight weeks, at Makarios’s request, the two parties met yet again. John Reddaway, Political Advisor to the Governor, said of this meeting that Harding made an impassioned plea to the Archbishop to lead his people away from violence.

Makarios replied, “Field Marshall, I cannot lead my people where they do not want to go.”

“A bloody funny kind of leadership, to my way of thinking.” Harding snapped.

Reddaway had to agree.

Makarios asked for time to meet his council, and he also met Grivas at Kykko Monastery. Grivas didn’t trust the British, but agreed to a ceasefire if Makarios called for it. He also demanded the British give amnesty to his men, security against future arrest for them and compensation for any of his their properties lost or destroyed during the campaign.

Makarious met Harding again and said he would denounce violence if Harding would give him more concessions, including the points made by Grivas. Harding was tired and worn out with these futile, never-ending bargaining sessions with Makarios and decided talks were at a deadlock. Therefore, he asked Alan Lenox Boyd, Colonial Secretary, to talk to the archbishop. Lenox Boyd however, thought the offers made by Harding were enough to impress the World and the House of Commons.

A report at the time from Makarios’ political advisor said the Colonial Secretary told Makarios, “I have not come to negotiate. This you have done with the Governor, and you can take or leave the proposals already made by the Field Marshall.”

Makarios wanted to talk about the extra points and said he could not accept what was already on the table as final.

Lenox Boyd stood up, closed his files, and said, “Archbishop, God save your people.”

Then he left.

Makarios had held out too long. All British offers about Enosis and self-determination were withdrawn, and Harding decided to inflict a military defeat on EOKA. To do this, he told Lenox Boyd he needed Makarios out of the way. Makarios went to Nicosia airport to fly to Athens to discuss his next moves. The British had other ideas. Instead of Athens, he was flown 3,500 miles to the Seychelles Islands, into indefinite exile, with no chance of external communication. He had screwed himself completely.

Mac still thinks that Makarios being forced into exile is one of, if not the most amusing, dim-witted examples of British idiocy he has ever witnessed. Mac can still recall the images of when Makarios' aircraft was taxied down the runway. Six Land Rovers bristling with machine guns and camouflaged soldiers drove down the runway with it. When these ‘shock’ troops arrived back at the terminal, Mac asked the Royal West Kent Lieutenant in charge about what had been the purpose of this dynamic show of arms.

The lieutenant told Mac, “To prevent any sick person ambushing him as he took off.”

“But nobody knew he was going, including himself.” Mac replied, astonished.

“Ah, there you go, nudge, nudge, wink, wink,” was his brainless reply, tapping at the side of his nose.

From this moment on, Harding went all out to defeat EOKA and play them at their own game. It had to have been difficult for EOKA; the British had better resources, more manpower, and very experienced anti-terrorist operatives. The British had the choice of target and could hit first without warning. There was no doubt about the outcome in the mountains. In the streets and towns, it would be more difficult for the British, because the local populace was with EOKA. Mac knew that whether it was through fear or loyalty, it did not matter; they were still on the other side. Casualties were unavoidable on both sides. The mountain gangs were effectively destroyed, but the Greeks had shown the will to continue the fight.

Harding’s forces were now in command of the situation, but no new leaders came forward to speak for the Greek community at any conference or negotiating table. By early 1957, events in the Middle East again influenced the British attitude towards Cyprus. British, French, and Israeli attacks on Egypt to retake the Suez Canal in November 1956 had ended in disaster, with American and World intervention and condemnation, forcing Sir Anthony Eden, the then British Prime Minister, to resign.

Mark Hudson recalled that some said Eden's resignation was due to ill health, but everybody knew the real reason. Eden’s successor, McMillan, thought that the British would save a tremendous amount of money in maintenance and administrative costs if Cyprus was given independence or self-determination keeping the Sovereign Bases for Britain, in the form of secure airfields and Army garrisons, in order to keep British commitments in the region secure. Having no Greek executive with whom to negotiate, McMillan released Makarious from exile, but forbade him to set foot in Cyprus.

Makarious arrived to rapturous acclaim and support in Athens on the 17th of April 1957. This release infuriated the Turkish, who believed Britain was going soft and was considering a withdrawal from the island, leaving the Turkish minority to their fate, especially after all the support they had given Britain during the troubles with EOKA.

Lenox Boyd again visited Ankara and suggested there was a way to protect Turkish interests – partition the island. Orhan Eralp, the Turkish Foreign Ministry official, agreed wholeheartedly – ‘Partition or Death’ became the Turkish slogan seen on posters and sheets hanging from nearly every house and street corner. Looking back, Mac recalls that many of these people themselves died fighting.

Makarious refused to negotiate with McMillan if Turkey and partition was on the agenda. As a solution, McMillan, attempting to break the frustrating deadlock, appointed a new Governor – not a military man, but a conciliator, known to be a friend of the Greeks. Sir Hugh Foot was the man selected, later to become Lord Caradon.

Mac remembers Sir Hugh riding around the island on horseback with his highly polished black riding boots, white riding trousers, black riding jacket, and cravat, visiting the villages in the hills. He talked to the people in the village and town squares, had vino in the taverns, generally trying hard to do a good job to solve the problems. Unfortunately, with the Greeks having such a large majority of the populace, four times greater than the Turks, it seemed to some Turkish die-hards that the Greeks were being given favourable treatment and trouble was brewing up in a terrible fashion. Civil War was about to break out.

On the fateful day of the 7th June 1958, this disturbed but reasonably peaceful period erupted into violence. An explosion at the information bureau in the Turkish Consulate was the trigger, and all that the volatile situation needed to set off the resulting chaos. Large crowds of Turkish youths were already protesting outside the Consulate when the explosion occurred and blamed the Greeks for the outrage and swore vengeance.

This incident started a night of riots in Nicosia with Turks looting Greek shops and houses, and beating up, sometimes killing, any Greeks they came across. Soon EOKA retaliated with a counter attack. The fighting rapidly spread all around the island, even into the small villages where Greeks and Turks had always been friendly neighbours working to bring in each harvest, building together communal houses and barns. Now they were bitter enemies and killing each other.

British soldiers built barricades to try to keep the warring factors apart. Some terrible atrocities took place. One such case was at a small, predominantly Turkish village called Guenyeli, and here the small Turkish community hung the eight Greek inhabitants from the village on trees, lining the road into the Kyrenia area.

Mac's troops approached the village in a Land Rover and trailer draped with Union Jacks and loaded to the brim with ten man compo food packs, jerricans of paraffin, water, and first aid kits to help out anyone they found in need. A huge barricade completely blocked the road, but not a soul in sight to confront Mark Hudson and his men.

In this particular case, it cost two boxes of food, and one can each of paraffin and water for the Turks to allow passage beyond the barricade and to cut the bodies down. After radioing 23 Para Field Ambulance to come and collect the bodies, Mac and his men moved on to try to help others under siege.

Lo and behold, on their return, just twenty-four hours later, the bodies were hanging from the trees again; a unit of the ambulance was being held at bay. The Turks wanted one box of food for each body. Mac knew they had none left, having given all the food to those in need. At this point one had no choice but to threaten and, if necessary, use force to achieve the aim. Such was the soldier’s thankless task at this terrible time. Against this background, McMillan and Foot tried to launch a new initiative to establish some peace and calm and stop the bloodshed. McMillan offered to share the Government of Cyprus with Greece and Turkey. The Greeks rejected this idea. No way could they share a piece of their land, as they saw Cyprus being, with the Turks.

Makarious also called the church out to preach to the public against the plan. McMillan told the Greeks that the plan would be imposed in two months time, unless they compromised. Foot backed this up with a very strong speech, telling the Greeks the plan would go ahead and the Greeks had better accommodate themselves or they would be left out of everything in the future.

Desperation forced Makarious to call for help from his friends. Barbara Castle and the Labour party had promised Enosis if they ever were to come to power. When they met in Athens, she brought him bad news, saying Labour would not back the McMillan plan unless he compromised. He did and offered to accept the status of ‘Independence for Cyprus’, if Cyprus should not be linked with either Greece or Turkey. In other words, rule out partition, and rule out Enosis. Cyprus should become an Independent State, whose position was protected and guaranteed by the United Nations. This offered an acceptable way out of the deadlock.

Greece was astonished when they heard of these proposals, and Evangelos Averoff, the Greek Foreign Minister, expressed disbelief that Makarious could make these statements to Castle without informing or discussing them with Greece. Grivas was also amazed and angered with this turn of events and tried to force an untenable situation on the British by ordering his execution squads to ‘strike at will against all British targets, service and civilian alike’.

It was in Famagusta, Mac remembers, where what was called ‘the most brutal outrage of all outrages’ took place. The wives of two British servicemen were shot in the back and killed. One was the mother of five children.

This terrible, senseless, uncalled for murder sparked a wave of revenge attacks on Greeks by British troops all over the island, not just in the Famagusta area. Royal Ulster Rifles in the Famagusta region put dozens of Greeks into hospitals with severe head injuries on the same day the women were shot. Also, there were numerous cars and properties destroyed whilst conducting the search for the killers. It was truly a terrible time.

World opinion was so outraged at these murders that ‘Iron Man’ Grivas denied responsibility, but continued the killing of British servicemen at an increased rate. The situation seemed to be rapidly deteriorating, until November 1958, when a development at the United Nations took the matter out of British hands.

Greek Foreign Minister Averoff proposed independence for Cyprus, his purpose being to defeat the McMillan plan. Turkish Foreign Minister Zorlu proposed to back the McMillan plan. As usual, the two sides disagreed. The Greeks lost the debate, and then Mac recalls that a strange thing happened. Outside the debating chamber, Zorlu told Averoff that the Turks would support Cyprus Independence, if guarantees could be given to protect the Turkish minority on the Island.

Over the next few weeks, they worked out their plans, a deal was struck, and two months later, their respective Prime Ministers signed the agreement in Zurich.

Averoff and Zorlu flew to Britain for talks on their joint proposals with the British Foreign Secretary Selwyn Lloyd. He was delighted with their initiative and the outcome and, as Mac remarked, who could blame him?

The plan meant Britain could escape from the debacle and political traumas of Cyprus yet retain two large military bases in Sovereign Base Areas. Mac understood, it meant security and saving face with a tremendous reduction in costs, both in finance and loss of life.

Greek and Turkish Cypriot leaders were invited to London to meet all the parties involved at Lancaster House, and sign the agreements made in the meetings in Zurich. These agreements could not be changed, so the signing in London, basically, was a ceremony for the World to see.

Makarious attempted to make amendments to the document, much to the annoyance and chagrin of the other members involved. This caused Konstantinos Karamanlis, the Greek Prime Minster, to fly to London and order Makarious to sign. After a one-day delay, Makarious signed, because war or peace in Cyprus depended on his signature, and he wasn’t sure, nor did he have time to find out if the people on the island would support him if he didn’t sign.

Grivas, under an independent Cyprus, dared not clash with Makarious as the new President. Grivas ordered his men to lay down their arms, and he returned to Greece, although he did return later to plague Makarious.

Makarious moved into Government House in Nicosia, and, as the new President, endeavoured to repair the damaged relationship with the Turkish Cypriot leader, Rauf Denktash. Rauf made many demands, as per the Zurich agreement, on which the President promised to take action, but delayed, time-and-time again, in the typical Makarious fashion.

One day, Rauf, during the fighting in 1963, said to Mac, “I can see well now why John Harding deported the bastard. He’s the most infuriating, insincere, two-faced backstabbing liar I’ve ever had the misfortune to meet.”

To which Mac whole-heartedly agreed.

Mac also recalled Makarious was deported, and a bomb attack had been made on the life of Harding, Harding immediately implemented plans to limit the freedom of movement of EOKA. There was the introduction of strict curfews, no go killing areas, fines for the whole village, internment without trial, protection packages for informers, as well as the death penalty introduced for carrying arms, thus giving interrogator power to barter life for information. In addition to this, there were severe jail sentences for harbouring or shielding partisans, covert watch, report and kill OPS (Observation Posts), overt military watch towers and garrisons to isolate whole villages, and many more measures, some of which worked, to a large degree.

One of the biggest factors that did eventually lead to the military defeat of EOKA was the undercover intelligence gathering and ‘eliminations’ by the Special Forces.

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Deportation of Makarios in March 1956 pushed EOKA into its most audacious attack to date – the attempted assassinations of Sir John and Lady Harding.

A young waiter at Government House smuggled a bomb past the House security by holding it next to his body within a woman’s corset. The young man, Neophytes Sophocleos, worked at the House during 1955-1956, so he was well aware of guard changes and procedures. He was very well known himself, and he knew the house layout in detail.

Going straight to the Governor’s bedroom, he placed the bomb under the mattress of the Governor’s bed, and next to Lady Harding’s bed, which was about one foot away. The idea was to kill them both.

Mac always rose from bed late in the morning. He had only just got up when he noticed that nobody had done the bed, room, or indeed anything else. A soldier came in and opened the doors, and told Mac that there was a bomb in his Excellency's bed.

Mac went across to investigate, and found an unidentifiable object near the bed. Mac had never seen a bomb before, and he reached out and nearly touched this entity with his fingers.

Mac spoke aloud, but to no one in particular, "It must be a dud. It's been here all night, right?"

Mac watched while a young Officer, whom Mac reflects back on being very brave, put the bomb on a shovel and walked right through the House, which was quite extensive, and put the bomb in a sandbag pit. When the clock struck twelve o’clock, about three minutes after this brave, young man had put the bomb in the pit, there was the most sickening explosion that blew all the windows out of that side of the house.

The feeling Mac had, upon the unfolding of these events, was quite indescribable, especially after he realized he had almost touched that 'thing' and what might have happened.

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Sophocleos became a most wanted man, escaping to the Troodos Mountains and working with a mountain gang under the command of Colonel Grivas. He later organised executions of informers, and told Mac that, at an execution, nobody spoke to the victim, just shot him in the head, no explanation, no signs, nothing. “If you are an informer, you die.”

This man was correct in his attitude; war was not a pleasant occupation. If one had to be in it, Mac knew one should always win.

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After the house bomb, the anti-terrorist campaign took on a new pattern. Large areas became no-go killing areas. At one stage, the Gordon Highlanders, some Cameronians, and the Parachute Regiment combed four hundred square miles of mountain shrub and forest in the Southwest of the Island, acting on information sent back by an undercover covert OP, who had observed strong mountain gang presence in that area.

Unfortunately, because this was a sealed off killing area, large mortar barrages were fired into the valleys at the same time as the slopes were raked by machine gun fire. One of these barrages started a fire in the valley floor, when a curie, a type of whirlwind, picked up the fire and carried it like an express train across the treetops on one side of the valley. These flash fires move so fast, if caught in its path, it could not be outrun.

This is what happened to the Highlanders in this case. The flash fire raced across the treetops, and fell like blistering, burning ash on the men below. Over twenty men died. Mac and his men could not penetrate the area for a long time, because charcoal type burning ash ten to twelve inches deep covered the floor and burnt the boots off their feet, and the heat scorched the air from their lungs.

When Mac's group did finally manage to enter the area, they found very little.

Mark Hudson distinctly recalls an example of the type of heat involved. On what was once a mountain track, Mac and his troops found a Land Rover, but all that was left looked something like a molten gearbox and engine- there was nothing else.

Covert OPs were also caught in the path of this flash fire and the four-man crew all perished. Upon reaching the OPs after the fire, all Mac found of the two off-duty men in the lay up point were the molten metal parts of their weapons and equipment. In the underground scrape for the on-duty men, Mac found the men and equipment intact, but dead.

Mac was told afterward that their death was due to hot air damaging the lung tissue, making it secrete fluid, and eventually the victims drowned with hot water in their lungs. After this incident, the mountain OPs carried respirators with oxygen fittings, fireproof oxygen bottles, and asbestos fireproof suits.

Mac remembers that they also ensured future Lay Up Positions had cover from flash fire direct heat and ash fall. Sadly, Mac reminisces that if they had only calculated the problem of flash fire before, these men might have survived.

The purpose of these area tactics was to kill Grivas and his men. On this operation, one patrol stumbled across Grivas bathing in a mountain stream. The soldier who came across him was so shocked, he allowed Grivas to escape. Seven of his men were captured, some with £5000 on their heads. The Operations men were dead, but their information paid off in the end.

Grivas managed to escape to a cellar under the kitchen sink in a house on the outskirts of Limassol in the south part of the island. Not even his area commander knew where he was located. Incredibly, Grivas conducted operations and sent out orders to his execution squads from this cellar for two and a half years. One of these executions killed two and seriously injured a third RAF man in Metaxas Square in Nicosia. They executors were in civilian clothes and shot from behind. An undercover OP team saw the shooting by one man, and on the follow-up, arrested a young terrorist called Nicos Kochs, still in possession of a .38 revolver.

During interrogation, Mac reported that Kochs said, “I have fulfilled my oath, and now I’m not afraid to die.”

To which Mac replied, “Would your mind be any easier if you had not shot the victims in the back?”

“We cannot win our struggle if we fight you face-to-face. You have more men and guns. For us to fight you from the front, gives you victory, to fight you from behind, means I kill and you live in fear. I am like the camouflaged snake in the grass; you do not know I am there. You cannot see me until I bite you. If I bite you quickly and slide away to hide, I can bite someone else another day. I have bit seven. My poison is the bullet, and they are all dead. This way, we, EOKA, will win.”

Such was the mental attitude of the terrorist. One had to respect their belief in themselves. This same terrorist fought a discrediting war against the British, even whilst in captivity. He claimed to Barbara Castle, the infamous Labour MP on a fact-finding visit to the Island for her Party, that he had been badly beaten during interrogation, had sticks pushed up his backside, had almost been suffocated with wet rags wrapped around his face, electric shocks to his genitals and so on.

Mac was upset that 'Nosy Parker Castle' believed him, making such a song and dance about it in interviews on radio and press reports, she became as good as fifty terrorists to the cause of Enosis and EOKA. British troops, Mac and his men included, considered that for her to have done those things against her own country’s military, she surely had something going with a Greek somewhere.

Mac read that Nicos Samson, the editor of the Cyprus Times, reported many such cases of cruelty by the British soldiers toward the Greeks at the time. These reports received World press coverage. Mac knew that Samson was a terrorist leader himself, even standing for the Presidency after independence on the grounds that he was a leading freedom fighter with EOKA.

After Independence, thorough investigations were carried out to confirm or deny all the claims against the British troops, with the exception of a few overzealous individuals, for example after the killing of the two servicemen’s wives in Famagusta, no orchestrated policy of cruelty was found, never mind proven.

Mac smirked at knowing that dartboards with photographs of Barbara Castle, as the prime aiming mark, existed (and still exist to this day) in Sergeant’s Mess bars in Cyprus...a constant reminder of what Mac said was the problem that "a mis-informed, do-gooding, meddling politician can cause the uniformed services engaged in war."

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Calm followed independence, from 1959 until 1961, when things again began to rumble and bubble up over the Greek’s leaders failing to honour the Zurich agreements, especially the protection of the Turkish minority issue.

All this discontent exploded into violence again on Christmas Eve 1963.

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Special Operations Group

Military commitments in the Middle East and Near East Commands, including Africa, meant that Airborne, Commando, and other Special Forces units were continuously engaged in some conflict somewhere, always on the move either to or from some area of combat. It could be months before members of a unit saw each other, due to their working in different places.

Mac’s unit was like little Orphan Annie at the time. A new, large airfield was under construction in Southern Cyprus on a promontory called Kolossi, halfway between the town of Limmassol and the large sprawling village of Episkopi. Called Akrotiri, one could see the airfield construction was going to be a very large project simply by the size of the groundwork taking place. Thousands of British engineer type forces were involved such as REME Royal Signals, Royal Engineers, Pioneer Corps, and many more plus hundreds of Greek Cypriots.

One giant runway seemed to be completed for daylight landings and take off, Canberra bombers, Meteor, Vampire, and Venom fighters were often dropping in, but never stayed long. Mac assumed they had come from the Cyprus Northern airport of Nicosia or the Canal Zone in Egypt; British bases were there until November 1955. There were also bases in Iraq, Jordan, and Libya plus Malta and Sardinia; therefore the bombers could have come from any one of these places.

Two large corrugated iron buildings and two smaller ones were the only structures to be seen completed. One was the Officer's Mess, shared by the Sergeants. One was the NAAFI, which opened twenty-four hours to meet the needs of the shift workers involved in the camp construction. Another one of the huts had been designated the cookhouse/dining room. It ran on the same basis as the NAAFI and served food to all ranks. No cooking took place in the Officer and Sergeant's mess.

Finally, there was a cinema, seating about 250 individuals on wooden folding chairs, which managed to keep a continuous flow of films going around the clock. Every third day was a film change supplied by the Army Kinema Corporation. These were shown on a rotating basis, two hours of films, and two hours off.

Other large corrugated metal and asbestos covered buildings were in different stages of completion, some of them huge in size. One assumed they were aircraft hangars. These facilities were not for the soldier's use, hence Mac's Orphan Annie comparison.

Away from the messes, cinema, and hustle and bustle of the main station, about two miles across the other side of the main runway, the soldier's had their little camp.

The camp contained eight one hundred and sixty pound tents, which normally slept eight men, but at the time the men were lucky and there were only four to a tent. There were also two EPIPs, which were large, twenty by forty foot tents, that made up the cookhouse, dining room, briefing room, armoury, equipment store and a recreation room in use after the men had cleaned away the debris from a meal.

Two five-foot high, sandbag walls served as the weapons load and unload pit and a petrol/paraffin dump. Twenty metres away, down a small slope, running toward a very large Salt Flat Lake, they had constructed a deep latrine, a fifteen-foot deep trench, and two-feet wide and twenty-feet long. Over the top of this, mounted on three-foot high sandbags, was a wooden plank with four holes in it, large enough to sit over and do one’s business, but with no partitions between them. A trip to the ‘bogs’ was normally a chatty thing. A roll of Hessian cloth completed the structure, wrapped around tent poles at each corner of the pit to give a little privacy from the outside.

These deep latrines were marvelous in hot climates, disinfectant was poured down them to sterilize, and reduce smell, but bacteria did most of the work. Heavier-than-air Methane gas generated from the decaying components of the trench kept the smell and other gas in the bottom two feet of the trench, giving the hundreds of flies, plus other insects nothing to eat, nor any material on which to lay eggs.

An Army Catering Corps corporal attached to troops managed all the base camp cooking. According to Mac, it was very good, too. Food consisted of a mixture of composite rations and fresh food collected three times per week from the main camp. Composite rations, or compo, were special boxes of chemically treated food that could last for years if unopened, and up to four days in Middle Eastern temperatures when opened. Packs of compo to last ten men twenty-four hours were the standard issue for base camps, and a one-man pack to last the same period when on patrol. They were great. Mac loved them. Tins of rolled bacon, separated between each layer with greaseproof paper, and sausages without skins, compressed in the tin so that they came out square...these were, and still are Mac's favourite foods. Unfortunately for Mac, they cannot be found in civvy  street.

Spam, corned beef, hardtack biscuits, steam pudding, tins of custard and rice, curried mixed vegetable soups, tins of fruit, cheese, onion flake dehydrated, chocolate, matches, toilet paper, boiled sweets, and much more, came in a ten-man pack, including ten very thick rubber condoms, no gossamer lubricated stuff here. Thick and thick again, a VD bug would need an electric drill to get through one of that issue. The men actually used them over their rifle barrels to keep the dust out of the guns. They reminded Mac of an oversized baby's dummy.

Orphan Annie? Not really. They had it a lot rougher in most locations they served than this one.

The nearest neighbours in Mac's little paradise were a tremendously humorous bunch of anti-aircraft gunners from number 3 LAA Wing, Numbers 27 and 37 Squadrons, RAF Regiment. When the large runway was built at this new Air Force Base, all the excavated earth was piled up on the north side of the runway, between the camp and the Salt Flats. The high mounds of earth, trees and shrubs, stretched the whole length of the runway, in places as far as a mile wide and varying between thirty and fifty feet in height.

These anti-aircraft gunners and their Bofors Guns thrived amongst these large, earth hills, buried underground. They had their living quarters, eating and rest rooms, and toilets. All that could be seen was the barrel of a gun, draped in cam nets, poking out of the side or top of the earth in the direction in which it was supposed to fire. They were so well camouflaged into their positions that Mac did not even know they were there until they made themselves known to his troops.

They seemed to have a servicing force of Royal Air Force Armourers that moved about from gun to gun, stripping them down into little pieces, gauging them, servicing them, greasing them, and then putting them back together again. Apparently, they fired the guns twice a year off the cliffs surrounding the base near a large radar station called 280 Radar/Signals Unit. Most of the time, Mac would see these Regiment guys, armed to the teeth and camouflaged, walking out across the salt flats toward the mountains. About eight, nine, or ten days later, they would be seen coming in again, from wherever, stinking, covered in shit, and obviously knackered. When Mac tried to find out what they were up to, he used to get the standard reply, 'Going somewhere, doing something.' That's as much as Mac ever found out, but it doesn't take much guessing to realise that the EOKA terrorist organisation was forming in the mountains, and in the urban townships, and Mac felt that these men ‘Going somewhere, doing something’ were not in favour with the interests of the mountain EOKA terrorists.

<><><>

One day, Mac nearly killed Corporal Galloway down the deep latrine. Galloway had received one of the very latest Ronson Varaflame gas cigarette lighters from a girl back in England. Sitting on the toilet, having a smoke, he accidentally dropped this piece of latest technology down the deep abyss, a long way down to a dirty, sticky end.

"Never mind," would have been Mac's thoughts. Not so for the Corporal. No one knew this had taken place for a while, because Cpl Galloway did not want to make himself look a fool, and he tried everything he could think of to retrieve the item himself, but he could not even see the bottom of the trench shining the most powerful torch he had down the hole.

Enter Mac- dropping his trousers, he nonchalantly sat on the toilet and let out a tremendously long, drawn out fart, going red in the face to keep it going, then a bubbling sound when he started what he came for.

“I won a farting competition once. A village fair laid it on. Ten bob was the first prize. My two mates and me had about three Mansfield Bitters, then some pig’s trotters, followed up with two plates of vinegary cow tripe. All that crap mixed with popcorn and ice-cream produced the longest, loudest fart I’ve ever made.” Mac exclaimed rather proudly.

He proceeded to wipe his backside with pages of the Beano comic, and then, he noticed Cpl Galloway looking perturbed.

“What ho, Cpl, me old mate. What’s with the torch then? Looking for Greek spies down the bog are we? You’ll never find them down a hole unless you go looking for them in a brothel. Then they won’t be down it, but up it.”

His laugh at this stage of his own joke was high pitched, rasping, and wheezy, not at all in keeping with his fitness, but an imitation of some well-known cartoon character. Cpl Galloway caught with the torch confessed.

“What do you think I should do, Mac? I really must get it back. This Maisy who sent it to me wants to engrave it when I get back to Blighty.” The shamed Cpl finally admitted.

“Buy another one. She won’t know the difference. Where’s the problem?” Mac asked.

“She’d know. I’m certain she would. It’s easy to upset her. She’s awfully sensitive. It’s my first real girlfriend. Help me get the lighter back?”

Mac mumbled something about hoping we never had to fight a real war with poofters who worried about girlfriends, who on top of it couldn’t hold a fucking lighter properly.

“Okay, here’s what you do. Go to the equipment bay and collect a forty foot, one inch diameter rope, and I’ll lower you, head first, down the hole...

"No, never mind that. You’re about five foot ten tall, with your arms stretched over the head, we’ll call that eight feet. Give me your toggle rope. I’ll tie that to one foot and my toggle to the other, and we are home to the bank.” Mac spouted off without much more thought.

Toggle ropes were approx a ½ inch in diameter, eight feet long, and were carried as an individual piece of equipment by most British units. They are very strong, made out of sisal, with a Rogue Yarn running through them, which ensures they are made to British safety standards. Each toggle had a safe working load of ten hundred weight. The soldiers joined them together for temporary bridge building, and many other purposes.

Mac was very safe with one toggle on each of the Cpl’s feet.

“Right, mate.” Mac said. “Let’s get on with it.”

Mac rather roughly pushed the Cpl into a headfirst exit position on the edge of the pit, having previously moved the top plank of wood aside.

The Cpl, with a torch in one hand and a large soup ladle borrowed from the cook in the other, gradually started to disappear over the edge into the dark. Mac was braced with his feet against the sand bags of the parapet, and one toggle rope in each hand, double secured around his wrists.

“Just a little bit more to your right. That’s it. That’s it. Stay there.” shouted Galloway.

This sounded promising. It seemed the Cpl’s conscience and love life had been saved. Now silence. A rather long silence. Followed by even more silence.

“How’s it going down there?” Mac yelled down the hole.

Silence.

Mac started to look uncomfortable but wisecracked, “He’s stopped for a dinner break.”

Silence.

“You’re coming up.” Mac finally decided.

Mac, with that shout, started to heave on the toggles and brought the sloppy, unconscious body of the Cpl over the edge of the trench. Cpl Galloway was bright red, breathing profoundly, drenched with sweat, and he had peculiar blue streaks on his cheeks, lips, nose, and ears.

Methane gas poisoning.

The medic attached from the Army Medical Corps treated the casualty, wrapped him up in blankets, put him face down on his bed, and gave him oxygen. After a while, he came round, with a tremendous headache, and severe vomiting, but eventually he was A1.

According to a medical officer Mac spoke to later, the Cpl was very lucky to be alive. He ought to have suffered severe brain damage, at least, caused by the oxygen deficiency to the brain for a long period of time.

Mac's quick decision to pull him out made the difference. However, Mac still thought the Cpl was extremely odd. The strange, unexplained result of this Ronson rescue, Mac still finds hard to believe. When the Cpl was pulled back over the edge of the trench, he was still clutching the soup ladle. Even though unconscious, his brain or sensory motor nervous system made his handclasp tight on to the spoon handle. Piled high in the ladle was a fairly solid, steaming heap of the trench contents, with lo and behold, the lighter, covered in goo, slime, and muck, yet still glinting in the sunlight.

Cpl Galloway left shortly after this affair for a post at the jungle warfare training school at Kota Tinggi in Malaya. Did he ever manage to have that Varaflame engraved? Did Maisy ever know of his near death because of his labour of love for her? Mac wonders...if the Ronson is still working, has he ever dared to admit his idiocy?

<><><>

Salt Flats, endless miles of them, stretched between the bivouac and the town of Limassol. White, shimmering, salt encrusted sand strips run through the flats like crooked fingers covered in large warts. These warts were pre and postnuptial mating nests for the hundreds of flamingos that lived in the moonscape, spaced about four feet apart in each direction. They managed to break up the pulsating, shivering, distorted mirage effect reflections of the powerful sun shining on sand and salt. Apparently, these flamingos bred in Africa, made mating bonds for life, and then flew back to the Akrotiri salt lakes to rest and recuperate, building the nest, a one foot diameter by one foot high bowl of sand and salt, to rest in and maintain their bonding. To Mac, it seemed folly of the highest order to allow large flocks of birds, however beautiful to look at, to live and fly in their hundreds, so close to an airfield. They did, and what’s more, the RAF encouraged them. Eventually, the RAF Station, Akrotiri, honoured the flamingo by using it as the Station Mascot and mounted a picture of a flamingo on the Station Regimental Crest, or Shield, as the RAF called it.

      EOKA, the military terrorist element intent on forcing the British to accept the political movement toward ENOSIS, began to be misbehaving somewhat in 1955. They began with a few bombs at outlying British facilities, such as the Radio Relay Station at Ayios Nikolaos near Famagusta, and the telephone link exchange, connecting the North and South of the island. This last target was miles from habitation and placed on top of the highest mountain in Cyprus, Mount Olympus. Night watchmen were supposed to be on duty at these targets and were conveniently absent when these attacks took place, intelligence information began to filter into British Ground Defence Operations Centre that informed them that the Greeks employed in these watchmen type duties were in danger of their lives if they hindered EOKA activity in any way. Who could blame them for being conveniently absent, during any of these life-threatening attacks? The guards were low paid, unarmed, and very vulnerable, Mac and his men had to act quickly.

Only a few British troops acted as Cyprus Garrison forces in the mid fifties. Most were to be found in the Canal Zone and North Africa. A solution to the problem Mac's men faced was for the military to bring in more troops and to put British forces on protection duties on all outlying, easy to attack and vulnerable points and areas. Not as easily done as said.

An interim measure adopted was to covertly position small units of men into strategic positions to watch and report on any suspicious activity. Back up to this intelligence was an immediate reaction force, helicopter mobile, ready to instantly act on any information and take pre-emptive action to avoid damage to British property. Mac's tasks followed this latest doctrine.

Working as small, completely self-contained groups, the men took on the mantle of covert watch and report operations. After being injected into the area of observation by overt methods, their job began. They would remain as an individual unit, until they were under command of 45 Marine Commando or another prime military unit with regular logistic command. An example of how this works is shown by Situation Reports, what Mac called Sit Reps. On this patrol, the call sign was Alpha 2. Alpha 2 left Mac's base by helicopter just when dusk was falling for a short, fifty-minute flight to 45 Marine Commando base at Platres Camp on Mount Olympus in the Troodos mountain range. Mac's unit would be part of a Commando patrol on the way out to the objective, acting in an overt manner and letting any intelligence watchers know that they were about. Mac's troops would then covertly drop off, while the Commando continued; this manoeuvre would hopefully pass off unnoticed.

To help with this subterfuge, Police dogs were taken and teased to make a lot of noise, the dog presence keeping the watchers at a distance, far enough away to prevent observation, yet detailed enough to notice men ‘disappear’. These tactics, plus many variations, worked very well and could have defeated EOKA's attempt at countryside sabotage completely if Mac's men could have used support weapons and employed Combat Air Patrol to take them out at extra long range. Again due to politics again, this was not permitted.

Mac was commanding this detail. No set timings were given for the duration of these ops; he would be informed when the urgent situation unfolded and developed. Therefore, more equipment than normal was taken, because once in position, Mac knew one stayed until the job completion. To move before task end for equipment, or really for any reason at all, would give the game away and compromise the patrol.

“Looks like we’re at it again, Reg.” Mac mused, whilst checking the helicopter loading plan. “Bet you a tenner I pull myself a bird, the woman type."

“Not if she’s a Greek you won’t, Mac boy. They don’t like being called birds.”

     “By the time I’ve used my charm, style, personality, culture, and character, and they’ve had a whiff of my Old Spice up their nostrils, they’ll be ripping their bras off. A few more words with my deep, sexy voice, explaining what a bird means to me, and they’ll be slinging their knickers at me. You mark my words. That’s it. Mount up my little Golly Hunters. Let’s go and do and think things evil and ugly."

That was typical Mac-type of behaviour, rambles on about everything and nothing while thinking, writing, watching others, planning, and the call to action all at the same time.

“When I’ve laid on all the trimmings, come up and see me sometime.” The last bit said with his hands on hips and a poor imitation of Betty Grable with his eye flutter and mincing step, he pushed the last man into the chopper and climbed on board himself.

“Good luck and hunting.” With that, he slid the aircraft’s door closed. He was going to need a little luck where he was going, Amiandos, a terrorist hot spot in the Troodos Mountains, and a very strong threat to the asbestos supply that was mined near the village, not to mention the North South telephone relay hut.

<><><>

Crickets, the Cyprus Locust, were no friends of the soldier. Crickets gave off a crescendo of unadulterated sex. That was what their noise was all about: mating, calling for, and finding mates. 'Come and screw me' type messages they sent, mainly at night. These creatures were definitely creatures of the night. ‘I’m ready to be implanted with your genes’, or, ‘Who wants the full Monty?’ was the paramount message of their call. Moon and stars seemed to get bigger as the night went on, and this acted on the breeding patterns of the insects. The noise got louder, seeming to come from everywhere all at once. When this happened, a new World opened; a panorama of sound started to unfold. The orchestra of the different ages and sexes of the crickets, some soprano, mezzo-soprano, base, tenor, baritone, all began to take shape in the evening cacophony of sound. This made movement at night easier, taking away much of the need for stealth and not having to worry about footsteps being heard above the crickets. In fact, one could be quite bold in an approach to a target.

However, the soldiers had to remember the same advantage was available to the enemy; therefore manning observation posts at night could be nerve wracking. Minds could begin to wander and imagine things and see things and movement that is not there. Training came in use there. The more one forgot his family and other distractions and kept thinking about soldiering, forcing himself to keep his mind on the job in hand, the more he was going to win this mental battle against the hellish noise distraction created by our little friends the crickets. Strict training helps in more ways than blanking out unwanted noise. Many more decisions have to be made to avoid becoming that inanimate lump of stinking dead meat that losing to an enemy meant. The screaming of the crickets was one hazard to overcome.

There were several little friends who were believed to be in the employ of EOKA. Ants and other insects crawling into every orifice of the body, up the nose, in the ears, mouth, old wounds, arse, penis and any other entrance available to the little monsters were the men's biggest problem if they were in a scrape OP. A scrape being an underground place of hiding, normally easy and quick to construct, but nearly impossible in the mountains, because of the very shallow topsoil. The men tended to have to build up, and were therefore easier to spot.

When the military man began to reminisce and think about women, family, and all the other things that meant both nothing and everything in a soldier’s world, he was vulnerable. Discomfort caused by the pestering of insects could bring this on; it acted like a mental anesthetic, an endorphin induced block against the insect attack discomfort. These abstract thoughts could take over decision-making powers. They demoralized. They became more important. They niggled and nagged at will power, suggesting to anyone with the slightest modicum of a brain, “Now’s the time to go, I don’t have to put up with this, what am I doing here? Now is the time to become a sloppy civilian”.

Overcoming such sickeners really came down to training and experience; some people, even trying very hard, could not overcome them. A case for a mental rejection of these outlandish ideas no longer existed for them. It was time to go for these few people. The military normally weeded them out in training. The little, itsy bitsy, tiny weenie insect had beaten them, added to their strong feelings of inadequacy, and made their life unbearable.

Because the men were big, unbeatable, strong men, in their own opinion, in a man’s world, full of oneself, answerable only to one's own determination and other professional abilities, men seemed to think they were infallible against all the many problems that fell in their path. This was soldier imagination: nothing could beat him. An even better thought: nobody had ever dreamt up the scenario that could beat him.

Insects and bugs could beat them, hands down, if they started to compare to them. Their insect world was only full of positive things: food, sex, breed, and survival. Hardly any sleeping existed in their world, and the same again and again until infinity. To be as good as they were, the soldiers had to follow these basics, as well as know his weapons, tactics, and the hundreds of other skills he holds in his own personal armoury.

<><><>

Insertion for Alpha 2 went off without a hitch, an observation base was established, overlooking Amiandos, about eight hundred metres higher than the village, but giving clear observation of the track that wound it’s way up the hill, away from the village toward the telephone relay hut. A scrape was managed with an unimpeded view of the potential target. It lay about one hundred and fifty metres from the hut itself, well inside small arms range and with very easy access and well-camouflaged route into and out of the lay up point. The LUP was a cut back into a rock formation around the side of a cave complex, overgrown and unaccessed for years. The two men, off duty from the scrape observation, could rest and relax here as much as it was possible to relax in this close proximity to someone who will try to kill you if given the chance. Mac's observation team in the scrape had to be fully aware of everything that happened around them during their tour of duty. They managed to rest a little when it was their turn in the LUP.

Communications to Ground Defence Operations Centre were also in the Lying Up Position and a series of night vortex torch signals (black beams of light, which cannot be seen by anyone unless the beam points directly at them). These were arranged for every hour on the hour from the scrape to the LUP, letting both parties know all was well. This meant a two-hour sleep opportunity at a time for the LUP men.

Changeover between scrape and LUP took place around three o’clock in the morning, before night dew settled to show up footprints or wildlife activity started at first light. An unusually late or early dawn chorus from the birds was a giveaway. Goats and dogs were the greatest compromise hazard on these types of jobs anywhere in the world, not just Cyprus.

Mac and the others limited the chance of any compromise as much as was humanly possible, but these fall downs existed and one needed a bit of luck, as well as professionalism. Disposal of waste had to be well thought out and planned. Once the disposal programme was established, it had to be scrupulously enforced. Life depended on carrying out the agreed plan to the letter, comma and full stop.

Large quantities off heavy-duty plastic bags are always part of an OPs inventory for all waste human and otherwise. Even when placed inside a plastic bag, it was not always possible to bury waste. It really depended on where the man was and what the problems were. Concrete or rock does not lend itself to burial, for instance. On many occasions, the waste had to be carried out of the area, sometimes by the men and sometimes by another friendly covert patrol. Men on such a patrol moved out of their camp to the OP area with empty backpacks and returned with full ones...a very hard tactic for an enemy to spot at night. Emptying the backpacks was not a very pleasant job.

The simplest calculations one made in waste disposal was ‘Will this give my position away?’

Even if buried, a bag can leak, or in hot climates, it can also sweat, showing a dark stain of damp earth. A giveaway.

Insects and animals will be attracted to poorly disposed waste. A giveaway.

Smell, apart from human detection, attracted small airborne insects, gnats, carob mosquitoes, and even heavier than normal concentrations of tree born dwellers, if waste happened to be buried or dumped below a tree. Another giveaway.

Defragging was essential to work successfully on covert OPs. Not the defrag that computer buffs talk about nowadays, but similar in concept. Defragging a computer means to straighten everything out and make sure it’s working to maximum capability. A pre-OP defrag served virtually the same purpose. In this instance, we defragged the human being, plus the equipment he was going to carry or use.

Working in Arab clothes and living among Arabs was quite different to watch and report on a mountain in Cyprus. Politics and doctrine were different, as well as the individual's job, so different standards of defrag were called for. Sweat, passing wind, a human belch carry a smell of a previous meal, garlic for instance, wafted downwind could give a soldier's position away.

Toothpaste, aftershave, deodorants, soap, mint sweets, all were personal giveaways.

Rifle or gun oil, blanco, starch, boot polish, noise, slack weapon slings, noisy rattles from items carried in packs, and wrong camouflage are all giveaways from equipment.

Mental defrag refreshed the 'Slist'. The Slist was a memory jogger for the S list, as follows: Shape, Shine, Shadow, Silhouette, Size, Spacing, Signals, Sound, Speed, Subterfuge, Slinky, Sly, Savage, Senses, See all. SSTs, or the S directory, were lists of actions too avoid compromise for close proximity to the enemy operations. Combinations of the Slist helped one to stay unobserved, helped to observe others, and helped movement to a kill point, or the intended position for killing the enemy.

At a kill point exploit, surprise, aggression, and speed, were known as 'The Ideal Three', with the necessary type and volume of firepower to achieve the aim: win.

If any two of the kill point three were employed, one could still win. For instance, if the soldiers had speed and aggression, he could compensate for the loss of surprise. The speed and aggression used could create further surprise and add confusion. He could still win.

It may sound far fetched, but smell was the single greatest giveaway, apart from sighting the target. All hunters approach from downwind of a victim. Just to finalise and round up, the requirements for pre-task defrag, elements working in South Arabia went into Fort Morbit Arab jail at Sheikh Othman for five days before going out to work. During these five days, they never washed, cleaned their teeth, used toilets, or ate anything but Arab food, the same issued to the Arab inmates. They chewed ’Quat’, an Arab leaf-type drug similar to cannabis. This drug produced illusions of false well-being. Soldiers became sloppily relaxed, without a worry or enemy in the world. Eighty percent of the Arabs used it. It oozed out of their skin, clung to their breath. Without using quat, a soldier would easily be detected, with possible capture to follow.

The men went into indoor ranges everyday to fire their Browning high power weapons through the drug haze, aiming for the larger ‘centre of the main target mass,’ to learn to compensate for the drug’s debilitating effect, instead of the top of chest and head shot double tap, two shots together, that they had been trained to do. In this way, they lived like Arabs among the Arabs. At tasks end, however long it took, they went back to prison to debug, delouse, debrief, and humanise again...before the next time.

Withdrawal symptoms from the quat were the worst part.

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Command HQ decided the OP, plus fastback up with the immediate reaction force was very successful and should stay in force. Services and units then started infighting to see who should do which task. This inter-service, inter-unit sparring was quite normal. The main difference on this occasion was the small number of men available for the ever-increasing workload. For Mac, it meant even longer duration than normal in the field. Unless the existing doctrine changed, Mac could expect up to three months in an operational area without relief.

After four days in the field on compo rations, it became important to make sure the troops had fresh rations. All team leaders were well educated on local plants and their nutrient value, especially the many kinds of fungi. Large, edible snails were in abundance in the early morning mist, which blanketed the mountain every day. Trapping meat sources became second nature. The only problem when involved in this survival activity was to avoid giving away the defrag.

For example, one unit made a fast exit when they inadvertently compromised their position. They went around the area at night, sticking long twigs coated in glue into the bushes and olive trees to trap birds that settled on them. Great. It worked well, but the unusual terror screams and noise made by the victims invited a response from the Greeks. These gentlemen would be easy to take out, but politics said, ’Get out’. Mac thought it was very frustrating, because sometimes an open ‘fire fight’ was unavoidable. On the few occasions that this happened over the full operational time scale, a total of seven terrorists were killed and two injured, plus their weapons and explosives captured. A high kill to injury ratio admitted, but Mac's men gave no chances or quarter. As Mac recalled, "It was them that decided to kill us in the first place, so screw them."

Chemical preservatives in the standard compo deliberately caused severe constipation in the squaddie eating the stuff. Policy being, they would win any battle in three days, but not if the men were behind bushes with their trousers around their ankles.

One operational procedure actually considered by the men was to utilise the compo bung as a weapon to demoralise the enemy and to hell with defrag. This method had been written about for many years, even before the 2nd World War. Compo bound troops were to be positioned up wind, and then turn their backs on the enemy positions, and then allowed to fart as often as possible after the three day compo incubation period had set in. This was easily done. The stop excreta chemical embodied in the compo had an 'allow farting' safety device, in order to avoid men suffering from severe gas stomach cramps. Resultant smells enshrouding the enemy positions could not have been classified as chemical or biological warfare, but the next best thing, and without NATO or the UNO having to deal with any backlash on the political arena.

However, re-supply was now going to cause a slight problem. Initial equipment carried in to an OP would now have to suffice, so a team leader, ‘live off the land policy’ was invoked.

<><><>

In Amiandos village square, markets for different goods were held on different days. Mondays was the booze-up day, Tuesday the livestock day...both of these functions caught Mac's interest and set the wheels for grand theft in motion, especially the livestock, considering the men's newly increased time in the field of operations. A rope tied to a back leg, and then to a stake driven into the ground always secured animals for sale. These ropes were normally about fifteen feet in length and allowed the animal to go on circular walkabouts.

Mac noticed that the villages brought their animals to the sale on Mondays, and then took part in the booze up, a monumental affair. Local grape growers set up large barrels of their homemade wine for tasting and selling. A customer bought a wine glass at a barrel for one Cyprus pound. He or she then drank as much wine as they wanted from that barrel without paying any more money, and then could move on to try the next barrel, same procedure and again, as many times as they wanted. Needless to say, by the end of the night, a lot of people were crashed out in the square, pissed out of their brains, and sleeping it off.

Their animals were still doing the circular walkabouts. What a target for Mac and his need for fresh food supply! Mac's only problem was choice: pork, lamb, goat, veal, rabbit, duck, geese, pigeon or chicken, snails and crayfish by the thousand, and cages full of mixed migratory birds trapped on their routes south or north. He settled for pork as the primary target, because, even though it ‘went off’ fast, once salted, it made a good, long lasting pemmican. Veal was the second choice. Goats and sheep roamed the hills in large numbers, so he could acquire them more or less, as he wanted.

Mac made his plans in such a way that someone else would get the blame for the theft, namely 45 Marine Commando. Some time previously, during a major piss up at Platres camp, an ‘unarmed combat’ competition, for fun, took place. Each contestant had to defeat certain attacks against him. A simple competition really, because the defender knew what attack was coming. Attacks followed this sequence: under arm knife thrust – commandos used real bayonets, over arm knife attack, punch from the front, kick from the front, bear hug from the front with arms clasped to the side, same with arms free, strangulation from the rear with a rope, same with arms. For each successfully attempted defence, the attacker gave the defender a piece of his uniform. These items started with insignificant things like a Patrol Aid Memoir, a puttee, a bootlace and so on. Eventually, the more alcohol a person downed, the more careless he became, and thus, more precious items became prizes. Our hero Mac had a fair variety of Commando Equipment to plant at the scene of a crime, the main one being a Commando Green Beret.

LUP duty was the time period for 'Operation Pork'. A simple plan was defined. Whilst Mac and his stint buddy Dave Butt were on the early, two o’clock LUP shift, things would happen. They would take a circular route to approach the village from the direction of the Marine camp. During this directional approach, a Green Beret would attach itself to a bush in such a position that it must be found, even by a bunch of wine-riddled Greeks with crippling hangovers.

On the outskirts of the village, the approach would change, so they came in to the target area with the mountain behind them, reducing the chance of being seen, because they would melt into the black bulk of the hill. This would also keep them downwind of the animals, in case they spooked them. It was very doubtful that the Greeks would hear with all they had drunk the n