The Sixteen: The Sensational Story of Britain's Top Secret Military Assassination Squad Part 4

The following Sat.u.r.day morning our platoon left Wrexham for Stratford-on-Avon and more rumours started, this time about us going abroad; in fact the other lads talked of nothing else but all I was able to think of was my forty-eight-hour pa.s.s to go home. I was longing to see my family.

Id been at the Stratford camp for about a week before giving any more thought to the stranger in the gym so far, no one had bothered with me at all.

So much for his talk about someone 'contacting me, I thought. I knew it had been a wind-up!

More rumours began to spread about being posted abroad. The newspapers were full of reports about the escalating trouble out in the Middle East, and the lads talked about it constantly.

But I didnt care, Id finally been given my forty-eight-hour pa.s.s and I could hardly believe it; I would be going home and thats all I was able to think about. I was so excited, even though I knew Id spend most of those forty-eight hours on a train. But at least Id get to see my mam and my sisters again, for the first time in three months; it had seemed more like three years and had been really awful.

But it wasnt to be. Despite our pa.s.ses, we were all stopped at the camp gate and told that they had been rescinded. Instead of heading off for home, we were taken to one shed for a load of jabs, which left our arms stiff and sore, and then to another where we received an issue of tropical kit. In what must have been hours but felt like mere minutes, we were herded aboard trucks bound for Southend airport and informed that we were on our way to Beirut.

The army convoy drove straight on to the airport runway and we jumped out to an utterly amazing scene: thousands of troops stretched in every direction as far as the eye could see. The place was full of hustle and bustle, the air filled with noise: the roar of planes taking off and trucks racing around. Thousands of marching feet and hobnailed boots crunched on the runways, as sergeants screamed out orders. My unit formed part of an airlift in which we were told some eighteen thousand troops were flying out to the Middle East.

'Christ, the Third World War must have started! someone commented, as we lined up to board our plane, a twin-engine Dakota.

And for all wed known at that time, he could well have been stating the truth.

Inside, the plane was noisy, cramped and uncomfortable. We sat in long rows down either side, making little or no conversation, each man lost in his own thoughts. This was partly due to the noise of the plane, which made it difficult to talk without shouting, partly because we were beginning to feel the effects of all of the jabs, but mainly because we were all stunned by the speed of it all. One moment, wed been about to go home and the next we were on a plane with dozens of other soldiers, most of whom wed never seen before, except for maybe three or four, heading towards G.o.d knows what in the Middle East. Wed heard all kinds of rumours about what was going on out there and knew that a lot of our lads were being killed, but we didnt really know what to expect.

Whether it was always the intention for us to land in Malta Im not sure, but our plane diverted there when it developed engine trouble. Looking out of the window, I saw thick black smoke coming from the port engine.

'Hey look at this! I said, nudging the lad next to me.

'Eh! What?

'Look, the flamin engines on fire! I dont think were going to make it!

'F*** off, Geordie, try it on someone else! he said, thinking I was winding him up.

'No, honest, look, Id insisted as the intercom suddenly crackled into life.

'Sorry about this, gentlemen, apparently we have trouble with our port engine, but dont worry, chaps, we have two. Well just have to make a little unscheduled stop at Malta, the pilot cheerfully informed us in a poncy, upper-cla.s.s accent that was pure 'Battle of Britain.

His announcement was met with a variety of moans, groans and comments.

'Oh, b.l.o.o.d.y great, were going to snuff it before we even get there. Just my flamin luck!

'Dont worry, old boy, weve got another engine, dont you know, eh, what!

'Thats right, old bean. Toodle pip, chocks away!

'Shut the f*** up, this is serious.

'Oh Jeez, I think Im going to be sick.

The incident had certainly woken us all up from our previous stupor! Now we were quiet for a different reason we were all b.l.o.o.d.y terrified!

Our landing at Malta was very hairy and I for one thought we werent going to make it. The pilot seemed to be coming in at an alarmingly steep angle and I remember the immense, almost tangible, feeling of relief when we heard the tyres screech as the plane b.u.mped along the runway and finally stopped. We all just sat there a bit numb, grinning stupidly at one another, as we realised wed landed safely in one piece.

'Thank G.o.d for that! the lad sitting next to me muttered. 'Mind you, itll just be my luck to get shot at the other end the minute I get off the b.l.o.o.d.y plane!

I dont remember a great deal about Malta, as all we really saw of it was the airport where we were given orders to change to other planes, which split most of us up. I was told that I would now be going to Cyprus together with several other men whod trained with me at Wrexham three of whom stand out for no particular reason other than the oddity of their collective names Dave Hatfield, Dave Bradfield and Dave Buckfield.

The airport was busy, noisy with numerous planes coming in to refuel and hundreds of troops emplaning and deplaning with all of the usual army paraphernalia. I had time to buy a postcard to send off to my mother. It had a picture of the local hospital an old fort on it and I merely had time to write: 'Mother Cyprus didnt get weekend pa.s.s will write and explain when we get there, before we were on the move again. It would be almost two years before we were back in England and I saw her again.

For a young Geordie lad like me, arriving in Cyprus was like being in a dream. The airport was ablaze with lights and noise, and as the plane doors opened, we were bombarded with a variety of strange, alien smells mingled with petrol and diesel fumes. The night air that hit us was warm and humid. We were given no time to look around; as soon as we deplaned we were quickly shepherded onto waiting trucks, issued with empty rifles and dispatched to our final destination. Only the officers revolvers and a handful of the escort troops had loaded guns.

Our vehicle formed part of a large convoy of canvas-covered Bedford trucks, which eventually set off into the pitch-black night. None of us knew where we were going or what to expect when we got there. Just outside the airport gates we caught a glimpse of several market-type stalls covered in fruit, and I recall seeing oranges and watermelons, their vivid colours brighter than anything I could ever have imagined. I was briefly aware of tiny white-painted houses and narrow cluttered streets but once we left the built-up area around the airport, we saw nothing apart from a brief glimpse of one another when the lights of the following vehicle lit up the back of the truck. The only other light came from cigarette ends, which would light up someones face briefly as they drew on it.

The canvas sheet at the back of the truck had been pulled to one side with the tailboard up and every so often, out of the opening, we could see the lights of a small town or village in the distance. The roads were quite smooth for short distances but then wed hit rough patches and be tossed all over the back of the truck. Constantly being thrown around like that after the long, uncomfortable flight together, along with the warm night air and petrol fumes, had begun to make some of the lads feel queasy. By this time we were all very tired and groggy from the long journey and the effects of our shots.

'Im b.l.o.o.d.y beat, I wish we were there! the lad opposite me grumbled as, almost stabbing me with his cigarette end, he was thrown against me yet again, practically landing on my knee.

Then just as wed hit another large b.u.mp in the road, we heard a loud crack like a truck backfiring and the guy sitting next to me suddenly keeled over and lay still, face down in the bottom of the truck. The convoy had come to an abrupt halt and I went to help him up thinking hed simply been jolted out of his seat, when we heard several more loud cracks and the truck engines and lights were switched off! As I tried to lift him, my hand made contact with his back and to my surprise Id discovered that it was warm and damp. The realisation of what had actually happened instantly hit me he had been shot! In that moment, all h.e.l.l broke loose.

'Snipers! a voice nearby bawled.

'Get out of the trucks, take cover.

Everyone seemed to be yelling, shouting and screaming at once as, frightened and confused, we dived out of the back of the truck, bas.h.i.+ng into one another in our haste and falling over our rifles. We landed painfully on top of each other, unable to see in the pitch black. Having received no training for this kind of situation, we desperately scrambled about in the dark trying to find whatever cover we could and, once found, kept our heads well down. It was a terrifying experience, lying there in the dark, clinging to the steep hillside with no idea what was below us, bullets thudding into the trucks in front of us and burying into the ground only feet from where we lay.

We were all carrying rifles but had been issued with no ammo. Even if wed had bullets, I doubt whether most of us would have been able to use them; wed be too scared of hitting one of our own guys in the dark, as we knew there had to be hundreds of us scattered all around but couldnt see a thing. Above the noise of the intermittent gunfire, officers and sergeants could be heard shouting.

'Stay where you are, lads, and keep your heads down!

'Keep under cover and dont move.

'Whats he on about, "dont move"? I couldnt b.l.o.o.d.y move if I wanted too, Im so scared! one of the lads crouched next to me grumbled. 'And even if I could where the bleedin h.e.l.l would I move to, for Chrissake?

'Watch where you put your hands, theres b.l.o.o.d.y snakes and things around here! another nearby voice mumbled.

'Oh Gawd! Bullets and snakes! the first lad moaned. 'Thats all I b.l.o.o.d.y need!

'Sarge! Sarge! I shouted. 'Theres someone in the back of our truck, I think hes been hit and hes in a bad way, he needs help!

I knew the sergeant had heard my shout for help as he instantly began to call out for a medic. I wondered how the lad in the truck was doing; with all that blood around, I thought he might be dead.

The sky ahead and above us flashed with gunfire and I guessed that the snipers must be somewhere on the hilltop in front of us. Some of our guys were firing back, as there had been occasional flashes, followed by the loud crack of gunfire, further along the hillside.

It seemed as though we lay there for hours and as dawn broke, we began to see our surroundings more clearly. Like much of the island, the area was mainly barren and rocky with some scrub and a few th.o.r.n.y bushes. As the light increased, the 'alien landscape became more visible.

On a hilltop in front of us, silhouetted against the gradually lightening sky, we saw four or five terrorists, now captured, being marched down the hillside towards us, their hands above their heads. They had managed to keep several hundred British troops pinned down for hours in the darkness. What became even more apparent as it grew lighter, was the fact that British soldiers had been surrounding their position the whole time!

We were given orders to get back into the trucks as quickly as possible and clambering back into ours I saw the large pool of blood on the floor, where the lad whod been shot had fallen. Obviously, during the night, the medics had somehow been able to get to him and move him to a safer place.

'Let that be a lesson to you all, the sergeant warned us. 'Dont underestimate these b.a.s.t.a.r.ds. Theyre well armed, well trained and b.l.o.o.d.y determined. Soldiers, women, kids they dont give a s.h.i.+t. So keep well away from them and watch your backs at all times! This isnt a bleedin holiday camp!

As the trucks moved off we all sat quietly, trying not to look at one another or at the pool of blood that now stained the truck floor, and no one spoke or asked where the injured man was. Any thoughts we may have had of being on a 'paradise island had been quickly dispelled on that very first night, as the full reality of the situation hit us all. This was to be no holiday in the sun!

I later discovered that the young lad whod been shot was eventually s.h.i.+pped back to England. Apparently, the bullet had entered his left shoulder, travelled along and through his body to finally exit from his chest on the right-hand side, causing considerable internal damage. The rumour around the camp was that hed lost the use of his right arm due to his injuries.

We were stunned when we arrived at our 'camp it was virtually non-existent! Wed had to make it ourselves over the next couple of weeks from the surrounding, mainly barren area, and were kept busy putting up tents, organising cooking facilities, digging latrines and eventually erecting a perimeter fence.

The camp, in the middle of nowhere and surrounded by barbed wire, looked more like a prison. There were no towns in the near vicinity and, to begin with, none of us had the remotest idea of where we were in relation to where wed landed at Nicosia. There was no wildlife as such either, with the exception of lizards, which could be seen scuttling about or basking on rocks. Days and nights were filled with the incessant chirping of crickets and buzzing of insects. The days were baking hot, the nights warm and oppressively humid. There was nothing to see and nowhere to go other than the camp NAAFI or the long walk down to the beach at Episkopi.

There were about three hundred of us stationed at 524 Company, D Platoon, four to every tiny tent, dust and ants in everything we touched. Each tent was equipped with two bunks down either side, about six inches off the ground, with a couple of planks of wood running down the middle. This meant that at least there was something to stand on other than the ground. But when we did stand up our heads touched the top of the tent and we kept knocking each other over, as we all tried to get dressed at the same time in the tiny s.p.a.ce between the bunks, still half asleep.

To top it off, a little wimp of a sergeant would come along every morning, screaming his b.l.o.o.d.y head off and bas.h.i.+ng the sides of the tents with a stick. This just caused even more confusion and made matters worse, although he probably thought it would make us get dressed quicker! We really didnt need any encouragement to escape from the cramped confines of the tiny enclosures and get to the mess tent as soon as possible, as we always seemed to be hungry.

Once the battle was over between the four of us trying to get our clothes on, there would be a mad dash to get washed and shaved we only had half an hour to do this before breakfast. Half an hour might seem quite a while, but when there are hundreds of men all trying to get washed at the same time, it really isnt very long at all. To perform our ablutions, we used what looked like a couple of wooden troughs, roughly thirty feet in length. About every yard or so a pipe stood up with a tap stuck on the top of it. Of course, the next dash was to the toilets (or latrines, as the army calls them).

These consisted of lines of steel buckets with wooden seats on the top, surrounded by a four-foot wall of hessian sacking. We would all sit there trying not to look at one another, discussing how hot the weather was yet again in order to cover our embarra.s.sment, while at the same time trying to prevent ants from climbing up our legs. We also had to dodge some huge buzzing things, which looked like bees but were called horseflies. Following this came breakfast and we just couldnt wait!

In a large, side-less marquee, where wind and dust pa.s.sed straight through, we were doled out pitiful portions of greasy eggs, stringy bacon and dried-up porridge mixed with dust and grit. Even before we had time to finish, wed be rousted out for works parade, with barely enough time to say 'h.e.l.lo to one another. Before leaving the tent, we had to wash our mess tins and plates in two small tin baths set up on a trestle table. Hundreds of us had to use the same water and it was always thick with grease, even though the kitchen staff kept changing it. If you were one of the lucky ones who managed to get to the water first, you might just end up with clean kit!

After breakfast wed line up on the parade ground, a level area surrounded by tents with a flagpole stuck in the middle. And, as we stood to attention, small whirlwinds called dust devils would whip past us making us grab on to our hats and each other. Through the swirling dust, we would see that stupid little sergeant coming towards us trying to hold on to his orders and shouting at the same time.

CHAPTER 4.

ON THE BEACH.

Id never heard of Cyprus until wed landed there. But one important thing we all learned from the moment we arrived, was just how much the Cypriots hated us.

The Greek Cypriots, under General Grivas, wanted self-government and ENOSIS (union) with the Greek mainland despite almost a third of its citizens, who were of Turkish descent, being bitterly opposed to this. In 1923, Turkey signed an agreement that gave up all claims to Cyprus, which then became a British colony in 1925. However, after the Second World War, Britain refused to give Cyprus the right to self-government and by 1955, the Greek Cypriot National Organisation of Cypriot Freedom-Fighters (EOKA) began an armed struggle for liberation. This came to a head during 19578 with the outbreak of serious riots and fighting between Greek and Turkish factions. Due to the strategic importance of the islands proximity to the Middle East, Britain was forced to pa.s.s a special Emergency Powers Act and increase its presence on the island, in order to protect its military installations there and to control the increase in hostilities.

The British troops taken to Cyprus were told that they were there to keep the peace between the Greeks and the Turks and to protect government property. However, the Greeks mainly regarded us as the enemy and did their utmost to get rid of us, and didnt seem to care how they went about it! Not just satisfied with killing British troops, there had also been incidents involving the deaths of British servicemens families too. The situation there at that time was similar to the one which would eventually erupt in Northern Ireland years later.

It certainly made no difference to the terrorists that my unit was in Cyprus mainly to repair roads and supply the fighting troops, not to take part in any peacekeeping exercise they still would have liked to get rid of us all. This frustrated me as, from what I could see, wed been given little or no training at all to deal with a dangerous situation like this. In fact, we were treated little better than POWs (prisoners of war) and had to set up camp virtually from scratch.

The living conditions at our campsite were very basic and had hardly improved since wed moved in. The planners in their wisdom, must have chosen the most barren piece of rocky wasteland they could find in the area to build this particular camp. I hated it the moment I saw it and continued to hate every minute of being there!

Our was.h.i.+ng facilities were as basic as the toilets and, although drinking water was regularly brought to the camp in two-wheeled mobile tanks, these stood on the main compound in full suns.h.i.+ne for most of the day, so the water was always warm. Digging latrines was especially difficult due to the hard, sun-baked, rocky landscape. I was not impressed! This was not what I had expected of army life. I could have stayed at home to dig roads like a navvy and probably earned a darn sight more than army pay!

Having experienced first-hand the terrorists activities, on our first night here, I was understandably nervous to be sitting on a tin bucket (due to the lack of proper toilet facilities) surrounded by a four-foot wall of hessian, and fully expected to have my b.u.t.t shot off at any moment. It certainly didnt give me peace of mind or help my stuttering! Even in my crowded home in Byker, Id had a lot more privacy than here. I found having someone else coming in when youre on the toilet, then sitting down right next to you very difficult to get used to.

My mate Dave Buckfield burst into the latrines, on this particular occasion. He had a painful expression on his face as, like most of us in the camp, he was suffering from dysentery. He sat down next to me.

'Ere eard the good news, Geordie? he said in his strong c.o.c.kney accent.

'Wh-whats that? The only good news I could be given was that they were s.h.i.+pping me back home!

'Theyre only settin us bloomin free this weekend. We can go down to the b.l.o.o.d.y beach on our own! Well, thats not strictly true, there as to be at least three of us, an one of us will ave to carry a rifle. You coming, mate? I shook my head. 'Youll ave to come otherwise we wont be able to go, there as to be three of us! Cmon, itll be a larf!

Some great news! It certainly didnt cheer me up; all I wanted was to get back home, away from the heat, the flies, the smells and the deadly dull routine which had set in during our first couple of weeks at the camp. So far, we hadnt been given any proper recreational time since we arrived and so this first 'weekend off was an eagerly antic.i.p.ated event, and most of the guys wanted to go to the local beach about a couple of miles from the camp.

Although in general I got on well with people, I wasnt really 'one of the lads I didnt fit in. I didnt drink at all, had never tasted the stuff, whereas they all drank a lot. I was very self-conscious about my stammer and tended to keep to myself. I was also very disillusioned with army life, which to me appeared to consist of endless navvy work, then going out to get blind drunk afterwards. Luckily, the two lads I shared a tent with, Bill and Dave, were good fun. The three of us got on very well and shared a lot of laughs.

The two of them kept on at me, pestering me to go with them.

'Come on, Geordie, itll be a laugh!

'Cmon, mate, ave some fun!

In the end they convinced me to go with them and so, when Sat.u.r.day morning came, we grabbed a couple of blankets to take with us, as wed been warned that the sand got so hot you couldnt lie on it. Before we were allowed to leave the camp, we had to report to the 'stupid little sergeant who woke us every morning. He gave us a lecture on what to expect when we got to the beach and what time we had to be back. Then he went on about making sure that we kept covered up and didnt get badly sunburned, or fire the d.a.m.ned rifle by mistake. Though what the h.e.l.l they thought wed be able to do with the three rounds wed been issued, was beyond me!

After this lengthy talk, he eventually let us go and as we left the camp we felt as though we had just been let out of prison and rejoined 'normal life once more. If it hadnt been for the fact that we were carrying a rifle, we could easily have forgotten that we were soldiers. We were just a group of young lads laughing and joking together as we walked along, cheered by the prospect of having some ordinary fun.

We were all wearing standard army-issue shorts, short-sleeved army s.h.i.+rts, white socks and black sandshoes. The shorts were horrendous huge, baggy things that flapped around our knees like something a music-hall comedian would wear. In an attempt to get these terrible things to look half decent, most of the lads paid a local Greek bloke to take them in; this reduced the flapping effect and made them look a h.e.l.luva lot smarter. Unfortunately, as new arrivals, we hadnt been given the opportunity to either buy any suitable clothes or have these alterations done yet, so we flapped our way along the hot dusty road.

It took about twenty minutes to get down to the beach, which was a couple of miles away at Episkopi. There were troops everywhere, all heading in the same general direction. Those of us whod only recently left Britain in the middle of winter were still becoming acclimatised to the weather and to us it was baking hot, yet the summer hadnt even started in earnest yet. We couldnt get to the beach quickly enough. All we wanted to do was get into the water to cool ourselves down.

Eventually, we came to a fairly long tunnel that had been blasted through the huge rock cliffs. On the top of these rock faces were a number of houses, which were used as married quarters. The tunnel was dark and dank, but once we got through to the other side a beautiful, golden sandy beach appeared in front of us. The sea was an incredibly bright blue colour that I had never seen before, its surface sparkling and glinting in the fierce sunlight. It was like a scene from a Hollywood movie.

The long, wide golden bay stretched off into the distance to the left of the tunnel and formed a crescent-shaped bowl that was surrounded on three sides by steep, craggy cliffs. Also to the left of the tunnel, and some way from its entrance, was a golf course for officers use only. The track from the tunnel continued, across a wide area lightly covered with scrub, towards a cl.u.s.ter of huts standing on the beach itself. These huts sold refreshments, cold drinks and hot dogs, although G.o.d knows it was hot enough without hot food too. You had to run like h.e.l.l over the beach to the water, as the sand was so hot it actually burnt the soles of your feet.

The layout of the beach was just as the sergeant had described it, divided into sections: one for officers and their families near to the tunnel, one for other ranks, and a further section for families and children out of sight of the surrounding hills and possible snipers.

Apparently, there had been a number of occasions where shots had been fired at servicemen on the beach and wed been told to keep the rifle with us at all times. This meant one of us carrying the rifle just in case we had to defend ourselves and taking it in turns to keep watch while the others swam, and was the reason wed been warned to always go swimming in groups of at least three.

We made our way along the crowded beach, away from the officers area, and found a spot about one hundred yards from one of the refreshment huts, which was covered with 'Coca-Cola signs. By the time Id laid the blankets out on the sand, Bill had already stripped down to his trunks and run off towards the sea.

'Stay ere, Geordie, with the rifle an our gear, Dave said. 'Ill go an get some cold drinks an sandwiches. We can go an join im later!

I lay on the blanket using Bills clothes as a pillow, and idly watched a nearby group of blokes who were playing a noisy game of volleyball. Dave was only away a few minutes but when he got back sweat was pouring from him. He plonked down on the blanket beside me.

'Gordon Bennett, he panted. 'Its hot enough to fry a bleedin egg!

'Well, wh-why dont you go and join B-bill for a s-s-swim, the w-water looks g-great? I told him. 'Ill w-watch our g-gear and go when you g-get back b-but dont b-be all day, I dont w-want to b-be roasted alive!

'Okay, Geordie. Cheers, mate. He winked and ran off.

I sipped the ice-cold drink and rubbed the bottle across my forehead and chest to help cool me down. For the first time since Id arrived on the island, things were starting to look up a bit and I thought that if this was the way most weekends were going to be spent, then my time in the army might not be too bad after all. Although I felt a little more relaxed, I was still very homesick and missed my mother and sisters a great deal. Knowing that it would be at least eighteen months before I saw them again just made it worse: a year-and-a-half on this G.o.dforsaken island!

I finished my drink and lay back. It was growing even hotter now and the beach was packed with groups of off-duty servicemen lounging about while others played football or volleyball, and in the cordoned-off family area, the married men sunbathed and picnicked with their families. It was very easy to spot any new arrivals from England: they were generally lily-white and looked like ghosts and until the three of us had arrived on the beach wed imagined that our newly acquired suntans made us look like bronzed Hollywood film stars. But now looking around at the host of well-tanned bodies, I could see that Dave, Bill and I still easily fell into the 'ghost category!