A beautiful island

I arrived in Cyprus in July 1957. It was very hot but the island was enjoying a lull in the terrorism. I was very lucky because in those first three months whenever I had free time from my military duties I could travel about the island quite freely. Several of us would hire a car and find a deserted beach where we would swim and snorkel for hours in crystal clear water teeming with fish. We sat in village tavernas and despite the language problem we managed to talk to charming local people about anything but politics. We also visited some of the many archaeological sites which introduced us to the island's long and fascinating history. The only thing we missed was female company!

We treasured that golden respite from the violence. It was then that the realisation dawned on us that although the terrorism would soon resume and may go on for months or even years, it would eventually pass into history. The beauty and fascination of the island would outlive the conflict.

It made us wonder why in such a beautiful place there could be such deadly conflict; but then we had to remember the irony that without that very conflict we would not have been there.

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