You’re in the army now!

THE WAY THINGS ARE

By Colette NiReamonn Ioannidou

During the 80s one of the most popular programmes on CyBC radio was Request Time with John Vickers in English and Vicky Bishara in Arabic. Vicky’s Arabic drew listeners from the Middle East and introduced the home audience to famous singers of region such as Fairuz and Dalida. Many requests came from conscripted soldiers, and one of the most requested songs was Status Quo’s In The Army Now.

Lads in camps all over Cyprus were counting the days till their release, pretty much as they still do. The coup and invasion were not that far behind then. Yet now, after almost half a century, those events still hurt those who suffered or lost loved ones. An old friend’s first word to me on the coup anniversary was ‘Prothotes!’ traitors: the coup perpetrators. Menfolk in her family had been physically injured and one had lost his life in the strife. As long as she lived, she said, she wouldn’t forget, and when the sirens go off, the sound hits her heart and stomach.

Most Greek Cypriot families have had a son in service or know the son of someone close in uniform. Two working mothers in my circle had to endure three sons putting on fatigues and all that entailed. My conscript was into Judo and karate, so heavy, sweaty uniforms weren’t a new chore, and I’d previously been through it with my husband during conscription and the invasion. One problem during son’s time was water cuts, volume in dams was low and days when water was rationed meant hard hand scrubbing.

The months of service were reasonable or painful depending on the nature of the lads and their superiors. Good officers meant fairness along with so-called psi-bi, the ‘psychological warfare’ they went through: practical jokes with a hard edge at least, or at worst, a note short of sadism with a nasty ranker who picked on the weak. My son’s mates also realised when a weapon was placed in their hands that this wasn’t movie-land, this piece of metal was capable of ending someone’s life or seriously wounding them. And accidents with guns happen in the army as well as death in training exercises as we have recently seen.

My son is proud of his son who is now near the end of his service in a tough unit. Back in is day, I joined PEMSE, a soldiers’ mothers group. We visited youngsters who were far from home in hospital, brought them small necessities and helped where we could the lads with problems. Some pretended mental illness in an effort to escape. I tried to make one bright youth realise that everything goes on record, and what was reported would be there for life.

The siren recalling the invasion wails of the misery it brought on the island, and all the young men whose lives were lost that should not have been lost. As mothers count the days to the end of compulsory service, they hope with all their hearts trouble will not once more erupt and that their lads will return home to go on to work or study. We face superior numbers of Turkish soldiers, led by savvy politicians who plan well beyond today or tomorrow, while ours sadly, navel gaze. That army could wipe out very quickly, whatever defences we have built up over the years. Our side could put up a fight as men did, remarkably bravely, through the invasion, others let down the ranks under them.

Our politicians years ago should have ensured that sacrifice of vital young lives should never happen again. They failed today’s youth by procrastination. Training and weapons now are far better, the class of soldier that comes out of elitist groups can compete with soldiers anywhere. Conditions are more comfortable and the food more palatable. The school leavers don’t spend as long in service as their fathers had to. But the terrible possibility is still there that at some stage our young men may have to engage in active service. We have neighbours willing to be friends, but we know with certainty they won’t help militarily if the Turkish army moves again. Russia and Ukraine depict what can go wrong between neighbouring states, compared to them and Turkey, we are tiny.

No matter how ambivalent you feel about our small army’s role, it can fill a family’s heart with pride to see a son or daughter take a vow to serve their country. Keeping them out of a war is far more important than fleeting pride. Peace demands no mutilated or dead young bodies on either side of our divide. Better the young live with a clearer, further-seeing vision, in the kind of security being denied them today for reasons that have nothing to do with their future but the future of men who would rule on both sides.