The End of Empire. Cyprus: A Soldier's Story by Martin Bell

Author:Martin Bell [Bell, Martin]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: 20th Century, Biography & Autobiography, Colonialism & Post-Colonialism, Cyprus, Europe, Great Britain, History, Insurgency, Military
ISBN: 9781473848184
Google: Gwe5BwAAQBAJ
Amazon: B00VET7AIQ
Publisher: Pen & Sword
Published: 2015-10-19T03:00:00+00:00

I emerged from the sick bay after two days’ hibernation, feeling if anything rather seedier than when I went in and firmly resolved never to set foot inside the place again except in a case of extreme emergency. Next time I shall know better than to put my faith in the Army’s medical services.

Besides, I had work to get back to. The Intelligence Section by this time was virtually a one-man band. I had forms to fill in and filing to do. There were maps to be marked and pins to be stuck into them. There were profiles of villages to be completed and pictures of EOKA suspects to be pasted on to posters. There were posters to be painted. There were intelligence summaries to be circulated. There were forms for Government of Cyprus work permits to be filled in. There were logs for letters in and letters out and reference numbers for everything. The files expanded to fill the space available. It was made clear to me, while I was sick, that the Intelligence Officer did not enjoy doing his own typing: it was not on the Sandhurst curriculum. Looking out of the window on standby days, I could see the rifle companies with batons and shields waiting to be deployed come rain or come shine, for riots or worse, and blessed my good fortune that I was becalmed in the backwater of Intelligence.

Our lives were made easier and literally sweeter by the services of the char wallahs. These were Indian camp followers, inherited from the days when the Indian Army was led by British officers and included British battalions. I knew them all personally, since one of the odds-and-ends duties of the Intelligence Section was to ensure that they had valid work permits. They were mostly Khans of one sort or another – that is, they had Khan in their names. The char wallahs accompanied us on exercises but not on operations. On Exercise Mountain Goat, held near Dhavlos in the Panhandle of Cyprus in December 1957, the following exchange was reported by D Company.

‘Where am I going to sleep, sah?’ asked the char wallah.

‘You will be sharing the 160 pounder [tent] with the Alsatian tracker dog.’

The char wallah retired mumbling to himself to get out his prayer mat and indent for another. He emerged the next morning.

‘All right, Char Wallah?’

‘No, sah … last night I only sleep five or ten minutes.’

‘Why was that?’

‘Oh, that ***** dog, sah. All night long he snore, snore, snore. That ***** dog no like me, sah. Tomorrow I sleep in open.’

The char wallahs lived inside the wire and also offered laundry and sewing services. But their chief business was brewing tea – hot, strong and heavily sugared. The char wallah would carry it around the camp in two urns slung on a bamboo pole over his shoulders, hawking his wares with a cry that sounded like ‘char wallah char wallah ka-hai’ (it was known as ‘the char wallahs’ howl’). At night he would wrap himself in an army blanket and hang an oil lamp on the bamboo pole.

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