A dark room

During all these years there were times when I was plunged into sadness, watching history repeating itself. The issues were always the same: the Cyprus dispute, the oil fields in the Aegean Sea, the extension of Greek territorial waters to 12 nautical miles, the rivalry between the Americans and the French concerning arms sales. The mistakes were the same as well: utterly irrational disputes between Greeks, between Athens and Nicosia, a complete absence of the realistic expectations that the national interests demanded, and the various circumstances which led to a great many missed opportunities. The attitudes were the same as well: the everlasting Greek establishment with its unrivalled flexibility and opportunism—only the names change, once in a while. The public posturing of those who kept the fate of the country in their hands compared to their behind-the-scenes groveling to the Americans. Or, worse still, the opposite: the constant backroom threats that were never realized and thus quickly became, with very few exceptions, obvious bluffs and empty gestures. I hope that the readers of this book will gain a better understanding of the same issues which are still current in 2021, most of which have their roots in the years 1973-74. What started as the project of a curious teenager who lived History somewhat more intensely than was warranted, came to last a good many years. The journey was worth it: as for the result, it will be judged by the book’s readers, and by whether it stands the test of time. I would like to dedicate this book to the young men who lost their lives on those Noratlases, sent to Cyprus on a reckless mission. For many years, the Greek state refused to recognize their sacrifice. The soldiers who boarded those planes, country boys barely out of their teens. Most of them didn’t even know where they were going and what their mission was. They knew nothing about what went on in the “dark room,” all those backroom deals that resulted in their sacrifice. For years they lay buried under the earth, alongside the wreckage of the one plane shot down by friendly fire, surrounded by an almost guilty silence. When the time came to identify their bodies and bring them “home” with full honors, I was lucky enough to be aboard the C-130 that brought them back. The melancholy pride with which their relatives accompanied them on their final journey home remains etched in my memory. A brilliant, dedicated scientist—Xenophon Kallis—quietly solved many riddles in the course of his search for the disappeared and the soldiers who had not been identified, and was the man who discovered the NIKI-4, the airplane that was hastily buried in the Makedonitissa hill. He gave me a vial with a little dirt from the wreckage along with everything else that had been left there after the airplane went down. I still have the vial displayed on my desk, a symbol of a rare moment of true bravery and the sole effort made by Greece to “redeem its honor” during that fateful summer. 1 The eager “revolutionaries,” Avrakotos, and Tom Pappas Wednesday, 13 May 1964. The bells tolled mournfully across Nicosia. Two days earlier, the Turks had killed two Greek officers and a Greek Cypriot policeman who had