Deceptive Peace

In Cyprus the days were hot and the guns, for the moment, were cold. Turkish and Greek Cypriot sentries stood listlessly at the sandbagged strongpoints. Under watchful eyes of U.N. escorts, farmers drove their tractors through fields, bringing in the wheat harvest. At Nicosia's Ledra Palace Hotel, a new swimming pool was dedicated with a cocktail party. Not far away, a new Hilton was abuilding.

Yet everyone knew that each evening, when the sun fell behind the Troodos Mountains, the smuggling of men and arms into the island resumed, making peace an ugly deception.

On the Beach. Greece, limited by treaty to a 950-man contingent in Cyprus, has carried shipload after shipload of fresh troops and guns into the southern port of Limassol. Numbering more than 3,000 so far, they were quickly transported to camps of the Greek Cypriot national guard in the Troodos Mountains and elsewhere. Part of a Nicosia mental hospital is being used as a storage depot for newly arrived Greek arms and ammunition; four batteries of field artillery, quantities of light antiaircraft guns, antitank weapons and armored cars have recently turned up at a Greek encampment at Lefkoniko, near Famagusta.

The Greek Cypriot government of Archbishop-President Makarios insists that the new arrivals are for the most part Cypriot students returning from their schools in Athens--though it is not clear why the students arrive at night and head for the hills in trucks.

Turkey, which is entitled to keep a regiment of 650 soldiers in Cyprus, has also pumped in fresh forces from the mainland. But the Turkish Cypriots, lacking the control of the main ports that Makarios' men enjoy, have had to adopt unorthodox import techniques that make it impossible to bring in as many reinforcements as the Greeks. One battalion of perhaps 200 paratroopers was recently dropped clandestinely along the 15-mile-long road from Nicosia to coastal Kyrenia, where the legal Turkish regiment keeps watch over the only outlet from the capital the Turkish Cypriots control. Along with the troops, the Turkish planes dropped bundles of tommy guns, rifles, mortars, bazookas and ammunition.

The Turks have landed by sea as well, mainly on the safely held beaches not far from Lefka on the northwest coast. Fast Turkish navy motorboats bring 30-man platoons across the 50-mile Mediterranean stretch; they are regularly watched by a Swedish U.N. infantry company that has its headquarters in full view of the shore. In all, some 500 Turkish soldiers have landed there, helping to secure a solidly held 30-sq.-mi. area--an ideal beachhead in case a major Turkish troop intervention should be decreed by Ankara.

His Beatitude's Head. What the Turks fear is precisely what Greece threatens: to rip Cyprus from the troubled treaty that gives the 18% Turkish minority a veto over the majority Greek Cypriots and set it on the path toward enosis, or merger with Greece. No one is a blunter advocate of this course than wizened, fierce-mustached George Grivas, 66, the ascetic little soldier (5 ft. 4 in.) who led Cyprus' EOKA revolt against Britain in 1959 and spent five years in Greek exile. Dissatisfied with the policies of Makarios, whom he considers dishonest, not very clever, and a dupe of the Communists, Grivas talked Greece's leadership into letting him return to Cyprus last month. Virtually unannounced, he arrived and instantly won the loyalty of the Greek Cypriot irregulars--to the considerable chagrin of Makarios, who wants to get rid of Turkish influence in Cyprus but is reluctant to make his little land a mere Greek province through enosis.

Grivas dangles over His Beatitude's head a document allegedly signed by the prelate in 1954, swearing to fight for enosis until death. If Makarios has changed his mind, Grivas has not. And yet, for a while at least, Grivas turned out to be a considerable influence for order. From the moment of his arrival, the bristling little fighter talked not only enosis but peace and fair play for the Turks, which, as an undisputed Greek-Cypriot hero, he felt strong enough to do. He also finally brought the Greek Cypriot "national guard," composed of anywhere from 15,000 to 40,000 men, under control, curbing the whims of impetuous lower commanders. A few days after his return, a U.N. official complained to Grivas that Greek Cypriot irregulars were firing nightly at Canadian outposts. "It won't happen again," snapped Grivas, and so far it has not.

Exit the Foreigners. But how long could this semblance of order last? Tension mounted once again and trigger fingers were itching--this time at Temblos, a village not far from Kyrenia, where Greeks last week moved some of their heavy artillery around the mountains to threaten Turkish fighters who had moved in with guns and men. In a cloud on the heights far above, St. Hilarion's castle was occupied by Turkish irregulars with shotguns and pistols, defying the Greeks to attempt an attack.

At week's end, perhaps prompted by the threat of Denmark and Sweden to send their 1,800 U.N. peace-keeping troops home, the U.N.'s Secretary-General U Thant dispatched hot notes to Turkey and Greece, demanding that at the very least the new surreptitious troop buildup be stopped. Grivas himself made it clear that his peace talk and his desire to keep order could only go so far, that he would fight unless he could get enosis. Visiting a hospital in Nicosia, Grivas patted an expectant mother's bulging belly and said: "You will give forth a soldier for freedom."

This file is automatically generated by a robot program, so reader's discretion is required.