CYPRUS RE-VISITED AS AN AIRMAN

BY
JOHN BOON

An aerial shot of JARIC (ME) at Episkopi, Cyprus, in the mid-50s.

WE BOARDED Her Majesty's Troopship Dilwara in Southampton on a dark January day.

HMT Dilwara berthing card 1958.

Without ceremony, she slipped out of Southampton in the evening. We were in the canteen, playing cards, and hardly noticed. There were several of us from RAF Brampton, including Dave Cribbins, Clive Kent and Martin Clark, amongst a mix of soldiers and airmen.

Accommodation was basic; tiers of fold-up tubular steel bunks like so many shelves, in a hold-like space. The 'heads' were so far forward in the ship the walls sloped in two directions.

There was little to do on board. I remember being on fire picket once, guarding a waterproof door in the bowels of the ship. And then there was a lecture about the dangers of VD. For those so inclined physical exercise was on offer, but there was no compulsion. Otherwise the day passed in playing cards, lounging on deck or hanging over the rails.

On board HMT Dilwara. John Boon still goes on cruises with a movie camera clamped in his hand.

Early on 21 January, about 10 days out of Southampton, the coast of Cyprus emerged on the left and the ship anchored some distance off Limassol. This was familiar territory for me, having been in this same spot a few years ago, but it was an exciting, perhaps daunting, prospect for many of the other young servicemen about to disembark.

(Editor's Note: John Boon's father had been stationed in the Canal Zone in the early 50s and while he was there, the Boon family took two short holidays in Cyprus before the outbreak of the EOKA conflict.)

We disembarked down a gangway on to landing craft, just as the family had done when coming here on holiday from Egypt. Episkopi, where we were to be stationed, was a few miles west of Limassol, perched on the top of cliffs. It was the headquarters of the Middle East Air Force as well as being home to a large number of 'brown jobs' or soldiers. It was also home to JARIC (ME), the Cyprus branch of JARIC (UK) at Brampton.

(c) Crown Copyright

'He saw the cities of a thousand men and knew their mind' - Homer

(Editor's Note: JARIC - The National Imagery Exploitation Center is part of the Intelligence Collection Group (ICG) within the Defense Intelligence Staff. In 1980 the (UK) was dropped from the name to reflect the closing of the Cyprus-based JARIC (NE) in April 1975. JARIC currently comprises around the same number of staff that it did when it was first established in 1953 and is the UK's prime provider of imagery intelligence, both to meet the demands of the Ministry of Defense and to meet the requirements of the wider intelligence community. Its role has evolved from the more traditional photographic analysis to encompass more technical intelligence disciplines such as MASINT (Measurement and Signatures Intelligence) and also GEOINT (Geospatial Intelligence).

Welcome to Episkopi

HOME FOR us was a tent, with a view you'd pay a premium for now.

Tent with Barry Porter
The view from a JARIC tent at Episkopi

And although this was January some of us went to the beach below the cliffs. It was deserted. Only new arrivals were quite that mad!

Block 10, Episkopi

It was only a matter of a very few weeks before I was allocated a place in JARIC's Block 10, a three-storey barrack block with a veranda overlooking the sea. There were eight of us in a light airy room on the first floor, with windows on both the south and the north sides. South was the Mediterranean, north were the Troodos Mountains, lightly snow-capped in winter.

John Boon shared a bedroom with his mates, including John Hill, Alan Wise, Dick Barton, Pete Houston and John Eastwood.

There were two bedrooms on each floor on either side of the central area of the block, plus a single room for a corporal to each pair of eight-man rooms.

In the center were the ablutions (toilets, washbasins, baths and showers), and a laundry room equipped with a single-tub Hoovermatic washing machine and an ironing board. This was for our personal laundry as all service uniform items and bedding were laundered for us.

We were expected to keep all communal areas clean, and on rare occasions there would be an official inspection, when we had to make a special effort to get everything spotless. But otherwise we were left pretty alone by the authorities.

Bed bugs were an eternal problem that nobody ever really solved. Most of us would get bitten every night, and we would periodically strip our beds down to the iron frame and pop any bed bugs we found with a cigarette or lighter.

JARIC's operational area viewed from Block 10.

Hotter than Brampton

THE WORK was the same as a Brampton, but that could not be said of the working conditions. JARIC (ME) was housed in a collection of Nissen huts, in its own high-fenced compound.

In summer the huts were stifling, and the processing chemicals we used were specially formulated as it was impossible to keep them at normal temperatures.

There were a couple of air-conditioned mobile units that were a welcome relief to those fortunate enough to work in them. Power for these was provided by truck-mounted diesel generators, which had to be started with a hand crank. This tended to kick back fiercely, especially on cold winter mornings, resulting in not a few wrist injuries.

We started at 07.00 and finished at 13.00, with a short break when a mobile canteen would enter the JARIC compound.

There was a rota for a 'Duty Crew' of two airmen, who would go in to work in the afternoon to do any urgent work required. If there were nothing else to do they would mix up, by hand, the hundreds of gallons of photographic chemicals needed. This was not a pleasant task, especially the acrid fumes of the acetic acid.

The other regular duty was the guard. We took no part in station duties, but we did have to provide guards at night for the JARIC compound. This ran from 18.00 to 06.00, with two hours on, four hours off routine. During the two hours on, a pair of airmen, armed with rifles, patrolled the compound fence. It never seemed to occur to anyone in authority that whilst the compound was brightly lit, outside the fence, for the most part, it was pitch black.

The compound guardroom was manned at all times, day and night, by a Service Policeman, accompanied at night by the corporal in charge of the guard. Some of these corporals couldn't see the point of both them and the airmen staying awake all night. After making sure they knew where everyone was sleeping, these enlightened corporals simply took an occasional turn round the fence while everyone else slept.

Cypriot-watching

IN ADDITION to these duties, there were two other minor breaks from routine work allocated to anyone who had nothing better to do.

One was burning the secret waste, the other was watching the camp's Cypriot employees.

When building repairs were required a local, usually a Turkish Cypriot in black baggy trousers, would enter the compound. The 'watcher' would have to remain in close proximity to the workman, who often spoke little or no English, until he had finished his work.

'Pop', a Turkish Cypriot worker, takes 40 winks in the heat of the day. He was responsible for the day-to-day cleaning of the public areas of the barrack block. © Allan Holloway

There were ways of staying out of the way of this sort of thing, a favorite being to stride confidently around the premises carrying something as simple as a ruler, thereby looking busy without actually doing anything.

Canberras and Sten guns

The Canberra PR9 can reach altitudes of 60,000ft in support of its highly sensitive role. As a testament to the Canberra's design and quality, the aircraft remained in RAF service for 57 years.

A BREAK in the routine came for me when I was sent to RAF Akrotiri to learn how to fit and remove the cameras used on Canberra reconnaissance aircraft. These aircraft, a version of the Canberra bomber, sat very low on the ground and it was very tricky maneuvering the bulky cameras in and out of the belly of the aircraft. There was also a camera fitted in the nose, accessed from the two-man cockpit, and you had to be careful not to touch the ejector seat release.

For much of the time that I was at Episkopi it was not easy to leave the camp because of the terrorist activities, and if you did go out you had to be in groups and armed. Everyone had to undergo training on the firing range in the use of the Sten Gun, which was the weapon issued to anyone going off camp.

So by far the most popular pastime was to go to the beach after work and at weekends. Episkopi had several beaches, identified by numbers in true military fashion. The exception was Happy Valley Beach. Happy Valley was the only beach not approached down a cliff face, and was at the sea end of a valley where the sports fields were situated. Number 4 Beach could also be accessed by way of a narrow tunnel through the headland, which was controlled by traffic lights.

EOKA threat ends

MUCH OF the work of JARIC was connected with the British campaign against EOKA, and we once spent a very busy period working round the clock to produce huge quantities of 'mug shots' of known terrorists. This was different to our usual work, which was 'spy in the sky' stuff.

At one point our numbers were reinforced by an influx of National Servicemen, who slept on the floor between our beds on tiny folding camp beds. They stayed in this discomfort for long enough to earn the General Service Medal, which was given to anyone serving four months in Cyprus at that time.

The activities of EOKA came to an end in early 1959, and at last we were free to roam further afield. It was easy to get around. Almost any passing vehicle would give servicemen a lift, even the locals.

The Cypriots were, in general, so friendly that it was hard to believe that many of them had been in favor of the troubles of the past few years. Apart from anything else, the many thousands of servicemen on the island were a great source of income for them.

Site-seeing

THE TEMPLE of Apollo and Curium are the two major archaeological sites between Episkopi and Limassol. We explored them several times and, to our surprise, we were the only people around.

The Temple of Apollo 'Hylates'. The original temple was built in the Early Hellenistic era and the second dates back to the second half of the 1st century AD and represents the reconstruction of the temple in a different architectural form. :
Curium: the original town was inhabited in the 12th century BC, and was subsequently built upon by various races and cultures until it was destroyed by Arab attacks and was finally deserted during the 7th century AD.

On another occasion we went to Stavrovouni Monastery, between Limassol and Nicosia. As usual, we intended to hitch a lift, but while we waited beside the Limassol road, thumbs poised, a bus full of locals stopped and the driver asked where we were going. He was heading for Nicosia and offered us a ride free of charge. He dropped us off near the monastery and told us he would be returning around six o'clock in the evening if we wanted a lift back.

Stavrovouni, a mountain with a monastery on top, is not far from Larnaca. It is about 600 meters high, the only mountain in the area. The monastery is open only for male pilgrims.

There was a winding road to the top of the mountain, but we decided to go straight up the hillside. The monks were very welcoming. They gave us refreshments and showed us around, although I don't think we had a common language.

Late in the afternoon we clambered down the hill again. It was too late for us to catch the bus, but we did not anticipate any problems getting a lift. To our surprise the bus was waiting for us, and its occupants appeared not to mind that we had kept them waiting.

I remember a couple of bus trips that were organized for JARIC. One was to Kyrenia, on the north coast of Cyprus.

A JARIC trip to St Hilarion Castle, near Kyrenia.

Movies galore

IN SUMMER 1959 I was sent to the RAF Cinema Corporation's Cyprus headquarters at RAF Nicosia on a projectionist's course. Somebody must have noticed my activities with my ciné camera. By that time I had achieved an ambition and had purchased a 16mm Bolex camera, having become dissatisfied with the quality of 8mm.

The projectionist's course lasted a week. We were trained mainly on the RAFCC's standard mobile projector, the DeBrie D16, although we were also given some instruction on the Bell and Howell machine and on the 35mm arc projectors used in the station cinema. The course finished on Saturday morning, and another course member and I hurried to the guardroom to enquire about transport.

We were dismayed to be told that nothing more was expected to go to Episkopi or Akrotiri until Monday. But one of the staff wondered if the 'milk run', the daily communication flight between Akrotiri and Nicosia, had left on its return trip. A phone call to the control tower confirmed that it was just about to leave.

The Hunting Percival Pembroke entered RAF service in 1953, replacing the venerable Anson in the light transport and communications role. Rearward facing seats for the passengers were fitted for safety in common with other RAF transport aircraft.

We piled into a Land Rover and were whisked across to where the Percival Pembroke was waiting, engines running.

The pilot told us to sit in the front seats in the passenger cabin, to avoid upsetting the trim, and we were off immediately. It only took about 20 minutes to get to Akrotiri. My companion was home, but I had to go to the guardroom, where I very soon managed to get a lift to Episkopi.

The purpose of this course was to qualify me to run the RAFCC mobile projection unit at Episkopi. In addition to the two permanent Army Kinema Corporation cinemas, the RAFCC showed films weekly at the Airmen's and Corporals' Clubs, the Sergeants' Mess and the Officers' Mess. The Airmen and Corporals' shows were a combined outdoor event in the summer.

Screening movies was a spare-time job for John Boon. It netted him and the second projectionist, usually Alan Sharpe, 50 piastres (50p) each per show, plus free beer.

We showed fairly up-to-date features, together with Pathe News and a cartoon or other some other short film. A vehicle from the station Transport Section would go to Nicosia with the old program and bring back a new one every Tuesday.

I regularly phoned Nicosia to find out the details of the following week's feature, which allowed us to publicize the new movie. I would make a short trailer on my 16mm camera, using a cine titling outfit I had, and screen it with the current release. I used cheap Government-surplus stock to shoot the trailer and processed the result in my little still-film processing tank in the barrack-block laundry room. This gave a negative image, but since it was only text that didn't matter.

Adventures in public relations

SUDDENLY my 'day job' changed. Three JARIC personnel were seconded to the Middle East Air Force Public Information Office and to my surprise I was one of them.

I was now working for Chris Coles, the civilian MEAF Public Information Officer. He had an office in the HQ building, while Corporal Dave Jones, SAC Alan Birch and myself worked out of two small rooms in a Nissen hut at JARIC.

We had no JARIC duties or set hours, but were expected to work whenever we were need. For me this was a dream come true. Not only did I have the mobile cinema job, I was out of the routine of a normal RAF existence and doing real photography.

But there was an immediate problem. The only cameras available were large sheet film cameras. One was an MPP Technical camera, designed for use on a tripod, and the other was a Speed Graphic camera, of a similar design but designed for and widely used by press photographers in the Thirties. These cameras used 4-inch by 5-inch sheet film in bulky double-sided slides and were very slow and cumbersome to use.

I persevered for a while, but it quickly became clear that there was only one solution. As Dave and Alan had done, I had to buy a high quality modern camera myself.

John Boon climbs up a rickety ladder to snap a better shot with his Speed Graphic camera.

There were two main aspects to the job. One was to take pictures of RAF personnel at work and play for publication in the two local English language newspapers, the Cyprus Mail and the Times of Cyprus, or in local papers back in Britain. The other role was recording the comings and goings of VIPs, largely at RAF Akrotiri, which was the nearest airfield to Episkopi.

The VIPs ranged from visiting senior foreign air force officers, through the RAF's own leaders, such as Air Marshal Sir Kenneth Cross, AOC of Bomber Command, to royalty.

The Commanding Officer of Akrotiri, Group Captain Humphrey, was always there to greet his guests and often, depending exactly how VIP the guests were, so was the Commander-in-Chief MEAF, Air Marshal Sir William MacDonald.

One morning we set off for Akrotiri, with Chris Coles, without having had our usual briefing. Only on the journey did Chris tell us what was happening: King Hussein of Jordan was making a refueling stop on his way to Britain. But this was not to be a simple stop to top up the tanks of his De Havilland Heron.

We had to provide blanket coverage of the event.

King Hussein of Jordan was a graduate of Sandhurst Military Academy.

Our cameras took 12 shots before reloading was needed, so as soon as one of us had finished a film another was to take over so that nothing was missed. I went first.

The Heron rolled to a stop alongside a line-up of dignitaries. These included the Governor of Cyprus Sir Hugh Foot, Sir William MacDonald, his army counterpart Major-General Darling, and other senior military officers and local dignitaries. This exhausted my film and someone else took over while I leapfrogged to further down the line of aircraft, V-bombers, Javelins, Canberras and a Britannia, awaiting inspection.

While the King was taken for lunch we hurried back to Episkopi to process and print our films for the press and for the album, which was to be sent to the King.

We were also asked to attend social functions at the Officers' and Sergeants' Messes to take photographs in a private capacity. Although we had to use our own materials and to process and print them in our own time, they produced a very welcome addition to our income.

Another highlight was Operation Dry Martini. Only I was involved in this. For some reason the RAF required a picture of a Land Rover and trailer being parachuted out of a Beverley.

Slab-sided and angular, the Blackburn Beverley never won any beauty contests, but it's ability to carry bulky loads into short roughly prepared airstrips was almost unsurpassed. When it entered service, the Beverley was the largest aircraft ever delivered to the RAF. The two-deck fuselage comprised a freight hold of nearly 6,000 cu ft. capacity, and a passenger carrying tailboom with accommodation for 36 troops or 30 paratroops.

The Blackburn Beverley was a transport aircraft, consisting largely of a capacious hold, the rear doors of which could be removed, with the passenger cabin on top.

My brief was to hang upside-down through a hatch in the floor of the passenger cabin and take my shot as the Land Rover went out of the back. This was to take place over Derna, Libya, during a joint-Army/RAF exercise called Operation Dry Martini.

Chris Coles took me to the parachute section at Nicosia for me to be issued with a parachute in case I fell out. Not surprisingly they refused since I had no parachute training, but agreed to give me a long length of webbing instead, so that I could be tied to the aircraft.

After attending the briefing for all those taking part in the exercise, we took off at about midnight in Beverley XP 287, one of several taking part.

There was no concession to comfort in the Beverley for my paratrooper companions and me. The walls were bare metal, the seats made of string on tubular frames and there was no soundproofing.

As the day dawned over the Libyan desert the paratroopers rose and clipped their static lines to the cable running the length of the cabin roof. A hatch in the floor at the rear of the cabin was opened and the line of paratroopers shuffled towards it and one by one dropped out of the aircraft.

I followed them, taking care to stop before I reached the hatch, and took a shot of the last one out.

The aircraft circled round, getting ready to drop the Land Rover, while the crew tied the webbing firmly round my waist and tied the other end to the static line cable. The hatch I was using was not over open air, but near the front of the cargo bay, the rear of which was completely open. It was not easy to maneuver myself into position, upside-down with my head through the hatch, and I needed both hands to operate the camera.

A Land Rover waits to be dropped from a Blackburn Beverley.

A crew member warned me that the load was about to go, and slowly the pallet carrying Land Rover and its trailer rolled backwards. I pressed the button as it left the lip of the cargo bay, and hurriedly wound the wind-on handle to get another shot.

John Boon (right in picture) at RAF El Adem, Libya, feeling grumpy, because he had arrived too late to be served breakfast in the Airmen's Mess.

We landed at RAF El Adem a short time later to refuel. The crew went off to the Officers' and Sergeants' Messes for breakfast. I followed them, but was told that breakfast in the Airmen's Mess was over. I wandered back to the aircraft and hung around, taking a few photographs and awaiting the return of the crew.

The cockpit area of a Beverley.

I was allowed to stand on the flight deck for takeoff and had the run of the aircraft during the flight back to Cyprus. This was spent taking pictures of the other Beverleys flying in formation from the windows in the cabin, from the astrodome behind the flight deck and from the cargo hold, which was accessed down a ladder from the hatch through which I had taken my photographs of the Land Rover.

Nobody seemed worried that I might fall out, despite the fact that the hold was open to the sky at the back and the floor was covered with rollers.

'The formation flew close to the mountains of southern Turkey before landing at Nicosia, with me taking photographs from behind the "driver" again.' - John Boon

Dog bites Whacko! master

One day Chris Coles asked me if I would be prepared to use my ciné camera for a job. In return for 'borrowing' mine he offered me his entire stock of 16mm film, 3,000ft of black and white negative film, which was otherwise useless to him as his official camera was broken. He wanted me to film a visitor to RAF Akrotiri with the hope of getting some television exposure back home.

The visitor was Jimmy Edwards, a comedian at the height of his popularity in Britain. He was spending the day touring Akrotiri and we were to record his visit. It began at the guardroom, where he 'volunteered' to be chased by a RAF Police dog. His arm was fitted with padding and he was told to run. The dog caught him easily, snapping its teeth round the padding. Although the animal was highly trained for the task, I thought the star was very brave to agree to perform the stunt for our benefit.

John Boon films Cpl Dave Jones getting and Jimmy Edwards' autograph.
Jimmy Edwards with RAF 'double'.

Walter Clapham of Lilliput magazine was another Akrotiri visitor for whom we took photographs as required for him to illustrate an article he was writing about life at the base. We also shot a whole page of photographs in color - very unusual for us - for the Illustrated London News of a new primary school at Akrotiri, although the ILN printed them in sepia.

But all good things come to an end. My four-year engagement was nearly over and I had no intention of staying in the RAF any longer. As the son of a soldier I had known before I joined that service life was unlikely to be for me. I hated its complete lack of privacy, its petty discipline and the isolation from 'real' life.

I left Cyprus from Nicosia in a chartered Douglas DC6 of Hunting Clan Air Transport at midnight on 9 June 1960, landing at London Heathrow at about 09 00, where a Customs officer greeted me. After examining all my photographic equipment in minute detail, he told me that if I would swear the kit was more than a year-old, he would allow me to bring it into the country duty-free. Nevertheless he did charge me £10 (a week's wages) for a lens.

From the airport, I was supposed to go straight to RAF Innsworth in Gloucestershire to be demobbed. But it was a Friday and I knew that by the time I got there it would be too late to do anything until Monday, so I went home.

While I was away, my parents had moved to Epping in Essex and I had no idea of the exact location of their new house was, so I took a taxi from the railway station.

The driver didn't tell me that it was only a couple of minutes' walk away. I was back in civilian life!

© 2008 John Boon & David Carter

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