Getting sunburned was considered a serious offence and NCOs constantly warned us about the dangers of getting burnt, and how much damage the strong sun, and its reflection off the sand and sea, could do to our eyes. To help prevent this, wed each obtained what pa.s.sed in those days for army-issue sungla.s.ses.

These consisted of a long piece of celluloid with a v-shaped cut-out and a small hole at each end through which a rubber band was tied. When you put the band over your head, with the 'v inverted over the bridge of your nose, the plastic wrapped around your cheeks and shielded your eyes very effectively. Generally, drivers of motorcycles and open vehicles used these as protection against dust and insects, but the plastic in theirs was clear, unlike the pair that I now put on. These had been modified and the clear strip replaced by an almost opaque layer of dark, bottle-green plastic. In fact, they were so dark that I could barely make out the nearby game of volleyball and the guys playing it, who now only appeared as shadows, while the rest of the beach disappeared into a green haze.

A figure emerged from the direction of the volleyball game and came into my line of vision, gradually growing larger and larger as it neared me. I watched him lazily until, eventually, he blocked out the sunlight, casting a shadow over me. I removed the sungla.s.ses in order to see him better but at first couldnt make out his features as the sun was behind him.

'Hiya, John, or should I say Geordie! he said as he flopped down beside me on the edge of the blanket.

Before I could speak, he raised his hand and said, 'Dont say anything. Just listen for a moment. Do you remember a chap talking to you in the gym back in Blighty during your basic training? He told you that you would be contacted in Stratford, but something happened back then and we couldnt make contact with you at that time, then your lot were shipped over here. Well, Geordie, I am that contact!

Id never seen him before and the fact that he knew my name took me by surprise. I wasnt sure what he was talking about at first, then suddenly it came back to me and I remembered.

'Oh, th-thats r-right. Y-y-y-es, I r-remember the g-guy, I stammered.

My eyes had acclimatised to the bright sunlight by now and I saw him clearly for the first time. He was an extremely fit, good-looking bloke, deeply suntanned and dressed like the rest of us in army-issue shorts, although his had been tailored to fit him very well.

'How would you like to have a change, a chance to do something more exciting? He paused before carrying on. 'Think about it for a moment, would you like a drink?

'W-well, y-yes, OK, I replied as he stood up and dashed off.

I didnt know what to think! I wasnt quite sure just what he meant by 'excitement but I was so fed up with the way things were going anyway, Id have done anything to get out of the boring routine back at camp and the nightmare prospect of another eighteen months of the same stretching ahead of me. From what hed said, I had visions of maybe being transferred to an active unit where, perhaps, I might be patrolling the streets. I felt that anything would be better than what I was currently doing but I didnt understand why he would need to meet me so secretly for that.

As I looked over to where he stood at the c.o.ke stand my mams words came to me: 'Shy bairns get nowt, John. If you dont push yourself you wont get anywhere.

I watched the guy now running back towards me, a c.o.ke bottle in each hand, and in that brief moment decided to take a chance and go along with whatever he said when he returned. What had I to lose?

'Y-yeah, OK, Ill g-give it a g-go! I told him before he had time to sit down or speak.

He smiled slowly and handed me one of the cold bottles.

'Great stuff! Right, well be in touch soon. Catch you later! And with that ran off in the same direction hed come from.

I was surprised at him leaving so quickly as Id expected him to tell me more and maybe arrange the date and time for another meeting. I stood up and looked around to see if I could see him anywhere but hed completely disappeared. Replacing my sungla.s.ses, I lay back on the blanket and thought about our odd conversation. I got the impression that he could have been an officer as he was very well spoken and sounded well educated and confident. But I knew absolutely nothing about him and really hed told me little more than the guy in the gym back at Wrexham had.

For security reasons, wed been warned to be extremely cautious in our dealings with strangers and what we discussed with them. There was a lot of terrorist activity on the island and spies and infiltrators were all around, looking for information which could be useful to them. But, for some strange reason that I couldnt explain, I instinctively felt that I could trust this guy. Besides, I thought, he must have something to do with the army otherwise how was he going to be able to change things for me. It was weird though, the way in which hed known all about the guy whod spoken to me back at Wrexham and the supposed contact at Stratford-on-Avon.

Just then, Bill and Dave ran up the beach and flopped down beside me on the blanket breaking my chain of thought.

'Eeh t.w.a.ters great, Geordie, you want tget in there! Bill said.

'Oo was that geezer you were talking to? Dave asked casually as he dried himself down.

'Oh, him. Hes j-just one of the lads from the c-c-camp, Dave, I replied, which apparently satisfied their curiosity, as they didnt pursue the matter further and the whole thing was so strange that I pushed it to the back of my mind.

It was very hot now and my turn to go for a swim, and the shimmering sea looked so cool and inviting. So leaving them in charge of the rifle, I headed over the scorching sand down to the water.

Everyone was having a good time, noisily playing games, splashing one another and generally larking about in the warm water so different from the North Sea, which was freezing even at the height of summer. Id borrowed a pair of flippers and, putting them on, swam out to a wooden pontoon anch.o.r.ed a little way off the beach from where people were diving into the crystal-clear water.

There were a number of porpoises (or dolphins I never could tell the difference) swimming around the pontoon. They really seemed to enjoy being near to the people swimming and b.u.mped into us with their noses. Now and then, someone would shout 'Shark! for a joke and everyone in the water would panic and frantically look around for the telltale dorsal fins. For all I knew, the porpoises could well have been sharks and, at first, they scared the life out of me!

The three of us stayed on the beach until the end of the day when everyone gradually began to pack up their belongings and head back to the camp. As the light quickly began to fade, we reluctantly prepared to leave too our day of freedom seemed to have been so short. Still stripped to the waist, we headed back towards the camp through the cool, dark tunnel, our voices echoing as we laughed and joked. It was still very warm and we walked along to the sound of crickets chirping in the velvety night air. In the distance, the lights at the camp gates shone brightly while the rest of the camp remained in virtual darkness, lit only by a few scattered light bulbs.

As we walked back up the dusty track, Dave and Bill chatted to one another, discussing whether to go to the NAAFI when they got back and I began to think again of my conversation with the man on the beach. The total strangeness of it all really hit me. It was weird to think that someone could be 'watching me all of the time, as the guy had implied. I went over and over what hed said in my mind, as Bill and Dave chatted on by my side. By the time we reached our tent, I realised just how chuffed I was to have been singled out this way; to be considered a bit special by someone. Although unsure of what it was all about, I was also quite excited at the thought of having the opportunity to do something 'different.

It was a warm sticky night and I tossed and turned, unable to sleep. The conversation on the beach kept on going through my mind. Suddenly, a thought occurred to me: the plane Id been travelling in from England had been forced to make an emergency landing in Malta and as a result our original destination of Beirut had been changed, which was how wed ended up in Cyprus. Or so we believed, you could never tell with the army.

'b.l.o.o.d.y h.e.l.l, I thought, 'how did he know that I would be here? Would he have made contact with me in Beirut if Id ended up there? Had that been the original plan? Who the h.e.l.l are these people and how did they get all this information? And just why have they chosen me?

I spent a restless night worrying about just who I might be dealing with and what I was possibly getting myself into. My brain buzzed with a hundred-and-one questions and I couldnt sleep.

During the early hours there was a loud commotion from a nearby tent, a lot of screaming and yelling. The racket jolted me out of a fitful doze and I rolled out of bed to see what was going on. But, in my haste, Id completely forgotten about the mosquito net over my bunk and immediately became entangled in it as I stood up. Struggling to break free of the d.a.m.n thing, I tripped over the duckboards on the ground, overbalanced and landed heavily in a heap on top of Bill, who was sound asleep in one of the other bunks. He instantly woke up in a major panic.

'Wh-what is it? Whats going on, Geordie, whats happening, whats that noise outside, are we being attacked or what?

'G-give us time, Bill, m-man, Im t-trying to g-get out of this flaming n-net!

Eventually I managed to rip a hole in the material, and peered out through the tent flaps. Two guards were dragging a guy from a nearby tent and judging by the racket he was making, he was in agony. As they pa.s.sed beneath the light in the middle of the Parade Square I saw what looked like a huge balloon on his back. In fact, the majority of his back was covered in one enormous blister, which made him look like the hunchback, Quasimodo.

'What the h.e.l.ls going on, Geordie? Bill asked again.

'Christ, Bill, you w-wanna s-see the size of the b-blister on this g-guys bback! I replied.

'Serve tnoisy b.u.g.g.e.r right, Bill grumbled. 'We were warned about getting burnt. Hes in trouble now; h.e.l.l be in for a court martial. At least we might be able to get some b.l.o.o.d.y kip. And, satisfied that we werent about to be attacked by terrorists, he lay back down and went back to sleep.

I climbed back into my bunk and eventually dozed off, but it felt as though Id only been sleeping for about five minutes before that 'stupid little sergeant was bashing the side of the tent and screaming his b.l.o.o.d.y head off at us to get up!

On parade that Monday morning, the officer on parade told me to report to Lieutenant Stevens. As soon as we were dismissed, I went over to his tent, knocked on the pole and waited.

'Who is it?

'Urwin, S-sir.

'Ah, yes. Come in.

I pushed through the tent flaps and went inside. Lieutenant Stevens was sitting at his desk looking at some papers. He was a young, boyish looking bloke of about twenty-seven or so, slightly built and around five foot eleven inches tall. I usually got on well with him but he seemed to be annoyed with me, for some reason that I couldnt think of. His manner was curt and he eyed me suspiciously.

'What have you been up to, Urwin? How did you manage to get yourself detailed over to 518 Officers Mess? he demanded.

I was as surprised as he was.

'The Officers M-mess, S-sir? I h-havent a clue, S-sir.

'Well, thats where youre going so youd better report to 518 Company straight away, youll get further instructions over there, he said, dismissing me abruptly.

I had no experience in this area at all, besides it was generally considered to be a bit of a 'cushy number, kept for those who deserved some type of merit, which certainly explained Lieutenant Stevenss raised eyebrows at my selection. But I wasnt complaining: Id get better rations and wouldnt have to parade or do any guard duties!

My first thought on being told to report to Lieutenant Stevens, was that it might be something to do with the guy on the beach, but now I was just confused and didnt know what the h.e.l.l was going on.

At 518 Company Officers Mess, I was greeted with a mixture of deep suspicion, disbelief and a great deal of resentment by both the kitchen staff and mess orderlies, who simply couldnt understand how a stuttering Geordie could possibly have been given the position of Head Waiter! However, they had their orders and went through the motions, showing me how to lay tables and serve food. I was just as baffled as they were and, although it was certainly an improvement on digging latrines, I didnt know why I had been sent there any more than they did.

In fact I wanted to be a 'real soldier and thought that if this had anything to do with the guy on the beach then Id been well and truly conned! This was neither funny nor exciting! I just couldnt believe that this could be what hed meant; besides, why would 'they whoever 'they were go to all that bother, all of that secrecy, merely to stick me in the Officers Mess? It just didnt make any sense.

I wondered if perhaps it was because one of these officers was to be my next contact. But how would I know and why hadnt the guy on the beach simply explained more to me? I just wished that hed given me more information but, for now, Id simply have to wait and see and hope that it wouldnt be too long before everything became clear.

The Officers Mess was a large wooden construction, consisting of four pre-fabricated units, which together formed a square. One large rectangle formed the dining hall, with windows on two adjacent sides and doorways on the other two. A long, highly polished table stood in the centre surrounded by chairs and along the longer, windowless wall, were draped flags and regimental regalia. On this same wall was a doorway through into a smaller, squarer room that was fitted out with a bar, although for some reason there was no actual door attached to this opening. The bar led through to another room, which held a full-size snooker table.

And the second doorway, on the shorter window-less wall, led directly into the kitchen area via a set of swing doors. The kitchen formed one short wall of the dining hall and was the length of the bar area beyond.

I was kitted out in the regulation white jacket, red waistcoat, white shirt and black tie, and black trousers with a red stripe down the outside of each leg. To my utter horror, I was told that Id been given the task of reading the menu out to the officers, and then to wait in order to take their individual orders.

The menu consisted of soup and a main course followed by a pudding and as I looked at it the nightmare grew, partly due to my stammer and self-consciousness, but also due in part to the fact that I didnt even know what half the stuff on the menu was, or how the words should be p.r.o.nounced!

Soon the officers came through from the bar area in dribs and drabs, then sat around the table chatting to one another. Suddenly, one old boy with an enormous moustache, pushed the papers hed been reading into his breast pocket, looked up at me and then glanced around the table.

'Well? he bellowed. 'Are you going to get on with it?

'Y-yes, S-sir. R-right aaway, Ssir, I stammered.

'What! Whats this? he roared in his loud, plummy voice. He glanced around at the others, then stood up and turned his chair to fully face where I was standing at the head of the table before sitting down again. Then he glared at me and leaned forwards with his knees wide apart and one hand resting on each of them.

It was totally intimidating, and my first attempt to read out the menu was a complete disaster. I simply couldnt get past the word 'soup! I was supposed to be saying, 'For soup there is a choice of... but all I managed was 'F-f-f-for s-s-s-s-s-s-s... before I stopped dead, flushed and very embarra.s.sed.

I tried again, but with no more success than my first attempt, which several of the officers found very amusing. However, the old boy was very definitely not amused at all.

'What the h.e.l.l is going on, here? he loudly demanded to know, his face turning slightly red.

To my surprise, another officer leaned over the table and beckoned to him. The old guy bent forward and listened intently as the younger officer whispered something to him.

'What? Whats that you say? Well, why wasnt I told this before? he said as he listened. Then he turned back in his seat to face me, leaned back in his chair, crossed his legs and tweaked the end of his large bushy moustache. He continued to look at me very, very hard for a few long moments, weighing me up.

'Look, if you cant say it, why dont you try to sing the b.l.o.o.d.y thing? he said loudly.

I thought it had to be the stupidest thing Id ever heard but he was deadly serious, so with a little hesitation and feeling a complete idiot, I did it I sort of read the menu in a sing-song way, which to my amazement worked with almost everything but asparagus. I dont know why but for some reason I just couldnt get my tongue around that one flaming word!

From then on, I gradually lost my stammer day by day.

Most of the officers were pleasant and reasonably friendly towards me, especially the old guy. He seemed very pleased to see that his remedy for stuttering was working and he always made a point of speaking to me. Unfortunately, my popularity with the officers did little to improve my relationship with the other orderlies; if anything it seemed to make them even more resentful.

They were suspicious of me from the start, mainly because I was an unknown whod landed a plum job and they werent exactly sure why Id been given it but, generally, they left me alone. The main exception to this was the Sergeant Cook, a big, fat, ugly bloke, who was constantly having a go at me, demanding to know how Id got to be so pally with the old boy.

This Sergeant Cook didnt believe me when I told him that I hadnt a clue why the old guy seemed to like me and was more pleasant to me than the other orderlies, or why Id been given this job in the first place. He went on and on at me, constantly bringing the subject up whenever he saw me.

Hed been having a go at me one afternoon and after hed gone one of the other orderlies, whod seen him talking to me came over.

'Here, a word of warning, pal! You dont want to be getting too matey with that one, he warned quietly. 'Watch your back at all times, and if he drops a spoon, dont you bleedin bend over to pick it up!

'Why? What d-do you mean? I asked.

'Why? Cos hes a b.l.o.o.d.y big puff, mate, bent as they come and nasty with it thats why, so watch out! Hes only in here cos hes a good cook and hed be given a right hard time of it in the normal camp, serve the b.u.g.g.e.r right an all it would! he explained. 'b.l.o.o.d.y soddin queers, I hate them! he said vehemently, almost spitting the words out. 'If I had my way the whole f***in lot of them would be stuck up against a wall and bleedin shot!

I hadnt a clue what he was talking about but realised it was obviously something he felt very strongly about and really felt I needed to know. I was simply that innocent, that nave.

'Thanks for the warning, Ill certainly k-keep an eye on him, I told him anyway, wondering what on earth I had to watch out for and just what exactly was a 'pouf. I suspected that it was something that I should be aware of, but I didnt really want to ask any of my mates for details as they liked nothing better than to 'take the Mickey and were already giving me a rough time about losing my stammer and 'getting all posh and 'full of myself from being around the officers so much.

In all, I spent about two weeks working in the Officers Mess during which time my stammer improved noticeably every day. It seemed little short of a miracle to me, that such a terrible affliction, which had been with me most of my life, was all but cured in so relatively short a period and in such a simple way.

CHAPTER 5.

INITIATION.

Id been working in the Officers Mess for roughly two weeks and had picked up most of the basics relatively quickly. While I didnt exactly enjoy it, it was better than what Id been doing so far and had obvious advantages to it, the main ones being no morning parade or guard duty. But, as I was preparing the table for Sunday lunch, the fat Sergeant Cook called out to me.

'Forget about that, Geordie, youre leaving right now. Report on parade tomorrow morning, he ordered.

'On parade! Eh, why? I asked warily, still cautious about him after the warning Id been given.

'How the h.e.l.l do I know, probably for your next cushy job? he sneered. 'Ive just received orders, so forget about that and beat it!

Typical, I thought, just when Im beginning to get the hang of things and getting to lose that awful b.l.o.o.d.y stammer. I was a bit miffed at losing the perks and the decent food Id been getting too.

'But, Sarge, what about my dinner? I asked, as I hadnt eaten yet.

'Tough! Just beat it will you, Geordie, he growled nastily.

'Thats great, isnt it, I mumbled under my breath as I turned to leave.

'What was that? he demanded, giving me a look that made me move pretty d.a.m.n quickly.

'Nowt! Ill never understand this army, I muttered over my shoulder.

I couldnt understand why I was suddenly no longer needed in the mess, but then I hadnt understood why Id been sent there in the first place. Although I hadnt been there long Id learned the job quickly, the fat Sergeant Cook had even admitted that much. So, I didnt think it could be because I wasnt very good at the job and besides, theyd known I had no experience when they gave it to me.

Typical army logic, I thought as I made my way back to the tent. But, at least its helped me to get rid of that d.a.m.n stammer.

It was very hot and I spent the rest of the day lounging around with Bill and Dave, just messing about taking daft photos to send back home. But that night when we turned in I wondered what was going to happen the following morning and what crummy job Id be given next.