Eventually the new barrack blocks were completed as far as connecting up hot water in the wash rooms and we moved in. Since all the other facilities e.g. the cook house and squadron offices were still on the other side of the valley this was not really an improvement from our point of view. There were two barrack rooms on each floor and three floors to the building. Every barrack room held maybe a dozen people with several NCOs in each so fortunately I was not in charge. However with that number of people there was more noise and disturbance especially with people on different shifts. ( The blocks were designed to have a separate small room for the NCO i/c a main room but this feature was never finished while I was there. )
Living in a tent during the winter was not bad, not brilliant if you had to go out in the rain to the washrooms, so I suppose on that score the barracks were better. However in the heat of the summer, without any sort of air conditioning yet put in, they were much hotter than a tent with the sides rolled back and that much less desirable.
Unlike, say the infantry, where a whole squadron or even regiment would go together for an overseas posting and then return to base in the U.K. the 3GHQ Signals Regiment was based in Episcopi. This meant that there was a constant flow of National Service people coming out to do their time and then going home while the regulars stayed and did longer stints there. Some people kept a two year calendar right from day one and knew exactly how many of the 730 days were left. I had become much more relaxed about my approaching return home. Yes, I wanted to go home, but the Army wasn't all bad as some had tried to tell us before we started. Here I was a full corporal, earning Five pounds a week all found, and not too badly off at all. The thing was, I had still not done a drill and duties course, and really did not have a clue about some of the finer ( drill ) points of the job. We asked the squadron clerk how this had come about. He was astounded but explained that there was always an alphabetical list of people due to go on a D and D course so one time he would make up the roster of names starting with the letter A and next time one starting from Z. That way he assumed every one would eventually be included, but clearly, he conceded, his clever system was not infallible. The letter M was some where near the middle and I had benefited from this. It would not happen to me again he said, " too late" we told him.
The four of us who had come out together had to go for our final interview with the Squadron Commander. The Army had spent over six months training us and his job was to try and persuade us to sign on for at least another three years. The two of us who were corporals compared notes afterwards and discovered that he had confidently predicted that if we did stay on we would be Sergeants within six months - but we had both said no thank you, the army had done all it could for us, and we had done all we wanted to for the army.
Our return home was not to be by air but by troop ship and it was said that it would stop for a few hours in Malta and we would be allowed ashore. We called the cipher mechs in Malta and told them. One had been with us in Catterick, though he was a three year man and not going home, and he said he would look out for us.
On the appointed day the regiment took us to Limassol and deposited us on the quayside. The troopship, MV Dilwara, was at anchor some way out to sea and we were taken in groups, with our kit bags, on a ferry boat out to her. Our berth was above the water line as there was a port hole that could be opened to view passing ships. The bunks were arranged three above each other and quite close together. As soon as we were settled in there was a muster with a lifeboat drill which I think was repeated every day. There were a wide variety of people on board including wives and children. One thing I do remember was that some of the water used for washing was sea water and it required a special soap in order to work. I seem to recall that it had a "gritty" feel when used and was not very popular.
The voyage took, I think, eight days and there was not much to do. One afternoon we spent hours just watching a school of porpoise keeping pace with the boat. The education officer advertised for volunteers to help teach the children who were missing school lessons. Two of us were accepted and this whiled away several hours each morning and meant we were not available to do anything more demanding like physical training.
In about three days and we were steaming into Grand Harbour in Malta and as predicted we could go ashore if we wanted. Our companion from Catterick had done his homework and was at the bottom of the gangway to meet us and we went on a lightning tour of Valetta. This included a visit to their Signals Center which was housed in a building put up by the crusaders. With walls many feet thick the construction was a help in keeping temperatures stable for the equipment. We went to a point over looking the Grand Harbour and saw all the ships at anchor there. Nearby there were some underground buildings of Roman origin that had been used to store food during the blockade of the Island during the second world war.
We took on provisions in Algiers but they were having some kind of a war and we were not allowed ashore. Gibraltar we could only see the lights in the distance as we just stopped for a few hours during the night. Then up through the Bay of Biscay in the tail end of a gale. This was something we could have done without. I was not actually sea sick but some people were. We went on deck and watched as we went through a fleet of quite large fishing boats . One moment you could see all of a boat as it was on the crest of a wave and then it went down in a trough and even the tops of the masts vanished so the waves must have been nearly thirty foot high.
Eventually our ship was met by the pilot who took us into Southampton and then we were queuing up to get ashore. This meant going through the Customs shed and declaring your purchases. As we watched about one in may be ten was actually searched. We were told that officially that this was a random procedure but noticed that everyone who was searched had contraband which cost them a lot in penalties. We were impressed and came to the conclusion that the customs officers knew what they were doing.
When we go back to the Signals depot in Chester we found the rest of our training course who had come back from all over the world. We talked about our experiences. One had been to Nairobi and was amazed to find that as a white soldier without any rank he had an African batman. On the other hand he felt that, because of the different lifestyles, segregation of blacks and whites was an acceptable practicality and we spent a long time questioning him trying to understand Africa and his points of view about it.
It only took a couple of days to go through the final formalities. We didn't hand all our kit back as we were still liable to do reserve training. This would have involved going back to Blacon camp for may be a week or so once a year for several years. I think that when one went for a civvy job it was an understood requirement that the employer had to release you if you were called back. During the next year this requirement was cancelled so it never happened to me. The battle dress and best boots that I kept for many years were never put on again although the kit bag I brought them home in came in useful.
Travel warrants were issued to take us home and we were deposited in a
group on Chester railway station. As the trains arrived we said "cheers"
to various people rather thinking that we would meet up again. In actual
fact we never did and from that day to this, that was the last I saw of
the Royal Signals, National Service and the people I served with.
Postscript
This was my personal story of National Service and time spent in Cyprus. The army sent me out to help maintain communications and I had virtually no contact with the EOKA. I returned home fit and well, got a job, and restarted my civilian life. It is difficult now to tell how many Service men like myself went to Cyprus in the 1950s but numbers probably peaked at about 35,000 in 1956 with some on their way to Suez. My story is not at all typical as many were involved in the fight against terrorism. More than three hundred died and remain buried there. Their graves at Waynes Keep ( or Wayne's Keep ) cemetery in the buffer zone between North and South are only accessible with the aid of a UN escort and to the best of my knowledge there is no official memorial to them anywhere else.
Links to pictures on the ship home