Riot Control - Turkish Style

Caspar McDonald was a British expatriate policeman who commanded an outfit in Cyprus in the late 50's called the Turkish Mobile Reserve. There might have been a role for them in the early days of the 'emergency', when Greek Cypriots started their campaign for union with Greece, but as the situation developed, the Turkish Mobile Reserve became an embarrassment for the government.
Soldiers of this para-military force were almost permanently confined to barracks in a camp only a few miles away from Lefka, the largest Turkish Cypriot village on the island. Caspar, the only British officer on strength, enjoyed the hospitality of 1/WELCH officers’ mess where he was an honorary member.
He used to turn up on dinner nights dressed in a black bum freezer (jacket) with tight black trousers and spurs which gave him a sinister appearance. I cannot say that I ever liked the fellow, he was too prickly for my liking but this was possibly due to the frustration of not having a real job to do.
We had fallen out over something or other and were not on speaking terms, when he turned up for dinner one night looking like someone out of the Gestapo.
Newly joined officers, in those days, were subjected to a 'welcoming' ceremony which took a number of forms. The Colonel’s favourite was the ‘group photograph’. This involved setting up two rows of chairs: the front row, (covered by a couple of sheets) for field officers, with the Colonel in the middle, the one behind for captains and senior subalterns while the remainder stood at the back. All the chairs would be occupied except the one on the Colonel's right, which had been removed and replaced with a bucket of water (concealed under the sheet). As we had no newly joined subalterns, Caspar was selected as fall guy for the latest group photograph.
I was given the job of telling officers where they had to stand or sit and when I came to Caspar, I pointed towards the empty chair (covered by a sheet) next to the Colonel, He beamed at the unexpected honour so, carefully adjusting his spurs so he would not spike the officers on each side of him, he lowered himself into the non-existent chair. As he sat down, the others in the front row stood up.
Anyone of normal proportions would have been supported by the rim of the bucket but Caspar was so skinny that he got wedged inside and it needed the combined efforts of the CO and the 2i/c to get him out. He failed to see the humour of the situation and refused the offer from one of the subalterns to lend him a pair of dry trousers. Instead, he stalked off and we did not see him for the rest of the night.

Some days later when his anger had cooled, I asked him if he and his force of mobile Turks would like to take part in a crowd control demonstration the Colonel had asked me to lay on. In an internal security situation such as we had in Cyprus, the police are normally responsible for controlling crowds, but if things get out of hand, the military are called in. There wasn't really a role for the Turkish Mobile Reserve in my demonstration, but I thought I might be able to fit them in somewhere. Caspar was quite enthusiastic and gave me reason to think we might get on with each other in future.
There was a large open area between the entrance to Aberdeen Camp, Xeros and the main road and this was the place I selected for the demonstration. There were two other people whose assistance was necessary. One was Kushi Mohammed, the Pakistani contractor who ran everything from providing early morning tea and egg banjos for soldiers, to tailoring, laundry, provision of any item not available in the NAAFI and short term car rental for officers. His father and grandfather had been contractors to the Welch Regiment for many years before and during World War Two and the family looked upon themselves as being part of the Regiment. I asked him if he would arrange for his staff (all Pakistani) to act as the 'rowdy crowd'; he was only too pleased to accept.
The other person whose help was vital was the local Chief of Police. I asked him to supply the 'thin blue line' in the form of Greek Cypriot policemen. He not only accepted, but was delighted with the training opportunity that my demonstration would provide. There was only one thing that concerned me and that was my inability to carry out a rehearsal; it was impossible to get everyone together more than once.

It was a Scale ‘A’ parade to watch the demonstration which started with an assortment of 'char wallahs' (tea boys), 'dersi wallahs' (tailors), 'dhobi wallahs' (laundry workers), 'napi wallahs' (barbers) and others in the employ of the contractor marching across the stretch of open ground towards the 'thin blue line' of policemen. Kushi Mohammed himself, looking like a real brigand with a red scarf around his head, led the crowd which carried banners with slogans such as: GO HOME WELSHMEN and CYPRUS FOR PAKISTAN.
I was giving the commentary on a loudspeaker and, to start with, everything went according to plan. The thin line of policemen stood their ground while a ‘magistrate’ warned the crowd that if they did not disperse, he would call in the military.
It was at this juncture that a clod of earth hit one of the soldiers who was standing with thirty others in reserve behind the police. At the subsequent enquiry, it was found to have been thrown by a 'char wallah' who had a grievance over an unpaid bill for egg banjos. Be that as it may, it was the signal for other members of the contractor's staff to lob anything they could find at the police and our soldiers. It started as a light-hearted sortie but soon developed into a free-for-all with the police and soldiers under attack from the Pakistanis. It was then that I played my trump card in the form of the Turkish Mobile Reserve who were concealed behind some trees a few hundred yards away. When they saw me wave a green flag, they leapt into action.
They arrived on the right flank of those under attack and without waiting for orders tore straight into the Pakistani mob. Kushi Mohammed was the first to get a lathi (long stick used for swiping natives) around his shins but it was not long before the Turks were settling old scores and lashing Greek policemen as well. We had all the ingredients for a real fight and our soldiers had to stand between the Turks on one side and the Pakistanis and Greeks on the other to establish some sort of order.

The demonstration ended like a fight in a dog show and the Colonel, along with the Chief of Police, were not amused. The only people who learnt any lessons about dealing with an unruly mob were the Turkish Cypriots who were rewarded with free beer when they returned to their own camp.