The time was 6:07 a.m. and the summer sun was just beginning to spread over the deep purple mountains and brown fields of Cyprus when the first airplanes appeared. They were propeller-driven C-130s and C-47s, and Cypriots hearing the hum of many motors realized instantly that the planes were not carrying the usual hordes of summer tourists. As each flight approached the plain between the capital city of Nicosia and the Kyrenia Range, which shields the capital from the sea, a stick of Turkish paratroopers jumped into the cloudless sky. Floating into the welcoming Turkish sector of the city, they were gathered into waiting cars, ambulances and even a bread truck and driven to fighting stations. One paratrooper, a 29-year-old Turk named Sami, smiled broadly as he unbuckled his gear and slipped out of his brown chute. "This makes me tremendously happy," he said, apparently having been well coached by his officers. "We are just here to look after the welfare of the Turkish community."
Borrowed Cassock. By midmorning the paratroopers had been reinforced by a naval armada. Protective Turkish destroyers hovered off Kyrenia harbor on the northern coast, and infantrymen were helicoptered ashore and frogmen swam in. Soon battles raged throughout the island, particularly around Nicosia and its vital airport.
For the 520,000 Greek and 119,000 Turkish Cypriots living on the long-embattled island, the World War II-type invasion was an incredible climax of a scarcely credible week. Within the space of five days, His Beatitude Archbishop Makarios III was driven into exile by a right-wing coup spearheaded by 650 regular Greek officers on the island to train the more than 10,000-man national guard. A notorious terrorist, Nikos Giorgiades Sampson, 39, was picked as the new President. Makarios flew off to New York City in a borrowed cassock to plead for help before the United Nations Security Council, but before the U.N. could act or the major powers could intervene, the Turks invaded.
The crisis quickly threatened to spread beyond Cyprus' craggy shores.
The Greeks and Turks, ancient enemies,* rushed troops to their 90-mile mutual border along the Evros River and ordered general mobilization, raising the threat of mainland fighting to counterpoint the skirmishes on Cyprus.
U.S. Secretary of State Henry Kissinger denied that a superpower confrontation was likely. But Moscow once more alerted airborne divisions in a show of strength, and both the Soviet Mediterranean fleet and the U.S. Sixth Fleet dispatched combat vessels toward the island. Kissinger insisted that the U.S. and Russia were not heading toward a clash, explaining that the ship movements are normal precautions when war breaks out in the area.
Nonetheless the danger of a major war between Greece and Turkey was so acute that diplomats everywhere pitched in to stop the shooting on Cyprus. The Security Council approved unanimously—after the Soviet Union withdrew its earlier opposition—a resolution calling for a cease-fire and negotiations. Turkey flatly refused to obey.
NATO, since both Greece and Turkey are members, ineffectually attempted to mediate. Britain, which along with Greece and Turkey is a guarantor of Cyprus' sovereignty under the 1960 Zurich treaty that granted it independence, also interceded with both sides.