On October 29, 1974, the last bus carrying Greek-Cypriot and Greek prisoners of war from the Turkish invasion arrived at the Ledra checkpoint in Nicosia. For the women, children, and siblings who did not reunite with their loved ones that day, a second, more painful phase of the ordeal began. Since then, the term \u201cmissing person\u201d has marked their lives. \u201c1,619.\u201d This is the exact number of those who, apart from the confirmed dead, never returned home.<\/p>\n
From that day on, hundreds of families in Cyprus and Greece found themselves at the starting line of an endless struggle: ultimately aiming to locate and identify their relatives. These are families that learned to survive between the finality of death and the faint hope of life. Children who \u201cgrew up with a photograph in hand.\u201d The wound remains open, as dozens of soldiers and civilians from July-August 1974 are still considered missing.<\/p>\n
Fifty years later, three women, daughters of missing persons, share their personal experiences with Kathimerini. Along with their own memories, the memory of a nation has been etched \u2013 of waiting, absence, loss. Through their stories unfolds one of the most painful legacies of modern Greek history.<\/p>\n
Final hours<\/h3>\n
On the night of July 20, 1974, Eirini Mandoles\u2019 family, along with other villagers from Elia \u2013 just a few kilometers from the Kyrenia coast of Pentemili, where the Turkish invasion began \u2013 hid in the basement of a house. The voices of the invaders grew closer and closer. She was only 2 years old at the time. After years of effort and with her mother Charita\u2019s help, she recalls painfully, \u201cI hold in my heart those last hours I spent with my father. Outside, the Turks were spreading pain and destruction. He held me in his arms and read me a book that happened to be in his hands, as if he knew he would never be able to do it again.\u201d He was reading to calm her, to keep her from crying and revealing their hiding place to the soldiers.<\/p>\n In front of little Eirini\u2019s eyes, 12 men from the village were executed, including her father, who remained on the list of missing persons until 2008.<\/p>\n \u201cWe grew up with a photograph in hand. We grew older, but the face in the photograph didn\u2019t,\u201d she says, describing her abrupt entry into adulthood. \u201cThe tragic thing about a missing father isn\u2019t the loss; it\u2019s the waiting. You keep waiting. Inside, there\u2019s a constant pain. You hope. For me, my father, and every missing and fallen person of 1974 is a point of reference for struggle until liberation and catharsis.\u201d<\/p>\n \u2018I hold in my heart those last hours I spent with my father. Outside, the Turks were spreading pain and destruction. He held me in his arms and read me a book, as if he knew he would never be able to do it again\u2019<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n The life of Tasos Markou was intertwined with Cyprus. A fighter with the National Cypriot Fighters\u2019 Organization (EOKA), a Greek Cypriot from the Hellenic Military Academy, and an officer in the National Guard. In August 1974, during the ceasefire, Major Markou fortified himself with a small number of soldiers at Mia Milia, northeast of Nicosia. With the second invasion imminent and resistance seeming almost futile, Markou could have chosen to retreat with his men. No one would have blamed him. \u201cThe Turks will pass only over my dead body,\u201d he replied to those urging him to withdraw.<\/p>\n To this day, Markou is listed as missing. \u201cHe is one of the central \u2018pieces\u2019 still missing,\u201d his daughter Andri Markou-Christodoulidou tells Kathimerini, encapsulating the essence of his disappearance: \u201cChasing the shadows of the past, I dare to express what we feel, citing an excerpt from Han Kang\u2019s \u2018Human Acts\u2019: \u2018After you died I could not hold a funeral, and so my life became a funeral.\u2019\u201d Andri Markou had the \u201cprivilege\u201d of briefly meeting her father between the two invasions. \u201cI remember him in uniform saying goodbye to us, and the mixture of emotions he felt was evident in his aura and gaze, overwhelming us. It was a silent and painful farewell, as we knew deep down that the soldier Tasos Markou, raised with Greek ideals, would never abandon his own Thermopylae.\u201d When she first heard the expression, she wondered, \u201cMom, what is a \u2018missing person? Alive or dead?\u2019\u201d<\/p>\n We ask Markou if she ever felt anger at her father\u2019s choice to stay on the front lines. \u201cThe initial despair and pain give way to denial, internal numbness, and even anger, which subsides over time,\u201d she replies, disarmingly. \u201cAs a child, I often wondered if our father loved us enough when he chose not to retreat. By analyzing him deeply, as both a soldier and a person, I managed to understand him: There was only one choice: \u2018Come back with your shield, or on it.\u2019 [editor\u2019s note: This is an ancient Spartan quote capturing the essence of their warrior culture]. He chose the path of dignity and unwavering faith in the oath of the Greek officer.\u201d<\/p>\n July 23, 1974, was the last day Maria Kalbourtzi saw her father. He was Greek Lieutenant General Stylianos Kalbourtzis, commander of the 181st Field Artillery Battalion of the National Guard, stationed at Trikomo, where he and his men fought Turkish invaders for three days. A few hours later, during the ceasefire, parts of the unit were surrounded. Along with Kalbourtzis, 37 men from the unit were killed. For over 40 years, Maria Kalbourtzi did not know her father\u2019s fate. Today, she is president of the Panhellenic Committee of Parents and Relatives of Undeclared Prisoners and Missing Persons of the Cyprus Tragedy and fights for the discovery of those who remain unaccounted for.<\/p>\n \u201cLife flows at a different pace. Everyday routines, but especially anniversaries and holidays, are marked by absence. Waiting is inevitable, as is anxiety, pain, questions and tensions. The deprivation of the right to loss, to experience mourning, to cry for one\u2019s loved one feels so distant,\u201d she tells us.<\/p>\n Anger also overshadowed her feelings. \u201cThe image of the lost father, his absence when I needed him, his choice of duty \u2013 all dominated my thoughts. I thought of his anger over the coup and his certainty about the invasion. Gradually, the anger transformed into disappointment with the state that allowed this betrayal to happen.\u201d Today, her anger is channeled into persistence for uncovering the truth. As for her father\u2019s legacy? \u201cHe had a touching humanity, a deep and selfless patriotism without political labels, dignity, kindness and morality. I feel proud of his service and especially of his dedication to what he believed in. He taught me to hold high the values of faith and dignity in just causes.\u201d<\/p>\n Like thousands of others affected by the invasion, Eirini Mandoles, now a teacher, has been marked by the past and by the experience of displacement. \u201cYou grow up far from your roots,\u201d she says, adding: \u201cTo be able to dream, you need to feel safe. In Cyprus, there\u2019s a false sense of security. In the occupied areas, there are 40,000 soldiers simply waiting for an order from Turkey. Only my bond with the land and my family keeps me here.\u201d One thing she\u2019ll never forget is the entry in her childhood ID card: \u201cFather\u2019s occupation: Missing.\u201d<\/p>\n For Markou, distancing herself from Cyprus\u2019 tragedy during her studies and career in the arts served as partial healing: \u201cI realized the futility of waiting. For the brief time I had with Tasos Markou, I feel only gratitude \u2013 and pride in the legacy he left behind.\u201d Her in-depth research on the invasion, both as therapy and as a duty to future generations, also holds healing value. A new detail? \u201cThe landing at Pentemili could have been intercepted if, among other measures, Second Lieutenant Engineer (P.P.) had completed the landmine placement on the shore where the landing occurred. This work was halted at 11.45 p.m. on July 19, by order of the National Guard General Staff (GEEF).\u201d<\/p>\n Maria Kalbourtzi is clear that she won\u2019t abandon her duty. What drives her? \u201cThe right of 780 families to know the truth. Our goal is for these people not to be forgotten, to eliminate the \u2018shame list.\u2019\u201d In reality, since 2017, Turkey and the authorities of the breakaway state have increasingly obstructed the work of the Committee on Missing Persons. \u201cThe lack of progress is due to Turkey\u2019s refusal to provide information from the invading army\u2019s archives. Seventy percent of the occupied territories are now classified as military zones, while targeted relocations of remains from original burial sites are ongoing. Time is our enemy, as those who know the facts are passing away. Turkey is ruthlessly exploiting time,\u201d Kalbourtzi notes. Along with time, it buries its responsibilities.<\/p>\n If Eirini Mandoles feels anger, it is toward the way the international community deals with Turkey. \u201cIn Cyprus, we have a saying: \u2018The fire burns where it falls.\u2019 These people gave their lives to protect their families, their homeland, and to preserve Hellenism on this edge of the Mediterranean. I can\u2019t imagine a solution in which the invasion\u2019s consequences are legitimized. That would be disrespect and an affront to our dead.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/p><\/div>\n![\"we-grew-up-with-a-photograph-in-hand0\"](\"https:\/\/www.ekathimerini.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2024\/11\/018d2f34a2efcc424709e011c61cca90_240612cd-0ffc-4102-96eb-8faf456a982d-1.jpg?1731654945143\")
\u2018Over my dead body\u2019<\/h3>\n
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Stigma of absence<\/h3>\n
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