Here Come the Van Doos

The U.N.'s acting commander, Brazil's tiny Major General Carlos Flores Paiva Chaves boomed, "Soyez les bien-venus!" The French welcome was appropriate, for it was addressed to men of Canada's Royal 22nd Regiment, which is about 98% French-speaking. Canada's advance party took off from Ontario while the Security Council was still debating the formation of the United Nations peace-keeping force in Cyprus--which will unfortunately be known as U.N.F.I.C.Y.P.--and it landed in Nicosia far ahead of contingents also due from Brazil, Sweden, Ireland, Austria and Finland. There was reason to hurry, because it almost seemed as if the island's 500,000 Greeks and the government of Archbishop Makarios were trying to subdue the 100,000 Turkish minority before the U.N. takes control.

Baptiste the Goat. The Canadians swiftly got to work behind man-high barricades of barbed wire. Machine guns were mounted on Ferret armored cars, and the "Van Doos" (a corruption of Royal Vingt-Deuxieme Regiment) organized themselves into platoons and companies as more and more troop-laden planes dropped out of the Mediterranean sky. Mess Sergeant Romeo Saulnier, bent over the first three stoves set up, said, "I've got orders to cook supper for 400 men tonight, lunch for 600 tomorrow, and for 800 next day."

The Van Doo Regiment was born in World War I, fought savagely from Courcelette to Vimy Ridge to the bloodbath of Passchendaele. In one three-day battle, only seven officers and 118 men remained of 800, but they had taken 1,200 German prisoners. The Van Doos have since served in Italy in World War II, and with the U.N. forces in Korea. The regimental mascot is a goat named Baptiste, named after Jean-Baptiste, patron saint of French Canada, and their marching song is Vive la Canadienne. The Van Doos have been on a U.N. alert for the past three years as a "fire-brigade force ready to go anywhere," have been trained in such niceties as mob control, guerrilla operations and peace-patrol techniques, and carry such special equipment as wooden batons and steel mesh shields as protection against stone-throwing demonstrators.

Canada's top military representative on Cyprus will be Colonel Edward Amy, 45, a tank officer with a brilliant war record, who says: "We are here as impartial neutrals to do our job as directed by the United Nations."

Nasty Brawl. Unfortunately, the Van Doos will not become fully operational until the U.N. "terms of reference" are hammered out and other national troop contingents arrive. So when trouble exploded last week at the Turkish Cypriot village of Ghaziveran on the north coast, it was the British who had again to march into the breach. Ghaziveran was a particularly nasty little brawl: the villagers, fearing a Greek Cypriot attack, had built roadblocks outside of town. Hundreds of Greek Cypriot "regulars" surrounded them and demanded removal of the roadblocks. When the villagers obeyed, the Greeks demanded the surrender of all arms. The villagers refused, and the assault began.

It was finally ended by the British and by negotiators helicoptered in from Nicosia, but nine were dead and six seriously wounded. There were brief ceasefires during the battle as coveys of foreign newsmen and photographers galloped from one side to the other, and back, waving white handkerchiefs. On the sidelines, Turkey still threatened to intervene if the massacre of its compatriots did not cease, and in Ankara, Parliament unanimously gave Premier Ismet Inonu authority to land troops on Cyprus whenever he thought it necessary.

The big trouble facing the U.N. forces in Cyprus is the differing interpretation of their mission. The Turks see the U.N. presence as a means to protect them from the Greeks and to enforce the status quo, including the constitution (in effect abrogated by Makarios) that gives the Turks considerable veto powers over Cypriot affairs. The Greeks, on the other hand, expect the U.N. to cooperate with Makarios in putting down Turkish rebels and "irregulars." What about the Greek irregulars? Theoretically, they no longer exist, since Makarios has incorporated them in his army and police as unpaid volunteers.

London and Washington last week were in what was described as a "state of suspended animation," pending the appointment of a mediator by Secretary-General U Thant. Turkey had turned down Guatemala's Jose Rolz-Bennett, and now, as one U.S. official put it, "the ball is back in the hands of the Secretary-General." At week's end, U Thant had found no one to whom he could pass the ball--or buck.

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