"We had very long beards and hair. Our clothes were dirty and torn… ”

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The story of Mr. Nikolas Fotiou and his family concerns us all… Once upon a time Cyprus was full of such people.

Especially now that our society has changed so much, that the truth has been lost in the look and in the love, the courage, the caring.

Cyprus was once full of such people. The soil of our place is full of such heroes. Of those who were nothing but ordinary people, bio-wrestlers and heads of families. Those who lost their lives trying to save as many of their fellow human beings as possible. 

Nikolas Fotiou was from the Syrian village of Morphou. He was a farmer and had eight children, six daughters and two boys. He was a very simple and well-meaning man. He loved his family and all his fellow villagers. He proved it by sacrificing even his own life. 
He remained unburied for three whole days. His family suffered and suffered a lot, especially his son Petros… 

It was August 16, 1974, during the war. 

Nikolas Fotiou, in order to save his family from the Turks, takes them to the monastery of Kykkos. But he also cared for the other families. 

He returned again and again to the village to save as many of his fellow villagers as he could. They always crammed into the trunk of his truck and took them to the monastery. 

On the last route…

They were captured by the Turks of Kazivera. Mr. Nikolas's brother was with them. They were held for about an hour but after the intervention of the Turkish common leader, they were released. The hero bio-wrestler was not afraid and continued his work. He wanted to save as many people as he could from the hands of the Turks.

Unfortunately…

At some point on the road from Kampos River to Kampos, the truck collided with a high-powered mine, which shattered the front of his car and killed the father of many children.
Those who were with him were terrified and started running towards the monastery in panic. The dead body of the unfortunate man remained there for three whole days.  
The disbandment of the National Guard units and the efforts of his fellow villagers to leave in order to escape, after three days made it possible to receive the dead Nikolas and his temporary burial in the village of Milikouri. 
After 34 years, in 2008, the remains were transported and buried in Paphos, where his family now lives. 

The shocking story of Mr. Nikola's son is shocking…

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His son, Mr. Petros Nikolaou reports to ant1iwo: 
"The worst day of my life was August 16, 1974."
I was a reserve soldier and I was fighting in Pentadaktylos. That day we retreated. 
Going down Pentadaktylos, I found my groom, my sister's husband, completely by accident. The bullets were raining and out of the 600 people, only 53 survived. After much suffering, we managed to reach our village at noon. Caged were only the elderly and were hidden outside in the orchards.

It happened as we were walking, listening to conversations and when we approached, we saw some of our fellow villagers. We were told that my father left in the morning and that my whole family was in Kykko. I went to my house to take a bath and change my clothes. Then my son-in-law and I went to the village telephone booth. When we found that it worked, we were very happy. I got a fellow villager to learn more about my family. He did not want to say anything to me and asked to speak to my groom. She told him what happened to my father. Now we knew…

There we met a fellow villager. In our anxiety, however, we did not see that the Turks approached us. Together with my son-in-law we managed to escape from them but my fellow villager was taken prisoner. We crossed the river and at night we slept in a field. 

Our Golgotha ​​lasted a month and a half…

In the morning we hid so that the Turks would not find us and in the evening we would move on. We had nothing to eat, we stole no watermelon from the fields, with torn clothes and without taking a bath. Everyone thought they had killed us…

One night we entered the village of Zodia (it is in the area of ​​Morphou and today it is occupied). We heard voices and noise. They were Turks and they shouted: "gule gule". With God's help, we were able to escape again. We saw cars on the road circulating but we did not know if they were Greeks or Turks. We were exhausted but fortunately, we happened to see an Englishman working as a laborer in the village and we knew him. He helped us…

 He put us in his house and after we ate and rested, he took us to the nearest police station to testify. Then he took us to the camp and we hitchhiked to Platres. Then I remember, we gave someone 5 pounds and he took us to Kykko. 

As soon as we got there, I saw my car in front of me. My father had given it to someone, to take it there to find it when I return.

We were almost unrecognizable… 

We had very long beards and hair. We only saw tents and sat there near the fountain, waiting for someone of ours to pass. At one point, we see a girl coming out of the monastery and she was our neighbor. As soon as he saw us, he shouted: "This is Petros and Takis" and ran to shout at my mother. Oh my god!!! How to forget that moment. Everyone fell on us, my mother, my fiancée, my brothers and the whole village. 

Those images keep swirling in my mind… 

Every morning I see my father's photo and I gain strength. He was a wonderful man but also a father. He only knew how to do good. He helped people every day and in fact several times, we hosted many families in our house. Whatever they needed in the war, he ran first. 
   
I stood by my family, my brothers and sisters and supported them as much as I could. Besides, I owed it to my father. 

Every day I thank God for helping me and I managed to escape, for the father who sent me but also for the mother who was tortured until she grew up.
   
Blessed be the soil that covers them and let them watch from there, from the neighborhood of the Angels, all our young men who sacrificed for our homeland. Their memory is eternal! " 

 

Source: ant1iwo.com