Grigoris Afxentiou

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Grigoris Pieris Afxentiou (Greek: Γρηγόρης Πιερής Αυξεντίου) was a fighter during the Cypriot struggle for union with Greece. He was second in command to Georgios Grivas in the leadership of EOKA (National Organization of Cypriot Struggle). His nom-de-guerre during the struggle was Zedhros.

Afxentiou was born, in 1928, in Lysi village in Mesaoria, Ammochostos province and received his education at the Famagusta Hellenic Gymnasium. He was unsuccessful in entering the Hellenic Military Academy in Athens, but joined the Hellenic Army in December 1949 as a volunteer. From March to October 1950 he attended a reserve officer’s academy on the island of Syros. He then served with the Hellenic Army on the Greek-Bulgarian frontier before returning to Cyprus and joining the EOKA struggle. ^[1]

In the Spring of 1955, he conducted attacks against the power company and the British-controlled Broadcasting Corporation in Lefkosia (Nicosia). The British authorities put a bounty of 5,000 pounds on his head. In December of that same year, Afxentiou was trapped in the mountains of Troodos, near the village of Spilia, along with Grivas and the hierarchy of EOKA. It was through his cunning that the EOKA fighter escaped during the Battle of Spilia while the British ended up fighting each other with heavy casualties.

Finally, on March 3rd, 1957, the British trapped him and his small team once again near the Machairas monastery. At the ensuing Battle of Machairas, Afxentiou held off the British, mostly single-handedly, for 10 hours before they burned him alive by pouring petrol in the cave in which he was hiding and igniting it.

Afxentiou's body was buried, without a funeral, in the yard of the Central Jail of Lefkosia.

[edit] Exact story of Death

A comrade of Grigoris Afxentiou that is still alive today is Avgoustis Efstathiou("Μatrozos" or "miskis", as Afxentiou called him). Two others,Antonis Papadopoulos and F.Simeonides, died after the Independance of Cyprus. Avgoustis, tells us about the battle near the Monastery of Machairas:

<<Three of March 1957. We got up early in the morning - about six - because of movements we noticed around our hideout. We were surrounded. "Mastros", that's how we called our leader, gave us courage. From the movements of the British we understood that we had been betrayed. There were hundreds around our hideout. An Officer came close and shouted Afxentiou with his real name to surrender. We discussed what we were going to do, and Afxentiou ordered us to surrender, saying :
-Εγώ θα πολεμήσω και θα πεθάνω. Πρέπει να πεθάνω!
"I will fight and die. I have to die!"
He repeated "I have to die" 3-4 times. His face was being lighted up by a superhuman power.
We came out with our hands above our heads. The English waited for Afxentiou, that wasn't coming out. Then, nervously, they shouted:
-Afxentiou, come out or else we will throw bombs at you and kill you!

-Μολών Λαβέ (molon labe), he shouted back with a steady voice against the tyrants, "If you have a heart and are so brave, come closer to throw your bombs!"

Corporal Brown came closer and shouted again to surrender. He even tried to see what he was doing in the hideout. That moment, the gun of "Mastros" fired and the British corporal fell down dead. Someone threw a grenade in the hideout, and it exploded with a loud boom. A few minutes passed. No movement in the hideout. Was Afxentiou dead?
An officer, grabbing me by the neck, ordered me to enter the hideout and see if he's dead. I went closer and shouted:
-"Mastre, mastre, it's me, Matrozos, don't shoot me"
I entered. Afxentiou was on the ground, injured at the neck and the leg. He didn't let me to take care of me. I grabbed my gun from the mouth of the cave and shouted at the English:
-"We're two now, come and get us, if you can!"
I fired at the English. They answered with triple the gunshots. The battle had restarted and was continuing for a lot of time. When the fire ceased for a little, I asked him for a cigarette. He, as always, said:
-"Βλάφτει σε, ρε μισκή."
While we were smoking, we remembered the past, the ambushes, the brothers we lost.
In the meantime, the English used any possible way to force us to surrender. They threw heavy stones on the roof, and when I told him that the roof will collapse on us, he said that it won't because it's made of the hardest cans and irons that Father had chosen. Then, they threw us poison bombs and the hideout filled with gas. They came closer, but we threw them grenades and we could hear them wailing outside in pain.
Later on, the English attacked with fire. Keeping our cool, we fired back. When the English retreated, Mastros ordered me to throw the only smoke producer grenade we had, and run out of the hideout shooting into the smoke. I threw the grenade, but my gun was on the safety and I didn't manage to shoot in time. The delay was fatal. The smoke dissolved and we lost our only opportunity to escape. There were three explosions near us. I was covered in dirt. Mastros helped me as always, asking "Are you hurt, Miski?"
It was one of those moments that I got excited. I remembered a book I read. It was written by Melasand talked about Papaflesas. I was with the heroic Afxentiou, ready to die fighting.
While we were talking about finally dying for Cyprus, we noticed a liquid running and rolling towards the hideout.
-"It's petrol, Mastre!" I told him "They'll burn us alive!"
I didn't have time to finish my words when three fire bombs exploded. We caught fire. The hideout turned into hell. I looked at Mastros. The flames were swallowing him. But the look in his eyes was peaceful. He remained peaceful when I looked at him terrified. And I heard him say his last words, the words he said to me so many times:
-"Don't be afraid Matrozo, don't be afraid."
I couldn't stand the fire anymore and jumped outside the hideout. I crawled and hid in a nearby bush. It was two o'clock in the afternoon. There was a loud blast and the hideout exploded.
It was all quiet now, the English came closer, the found me and made me enter the remains of the hideout, to see if Afxentiou is dead. The English, were afraid to enter. I did go in. I'll never forget the sight I saw. My Mastros, my beloved leader, was dead. Lying on his back, with deep cuts and burning skin. I couldn't pull him outside. He was still burning. The eyes of the English shined with satisfaction when they saw the dead body of Afxentiou.
With our heads bowed low, we went to the Monastery of Machairas.

And that is how glory found Afxentiou, fighting like a lion and spreading destruction and death to the enemies of his country, fighting with earthquaking belief for her freedom.