Dear relatives of our hero, Greeks and Greeks. Today, titles and offices have no place, so allow me not to refer to any protocol. Today, there is a place for a great apology. A great apology from the state must be heard at least here, in the church of St. George Kontos. We hid behind all sorts of excuses and did not approach this huge issue as a purely humanitarian one. We had to get to 31 July 1997 so that Clerides and Denktash could agree that the families of our missing persons have the right to be informed of the fate of their loved ones. In 2005, the first remains of our missing persons were located and to date 736 of the 1619 have been identified.
"She was holding it up with both hands, with two cramped hands, even though it was a passport photograph. He could, of course, hold it with one, half hand. But how could the other be left unattended? But how could he leave the other one uninvolved?"
"Those little photographs were just to get their passports out when they went off to study. Who could have imagined that they would remain clutched night and day by their mother's hands, who could have imagined that they would remain clutched night and day by their fiancée's hands, their wife's hands, their children's school bags? Who could have imagined that they would not at least put their hat on crookedly like this, that they would not smile that smile?"
The above verses by Kostas Montis capture the real drama of the families of our missing persons. They capture the pain of the soul of the mother, the father, the sister, the brother, who fought day and night to learn. Who struggled daily with a why. Who needed to know what really happened to their loved ones. But in vain. As if they had committed hubris and had to be punished for days, for months, for years. As if they were imprisoned, protagonists of a modern Greek ancient tragedy.
We bow our heads reverently before the bravery of Dimitrakis Peter Demetriou, not for the second time, but for the 48th time, as many years since the day he defended his country, his family, all subsequent generations. From the day he watered the tree of Leftheria with his blood, not counting death.
Dimitris Petrou Demetriou, the third child of the family of Petros Demetriou Hatziantonis and Angeliki Zacharias Pouli, brother of Eleni, Panagiotis and Philip, was destined to write his own glorious history.
Born in February 1952, in Styllos Famagusta, he graduated from the Technical School of Famagusta and joined the National Guard, serving in the 23rd Armored Armored Corps based in Kokkinotrimithia. On that tragic morning of 20 July 1974, he enlisted as a reservist in his unit and as a volunteer he went to the area of Omorphita and Trachona to support the 211 Infantry Battalion and defend the homeland.
The following day, on 21 July, he was imprisoned in his outpost, along with Ioannou Eleftherios Ioannis, Papaioannou Christakis, Kalapodas Christakis and Antoniadis Nikos. The latter, who survived the war, testified that they managed to escape. Dimitris remained in the area, fighting against the Turkish invader. But he was wounded in his left arm and since then no one knew anything about his future.
The first, mistaken identification was made in December 2005, followed by the burial of the remains on 21 July 2007. And just as Dimitrakis' family was ending their agony, we arrived in October 2015, when his remains were found in a mass grave in occupied Trachona, along with 15 other missing persons.
The second burial of our hero's remains will take place today, with the hope that the most painful consequence of the Turkish invasion will cease to exist for his loved ones.
The second burial of our hero's remains will take place today, with the hope that the most painful consequence of the Turkish invasion will cease to exist for his loved ones.
The second burial of our hero's remains will take place today, with the hope that the most painful consequence of the Turkish invasion will cease to exist for his loved ones. The memory, however, will remain unquenched. The pledge we all make is that we will remain committed to determining the fate of all our missing. This wound is in dire need of healing. Even though we are too late to "put our finger on the type of the horns."
Hellenes,
It is therefore obvious that Cypriot Hellenism will be activated, even in the last days, by the stings of the bees of Onesilos. It will finally listen to the messages of the times so that the soul of our heroes can rest, so that the greatness of their sacrifice is not lost. Maintaining the status quo cannot and cannot be the next day for our country.
We must work, every minute, every moment, to overturn the invasion. To ensure the existence of Cypriot Hellenism on this martyred island. To live in a Cyprus free of occupation troops. Without anxieties about tomorrow, without dangers, without barbed wire.
We owe it to Dimitrakis, to our heroes. We owe it to every tear that was shed on this land, by you and by every Greek who lived and lives in this troubled land.
Today, when the soul of Dimitris Petros Demetriou will travel freely over the Styles of Famagusta, we will all hold his sacrifice as a beacon that will guide our steps until we can walk freely in every inch of this land.
Today, when the soul of Dimitris Petros Demetriou will travel freely over the Styles of Famagusta, we will all hold his sacrifice as a beacon that will guide our steps until we can walk freely in every inch of this land.
Dimitrios Petrou Demetriou, in the call of the homeland you declared yourself present, volunteer, with courage and heroism, and you did not cower and sacrifice for the homeland, characteristics that are sadly absent from our society today.
For me personally, but also for my generation, it is our duty to the homeland, to our children and grandchildren, to make sure that we will never forget you.
For me personally, but also for my generation, it is our duty to the homeland, to our children and grandchildren, to make sure that we will never forget you.
That is why we must, as the poet Costas Montis wrote, take a drop of your blood, cleanse ours, take a drop of your blood, paint ours, take a drop of your blood, paint ours, take a drop of your blood, paint ours, so that fear can never again fade it.
To take your last look, to look at us not to stray, to take your last exhalation, to have oxygen to breathe, thousands of years, to take your last words, to ᾽have to sing, inexhaustible marches for freedom.
May the soil that covers Dimitrakis Petrou Dimitriou be light and may the legacy he leaves us be heavy. Hail, worthy son of the fatherland, hail!
(ΘΓ/ΜΒ)
Contents of this article including associated images are belongs PIO
Views & opinions expressed are those of the author and/or PIO
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