The World: Death of an Ambassador

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At one time, the post of U.S. ambassador offered not only prestige but usually a genteel, comfortable way of life as well, with quiet diplomacy amid pomp and splendor. Today, in a world racked by guerrilla uprisings and civil wars, the American ambassador is often a target, a visible, vulnerable surrogate for his country and its policies. Last week's murder of U.S. Ambassador to Cyprus Rodger Davies—the third assassination of a U.S. ambassador since 1968* —was a tragic reminder of the dangers that America's envoys now face.

A Middle Eastern expert who had been working as a Deputy Assistant Secretary of State in Washington, Davies, 53, presented his credentials in Nicosia just five days before the coup that ousted Archbishop Makarios, Cyprus' President, and launched the island on its path to disaster. A quiet professional, he sought to convince both Greeks .and Turks on the island that the U.S. was interested in a just settlement and had tried to douse the wildfire of bitter anti-Americanism among the Greek Cypriots. In the face of the passions unleashed by the fighting on the island, the odds against him were insurmountable. -

The embassy received word of impending trouble on the morning of the day Davies was killed and alerted the Nicosia police, requesting protection against possible demonstrations. When the call went unheeded, the appeal was twice renewed, eventually bringing 30 to 40 policemen to the three-story embassy and ambassador's residence. Shortly after noon, the demonstrators, variously estimated at from 300 to 600, arrived, carrying placards and banners that read KISSINGER—HITLER and NATO—MURDERERS OF CYPRUS. They threw rocks at the building and, climbing over the eight-foot spiked iron fence surrounding it, tore down and burned the Stars and Stripes. They then set ten cars afire in the embassy parking lot and in the street outside.

Davies calmly moved the 38 nonsecurity members of his staff away from the large blue-shuttered windows to the hallway of the second floor, mainly out of fear that one of the cars might explode and bombard them with debris. Eleven of the embassy's 14 Marines tried to disperse the crowd with tear gas, and everyone inside was issued a gas mask. The tear gas had little effect. Armed National Guard troops finally arrived to back up the police, and they began firing into the air to quiet the crowd, but to no avail.

Shortly before 1 p.m., the embassy building came under attack from automatic rifles firing armor-piercing 7.62-mm. bullets. The marksmen, stationed in a partially constructed apartment house 75 yds. away and at the base of a hill 100 yds. away, were obviously after the ambassador himself, and they carefully aimed at the two spots where he would most likely be, his office on the building's south side and his bedroom on the north side. Though the emergency plan in case of attack called for Davies to hide himself in his bathroom, the safest niche in the embassy, he remained with his staff. Gunfire raked both sides of the building. One high-velocity bullet ripped through the shutters of his office, went through three open-doors, down a long hallway and struck him in the chest. He dropped to the floor with a groan, his gas mask half off his face, blood gushing from his wound. A Maronite Cypriot receptionist, Antoinette Varnava, rushed to his side. A second bullet blew off her head.