When the question of wavelength for the proposed station was considered somebody said a wavelength of 2,000 metres might be appropriate. One of the military officers, who shall be nameless, remarked angrily "What! 2,000 metres. We are spending all this money only to be received up to Koukouvaounes? This is outrageous!" (Koukouvaounes was then a small village with a funny name about 3 miles south-west of Athens. Eleftheriou lived to the ripe old age of 84. When I last saw him he promised to give me his collection of old photographs and a large number of books and documents relating to the development of radio communications in Greece. Unfortunately, shortly after his death his wife and three sons moved house temporarily and a packing case containing all these priceless papers was lost in 7. Norman F. Joly G3FNJ. (Formerly SV1RX). I was born in Izmir (then known as Smyrna), on the west coast of Turkey in Asia Minor, in 1911, of British parents. My British nationality was established through the Treaty of Capitulation which was then in force between Turkey and the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland. I remember there was a British Post Office in Smyrna and we posted our letters with British postage stamps (of King Edward VII) overprinted with the word LEVANT. My grandmother on my father's side had come from Russia. It is a strange coincidence that Takis Coumbias (ex SV1AAA), Bill Tavaniotis (ex SV1KE) and I all had roots in southern Russia. My grandmother on my mother's side was the daughter of the Dutch consul in Smyrna. Quite a mixed bag. In 1922, at the end of the war between Turkey and Greece, the town of Smyrna was destroyed by fire when the Greek army was routed. My widowed mother with four young children, was advised to take us on board a British merchant vessel while the town changed hands. We were told to take a little food with us just for a day or two. We carried a large string bag with some bread, cheese and fruit, and one knife, one fork and one spoon between the five of us. I remember it was night and my mother put all her jewelry in a small leather bag. As I pulled the cord to close it the pin of a large broach stuck out through the top. My mother grabbed it and said I would hurt myself--I was only 11 years old at the time. She looked around the bedroom, lifted up a corner of the mattress of her bed and hid the pouch 'safely' underneath it. We hurried out of the house--and never went back.