Turning Point in Anatolia

 

Turning Point

 in Anatolia

                                            2020

bout the author:

He was born in 1948 in İstanbul; in 1962, graduated from Selimiye Military Middle School; in 1965, from Kuleli Military High School; in 1967, from Military Academy as a military engineer officer. After completing his duties as platoon and company commander, he graduated from Staff College in 1978, and from NATO Defense College in 1983. He served in various headquarters and units at home and abroad, became general in 1994, and retired in 2006.

Şaban Recai Öztürk

Şabanreco@gmail.com

http://srecaio.blogspot.com.tr

ISBN: 978-605-69194-1-1

Those who wish can make a donation at any amount:

http://www.mehmetcik.org.tr/bagis

Foreword

The Turkish War of Independence led by Mustafa Kemal Atatürk has numerous milestones. These are, starting from the end, the Great Offensive, the Sakarya Battle, the Second and the First İnönü Battles. But the battles of Kütahya-Eskişehir are not much discussed. To me, it is as an important milestone as the aforementioned battles. It is one of the dates, when Mustafa Kemal Pasha's leadership and strategic genius reached one of his peaks.

Being on the front lines of the battle, he perceived the envelopment maneuver of the Greek army and at the right time, taking a big risk, gave the necessary order.

This historic order was to retreat to the east of Sakarya. The distance is about hundred kilometers. A hundred years before present day, the road conditions of Anatolia were very poor. To retreat under constant enemy pressure was a very difficult operation for the units, mostly infantry on foot, artillery towed by animal power and all the supply materials transported mostly by oxcart to the fronts. If we add tens of thousands of civilians trying to escape the Greek persecution, we can realize that things became much harder.

Similarly, if we considered the political implications of the abandonment of large area of homeland and the important railway centers such as Eskişehir and Afyon to the enemy without fighting, we can assess how vital this military strategic decision was.

But there existed a very important success not much emphasized: The Turkish army fulfilled this order with very little loss. And this army was going to take Greek army's breath away and consume all of its strength in Sakarya.

Another detail shared this success, but remained in the shadows of history: Mustafa Sagir of Peshawar, the spy who was ordered to kill Mustafa Kemal. This Indian Muslim British agent came to Ankara as the representative of the Indian Muslims two months before the battles of Kütahya-Eskişehir between 10 and 24 July 1921, but he was unmasked as a spy, arrested and executed on May 24, 1921.

Now let's ask: How consistent are the claims that the British and Sultan Vahdettin, a puppet of the British, sent Mustafa Kemal Atatürk to initiate and manage the war of independence?

There were other assassination attempts too. But Mustafa Sagir, the British agent was very close to fulfill this important task.

This historical novel tries to explain that if this initiative had been successful, how the flow of events and history would have developed before and after.

A Scottish historian-journalist on the footsteps of the Celtic ancestors, Anatolian Galatians...

Let us leaf through the forgotten pages of history...

***

Mocking friend.

December 2018, Ankara.

“The history of Eastern Question is the history of the withdrawal of the Turks from Europe. This withdrawal was inevitable, mainly because the Turks could not set up anything substantial over there. Turkish patriotism is not enough to establish a permanent functioning state organization. A peculiar eastern stagnation, a special Muslim obeisance to power and absolute authority of sultans and leaders eventually transform them to the feudal gang.”

Pierre Loti wrote this paragraph in his book ‘Turkey Dying - Turquie Agonisante’ in 1913. The French author was a good friend of Turks. And I suppose he was not wrong.

I read some e-books I downloaded to my laptop and to my cell-phone with pleasure when I have a possibility. However, I am not sure that I can say the same thing about social media. I'm sick of meaningless and countless sharing and messages. My Yahoo and Gmail accounts are in the same manner. I've fed up with hundreds of messages every day. Common news items, most unfounded rumors transferred from social media, advertising, annoying and tiresome repetitions, long messages essentially saying nothing...

I erase most of them just looking at the title. But a few days ago, I found an interesting message in my inbox titled “Don't delete me!” This might be a trick phishing hackers usually do. The sender's identity was “Bilge Wallace”. I did not know him. Message date was December 27, 2018. It drew my attention, so I didn’t delete and checked with a virus scanner.

No problem.

I read the text consisting of just one paragraph: “Dear Önder Üsküplü, I happened to read your article you share on the internet. You focus on the topics of history, politics and futurology. So do I... I’d like to meet you; however, as a matter of space, I can’t. My contact time with you is also limited. If you are interested, we can make friends in this electronic environment. İf you are not satisfied, you say ‘Enough!’ and we're separated.”

I looked at the address: His Gmail account seemed clear. I was still interested. I didn’t delete, instead, I just earmarked as “My Notes.”

Meanwhile, I need to admit that I don't watch television news. They always repeat same things I read on the internet pages of newspapers hours ago. Before going to bed, I glanced at the headlines of some newspapers. The morning news seemed almost the same.

Next day, I read Bilge Wallace's interesting e-mail again. Then I googled him. No result! I looked up Facebook. Once again, nothing. But, I gave in to temptation. ‘What would you lose!’ And I responded to the message.

“Do you know me Mr. Wallace?”

I spent a little time. No answer. I turned off the computer.

A few days passed. Last night, as my daily routine, I was cleaning my mailbox. When I saw the sender’s name as ‘Bilge Wallace’ I stopped. He had sent another message. I have almost forgotten about him. Skipping others, I read his e-mail:

“Answering your question, Mr. Üsküplü, I know you. Because, to identify you is not difficult. A short search on the internet was enough. Your photo is in front of me at this moment.”

Gradually I began to wonder. I replied, “I also looked up on the internet, however couldn’t find you.”

This time I did not wait so much.

“Mr. Önder Üsküplü, I am not surprised. But if you desire, I can share my CV summary.”

I wrote “I do want,” and shortly after the information was on my screen. We did not have difficulty in communicating that night.

He was born in Constantinople in 1923, now 95 years old. Son of Turkish mother and Scottish father. Primary and secondary school in Constantinople, high school and university in Scotland. Graduate of the history department.

Excellent! Our area of interest matched. But why “Constantinople?” I always dislike this word. Why not “İstanbul?” Poor introduction!

Once you start to disapprove someone, anything he says begins to annoy you. He might be a fanatic Greek fan. Even so, I went on.

In 1954 he received master’s degree on Ancient history and got married. His wife is of Turkish origin. Then prehistoric doctoral degree. In 1970, a faculty member in the Bosphorus Robert University in Constantinople.

He insisted on not saying “İstanbul”.

In 2000, he moved to Ancyra where worked as a professor of the University of Ancyra, retired three years later and still lives in Ümitköy.

Here you are! Now, our “Ankara” became “Ancyra!” Oddities were popping up, curiosities too. First of all, to trail someone like him on the internet could be possible. ‘I’d like to meet you; however, as a matter of space, I can’t.’ he said. But he was still in Ankara. Moreover, his contact time with me was also limited. He was 95 years old, and maybe this was the point, he could be unable to move.

This made sense…

But the rest of my questions remained unanswered. I thought my mocking friends tried to make fun of me. And I decided to see what comes next. I might make fun of them, annoy them back, at the very least make a joke with them. Why not? I needed to pretend not to understand what was going on. Yes, my boring life and environment might change. Was it so bad to have a little fun along with serious work? I replied. “What a coincidence... I'm in Ankara but not Ancyra. Is this matter? On the other hand, I am very close to you... This information is shown on my Facebook page.”

Soon came the answer. “I know Mr. Üsküplü.”

It might be possible to put further pressure on him.

“Why do not we see each other? If your age creates a problem I can come to you.”

I also suspected that the mysterious friend was trapping me, and then I could meet a call girl soon. The game was in progress. The answer was short.

“My health is considered good. However, to meet face to face is impossible for us. You cannot come to me either.”

He or she kept on joking. This behavior was not suited to a 95-year-old guy. He was caught red-handed. Dialog went on:

“I do not understand Mr. Wallace.”

“My Ancyra and your Ankara are not the same.”

Whoops! I am assertive in this regard. Another Ankara cannot exist in the world. This reminded me of the map game we used to play in fifth grade, Elementary school. The aim of the competition was to find unheard places in different maps, World, Asia, Europe, Africa and America. The time was limited of course. Chosen places were usually written with small letters, and I had learned a lot in this way. I checked my watch. I got about fifteen more minutes. I wondered where this conversation was going. I was also playing a harmless joke on him. I wrote:

“I do not think another Ankara exists.”

Mr. Mocker or the mockers did not give up. “I'm sorry, but there's even more Mr. Üsküplü.”

This person, nicknamed Bilge Wallace, was really enjoying me. To have more than one Ankara was impossible. Very clumsy joke. As I was thinking how to reply, another text appeared on the screen:

“Would you believe me if I told you that we live in parallel universes?”

This was also good... You may keep on entertaining as far as you can, my dear...

I searched my memory to join the game. Yes, I recalled that I had read a lot of articles on this subject, dark energy, dark matter, black holes swallowing everything approaching. But I could not say I understand all this astronomical terminology.

In Google search you find thousands of articles and images and eventually you get lost. I checked my notes I regularly saved in my computer.

‘The universe owns about 300 billion galaxies. One of them is our galaxy, the Milky Way, consisting of 250 billion sun, 10 billion planets and up to 100 star clusters.’

Very large numbers impossible to reach and to grasp...

I remember some verses mentioning them in the Torah and in the Koran. They talk about ‘from the skies’ or ‘heaven of heavens’ giving no numbers. As for parallel universes, things were more complicated. I checked my notes again:

‘Multi universe description are expressed in the hypothesis of physics, philosophy, fiction and partly science fiction.’

Another note said: ‘Open multi universe...’ Another one: ‘Regulatory universe...’ Another: ‘Countless worlds... In the framework of the rules of quantum mechanics; multiple universes can exist in different states which looks exactly like...’

Before closing my very long notes, my eye fell on one more: ‘Everything happening in our three-dimensional world, may be produced by the higher-dimensional world. Moreover, reflections of parallel worlds can be observed. And continuous life is just one reflection of this.’

All of these subjects were tried to explain through assumptions and through reasoning. But I hardly understood any. I replied.

“I will be glad if you explain.”

I waited too long. Finally came the answer.

“I live in a parallel world, a different dimension from that of yours. That's why we do not come side by side physically. With our current technology, we could only meet in a virtual environment. Our scientists have been working on physical contact. However, it is not enough yet. Our connection time is also limited. Every moment it can be interrupted. According to our scientists, due to the movement of the universes and galaxies, periodically, our worlds sometimes are much closer and then much farther. They think we are close to you for the moment...”

I still thought someone made fun of me. But my curiosity was also piqued. I was going to continue. Hundreds of questions in my mind began to pass ranging from economy to politics, from military to social issues. Using them, I could disrupt the game of Mr. Mocker. Thinking where should I start, a new message appeared on the screen:

“Mr. Önder Üsküplü, are you related to Hüseyin Üsküplü?”

So many surprises! Unbelievable!

Because, I was quite sure, even in social media, I never shared anything about my uncle, who died at a young age. How did Mr. Bilge Wallace or Mr. Mocker learn it? Did this person or persons observe me very closely? Slowly, I was getting used to surprises. I replied:

“He was my uncle. How do you know?”

Again I waited. Message exchanging was taking more time. He responded with another question:

“Does the name of Scott Wallace mean anything to you?”

Another new name…

I answered, “Your surname is the same. Could it be your relative?”

After four or five minutes he replied, “He was my father. As a journalist, he had witnessed the national struggle of Mustafa Kemal and his friends in this land. Your uncle was a member of the Pasha's secret organization.”

Another surprise! I did not have any information on this subject either. My mother used to say that his brother was an officer. He died when he was still young. Nothing more. I was not curious about his life. My ignorance… It was a mistake. I also lost my mother and my aunts. So I could not know the details now. It was too late to do anything about it.

Some interruption happened; finally, Mr. Bilge Wallace’s last e-mail came. But, the text message was incomplete, abnormal and irregular, however, understandable. I thought my laptop was running out of battery. No, it was working with electric power. I replied right away:

“Did your father and my uncle meet?”

Five minutes passed. A screen text appeared with full of spelling errors. I corrected it.

“Yes, Mr. Önder Üsküplü. Their paths crossed several times. They met as a family as well.”

Irregularities appeared on the screen again. I quickly wrote:

“I really wonder exactly where will this end up?”

Another five minutes. Again, a message I had to correct its misspellings:

“I've got an historical novel mentioning their names. You might be interested; I assume...”

Communication seemed to be cut off.

Things started with humor and mocking; and now, everything was ending up with a very serious and interesting state. I was going to continue. I replied immediately.

“Certainly I’m interested.”

This time I waited seven or eight minutes. Finally, a text message on the screen:

“I hope we meet again...”

These words and a PDF like file as an attachment was our last transmission with Mr. Bilge Wallace. Because my ‘Thank you’ message remained unanswered. I scanned PDF like file with my anti-virus program, then tried to open but I could not. I would not insist, it was late. I postponed it to the next day.

Following night, with the help of our ‘computer doctor’ I opened this e-novel. The title was ‘After Twenty-One’. The author's name was also interesting: ‘Bilge Wallace’. So, he wrote the e-novel himself. His biography covered less information than he had formerly transferred to me. Publishers, print house, ISBN and certificate number were not identified. In the preface, consisting of one paragraph, he explained how he had written the book:

‘This book tells true events. The characters are real persons. I benefited a lot from the photos and the articles published on the internet. The journalist Scott Wallace, one of the characters, is my father. He wrote numerous books and articles. His exhibitions consisting of black and white photography also received many awards. My father was very busy. So he frequently postponed writing this book, but eventually last years of his life came. He handed over to me about six hundred texts, articles, memoirs, photographs, newspapers and press agencies announcements. Ultimately, I compiled them and added some information I got from different references to his documents. Of course, I tried to verify them from various sources. It was not easy putting fragments of information together for different subjects and different time periods. As soon as I finished editing, I had it published in English and Turkish on the Internet. I had to keep my word. To translate this novel into other languages ​​'Multitranslator' program is sufficient to be downloaded. The fee to copy the book from the internet is only 1 Valideum, and it goes to the Central Anatolian Republic Galatians Research Foundation's account. You can send your opinions, thoughts and critics to my social media accounts.’

It has not only drawn my attention, but also stimulated my curiosity.

I started reading…

Part I. The last years of the Ottoman Empire.

The Footsteps of the Celts.

June 1955, Edinburgh, Scotland, the UK.

When I started to wonder? I could not remember the exact time. But I could say, I was very young, trying to learn everything. My ‘basic’ questions I remember was very simple indeed:

“Who are we? Are we different from others?”

My ‘more serious’ questions began, I guess, during my transition between childhood and adolescence through pleasure and excitement. My elder brothers and sisters did not wonder this kind of ‘serious’ subjects. Therefore, they sometimes despised me, telling, I exaggerated things to show and prove them I was different. Frowning and shaking his forefinger against my eye, my eldest brother occasionally warned me “If you continue like this you’ll become crazy!” Apparently, they never understand me, in fact, they did not want to.

So, what was the origin of my ‘serious’ questions?

Were they the stories and the tales narrated to me, to a very young boy, by elderly members of our large family living together in a large mansion in Glasgow in Scotland?

Very tall, mysterious men and women, fortune tellers, healers, magicians, potions with unknown contents, magic wands...

Could it be my father’s and my grandfather's intriguing and surprising talking about our past constantly awaking my curiosity? I remember sometimes I was afraid that my grandfather and my father would prevent or expel me from joining them. I think all of them had provoked and stimulated my curiosity. I must admit, I still could not find definitive answers now, in my middle age period, when I wrote these lines…

How strange…

My father’s ancestors were Germans who emigrated to the United Kingdom of Great Britain at the end of the 30 Years War. My “sir” grandfather was a very rich man. He won a lot of money by buying shares of Suez Canal in 1875. Today, my seventy-year-old father is a member of parliament, still respected as a famous landlord. Both were members of the Grand Lodge of Scottish Masons and good Protestants.

Like me…

Sometimes they were speaking the old Scottish language no longer used. We could not understand. I was sure, they were deliberately doing it to hide their subjects.

We often went to Rosslyn Chapel, 10 kilometers to Edinburgh. There, William Wallace, the most famous among our Celtic ancestors, had fought the war against the British in 13th century. Rosslyn Chapel was built in forty years. Europe's best masons were brought there and Rosslyn town was founded for themselves. Then, the place became a pilgrimage site for Scottish Masons. Our family surname, Wallace, was not a coincidence at all.

My mother's family has also an interesting past. They were descendant of the Vikings of Scandinavia who came to loot Scotland. Some did not go back in accordance with the interim agreement and preferred to settle in Scotland. Years later, many of them were killed. However, my mother's ancestors were able to survive, mainly because they were linked by marriage with the natives. My mother used to tell these stories often. At that time, northern Europe did not accepted Christianity. Vikings had countless gods; the biggest was Odin. So, in summary, my mother’s ancestors stemmed from Scotland's much more ancient tribes than that of my father's.

I guess, my interest in ancient history and pre-history during my high school years was derived from the facts I mentioned before.

I was reading whatever I found about the civilizations of superior people, the legendary continents of Atlantis and Mu, sank in the Atlantic Ocean and the Pacific Ocean respectively. The Uighur state in the middle of Asia attached to Mu state was also very interesting.

What happened in the end?

Celts, my ancestors, have somehow not left me.

James Churchward, British colonel, was the one who gave me direction in my life like my grandfather and my father. We had met him through my grandfather. He was a famous researcher, explorer and historian characterized as a very curious and inquisitive person. I was as curious and inquisitive as him too...

While he was stationed in India, he had found about 10 thousand clay tablets brought from their homeland by Naacals. Most were about the creation and operation of ‘the cosmic power’. His former teacher had solved the code of this scripts and then Churchward had translated into English. Some of these tablets must be at least 12 thousand years.

Here I, Önder Üsküplü, take a break and stop reading. And I should have added that I, myself, am extremely inquisitive about the prehistoric people too. As my dear friend Hasan Algan says, I'm obsessed, more than curious. For me, Churchward was a person impossible to forget. I had notes about him from books and articles I read. But I couldn’t remember the age of the tablets were 12 thousand years old. This date reminded me of Göbeklitepe near Urfa, Turkey. I asked encyclopedia of “Google”. Yes, I wasn’t wrong. The objects found there were also 12 thousand years old.

I resume the reading…

Scott Wallace goes on...

Churchward compiled these tablets and wrote a book between 1931-1935. One year later, he, eighty-four years old, died in the United States.

One of the important people affecting my life was Sebottendorf. When I was thirty-three-year-old, I met this mysterious German. He was ten years older than me. After being adopted by Baron Heinrich von Sebottendorf, he had settled in Constantinople and started using the name Baron Sebottendorf.

His lifeline was interesting: Fourteen-year-old occult training... Twenty-two-year-old in Egypt... Twenty-five-year-old in Constantinople... Developing his knowledge on Kabbalah, alchemy and Rosen Cross... Thirty-year-old Bektashi... Thirty-six-year-old Ottoman citizenship... Back to Germany after wounded in Balkan war while fighting in the Ottoman army... Contact with the German occult and mystical leaders... Founder of the secret ‘Thule organization’… Moving its headquarters to Constantinople...

As a historian, I had been studying Celtic tradition and symbolism in those years. Rich and lucky enough to gather a nice collection on this topic, I had concentrated mainly on my Scottish ancestry, Highland mountain tribes in more detail. In parallel, I had specialized in history of ancient Egypt, Mesopotamia, Jews, Greeks and Romans. Eventually, I had decided to research in place the mystery of Atlantis and Mu. On the other hand, general consensus in the scientific community stated that continents sinking in a short time was not physically possible and “the lost continents” were just a myth. As a scientist, I had to support this. But, I believed it wasn’t fully investigated. Egyptian pharaohs could have been descendants of some superior people of Atlantis who survived. Couldn’t the outstanding people of the Thule come from the same origin?

I had another very important thesis...

The Celts, who had come from the inner regions of Asia to western Europe, could be some members of the Uighur connected to the Mu federation. The Uighur, ancestors of the Turks, had lived in Asia where superior people had lived. Their descendants, might have brought hidden backlogs of their ancestors from Khorasan to Iran and from there to Anatolia and these cultures could had been adapted to Islam.

I would trace them...

In the third century BC, with a warning of their priests, a significant portion of the Celts had gone to Anatolia from west of Europe. During hundreds of years they were named Galatians, had established numerous states, fought and of course mingled with the natives.

Had they set up their second homeland in Anatolia? Or had they gone back to their original homeland? Or had they thought they had returned to the Uighur Land? Couldn’t they assume Central Anatolia as Central Asia?

I had learned from Sebottendorf, Bektashi Baron, some traces might be found in Hacıbektaş near Nevşehir, and Konya. Was it a coincidence of hiding of the early Christians in the underground caves of Cappadocia?

Was it true, the Celts, the Galatians, had been assimilated in Anatolia?

After the Crusades, why Anatolia was called “Turkey” by Europeans?

I would search for answers to these questions...

While I was after these questions, I happened to witness the collapse of the huge Ottoman Empire.

Together with the descendants of Uighur Turks, I lived the final four intense years of the last state established by them. I also met with others in the tragedy devastated Europe and the Middle East. I tried to compile and gather their memories.

In this novel, you will see me often. However, I'm not the main character and hero. To me, all main characters are heroes in their own right. Different novels can be written for them all. Maybe some of the other heroes or someone close to them has written novels. I do not know. But I must admit, I did not have time to thoroughly investigate.

I need to say, my aim is not to tell a story full of excited, fast moving and tense events. Countless examples in this regard have been already on market. In any case I should write about what I lived and heard. I couldn’t let this information is forgotten or destroyed.

Scott Wallace

June 1955

Edinburgh, Scotland, the UK

***

News Quotes from European news agencies, dated November 1, 1918:

To peace ...

Armistice of Mudros was signed on October 30 at the request of the Ottoman State on October 8, after Bulgaria had signed the armistice with the Allies on 29 September.

The Ottoman State was actually collapsed in terms of politics, military and economy. One million 600 thousand of the 15 million people who died in Great War were Turks and one million Turks had been forced to migrate to Turkey in the last decade.

Germany, the great ally, is expected to sign a cease-fire, soon.

***

Return to İstanbul.

November 1918, İstanbul.

The short and thin soldier who extended his head and instantly disappeared from the door of the compartment reminded Hüseyin of him.

The poor boy...

Time flowed slowly backwards, came and stopped at an evening the previous year this time, while they were retreating to the north from Jerusalem...

“Why are you crying, soldier! Turkish soldier does not cry, boy!”

The thin soldier was laying on the ground. He jumped to his feet when he saw the face of a Turkish officer and his orderly with bushy mustache behind him. The thin soldier was of medium height. Or he was short maybe. Mouth and nose bleeding, he assumed position of attention, but, had forgotten the rifle on the ground. Dusty from head to feet, pants’ knees torn, boots with separated soles. After the captain looked at his rifle and extended his hand, the soldier quickly recovered himself, bent over and picked up the rifle.

“You're upset about that we abandoned Jerusalem, soldier?”

Meaningless glance...

Captain Hüseyin Üsküplü sighed, he was angry with himself. These young men couldn’t know the details of the battle. He was just doing his duty in his ten-soldier-squad and forty-soldier platoon, at most.

The previous day, damned British army had penetrated into Ottoman defensive positions. However, thank God, they could not proceed under heavy rain, awaiting reserve corps, refueling and ammunition supply. Meanwhile, the Turkish Third Army Corps had received an incredible order.

Retreat!

Without defending, they had abandoned Jerusalem to the British and marched north all night. Turkish officers had gotten some serious reports; the German commander of the Ottoman Lightning Armies had handed over Jerusalem to save three sacred religious structures in the city.

Now they were near an Arab village in the north of fifteen or twenty kilometers from Jerusalem.

“What's your name, son?”

“Hüseyin, sir.”

“My name is Hüseyin too. How old are you?”

“Nineteen, Captain.” Captain Hüseyin was twenty-seven years old. The word “Son” was frequently used in military jargon to define that soldiers were like their own children. Hüseyin took a deep breath.

“Hometown?”

“Samsun.”

The young soldier was somewhat relieved. Extending his canteen, the captain told him to drink a little water and repeated his question: “Fine. Now, tell me why were you crying.”

Again, silence...

“Feel free to speak, son, it will be between us. I promise.”

By hand sign, the captain ordered other soldiers watching them to walk away. Still looking down, the young boy began to speak slowly:

“A German officer beat me before the eyes of my friends. None could interfere.”

The boy was about to cry again. The captain, holding the shoulders of young namesake, told him to sit. They sat down together, so did Mahmut. Influenced by the happenings, he was shaking his head, looking downwards.

“Now, my namesake, tell me slowly how that event happened.” Captain Hüseyin’s voice was softer, but more imperative.

Hüseyin, the soldier, put a fake smile on his face and began to speak. The event happened here 10 minutes ago. Leaning back against his field pack he was trying to get some rest on the roadside. He was very tired and sleepless, had not eaten and drunk anything but dry crackers and water for days. Moreover, he was feeling very depressed. A lot of friends were killed in this desert. He couldn’t forget those wounded and prisoners of war. At that moment, he had not notice the German officer passing by. Suddenly German lieutenant had begun to shout at Hüseyin and accused him of not coming to attention and saluting. Hüseyin had stood up saying nothing and staring at officer’s eyes. He had not replied thinking that German couldn’t understand him. But, the lieutenant had annoyed even more and continuously slapped in his face and kicked him. After that, the lieutenant had moved away grumbling in German. Hüseyin had collapsed to the ground. His stomach was aching too much, the blood was flowing from his mouth and nose. Company’s sanitary had been called, but could not be found. Being unable to do anything to this infidel was hurting him more than pain in his body.

Captain Hüseyin got very annoyed. His inevitable temperament, even not requested, to search and find helpless people to aid, resurfaced. He leaped to his feet and ordered the poor soldier to show that damned lieutenant. One of soldier’s friends came over and saluted clicking his heels together. He was away, however understood the subject. Secretly he had followed the German officer and knew where was.

“Well done. Show me him, boy!”

The soldier took Captain a little farther down the road where German trucks parked. The blond German lieutenant was chatting with friends sitting next to a demolished stone wall.

It was twilight and darkness was about to fall. A hectic, chaotic and increasingly nasty environment was developing. Oxen pulling their howitzer carriage in the dust, horses whining from hunger and thirst, soldiers trying to find their unit, sound of explosions of British howitzer rounds from distant, units trying to withdraw under aircrafts’ machine-gun fire...

Captain Hüseyin sat next to a bush heap, ordered Mahmut to monitor German officers. To avoid being target of British aircrafts, burning fire had been prohibited. Those who could find firewood or candles might illuminate the immediate surroundings. Meanwhile, the Germans started to burn small boxes of documents to keep them warm and illuminated. Apparently orders were not valid for them. The captain closed his eyes for a while hoping to have a nap. He was nearly exhausted like soldiers. Despite heavy noise, he wanted to sleep a few minutes taking deep breaths.

Hüseyin revived old memories filled with sorrow, hatred and anger about Germans. Two years ago, he had worked with Germans in Iran. He had always tried to get along with them, but he couldn’t. Instead, he had hated these people who think themselves superior to everyone. They had distributed gold to the clans, incited Jews but humiliated and snored Turks.

When Hüseyin felt his orderly’s slow touch on his shoulder, opened his eyes. Despite everything he had taken a nap. Among shades of dusk he tried to select the objects.

“What is it Mahmut?” He said.

Mahmut pointed to the German lieutenant, who separated from friends and started walking down to the nearby creek bed. He was probably going to pee. Hüseyin leaped to his feet immediately and headed toward the same place behind the lieutenant and asked Mahmut to follow him remotely. Turkish artillery batteries began to fire and barking dogs in the nearby village joined the chore. Hüseyin thought the right time has arrived for the action, sped up and prepared the knife. The lieutenant was peeing on a bush. Hüseyin approached him quietly. A few seconds was enough for him. Closing with left hand bad guy’s mouth, he cut his throat. After a few seconds, the lieutenant died silently and trembling. Hüseyin had used the knife just under the Adam's apple as did some Arabs. The execution could be camouflaged by burglary. He went away taking the lieutenant’s money, cigarettes, the lighter, biscuits packets, the pistol and the canteen filled with water. Nobody had heard it. This was one of the techniques he learned during the training in Teşkilatı Mahsusa - the Special Organization-. Mahmut had seen everything the captain did. Eyes opened amazingly, he could not say a word. He had witnessed first time Captain Hüseyin’s ability. He shouldered the backpack of the commander to one shoulder and his to the other shoulder. They started walking at a slow pace northward, the same direction the pioneers of the battalion had headed for three hours ago.

After a while, when captain felt more comfortable, Mahmut broke the silence. “May I tell you something, sir?”

“What’s the matter?”

“I was very worried for you, I'd say it.”

“Why?”

“I should have done that. But you endangered yourself. If something bad happened, I'd never forgive myself.”

“Do not worry. I'm pretty good at this. You remember, I had taken special training, don’t you?”

“I know, sir. But I did not know you are so skillful.”

“I’m thirsty. Do we have water left in canteens?”

“There should be some. And I did not throw German’s.”

“You'll bury everything belonging him in a convenient place. They cannot search on us; however, we don’t like surprises. Do not forget to bury in soil or sand. Let me get my canteen.”

The captain stopped, drank last drops of water carefully. Mahmut was watching him.

“You think you are not thirsty?”

“No, sir.”

The captain sighed for a brief moment. He was lying. He became definitely thirsty. Nevertheless, he was trying to save water as much as possible. The captain made a sign him to drink some water. The order was fulfilled. As they increased walking tempo, Mahmut broke the silence again:

“I was going to say one more thing, but I forgot it sir, I'm sorry.”

“Don’t worry. Now you may tell.”

“From now on, you should let me do the dangerous jobs. You will just order. You had saved my life. If anything happened to you I cannot bear.”

Hüseyin stopped and patted young man on the cheek, “Okay, Mahmut, as you demanded, the next similar task is yours. Happy now?”

“I appreciate sir.”

A train’s brake sounds brought Hüseyin’s Palestinian memories to an end. They were going to stop at a nearby station. He looked out through the window; he envied the people in those houses. How many years he was away from home? He really missed that life. Feelings, thoughts, dreams began to blur together. He whispered some words. The brows furrowed, head and eyelids grew heavy. Hands in his lap, he fell asleep in his seat.

As the train whistle blew twice suddenly, the noise awoke the major from his sleep. He sweated a lot. He blinked his eyes a few times, glanced at the old man and his wife opposite him; both were casually looking out through the train’s window. So he hadn’t shout in his dream. Good. He looked through the window at the houses passing. They were approaching İzmit. Again he imagined his own family living in peace in one of them. Can he set up a warm home with his wife and children? He was young, yet twenty-eight years old. However, someone like him could meet death any time. Does he have more time left to live in this way?

God knows…

He got up and walked out into hallway; he looked for Mahmut, the orderly. He had again disappeared.

He either smoke, or found some audience to tell his war stories.

The old man in the hallway reminded him of Uncle Yusuf. After his family Hüseyin would see him at the first opportunity. The sweetest white bearded old man in Balat. Since the previous year he did not received any news from him. Was his coppersmith shop still in place? Did he still deal with Turkish coffee fortune telling?

Train whistle blew again several times. He adjusted his uniform, He reached into his left pocket for the cigarette pack first. Only a handkerchief. As usual, the cigarette pack and matches were in the other pocket. He lit a cigarette and began to watch out.

Now they were under enemy occupation. They could not protect the heritage received from ancestors.

Damn Brits defeated us. We retreated. They came again and eventually expelled us from the Middle East. Now they are in İstanbul, our capital.

Were our officer and our soldier cowards? No, they were very good even at the disposal of the German commanders. Nevertheless, the betrayal of the Arabs, sickness, fatigue and hunger all together put the last nails in the coffin of the Ottoman state.

For a while, Hüseyin listened to the lullaby of train wheel on the rail. He took a deeper lungful puff of his cigarette. He stretched his neck and shoulders, then loosened. Suddenly, tingling in his wounded arm in Palestine increased.

He turned his mind again to the Palestinian war. He was appointed as the liaison officer contacting with special operating forces of Teşkilatı Mahsusa - the Special Organization - at the corps headquarters of Colonel İsmet. A large number of officers from headquarters were shifted to the units due to terrible losses in battles. Captain Hüseyin, meanwhile, was appointed as the commander of an infantry company at the front. They wanted to benefit from his experience in the Balkan wars occurred five years ago. Then he was raised to the rank of senior captain. When battalion commander was martyred, as the senior member of the battalion, he assumed the command.

He kept on looking out.

Passing houses as if they were trying to voice that they were very sorry and tired…

Most of the people living in these houses should be immigrants.

Hüseyin took a deep breath. The pleasant smell of this earth reminded him of the lands where he was born and raised.

Macedonia, wonder of nature; chains of mountains forming great masses, sheer peaks, Struma and Vardar rivers, cascades, narrow valleys, planes and poplars forests, fertile plains, herds of cattle…

Macedonia, mistress of empires; Romans, Byzantines, Serbs, Ottomans. Different races and religions. Inevitable clashes, cruel wars.

And of course, rebellion against weak Ottoman Government…

Turkish battalions were divided in fifteen or twenty separate units, and numerous companies were aligned along the railways to ensure security in Macedonia overwhelmed by the partisan battle. Many of Hüseyin’s relatives in Skopje were killed by Macedonian militias, the bastards known for both nastiness and treachery. His father and mother were obliged to save the family, leaving behind everything.

Adrianople was the most successful place where the Ottoman army heroically defensed. Hüseyin respectfully and with sympathy remembered “Crazy” Şükrü Pasha. He withstood Bulgarians and Serbs for five months; nevertheless, he deemed suitable to surrender to prevent destruction of historical masterpieces such as Selimiye Mosque. There was always a need to have this kind of respected crazies.

Well, what about Hasan Tahsin Pasha, the Thessaloniki Corps Commander? Without firing a shot, he abandoned the city to the Greeks.

He was a dishonest and disgrace pasha of the army!

Hüseyin heard, this fucking traitor escaped to France, after his home had been attacked by drunk Bulgarian soldiers.

Interestingly, there existed both hero and coward officers even generals educated and trained in the same environment. Unfortunately, some of them could be so timid, so coward, so servile and so weak. The number of these types was not diminishing in the history of all nations.

The announcement of the non-Muslim train attendant interrupted Hüseyin’s thoughts: “We are approaching Constantinople. Everyone should prepare its identity and travel documents. Soldiers of the occupation forces will get on the train in Gebze and make their control. They will check your stuff as well.”

Shameless fucker sad ‘Constantinople’ instead of ‘İstanbul’. The major wondered what else they would hear and see next. He returned to the compartment and took his seat. Soon Mahmut appeared at the door with a hand sign indicating everything was okay. Hüseyin gave him a thumb-up sign in return. Then he instinctively checked his ID in the upper left pocket. It was there. He intended to light a cigarette, but gave up, instead, pulled out his Oltu rosary made of black stone from pants pocket. A simple method for sparing cigarette and reducing a bit of damage.

The Balkan War memories flood back. He participated as a company commander for more than six months in Thrace. He remembered Lt. Colonel Enver who staged a military coup d'état. The justification was the terrible defeat of the Ottoman State in the Balkans. Six months later, he recaptured Adrianople, taking the opportunity to exploit the weakness of Balkan armies falling each other for the looting. Hüseyin took part also in Edirne and Kırklareli rescue operations and was appreciated by the commanders. Then he was selected as a candidate for Teşkilatı Mahsusa - the Special Organization-.

After that, Lt. Colonel Enver, in his thirties, began to climb quickly. In the “Sick Man of Europe” period, when Ottoman State was humiliated and significantly weakened, officers and generals sometimes turned their backs on each other, even in the war. The reason behind was political differences and competitions which ended up with grave consequences. As far as Hüseyin remembered; in the 93 War, forty years ago, similar treachery in Danube Front had happened. Although he was able, the commander of the Eastern army had not send troops to support the Western army overwhelmed by Russians offensive. The reason was very simple: Jealousy! The homeland’s and the nation's interests was ignored.

How painful, how fatal!

Consequently, the Russians easily passed the Danube River.

The officers contaminated by politics considerably decreased the power of the army.

Hüseyin remembered Colonel Mehmet, his very much appreciated Staff College teacher. Hüseyin had asked him the results of the military's involvement in politics. Colonel’s answer was simple: The military should not become involved in politics! However, there was one very important exception. If the country goes to the abyss and there is no other way, the military ‘temporarily’ could step in politics.

Hüseyin’s stomach began to burn again. This was a bad gift to him from Iran. He had stomach ulcer according to the doctor of the corps’ infirmary in Palestine. He had advised him: “Stop drinking, or at the very least, reduce it. Avoid tension and last but not least, don’t eat heavy meals.” Hüseyin had replied, with a laugh, “Sure, I will tell my wife this evening.”

Now he desired to smoke again. Lighting a cigarette, he inhaled the smoke and waited to feel his blood absorbed nicotine. As he exhaled smoke from the nose, he remembered the nice doctor again who had added vaguely and half-hearted “Captain Hüseyin, you have to reduce smoking too.”

Hüseyin smiled...

Ottoman authorities had made other mistakes in the Balkans too. 75,000 troops had been demobilized from the area before the war. Importance of intelligence was forgotten alongside lack of training widespread in our troops and weak logistics. Winter of 1912 came to Hüseyin’s view. The only company capable of retreat had been that of Hüseyin’s. He didn’t leave behind the martyrs and the wounded. Nevertheless, the divisions’ other units had run away. Weapons and ammunition was left to the Bulgarians. They could withdraw on foot using eighty-kilometer Kırklareli-Vize-Saray-Çatalca route in twenty-four hours, including fourteen hours at night.

Advancing Bulgarian army had been threatening İstanbul…

Cannons destroyed... Vehicle junks... Smoke from abandoned villages, towns… Weeping, wailing women, children, old people on the roads...

His thoughts stopped as the compartment door opened sharply. A British sergeant whose worn uniform reflected his recent arrival to the city and two tired looking British soldiers with rifles hanging from their shoulders appeared. Dark-skinned faces revealed their colonial origin.

“Documents, please.”

Another civilian, collar of his raincoat lifted, appeared at the door. He spoke Turkish harder and louder than the British:

“Show your documents!”

His Armenian accent was obvious. He did not need to hide enmity and hatred in his eyes glancing under the visor of his hat. British sergeant took Hüseyin’s ID card, noticing Turkish officer’s uniform familiar to him. Apparently he could hardly read Arabic letters, and handed over to the Armenian interpreter for checking. Identification documents in their hands, other passengers in the compartment were watching the scene with curiosity and suspicion.

“Items also, please!”

The interpreter, who control IDs, repeated British sergeant’s request:

“Open your bag and your luggage on your lap!”

The interpreter had omitted the word “please” twice. He was either a deceiver or an idiot.

The major intended to jump and hit some Ottoman slaps in these fuckers’ faces. He, alone, could kill all in ten or fifteen seconds. He visualized himself jumping and knocking down the sergeant first and the two colonial soldiers second. Armenian fucker would be the last one for kneeling and begging. Frowning, Hüseyin was staring at them, then tried to calm down by taking deep breaths. He remembered famous delibaşlar – the slappers - of the Ottoman Army. They had very strong hands and arms by marble slapping through every day training. Hüseyin was not bad in this style.

British sergeant completed the search, and then gesturing to the passengers to lift their foot, he peered below the wooden seats. Then he gave a thumb-up sign. Everything was all right. He headed to the next compartment after giving all documents to the passenger sitting closest to the door. He shut the door sharply again and the others followed him.

Hüseyin began examining the faces of the passengers in the compartment. All seemed effected by a disturbing and heartbroken incident they witnessed first time, indicating the following days would be even worse. Evidently they were not immigrants from the Balkans. If they were, they would not mind much about, considering it as an ordinary event to which they have become already accustomed.

The experienced major was hesitant, sighed for a moment, then he could just say “I’m glad we had no problem,” without smiling.

No answer…

He felt other passengers silently were saying “Major, you are responsible for this!” Then they seemed to express feelings through eyes. “We have sacrificed too much for defending homeland over many decades. All for nothing!”

He could not hide his displeasure, got up and went out again to the corridor, joined those who cannot afford to travel in the compartment. Perhaps, these poor people were right. However, the war against the British was much more difficult than against the Bulgarians. How would they know it? This time, traitors were so-called our religion brothers Muslim Arabs, not our non-Muslims. Arabs fought alongside the British against the Ottoman Turks! This treachery was extremely touching. In scorching deserts, Ottoman Turks perhaps would be able to fight better against the armed forces of a state dominating the world. Nevertheless, this betrayal turned out everything hundred times worse.

Despite the jihad fatwa of the Islamic caliph and Ottoman sultan…

However, as you logically thought, the real culprits were, obviously, the sheikhs and the emirs, the Arab leaders!

Bastards!

Hüseyin spoke aloud recklessly. The old man next to him turned and furrowed brows. “I'm sorry, uncle, I said to myself,” he murmured. While figuring out how to tell those facts these people, he gave up. In fact, they, now, cared about the future, not about the past. Important was the effect, not the cause. The war years were behind. They survived, but at what cost? Who knows how many lives they lost, how much they suffered?

Hüseyin found an empty place at a corridor window. It was half open. He started to watch outside resting arms to the sides. His face was marred, his gaze lapsed into distance. His thoughts were churning again.

In the manifestos distributed by Emir of Mecca, Sharif Hüseyin, was stated that “The Turks deserve to be killed for leaving Islam.” Moreover, this treacherous Arab, supposedly, was a descendant of the prophet, the Hashemite Family.

Bullshit!

British gold destroyed all values including Islam and the caliphate.

Immoral bastards!

Hüseyin spoke silently this time. He could not forget Bedouin tribes’ anger and hatred against Turks. Arab children's friendly looking eyes changed to a dull look. How they were forced to hate Turks? Who knows?

The Arabs all around were robbing Ottoman army’s food storage depots, and then saling on the black market. British spies definitely infiltrated the contractors working for Ottoman army. News gathering for Brits became very easy. Needless to say, our weakest positions had been often found and attacked eventually. Arab villagers no longer accepted paper money, asking for gold or silver which Germans owned. To hire animals became even very difficult.

Dishonest fuckers!

Well, what happened to our allegedly German friends? Our trains were running on coal imported from Germany and the supply was dependent to Germans. Their recon flights were very useful for our jobs until the aircrafts were destroyed. Top authorities including Ottoman General Staff always belonged to Germans.

All right, fine…

Hüseyin took his rosary instead of cigarette.

He remembered the certificate of appreciation signed by the German army commander in Palestine, decorated with Ottoman scripts. It was among the other documents in the suitcase.

Obviously, there were things more worrisome, or ridiculous, or absurd perhaps. Before the Ottoman State entered the war, German Eastern experts secretly started to spread rumors in mosques and markets: The German Emperor selected Islamic Religion! Moreover, the German Emperor went on a pilgrimage to Mecca in disguise! Some experts (!) found even enigmatic verses in the Qur'an stating God commissioned Emperor Wilhelm to recover believers from the oppression of the infidels!

To put pressure on the Shah of Iran and Emir of Afghanistan, gold, weapons and seditious publications would necessarily work.

Kaiser Wilhelm would be ‘the Emperor of the Eastern’ or ‘Der Kaiser des Osten’ in German, or also known as ‘Wilhelm Haji Muhammad!’

Oh God, what kind of idiots are we?

Major Hüseyin considered how they could endure stupidity. He tried to smile, but failed. He watched passing images for a while, trying to think about other things.

Like nice stuff, happy days...

Suddenly, the young major was startled. Somebody had hit him in the shoulder. He turned back. A thin Turkish soldier rapidly saluted. The major responded by greeting and smiled. “What's up, boy?” The soldier, still the tip of the right forefinger touching to the right of the right eye and eyebrows raised, replied respectfully. “I was looking for a friend, sir,” and added, “I am terrible sorry for disturbing.” Slowly, he turned back and joined the passengers.

The train began to whistle nonstop signaling that they were entering to Haydarpaşa terminal station. It was noontime. The three-day journey starting from Adana was going to end. A heavy rain began. The rain’s sound banging on the roof of the platforms seemed to be trying to create much noise than the train’s brake sounds on the rails.

Hüseyin popped his head out of the window, looked at other passengers stretching out from windows, and crowded people waving, weeping on the platform. The train had carried officers and soldiers of a collapsed state. Hiding unpleasant and traumatic aspect of memories, war veterans were searching the surroundings with startled eyes trying to demonstrate living around here was very different. They looked like ghosts staring outward through the train’s steam.

Major Üsküplü did not rush, waited a few minutes for passengers to quit compartments. Then he went to his seat and met Mahmut, the orderly, taking his belongings. Hüseyin adjusted his uniform and wore the overcoat, looked out of the train window. He had sent a telegram to his brother. His eyes searched somebody familiar among people trying to welcome their passengers. No one. Sighing, he headed for the wagon’s exit door. As soon as he stepped the platform, the major heard his brother Sabri's call approaching and waving his hand. He was gripping the hand of his son Mehmet. İsmail, their aunt’s son, was trying to catch them. He was hobbling, however apparently the impact of severe injury received in Galicia Front was reducing. They yearningly hugged each other. Hüseyin had not seen Sabri for more than three years. After they studied each other avidly at arms’ length for a while, the major made one of his usual jokes:

“You're still the skinniest of the family, need a lot of care my dear, I am going to speak to your wife.”

Then he hugged his four years old nephew Mehmet, whom he loved so much like his son. Hüseyin sniffed, kissed the boy’s cheeks, back of his neck. Then, he hugged İsmail with other arm, kissed on the forehead.

“My lion-hearted ghazi brother. I saw you better than I thought. You look wonderful, thanks God.”

İsmail was infantry sergeant major, four years younger than Hüseyin. Lastly they had met a few days before the war started. To help Austrians, his unit had fought against the Russians in Galicia front. Hüseyin gave him a nickname “İsmail the Galician”. As an infantry platoon commander, in late 1916, he was unlucky in avoiding enemy artillery shrapnel, but lucky to be alive. He was one of the evacuated soldiers to the nearest Austrian military hospital. After a series of operations, he survived. Months later he was discharged and went to his mother Mrs. Didar in İzmir for using sick leave. After that, with Hüseyin’s recommendation, he was accepted to the Special Organization, and assigned to İstanbul Rami barracks. He resided with his aunt, Hüseyin’s mother, Reşide’s house on the top floor, and helped them keep the pot boiling.

Hüseyin’s brother Sabri was not recruited by the army, because he barely survived after the tuberculosis treatment at the age of fifteen. He was still very upset. He had to be a draper in Balat, a poor quarter of İstanbul, while all his friends fight for their homeland. The shop was belonged to their father, who died in a severe influenza pandemic. Sabri married Nahide, the daughter of a neighboring family.

Hüseyin, heading toward the exit door of the station, stopped suddenly. So did the others. Mustafa Kemal Pasha, cigarette in hand, was peering through the sleeping car’s window. In the next window, his aide Captain Cevat Abbas was staring at people.

Cevat graduated from the War Academy before Hüseyin did; however, being not staff officer, he had lower rank. He always was vigilant and attentive. Not surprisingly, he was surveying almost entire surroundings very carefully. According to him, there could be any traitor anywhere. Hüseyin and Cevat perfectly agreed in this regard especially when they were drunk. This country got harmed too much and was still getting harmed by the actions of collaborators and traitors. They were not tolerated, wherever caught, without hesitation, should be knocked off. As a warning to everyone. No mercy!

Cevat waved one of the porters trying to move ahead of other colleges and asked him to get on the train. He hastily ascended the steps that led into the train. After that, Mustafa Kemal Pasha got off the train, checked his uniform, brushed off dust, then hugged his friends excitingly coming to meet him. Hüseyin, ignoring the torrential rain, motionless, was watching them. Sabri, standing still too, couldn’t recognize the young Pasha. İsmail, also frozen, was about to recognize this Pasha, but couldn’t name.

“Who is this Pasha?”

Hüseyin replied keeping his eyes on his commander. “Mustafa Kemal Pasha, our army commander on the Palestinian front.”

İsmail, with a twinkle in his eye, excitedly said, “Yeah, man! Of course he is! How did I not recognize! How could I forget the Dardanelles I served three years in?” He gently slapped his forehead with the right hand. “I was a platoon commander in the 11th Division, and Colonel Mustafa Kemal was the commander of 19th Division. His divisions had fought the battles very well. We had always appreciated him and desired to work under his command.”

Sabri joined the conversation, “I'm going to kiss his hand.” As he stepped forward, Hüseyin grabbed his brother’s arm. “Do not rush, man, look at Pasha's aide, how uneasy is. Cannot you see? He might think that you have malicious intention.”

With their goods in hand, passengers trying to cross each other to reach the station exit first, were strangely looking at the group standing motionless in the middle of the platform ignoring the rain. All stuff on his hands, a soldier on crutches passed them greeting casually with the head. Looking at young Pasha and his friends Major Hüseyin tried to figure out what they were feeling. They seemed happy, however, this joy was bittersweet, shadowy and fragile, concealing their worry. They also seemed to be confused about telling the past events. Maybe they were trying to hide their annoyance. Most probably, they were thinking about what kind of events might occur next.

These are actually my own feeling not theirs...

Finally, everyone had safely arrived in İstanbul. A gleam of hope might be granted to them. Life was going on. At that moment, a sergeant passing by turned back as if remembering something important. He shouted to the approaching soldiers showing Pasha:

“Attention! Mustafa Kemal Pasha on the right!”

The soldiers recovered immediately by following this command and began to salute. Pasha responded to the salutations, called the sergeant and spoke patting his cheek.

“Child, silently forward my order to these heroes. They will not give their weapons; they will take home. We will need them.”

Sergeant, eyes shining, whispered slowly to the nearest soldier this command and added: “This order will be silently forwarded to all others!” Soldiers, hiding their exposed weapon as much as possible began quietly to leave the platform.

Meanwhile, Cevat Abbas, the porter behind him, came to his commander. As usual, he checked surroundings. When he saw Hüseyin and his companion staring at Pasha, headed frowning toward them hand on his gun. However, his facial lines soften when he recognized Hüseyin, with collar upturned overcoat and hat on the head. “Wow, Major Hüseyin, is this you?” They hugged avidly, “It has been a long time, nice to see you!” Cevat exclaimed. Smiling, Hüseyin replied, “Thank you, Captain Cevat, I took this train from Adana, but did not want to bother you.” Cevat Abbas nodded in understanding and needed to inform Mustafa Kemal Pasha who was watching them. Cevat approached him, said something in a low voice pointing to Hüseyin. Head slightly inclined forward and lips pursed, Pasha was listening him. Then the aide waved Hüseyin to come. Excited and swallowing, the major advanced and kicked his heels together in a salute, saying “Staff Major Hüseyin Üsküplü at your disposal sir!” Pasha, smiling, took the hand salute then shook hands with him.

“So, we had been together in Palestine. What unit were you in?”

“I was in the 3. Corps headquarters of Colonel İsmet. Then I continued as a company and battalion commander, Sir.”

Pasha’s gray-blue eyes shined and he swiftly commented, “Then you're promoted soon to major.”

“Yes, sir. Two months ago.” Pasha made a hand motion asking him to go on. “I participated in every stage of withdrawal to Damascus and Aleppo operation, Sir. You were our 7th Army Commander.” Mustafa Kemal sighed woefully, “I would be happy to talk with a precious officer like you. About the operations and thereafter. Cevat gives you an appointment at a convenient time. Okay?”

“Of course, Sir.”

Cevat gave a thumb-up sign and whispered Hüseyin, “Where's your new assignment?”

“I will be in the operations department in the general staff headquarters.”

“Fine, I'll call.”

At the same moment, Mustafa Kemal Pasha spoke smiling, “Major, if you cross the sea, you can get on the boat sent to me.” As Hüseyin looked at his companion, Pasha understood the case and added, “Come together. We have enough place.”

“Thank you, sir, if you allow, my brother, my cousin and my orderly would like to kiss your hand.” Smiling, Pasha confined himself to shake their hands. Then he began to walk speaking with two friends. His aide Cevat, following them together with the porter waved Hüseyin, “We're going.”

Hüseyin taking Mehmet in his arm followed them. Sabri, İsmail and Mahmut joined the group excitedly. They had never thought being together with Pasha. The rain slowed. Hüseyin looked over other people heading to exit door.

What are they thinking?

Most of them looked tired and exhausted, seemed to consent to their fate. Was it possible to convince these people of a long-running fight?

Now we came to the end of the road, I guess.

At that moment, he saw a middle-aged man in worn clothes, gripping tightly his suitcase. The man tried to pass them with quick and decisive steps. He was giving the sensation of having a particular quality, different than others. With a brief glance, he seriously saluted Hüseyin and joined the crowd. Had this man read his mind? His eyes were somehow expressing his feelings that he could endure all kinds of hardship and never gave up. Despite everything he seemed that he hadn’t lost his hope, as if he was commissioned by someone to instill moral and other values in others. Yes, he was a spiritual messenger of the good news. Hüseyin was also affected in seconds. He instantly remembered the magic sentence:

“The pure and healthy seeds sprout even in the cracks of the steep rocks; they abundantly grow in a little more favorable environment.”

Important was to work tirelessly and faithful.

Then, Hüseyin sadly looked at frowning Ottoman policemen with very old uniform while checking people’s IDs at the checkpoint. As their group went out of the terminal, Hüseyin gave his coins left in pocket to a beggar. At the dock, across the street, an old military steamboat and her captain were waiting for Pasha. Her name was “Eagle 2”, a red Turkish flag flapping in the wind on the back mast. Before they boarded, the captain disappointedly spoke, “Occupation forces’ navy is entering in the Strait. The permission was not granted, sir. We'll wait a bit.” Bending his neck forward, he lifted both hands and added woefully “To see these is very heartbreaker.” His Black Sea accent clearly revealed his origin. He gave a slight nod to a crew and tea service began.

Chatting and drinking a few cups of tea, they worriedly watched the enemy warships’ torturing parade for two hours.

After a few minutes, Mustafa Kemal asked his friend Doctor Rasim Ferit to tell what had happened in the capital. Pasha was listening with interest, and occasionally speaking of his memories from Tripoli, Libya, Balkan and Palestine wars. He also briefly summarized recent events. The government dismissed and called him immediately to come to the capital.

Hüseyin could hear some of the speeches carried by the wind.

According to Mustafa Kemal Pasha, the Mudros Armistice Agreement, signed two weeks ago, announced severe terms laying down the most burdensome conditions in Turkish history. The loss of war was going to bring tremendous troubles for the fate of the country. He was counting the figures one by one. 75,000 prisoners, 360 cannon, 800 machine guns, 250 motor vehicle, ninety locomotives, 500 wagons. These people and materials would be desperately needed. The resistance was inevitable and must be started with whatever energy, faith and stuff remained. The rest could be subsequently found.

Hüseyin knew them roughly.

Far away, warships coming from the Sea of ​​Marmara were anchoring at the entrance to the Strait, near Dolmabahçe Palace. A steel forest filling the sea began to expand. Most of the warships were flying the British flag, some the French flag and a few the Italian flag.

With hand gestures, Mustafa Kemal Pasha kept on telling about the occupation of the Taurus tunnels by the Allies, his orders to open fire on British army if they occupy İskenderun, as they called Alexandretta by the way, and the cancellation of his order by Grand Vizier Ahmed İzzet Pasha.

Pasha’s brother in law was consistently inviting him to speak slowly. Walls had ears. Now it was time to be careful. Nodding positively, Pasha concluded. “To fulfil what the British demands will be a big mistake. My job as the army group commander was terminated and I was called to İstanbul, just because I tried to stop the British.”

Hüseyin was not alone who listened to the speech. İsmail, too, was giving his ear to Pasha.

“How strange, brother.”

“What is strange İsmail?”

“Enemy warships couldn’t pass the Dardanelles during many battles both at sea and on land about three years ago. But now, looking into our eyes, even mocking us, they were anchoring off İstanbul.”

“You're quite right. However, I was thinking of something else.” Hüseyin added, “Mustafa Kemal Pasha, who did not allow the British to step İskenderun short time ago, should be depressed now as he was watching them here.”

Mustafa Kemal did not hear this conversation for sure, but as if he heard, frowning, pulled out a cigarette from his silver case and handed it to his friend. Under strong wind, he lit a cigarette with his brother in law’s lighter and blew first blue smoke into the air. The rain stopped, however, continued to chill with moisture left in the air.

Finally, they moved to Sirkeci direction, passed very close to some ugly warships. Foreign seamen on the deck were staring at them with threatening, humiliating cold eyes. People on the boat returned promptly the same glance.

Hüseyin showed Mehmet, still in his lap, monumental Selimiye Barracks on the right. He cleared child's runny nose with his handkerchief. Sabri, smiling, explained, “Mehmet sees here the first time.” The boat was stroke repeatedly and violently by large waves. Mahmut was admirably watching the scene and tightly keeping the suitcases. İsmail supported, “Indeed, I've not come around here in a long time, good change for me.”

They were passing by invaders’ dirty warships. Mustafa Kemal Pasha, showing the warships, spoke harshly and frowning, “In the beginning, the British softly treated the Ottoman government. But later, they brought warships to İstanbul, right after demining of the Dardanelles. They also invaded Mosul, the oil rich region. But, eventually you will see, they will go as they come!”

Cevat Abbas joined the conversation: “You will expel them, sir!”

Pasha sighed deeply for a moment, smiled for another moment, then was lost in thought. After a while gave a short answer, “Let's see!”

After ten minutes, the boat docked growling at Sirkeci. An official car was ready for meeting Mustafa Kemal Pasha inside of the pier. He waved to Hüseyin and sat vehicle's in the right rear seat while his friends and aide were putting their stuff in the trunk. Then his brother in law sat beside him. Finally, Cevat Abbas sat on the forward seat saying to the driver “Akaretler, number 76” and the doors were closed.

Assuming position of attention outside the vehicle, Hüseyin saluted with hand Mustafa Kemal Pasha, looked at the moving car for a few seconds. When turned around, he saw Doctor Rasim Ferit. Doctor smiling said, “Good afternoon major,” and headed toward Sirkeci direction.

It started to rain again. Meanwhile, holding Mehmet tightly in his arms, Sabri found a landau with two horses, and Mahmut had placed their stuff on the back in a hurry. They got in and Sabri told the driver, “To Balat. We will show you the exact location over there.” They shut the doors. “We are lucky. Nowadays, to find a landau is very difficult. Otherwise we would be forced to take a coach in this rain.” Sabri added smiling, “However, I took my umbrella with me.”

Hüseyin allowed Mehmet to sit on his lap and kissed his cheeks. Then turning to his cousin he asked “How are things going İsmail the Galician?” İsmail pushed his fez back, scratched his mole between eyebrows and replied, “Just routine.” Then, he glanced around and leaning forward a little went on. His voice was hoarse.

“The Organization has been considering what to do next. Maybe you've heard. Seniors have already decided to resist.”

Holding Sabri’s hand, Hüseyin continued contently, “It would be appropriate; we do not give up so early, cannot leave homeland to the mercy of foreigners. All of us heard what Mustafa Kemal Pasha said a few minutes ago.”

Sabri, looking into the eyes of both his brother and son, supported “You're absolutely right brother. So I applied to ‘the Organization’ three months ago and asked for duty using your name by the way.” Hüseyin was cheered up instantly and pressed much stronger his brother’s hand. Showing how much appreciated, he smiled, “You did a very good thing, I wouldn’t expect otherwise.” Young brother shyly replied, “Thank you brother, because of my illness army had not accepted me. This was eating me up inside, you know.” His brother smiled again, “Do you know what ‘Alp’ mean?”

“I think it means warrior.”

“Yes, it has many meanings, such as warrior, brave, courageous, bold. However, ‘Alp’ also is called militias who join the army when necessary. Like you.”

“Thank you again brother, you're indulging me.”

İsmail joined the conversation, “I’m surprised Sabri, my big brother, I even learned now. Why did you not inform me? Maybe I could give a hand.”

Freeing his hand from Hüseyin, Sabri touched his forehead. Then, patting him on the knee he tried to lighten the mood. “Oh no! You're right, İsmail. I never thought of it. Forgive me.” Meantime, he reminded himself of one of the most important principles of ‘the Organization’: Your status will be hidden even from the closest family members... Now, he has broken this…

The rainfall was becoming heavier. They slowly passed Regie Company’s Cibali tobacco factory. As he saw his brother looking intently at the factory Sabri felt himself to inform him: “A few people from our neighborhood work here. Salaries are not bad, even better nowadays.” Hüseyin sighed and absently replied, “Of course good. Foreigners made a lot of money even in war like Regie Company here that monopolize the tobacco sector.”

Sabri began to explain the city's current problems. People were in misery. Bread queues were growing longer every day. Sugar and kerosene were sold in black market. Anyone except the rich could not get these products. Raging everywhere, bribery, corruption and fraud seemed epidemic. Thousands of wounded soldiers from the frontlines had brought infectious diseases to İstanbul. The patients were bedded in large mosques due to overloaded hospitals.

After a while, struggling with puddles on the broken roads they were in Fener. They passed by two children with sunken face and patched jackets, selling bagel and newspapers under an oriel, a good shelter for them. After Greek Orthodox Patriarchate, they moved on through desolated and narrow streets of Balat. Most of the shops were closed. Finally, directing frequently the driver they got home. Mrs. Reşide, their mother excitedly opened the oriel window, waved cheerfully and disappeared.

Mrs. Reşide lived with Ayşe, her eighteen-year-old daughter, in the upper and middle floor of the house. Three-story brick house belonged to the family. Preserving the modesty of a humble life coupled with the ability of the good tailoring, they could survive without being dependent on anyone.

The house door opened, Mrs. Reşide and Ayşe cheering of joy hugged Hüseyin excitingly. Then they started to cry. As İsmail payed the landau coachman, Mahmut took suitcases and headed to the house.

Sabri, his son in arms, was about to enter the house, when he heard someone calling himself. He looked back over his shoulders and saw his smiling black-eyed backgammon friend Vartan.

“I’m glad Sabri, your brother finally came back alive,” he extended his hand. Sabri turned back, shook hand and responded “Thank you Vartan, friends may meet but mountains never greet.” Vartan smiling continued, “Can you come to the Fikret’s coffeehouse this evening?”

“Let's see, depend on my brother.”

“I cannot wait to get my revenge from you.”

Sabri laughed, “See you,” then enter the house and close the door gently. His wife Nahide was waiting for them.

In the evening, Üsküplü family enjoyed very much, as one might expect. Hüseyin had a bath with soap and hot water. He was longing it for years. Mrs. Reşide prepared the tastiest dishes for his son. The head of the family safely returned home. Now she would feel happier, more powerful and comfortable. They were a very lucky family. Mrs. Reşide was often praying: “O God, make continuous our happiness!” They could easily see the destructions and sufferings everywhere after eight-year war. The mother began to sing her favorite song:

If to love you a guilt,

Forgive my sin, oh beloved,

Kneeling down I beg you,

Let me cry in your knee,

You're cruel, attractive, too harsh,

Darling you are my last spouse.

In chorus, they together join Mrs. Reşide with pleasure. Coffee and tea period after the meal was short. Soon after, tired major went upstairs to his room, laid down on his lavender smelling bed and fell asleep immediately. He couldn’t hear snoring İsmail in the next room. Mahmut, in the other room, waited till his commanders started snoring. Then he, too, fell asleep promptly, being so exhausted as if he could not wake up next week in his clean bed.

***

News Quotes from European news agencies, dated November 12, 1918:

End of the Great War...

Germany, ten days after Austria-Hungary, signed the cease-fire agreement at eleven hours, on eleventh day of eleventh month. Emperor's government had fallen on November 9; the interim German government was formed. Emperor Wilhelm, supposedly, fled to the Netherlands.

***

The Secret Service.

November 1918, London.

When the weeks of peace enthusiasm has peaked...

One of those rare times, a fine weather, the clouds over London hadn’t cover the sun yet. In the last days of autumn such opportunities hardly existed. Sitting in coffeehouses near the shore of the Thames River, hundreds of Londoners were celebrating the end of the Great War. It was worth watching happy conversations and laughter of men and women of all ages. These beautiful places had been deserted during the war, not surprisingly they were coming alive nowadays. These Londoners seemed to race with each other not to miss this fine weather. Nevertheless, people who do not believe in the coming of peace were not in the minority.

The Indian sitting alone at the table farthest from the sidewalk of most populous coffeehouse waved the waiter for another coffee. People who saw him might think that this dark-skinned, bespectacled stranger was lucky and wealthy enough. And also they might speculate further: ‘How could someone be so fatty in these tougher times?’ But they couldn’t know that this stranger had been living among them for thirty years.

Mustafa Sagir was reading the newspaper but being so deep in thought, he was not very sure about the significance of the subjects. He was pondering the details of the assassination of the German ambassador in St. Petersburg four months ago. Of course, all the details were still in his memory. These secret service details would never be written down. The agents were instructed strictly. Their rooms, personal belongings could be searched anytime. Or, even worse, they could be captured. A written document was enough to be accused of espionage. The punishment was also the same almost everywhere: death! Although there were minor differences in various states, the result was unchanged. The hanging or the firing squad might differ from country to country. Without any documents, the UK couldn’t be formally blame. Nevertheless, torture was inevitable. The captured agent was asked to write and sign a confession. How to overcome that challenge was also taught in the courses. He or she would be lucky if still alive until next spy exchange between the countries.

Sagir would give an oral report, then handwrite in a private room of the headquarters: Two assassins coming by car thrown a bomb through the window and killed Ambassador Count Graf von Mirbach. The Cheka, Russian secret service was blamed. The Cheka was opposing to the peace establishment between the German Empire and the Soviet Government. Some commentators argued; the UK was behind this assassination. Even further, they claimed also the murder of German Field Marshal Eichhorn in Kiev was an application of the same plan.

Mustafa Sagir seeped the second coffee the waiter brought a minute ago. The assumptions were correct in British involvement. British agents in charge would receive the award after this success in St. Petersburg. They had worked for six months to recruit two Russians, and prepare them for this action. The Russians were members of Socialist Revolutionary Party (SRP), fighting with Bolsheviks. Those days, Sagir had served in Kiev, St. Petersburg and Moscow under Commander David Nelson, one of elite agents of Her Majesty's Intelligence Service. Sagir was lucky to have known this interesting British Navy officer. His black hair, thin mustache and athletic appearance were concealing that Nelson was approaching his forties. Some make up tricks also contributed to his young appearance. Although most women admire him, the Prince on White Horse was determined to stay away from marriage. He was known as an invisible spy of intelligence world, frequently changing the appearance and identity, humble, but with satanic brain. His Russian, Arabic, Persian and Turkish language skills helped him better handle the responsibilities of a secret actor in the Great Game between the UK and Russia. Nelson had been transferred to the Intelligence Service from the Navy. He had broken up relations between Turkish Unionists and Hizb-ul Vatan Party, which was organized against British interests in Egypt. He had exploited the assassination of Coptic Christian prime minister to provoke the hostility between Copts and Muslims. For this success, Governor-General Lord Kitchener had appreciated Nelson and always supported him. When General Kitchener was appointed as the war minister in the Great War, Nelson was eventually supported more strongly.

Mustafa Sagir also had been in Egypt, his first duty station at that time. As an Indian coming to learn Arabic, he had established and maintained close friendship with the leader of the Egyptian nationalists. With a detailed memo, he had reported their objectives and their undisclosed strategies to his superiors in the Secret Service.

For the first time, in 1915, Sagir worked together with Commander Nelson in Iran. They chased German spies, working together with Teşkilatı Mahsusa -Turkish Special Organization - which was trying to undermine British interests in Iran. Fate brought them together again in Russia, after the 1917 Bolshevik Revolution. Mustafa Sagir had taken a fast Russian language course, and acquired a Tajik merchant identity, the most suitable role in his Indian Muslim appearance.

He took a sip of his coffee and felt caffeine circulating more quickly in his arteries. He always went to different coffeehouses and restaurants. He had to do it for not to attract attention. He suddenly checked and monitored the perimeter around the coffeehouse for a moment as if to relax the muscles of his neck.

Nothing unusual...

He took a delicious slice of lemon pie and chewed slowly to get the taste. Then he thought again about his report on Russia. Socialist Revolutionary Party (SRP) had rioted in Moscow after the assassination of German ambassador and four-star general. Nevertheless, Lenin and Trotsky had used the uprising to destroy the SRP. They, the Brits, had unintentionally paved the way for a one-party proletariat dictatorship in Russia. Hoping to hunt successfully in that dangerous game, the UK had ended up being hunted. Perhaps the angels of irony had been around.

Nevertheless, Sagir and Nelson continued with the operation. A month later, Lenin had been selected as the target. But the vital target survived the assassination attempt although he had been seriously injured. Fanya Kaplan, the assassin, a daughter of a Jewish peasant family in the Ukraine, became a SRP member.

In conclusion, the third assassination had not given desired results. On the contrary, this helped justify the Red Terror officially. Thousands of politically-motivated were arrested and executed. The Bolsheviks consolidated their hold on power.

After that, the UK government had decided to use military force.

Sagir stopped thinking, pulled out his watch. The time was approaching. He paid the bill and left the coffeehouse. It was raining cats and dogs. Londoners were accustomed to the short sunny weather.

Their familiar habitat…

Sagir opened his umbrella, took a deep breath and started walking to Whitehall Street adjacent to the War Office. The empire on which the sun never sets was ruled from here. The Brits were proud of it absolutely, however to govern the world was not so easy. Especially the Great War had weakened the UK a lot. Sagir had a feeling that London was getting tired of this increasing heavy burden. If he was asked how to describe British politics in a single sentence, the answer was ready: ‘The ability to make leading people and countries fight each other.’

This policy never wanted the development of any power other than itself, trying to keep the leaders of the rival powers under constant supervision and control. The UK acted incredibly ruthless against any opposition. 

Sagir checked his back suddenly, as if trying to avoid splashing water by a passing car as. No problem. 

Safety first!

That was the first lesson taught in the courses. The end of the intelligence officials who did not comply this rule was obvious. If lucky, sudden death! If not, slow death with great pain after torture! He remembered what he had read about the Catholic inquisition and shivered. They would never kill the suspect. They even wrote the book for this.

Of course, I prefer a beautiful, happy and peaceful death.

He often desired to change his crazy and tense life filled with dangerous adventures. Maybe he had to settle in Peshawar, where he was born and his family still lived. To buy a villa with a garden in India, British colony, would not be difficult for him. He could write his personal memoirs before he died, and certainly devote himself more time to philosophy. Nevertheless, on the contrary, he would miss this vibrant and exciting, adventure-filled life. Obviously, in his country, he couldn’t find this modern and Christian society’s lifestyle he got used to. He remembered Mevlana's philosophy of cross-eyed seeing. They called him ‘Rumi’ in the West. He smiled.

Sagir fixed his eyeglasses to read black letters of yellow brass plaque on the door.

“Falcon Shipping and Export Company Limited.”

He came first time to this building. He shook and closed the umbrella. Soon after he pressed the ring the front door opened. He walked in, after five or six steps to the reference desk the door closed sternly behind him. He handed over his ID to the serious and sullen man sitting behind the front desk. After looking into Sagir’s eyes with a scientist’s seriousness on a sensitive experiment, he found the right page of his notebook. He began to smile looking again at the face of the visitor.

“Yes, Mr. Mustafa Sagir. Welcome.”

Secret Service’s headquarters was located here. Offices in Vauxhall Bridge Street Sagir visited before were moved here. They used to share the same building with the post office and it had been inadequate due to increase in employees. The role and the workload of Her Majesty's Secret Service increased in the European War. To invest in intelligence was always more economic and cost effective. To recruit soldiers from the colonies was getting difficult. This possibility couldn’t be further exploited. Those young ones living in the UK had not prefer military service too. Military power was quite expensive and should be used very carefully. That's why the Foreign Intelligence Section had worked very closely with military intelligence. In fact, it had been implicitly integrated into the War Department with the name of MI1 (c). The success of Bolsheviks based on a fresh revolution had required special interest and precautions, and eventually Secret Service had been enhancing activities in Russia. Service’s name had been also changed frequently: Foreign Intelligence Service, Secret Service, MI1 (c), Special Intelligence Service, C's Organization. Today, the last name of the Secret Service was Secret Intelligence Service (SIS).

Sagir came to the second floor, looked at his watch again. There was still twenty minutes until his appointment with the manager. He headed to the cafeteria. There were seven people chatting inside. One of his habits was to memorize names, faces and things for short-term memory first. He did know that the short-term memory could only retain between 5 and 9 blocks of information. And to learn and adopt some information, the brain had to stand and concentrate on it for at least 15 seconds. Otherwise, the brain did not archive any information didn’t care about. And you needed to repeat them occasionally for mid-term and long-term memory to save a coherent picture of the names, faces, things and situation. Training would take care of everything.

He asked for a coffee, remembering British citizens’ first encounter with the coffee. As he sniffed audibly through the nose to detect and absorbed its smell, he tried to imagine the scene with his eyes shut and a smile on his lips. In 1650, for the first time, a Turkish refugee was cooking coffee in the cafeteria, in Oxford University. The people around were sniffing that exotic smell and definitely they were very interested. They tasted the coffee. One of them commented, “It has a very pleasant and bitter taste, I liked it.” Others joined him. After that, the expression of ‘Turkish Coffee’ become famous.

Sagir watched his chattering colleagues. One seemed to hide his exhaustion. Next one was trying to show that he was smarter than his friend. Another one was acting as superior. Indian Muslim felt himself in a theater. Some were very funny. Some were trying to hide their ugliness and arrogance in vain. However, people like Nelson were different. A genuine intelligence agent should be invisible and anonymous, using simultaneously his five senses.

Intelligence and covert operations were planned and managed here. Strategic goal was to control the target country without using military force. Through covert operations, disharmony, chaos and insecurity would be created in societies involved. As a result, the destruction of the economy, education, culture, language and religion would be easier. To use resources more efficiently, a special focus on key personnel and, in particular, leaders was necessary. They were the vital spot of the system. With courage, perseverance and patience, they could revive and mobilize useless, lethargic, apathetic people.

Sagir, as a Muslim intelligence official, had an important place in this kind of SIS operations. Among Indian Muslim school children, he had been elected for British Intelligence School. British Ambassador had watched Mustafa playing in the yard. His skillful behavior, superiority in the game and in English language had attracted Ambassador’s attention. Talking with the family, he demanded Sagir to study in the UK. His beloved mother had objected very much, but his father had managed to convince his wife; Sagir’s education was important for his future.

The British were really smart. He remembered a joke about them: If two fish fight in the river, a British passed by five minutes ago.

Sagir would meet with the manager of Eastern branch at operations department. Eastern meant east of Europe. It also meant territories where second and third class people lived, like his family. On the other hand, these lands possessed immense raw materials and cheap labor resources needed by rapidly developing western industry. This was even more important… That would eventually push the West to focus on its most important vision: The East had to be directed by the civilized West... Ottoman Turks, the despots freighting Europe for centuries were the leader of the colonizers. They had crushed the Middle East for four hundred years. If they could, they were going to unite with Muslims in Spain, which was a real nightmare for Europe. But now, Turkish Middle East would become the ‘West's Middle East’. However, there was one much more important point. The West meant the UK itself. Other Europeans could assist only. The UK continuously fought France and Germany, the countries that never accepted this argument.

The secretary invited Sagir into the manager of Eastern branch office just in time. The manager sighed and brought up the subject right away. After the award ceremony, Sagir and Commander Nelson would go to Afghanistan. The UK had serious problems with Afghan Emir. They would take Afghan language course in Language School for two months. Well-educated ones in Afghanistan spoke Urdu, it would not be difficult for Sagir.

***

News Quotes from European news agencies, dated December 25, 1918:

Ottoman Sultan demands the British to take Turkey's administration.

A month ago, soldiers, mainly British, occupied the Ottoman capital, raided and closed the parliament. Nationalist members of the parliament were exiled to Malta. To avoid the reaction of the Turkish public, Entente states announced that the occupation was temporary; the aim was to protect the Sultanate, the Caliphate and minorities; the Sultanate was not abolished and Constantinople’s (İstanbul) decisions were valid. Turkish press in Constantinople had noted this event as 'Black Day'.

Turkish nationalists are beginning to resist the occupation.

***

Beyazıt Branch.

December 1918. İstanbul.

Those were the days when friends may meet but mountains never greet...

Major Hüseyin Üsküplü went out from home earlier than usual. He could take advantage of the sunny weather unexpected in mid-December. Mahmut, the orderly, had received a permission to visit his relative who is very ill. Going up Draman, Hüseyin recalled their conversation with his mother last night. They were head-to-head after everyone had gone to sleep.

“Years are passing so fast my dear. Your brother Sabri already married and has a family. Your sister Ayşe was engaged; I hope she will get married soon. Now I have my eyes on you. You are twenty-eight years old. Because of the wars, you did not think to get married. I can understand that. However, now it's time to do it.”

He was listening to his mother smiling and confidently replied. “Mom, I explained to you the current situation of the country. Who said the war is over? We have long and arduous struggles ahead. Marriage is not a priority for me now. Let's wait and see what will happen, okay?”

But his mother had insisted. “Dearie, there is such thing as luck, you forget?” He had tried not to look surprised. “What luck mother?”

Looking carefully into his son’s eyes, Mrs. Reşide had resumed her speech: “You know Mr. İbrahim, my uncle’s eldest son. He and his family came from Skopje to İstanbul long before us. Therefore, they hadn’t left behind everything like us, and hadn’t lost more wealth. Now they live in a beautiful mansion in Şişli.”

Hüseyin had frowned. “Yes, Mom, therefore, I am not surprised by their ignorance. Especially after my father died, they concerned that we may become a burden for them.

“Thank God, we can make our living without someone’s help. I can tailor, so can Ayşe. She is developing her skill. After your father's death, your brother Sabri handed over the butcher shop. He couldn’t cope with bones and meats. Instead, he opened a humble drapery store which runs just fine, thank God.”

“I appreciate that, dear Mom, however, there is more. This guy, İbrahim, has been working for Sultan and Ferit Pasha the Groom, both British puppets flattering and bowing down to them. In this way, he has been awarded, and for sure, will be promoted higher positions soon. I don’t like him. Therefore, I cannot tell anyone that he is my relative.”

“Yeah. I think, he is the head of one department at the ministry of commerce. Of course, too many people would like to replace him. Don’t forget this, dearie. We have to accept realities. Who knows what will happen tomorrow.”

“I, certainly, do not care. Sorry Mom.”

Smiling meaningful, Mrs. Reşide had patted his son’s head kindly. “Well, do you remember Hanımşah, his daughter?”

Caressing his mother's hand Hüseyin had replied: “Now I understand now what luck means. You, smart woman!”

“Nothing escapes woman’s eyes Hüseyin. As you worked in İstanbul after the Balkan wars, Hanımşah was studying at American College for Girls. On weekends, when you came home, she would surely be here as well. Did you forget?”

“I guess she gets along well with my sister Ayşe.” 

“Absolutely not. She was coming to see you. I think she still has deeper feelings for you.”

“You're exaggerating mother.” 

“Not at all. She graduated two years ago. Now she is a teacher at a secondary school in Kasımpaşa. While you were away, she came to us almost every month and always asked about you.”

Hüseyin could hardly keep that kind of unimportant details in mind. However, for a moment, he felt good and prided himself on being cared. Realizing she had already softened the mood, Mrs. Reşide went on, “There's more. I think Hanımşah's mother, Mrs. Kaniye, also supports her daughter in her feelings on this matter. She recently came to me three times. I could have made a return visit to Mrs. Kaniye just once.”

“So what?”

His mother had not minded his son’s reluctant answers. “It seems to me, Mrs. Kaniye wants you, a handsome officer, to be her son-in-law. Besides, you have not seen Hanımşah yet.”

“Yes, it was a long time. Maybe I could not recognize her.”

“I'll help you. After seeing her, you cannot look at anyone else.”

“You, mother in law, are expressing warm admiration of your bride already.”

“Hanımşah is now 22 years old, tall, slender, brown-eyed, beautiful. Should I tell more, my dear?”

Hüseyin had realized that his resistance would not work. “Apparently you ladies had secretly handled the subject. So, I wander, do the girl and her father think the same?”

“Leave him to me dearie, don’t just say 'no!'“

“I’ll consider it Mom.”

Hüseyin had gone to bed finishing the dialog without his approval. However, not to upset his mother, he had given a slightly negative response.

In the morning, without seeing his mother, he had thrown himself out. Nevertheless, Mrs. Reşide would not give up, obviously.

Walking rapidly, he passed Draman and Çarşamba, and looked at his vest-pocket watch. It took him eighteen minutes to came to Fatih Mosque.

I need more training.

He had started working in the general staff operations department about a month ago. His job was, as the manager of organization branch, firstly to reduce the Ottoman Army according to the Armistice Agreement provisions. Positions, locations, organizations and cadres of units were being examined one by one. Together with the personnel department, their working time was focusing on the retirement of surplus staff. Demobilization of soldiers was almost complete. With the supplies and procurement department staff, they were adjusting surplus weapons, ammunitions and materials. These lists were constantly monitored by unpleasantly grinning invaders. On the first occasion, Hüseyin would kick these bastards's ass.

To hell with them!

He bought two donuts from the bakery on the corner. Together with tea, donuts were good enough for breakfast at the headquarters. Then he decided to eat one while walking. Cold and clean air had made him hungry. Before digging into his thoughts, he already saw the grand mosque on the left. He inhaled through the nose, waited for a few second, exhaled through the mouth and then silently addressed:

O! İstanbul's great conqueror! Had you ever thought, this beloved city would pass into the hands of Christians after hundreds of years?

He quickly calculated. 465 years had passed after the conquest. Nowadays it was a sad thing for everyone, as the army was going to be disbanded. These were the first concrete steps towards the destroying of the country. How many epics, poems had been written on weapons? The saddest thing was to feel dishonored and humiliated by breaking their word “Weapon is honor!” They were not a man of his word, an honorable soldier any longer.

Retired military personnel with insufficient incomes had to take care of themselves in civilian life, where a lot of hungry wolves and hyenas wandered freely around.

Surplus weapons, ammunition and supplies were being gathered in various warehouses in İstanbul and Anatolia. These materials were moved by trains, invaders’ trucks, carts, ox carts, or whatever they found. In case the weapons couldn’t be moved, they were made inoperable by removing mechanisms.

Nevertheless, there existed also those who didn’t obey…

Hüseyin had received an important note from Black Kemal, a prominent leader of Teşkilatı Mahsusa two days ago. He was asked to come to the safe house of the Special Organization in Karagümrük on Friday evening. The address was not given. Hüseyin, in civilian-clothed, would be escorted by a guard from his house to the safe house. There has been widespread speculation; even Enver Pasha, without permission, couldn’t sit in front of Black Kemal. He had organized coachmen, boatmen, porters, bikers and almost all shopkeepers. The boat owners of Black Sea origin in Golden Horn were also under his command. So, he was highly respected in their communities.

Hüseyin had been accepted to join ‘the Organization’ four months after its establishment. Enver Pasha, then minister of war, had formed ‘the Organization’ in late 1913 and brought Lt. Colonel Süleyman to the post of the chief of the organization. Everything had been conducted in greatest secrecy. Therefore, candidates entering the Organization had to swear on the Koran wrapped in a black Turkish flag.

Hüseyin had also met with famous fedai - hitman - Yakup Cemil, Hakkı of Sapanca, Hilmi of Plovdiv, Mr. Mümtaz, Süleyman Askeri, Kuşçubaşı Eşref and his brother Haji Sami. All were foolhardy, overbold and cruel. Convincing the government, Kuşçubaşı Eşref and Kuşçubaşı Sami had obtained an amnesty and recruited experienced warriors convicted except infamous crimes from prisons. Two brothers had included these warriors in their ‘volunteer’ detachments. Enver Pasha, as a victorious commander, had rescued Edirne, somewhat with the help of these ‘volunteer’ detachments. Eventually, the prestige of Enver Pasha and Union and Progress Party had increased. After that, Teşkilatı Mahsusa had entered the Western Thrace region and expelled the Bulgarians.

In the evening, Hüseyin went to Karagümrük with the escort, the fedai. He was silent, large, strong and heavily built, with a bulge under his overcoat, which was absolutely a concealed weapon.

The safe house was a modest structure made of wood. As they entered, Black Kemal was fervently discussing something with two people. He turned back and waved Hüseyin to come.

“Welcome Hüseyin. Nice to see you. How are you doing?”

“Thank you, sir, I’m good.”

“Meet my friends, members of the Central Committee of ‘the Organization’, Mr. Selami and Mr. Hüsamettin, they already know you.”

Hüseyin smiling and making eye contact shook their hands. He had met Lt. Colonel Hüsamettin four years ago, during their initial training of ‘the Organization’. He was one of the fedai - hitman - officer. In Great War, he had served in the German submarines in Europe, African coast and Black Sea. But, Hüseyin could not recall Selami. He sat on the fourth chair around the table reserved for him. Their unrest and anxiety was obvious. Only crackles of wood burning in the stove were heard. Then, Black Kemal came to the subject:

“In this house we do not stay long, we use it when necessary. Nowadays, nobody trusts anyone. So I'll be short, Hüseyin.” 

“I'm listening to you, sir.”

You of course know how much I appreciate you. So, we had arranged your appointment to the general staff headquarters. Maybe you didn’t know it. I'm quite sure you'll faithfully serve the country as before.”

“Thank you, sir, you are so kind.”

“Before fleeing abroad, Enver Pasha had formally abolished ‘the Organization’. After that, weapons and ammunitions had been transferred to the secret warehouses. The majority of the Organization staff will soon join the national struggle. In İstanbul, some friends we selected will keep on working as well.” Black Kemal proceeded with a lower tone, “Soon, the invaders and the Sultan will start hunting pro-Unionist and members of Teşkilatı Mahsusa. It will be a tough fight with them. Our reorganization efforts continue. In addition to your main job in the general staff headquarters, if you accept, we demand you to be Beyazıt branch manager. We know you have too much work, but we do not have a person better than you.”

Nodding positively without hesitation, Hüseyin kept silent a short while. Enver Pasha came again into his mind. He had seized the government after the 1913 the Sublime Port raid, then rapidly climbed to the rank of colonel, pasha and the minister of war. After marriage with Sultan Reşat's nephew Naciye Sultan he had much more empowered and could not be stopped. As soon as becoming acting commander in chief, he had made thousands of officers retired, including also his dear superiors and friends. They were burdened with the defeat of Balkans.

You want to know properly someone? Give the power into his hands...

As a fait accompli, Enver Pasha had skillfully managed to enter the war on Germans’ side. Enver had been encircled and under the thumb of the German military. Germans had successfully solved the problem. So, they could use Turks for their purposes. Hüseyin appreciated Germans, but did not like. Politics was an intelligence business. Bullying tactics didn’t work. However, to oppose Enver had been punished immediately. Had the acting commander in chief been in a good mood, the suspect would not have been responsible for something.

Noticing they were still staring at him curiously, Hüseyin looked in turn at them sitting around the table and replied: “No problem, sir. I accept this job of course.”

“Thank you Hüseyin, I knew that I would get this response. Now tell us the name of the four friends you deem appropriate. We will give all or some under your command.”

“Roger that, sir.”

“Before I forget, you should give us a copy of your actual reorganization work. This is very important Hüseyin. In particular, we will need some information such as where and when surplus weapons, ammunitions will move, and of course, with their quantity.

“Do not worry. How do we contact?”

“In operations department you work we have a reliable man, First Sergeant Hakkı. He will contact you. We will communicate through him. I do not need to tell you the confidentiality of communications. I know you are more careful than everyone, Hüseyin.”

“Understood, sir.” 

“Since we don’t stay permanently here, we couldn’t offer you something. We owe you, okay?”

“No problem, sir.” 

Black Kemal stood up, so did the others. They expressed good wishes each other and left the house one by one.

It was snowing. Hüseyin lifted the collar of his overcoat, wrapped the scarf tightly around his neck. Passing the street to Edirnekapı, the cistern and truck garden, he went down the road poorly lit and covered with snow. Hands pulled from the pocket, trying not to slip, he was slowly and careful walking. Suddenly, he felt like he was being stalked. He heard accelerating beatings of his heart. He had to be more careful. Who knows how many minutes this stranger was after him. Or strangers! With right elbow he inspected his gun in the belt. It was there. In seconds, he calculated necessary moves to get the weapon. With left elbow he checked his knife in the other side. It was there too. He sighed and imagined probable position of the stalker or stalkers at the very second he turned back. He suddenly stopped, opened the buttons of his overcoat, pulled out the cigarette pack from the pocket, took a cigarette and put into his mouth. Now his pistol was under his vest. Imitating to search for matches, he grabbed his pistol and flipped the safety off with his thumb. He turned suddenly and noticed the man in the shadow walking toward him. The man was ten to fifteen steps away. Hüseyin shouted to him:

“Do not move asshole, I shoot!”

The man immediately stopped and raised his hands. Hüseyin approached the man with the slow and careful steps, tried to select the man’s face.

“Brother, it’s me, please do not shoot!”

Hüseyin immediately recognized fedai – hitman - who escorted him this evening. “Damn you! I was going to shoot you. Why are you tailing me?”

Fedai lowered his hands, “Shortly after you left the house, Black Kemal order me to follow you. In case of something happens, I've watched your back from a suitable distance. I was not with you. Because if you are tailed, I would be behind the suspect.”

Hüseyin turned the safety off, placed the pistol in his belt. “Indeed, that’s very clever of you. I was worried walking alone in the darkness.” Then he buttoned up his overcoat. They walked along the narrow streets in Balat. Seeing the lights of the coffeehouse across his house Hüseyin suggested, “In this bad weather you bothered so much, I owed you a hot tea,” and grabbed fedai’s arm without giving any chance for objection. They went in. It was warm. His brother Sabri playing backgammon at the table in the far corner waved him. They shook hands and sat down. Sabri said “Accounts are on backgammon loser. You will also profit it,” and a joyous and short laugh escaped him. Hüseyin and fedai put their overcoat on the back of the chairs.

The other backgammon competitor Vartan the Armenian greeted newcomers. Hüseyin just nodded. The day he arrived at home they glanced quickly at each other. This guy had a somewhat unpleasant manner. Nevertheless, the point was not his Armenian origin. He radiated a kind of negative energy and a sinister air. Hüseyin’s inner voice told him to be cautious.

Hüseyin and fedai drank tea and engaged in small talk. Sabri was gaining, he called the waiter “Hey lad! Fresh tea for us.” Then, turning to Hüseyin, he smiled warmly, “They ran out of coffee, so we drink tea, brother.” After that he turned to his opponent, “Where were we my dear Vartan? You still do not give up?” His rival frowning responded, “Of course not Sabri, in the end the audience will see I can get my revenge on you. I know how to win even the most desperate game.” Before throwing dices, “Mr. Hüseyin, we want you to join us. I hope you play backgammon better than your brother. Because he wins the game only by chance. He hasn’t got another talent,” Vartan commented smiling.

Although Hüseyin was a poor player, he had learned the history of backgammon from an old guy. The Persians had invented 1,400 years ago. Then it spreads to the Arabs and from there to the world. Some Islamic scholars had cursed backgammon, a game playing with dice and qualified as a sin. However, it could not be prevented from spreading; on the contrary, it became one of the world's most popular game. As far as he remembered its story was interesting. Indian emperor sent a special envoy to the Persian shah with a very valuable gift: A chess set with a note inside: ‘Who thinks more, knows better, sees long term, and wins. This is life.’ Shah of Persia asked his most intelligent vizier to solve this game and develop another game to be presented to the Indian emperor. The vizier, weeks after, solved the chess game and the movement of each piece. After that he invented backgammon. Life was simulated. Backgammon box represented one year. The four corners had been four seasons; mutual six triangles for twelve months, in total twenty-four hours a day; total checkers for thirty days of the month, black-and-white pieces for day and night. A message to the Indian emperor was prepared to be sent with a backgammon game box as follows: ‘Yes, who thinks more, knows better, sees long term, and wins. Nevertheless, you also need a little luck. Dices symbolize it. That's life.’ Hüseyin told this story while backgammon players went on, then they smiled embarrassedly, because they had not worry about it at all. Of course, luck was a reality cannot be ignored. Anytime it could come across.

After fedai asked permission and left, the party was over and Sabri was the winner. Hiding his upset Vartan turned to Hüseyin: “Major, which front did you fight?”

“I was on the Palestine front.”

“Our country had some difficult times. I hope it will not repeat again. We've suffered a lot, you know.”

Hüseyin sadly nodded, “Is your family here Mr. Vartan?”

“I lost them all.”

Hüseyin searched his memory. He had little information about Armenians. They had been governed by Byzantium first, then Seljuks and lastly Ottomans. He remembered a short-lived Armenian Kingdom in Adana too. Eventually they had been spread to Anatolia and to İstanbul. They were talented and peaceful people. That's why they were known as ‘loyal nation’. In Iran he had met with some Armenian. There were also some who had converted to Islam. Problems had begun when Russia had started expanding southward. Supposedly, they had taken Orthodox Christians and Armenians under their protection. Supposedly again, Europeans had tried to rescue them from the Russians. All had manipulated Armenians for their political interests. As a result, poor Armenians had suffered too much.

“I am very sorry. Do you live alone?”

“I stay with my aunt, near here. Do you know my uncle, Doctor Kamburyan?”

Hüseyin replied “I do not think I know.”

Sabri interrupted, “In Balat, everyone knows Doctor Kamburyan, brother. Muslim or non-Muslim does not matter, but especially the poor love and value him so much. Occasionally, when Mehmet, myself or my wife get sick, we visit Doctor Kamburyan.”

Hüseyin nodded in appreciation, “I'm so glad what I heard Mr. Vartan, congratulations. What is your business?”

“I work for a lawyer at Yüksek Kaldırım. Enough to survive. What about you?”

“My job is in the general staff headquarters.”

“You must be very busy nowadays. I think that's why you could not join us.”

“Right. A lot of work lie ahead of us after the Armistice Agreement.”

“Good luck major.”

Hüseyin stood up slowly “Thank you for tea. Before asking your permission, I would like to confess; I cannot not compete with you, I’m very bad at backgammon. Goodnight everyone.”

Sabri joined him, “I'm coming too, man, I have a friend here who pays everything.” Laughing, he waved Vartan. Heading to the house, Sabri said, “That you joined us this evening is a very pleasant surprise. I had insisted several times, but could not persuade you to come.” He added with a smile “I’m very glad, brother. However, I recognized, when you were looking at Vartan, you seemed somewhat suspicious. Am I right?” Hüseyin did not reply. Sabri added, “He is Armenian, but a good friend of mine. Eventually, you're going to like him as well.”

Hüseyin did not reply again...

***

News Quotes from European news agencies, dated December 27, 1918:

The British and the French are preparing to investigate the 1915 Armenian massacres in the Ottoman Empire.

British General Allenby announced; Armenians would be sent back to their hometowns and their loss would be compensated.

French troops supported by Armenian volunteers invaded Mersin and Adana, the previous month.

***

War criminals.

December 1918. Constantinople.

When angels of vengeance were not too tired...

“Your grandfather and his brothers were murdered in Erzurum while you were in detention in Constantinople. Your mother, two brothers, uncle and his family were exiled from Erzurum to Lebanon. Your uncle and his wife were killed by Kurdish rebels around Kayseri.”

To continue better, Eva paused and cleared her throat. “Your uncle's daughter was kidnapped. They could not hear from her at all. However, there existed also good people in Kayseri. There, your grandfather's business partner Uncle Haji hosted and protected them for a few weeks. Thanks to my father in law, a member of parliament, we survived in Constantinople that time.”

Aunt Eva always avoided narrating these awful days and excessive distress for her and for the family. But, last evening, Vartan was so persuasive that he could convince her in the end. Wiping often her tears, she told what had happened to his family. Doctor Kamburyan, her husband, saying he did not want to hear it again, escaped to his room.

“How did you learn this, dear auntie?”

“Hagop, your youngest brother stayed with us for two days, before he departed to America. He told us everything.”

“I wish I could see him.”

“He desired to see you very much as well. However, he had to catch the ship bound for Marseille. From there, with another ship, he would be transferred to New York. In fact, he left a short note advising you to come to America. And he added that he would leave his address to the immigration office in New York.”

“I have already read his note. But I have a lot of work to do here, auntie. I belong here, can’t go. You keep on going please, my dear.”

“Your mother could not stand these challenges, got very sick and shortly after died in Tarsus. Your brothers, after burying their mother, arrived in Aleppo on foot via Adana. They thought all big challenges were overcome. To ask for help, they started searching Armenians there. Eventually they found some Armenians living next to the castle. An old one, after listening their story, hosted your brothers. Next day, they went to another helpful Armenian’s shop. He would help them if they wanted to fight for our nation. They agreed without hesitation. The shopkeeper sent your brothers to the French in Nablus without delay. The French was forming some special units which many young Armenians voluntarily joined.”

Wiping away his tears, Vartan was able to talk sobbing, “Well done! I'm proud of my brothers.”

Drinking a few sips from tea cup, Aunt Eva tried to recover herself. After a while, she could continue with a weak voice and pausing frequently. “According to the old Armenian, Armenian immigrants contributed significantly to the French army, relieving recruitment problems.”

After third or fourth cup of tea, Aunt Eva begun to cry holding her face between her hands. “I lost almost all loved ones, my dear lad. But I'm still alive. Sometimes I blame myself. I even asked God to take me as soon as possible. At least, I beg to see them in my dreams.” Then she put her hand over his heart, having trouble breathing. Vartan immediately called Doctor Kamburyan and they moved her to bed. Her blood pressure was too high. With stethoscope, Doctor checked her heart and lungs, and gave her one pill. With cologne, he rubbed her temples and forehead. She was slowly relieved and half hour later fell asleep.

After 1911, Vartan stayed at the three-story brick house of Aunt Eva’s family in Balat. They gave him a room in the upper floor. Uncle Ara Kamburyan was a good person. He was already going bald. He was fatty and not quite healthy. Saying “The shoemaker's child goes barefoot,” he often mocked himself. Doctor was paid half the bill by the poor, regardless of being Turk, Greek, Armenian or Jew. For the poorest everything was free. Sometimes he gave free drugs he had prepared from them. So he was very popular in Balat. Ara played the lute as a hobby. He had also composed some Turkish and Armenian songs. When he played his lute, sometimes Eva, muttering the song, accompanied him with her tambourine. In fact, this was her exceptional happy times. Because she often spent her free time praying and mourning. She felt deep sorrow for Armenians and she thought that the wrath of God came on Armenians because of their sins, but she seldom expressed it within the family.

How could he tell his dear aunt? Which one was her God? Was he God's only begotten Son? Or is the Holy Spirit? Or is the Etchmiadzin in Armenia, where he landed? All was holy crap...

This happened on one of the last days of December. Vartan woke up early in the morning. Uncle Ara was also awake. Before Vartan spoke, he said “Eva is good, do not worry, you can go to work. I'll stay a little more at home.” When he got out from the Golden Horn ferry in Eminönü, still he was feeling sad. That was an unpleasant consequence of his insistence. It was snowing lightly. The day was slowly dawning. He raised the collar of his overcoat and tightened the scarf. Holding firmly lunch box carefully prepared as usual by his auntie. As Vartan headed toward the Galata Bridge noticed that his walking tempo was the same as that of the horses of the carriage next to him. He smiled. With his free hand, he saluted black skinned African Origin French soldiers securing the entrance of the Galata Bridge and called loudly in French: “Bonjour messieurs.” To avoid getting a cold, they had lighted and maintained a wood fire with weak flames in half barrel which was struggling against snow. The soldiers did not need to conceal they were very cold. They responded his salute by lifting their arms.

For the past two months, Vartan was feeling much better. The tyrannizing Ottoman was dying. The next steps would be its funeral and its burying. What a great happiness! Aunt Eva’s pray resounded in the ears:

“Our Father in heaven, hallowed be Thy name. Thy kingdom come. As it is in heaven, on earth also get what you want. Amen.”

He could not believe his own sensation that snowfalls, different than usual, was now giving him energy rather than cold. He came to Karaköy mumbling indistinct his favorite Armenian song ‘Gulo’. The lyric was about the story of Gülizar, an Armenian beauty who lived in a village of Muş, a city in Eastern Anatolia, and was kidnapped by a Kurdish tribe leader.

He sent his daily greeting to the Galata Tower, watching tirelessly Constantinople for hundreds of years. This quarter had been the center of commerce and money in Constantinople and would continue to do so. Stock exchange, customs, foreign companies’ headquarters, shops were situated here. Churches, monasteries and hospitals accompanied them. Here also is one of most important sales centers in Constantinople. Actually, trade, finance and industry was controlled here mainly by Jews and Armenians for a long time.

He didn’t spare his daily salute to the Ottoman Bank. It was founded by British capital with the permission of the Ottoman Sultan, falling into debt after the Crimean War in 1856. Then, the French became partner. Everyone knew that the Jews were behind the scenes. The Ottoman Bank was the treasurer of the Ottoman Empire, in addition to money printing. But Bank’s operation had been stopped during the Great War. As the Ottoman Empire fighting the war against the UK and France, the permission, without the privilege of money printing, was granted to the Bank, after British and French directors had left their duties. The Ottoman Bank was forced to close most of its branches.

His friend Arto Dinkyan’s lawyer office was here. Sixteen years ago, Vartan had left the Law Faculty and entered Dashnak Party. However, the irony of fate, the law didn’t leave him. Now, he worked as Arto’s assistant. Their most important job was to deal with cases of Armenians who lost their lives, their properties during the exile. In particular, they spent a lot of time to collect the related documents.

Vartan gave a beggar one kurus. Today he was feeling better than ever. Then he came to Arto’s office on the main street, opened the door and stepped inside. Arto’s ashtray was, as always, piled with cigarette butts and his desk was, again as always, untidy. He sighed, then opened the window. Despite the cold weather fresh air would not hurt. Whistling, he started working around the office. With a small shovel he filled stove ashes into the bucket, took waste basket and emptied all into the trash dumpster outside the door. He kept on whistling a happier tune and passed to the rear office. Taking a lap of firewood from sacks, he filled the stove and lit with old newspapers and a few kindling pieces. They had no coal left. It was no wonder. Black marketers were continuing to play hard to get. Today Vartan needed to visit some coal seller, smiled nervously.

They clandestinely sell stocks, bastards!

After dusting off the tables, he brewed tea he had bought on the black market last week. They were running out of the sugar. He should keep also this in mind. Arto, the ignorant, couldn’t run these errands.

As he closed the window, the door opened and Arto’s rotund and smiling face appeared. Exhaling vapor from the mouth, he came with his positive energy, as usual.

“You're again early Vartan, I don’t know what could I do without you, my dear.”

He took off his overcoat and hung, wiped his sweat with a handkerchief. He could even sweat in cold weather. Unaware of tidiness and cleanness of everything and everywhere, he walked directly to his desk and sat down. After opening his briefcase, Arto stood up quickly and growled, “Damn, I forgot to tell you yesterday, I am sorry. Stop working and go right away to Kroker Hotel, British Captain Bennett wants to see you. Do you know where the hotel is?”

Startling, Vartan looked at his friend, “I know the hotel, of course. But I do not know this British captain, I wonder why he wants to see me.”

Wiping his eyeglasses with the same handkerchief, Arto replied, “We met the other day at a friend's house in Şişli. He was very interested in my Armenian identity, and felt quite sorry about our sufferings. He told me, members of ‘Union and Progress’ administration are going to be interrogated. Preparations are proceeding and they need reliable Armenians. Of course, the first one came to my mind immediately was yourself, my dear, and I briefly mentioned you. Bennett then took some notes and wanted to see you as soon as possible. I hope I did not do anything wrong.”

Looking out through the window, Vartan thought a short time, “On the contrary my dear, you did the right thing. I would be very happy if I can help our people in addition to those legal cases we deal with.” He inhaled through the nose, waited for a few second, exhaled through the mouth and then went on, “I had a bit of work on the files. As soon as I finish, I will go there. You said for sure that I'm a Dashnak militant. Didn’t you?” Arto nodded in agreement. He knew very well that his friend was always honored for it.

Vartan went to the small kitchen thoughtfully, poured two glass of tea, add a little sugar and came back. Organizing legal case files, he started thinking his own past. It was at the end of 1907. Union and Progress Party had collaborated with Dashnaktsutyun, the Armenian Revolutionary Federation. The ‘Party’ was gradually becoming much stronger and more unified in the Ottoman Empire and wanted to spread the movement statewide. Those were really interesting days. Vartan, as a hardworking member of the Dashnak, had served in Constantinople within this partnership. That time he was 28 years old. In the meantime, he had met many ‘unionist’ members. There was not much in common between the Unionists and the members of the Dashnak. But, first and foremost, both ‘dashnakists’ and ‘unionists’ had not like Sultan Abdülhamit “the Red Sultan.”

Dashnak Organization was established in Caucasus in 1890. It trained revolutionary groups to achieve independence by a revolt. Vartan met this Organization when he was in the Faculty of Law, second grade, and then abandoned his education. This could be why the British were interested in himself. Dashnak committee members released from prison in Anatolia and coming from Armenia were gathering in Constantinople with the support of the occupant powers. After organizing under the name of Hunchak, Dashnak and Armenian Defense Committee, they would start to operate. In addition, the Armenian committee members took active roles at the Constantinople police forces organized by the UK.

It was necessary not to miss the opportunity to take revenge on the Turks...

After finishing the works, he stood up and called Arto, “I'm going out, do you want something?” Looking over his reading glasses, Arto replied, “Don’t be too late, today I have no business in the courthouse, just two interviews here. I'll eagerly wait for you.” He buried himself in the files again.

Snowfall had stopped. Vartan, being careful not to slip on the slippery pavements, began to walk uphill Pera. Then, a frosty wind started. He raised the collar of his overcoat and tightened his scarf. Soon, he arrived at the famous Kroker Hotel in Tepebaşı. Adjacent to the American Embassy, a bit ahead of ​​Pera Palace, it seemed to overlook Constantinople. The Kroker Hotel was known as the British intelligence headquarters and interrogation center.

Vartan was not a stranger to this place. The Liberal Ahrar Party, in opposition to the ruling Union and Progress Party, had planned March 31, 1908 uprising here ten years ago. After the meeting attended also by British diplomats, the mass poured into the streets with a rhetoric “Our religion is being destroyed!” The Union and Progress Party was cursed. A lot of blood was shed. Then, ‘unionists’ were able to restore the order and the rebel soldiers surrendered. Those who wanted to escape to Anatolia were killed by Bulgarian, Serbian, Albanian and Armenian partisans, who had voluntarily joined the army. Vartan was among them.

Taking a deep breath, he showed his ID to the front door employee, then entered main lobby of the Kroker Hotel and headed to the desk at the end of a dimly lit hall. “Good day! My name is Vartan Saatçıyan, I came to see Captain Bennett,” he said. The stern employee, after reviewing identification, spoke to someone on the phone. After obtaining the imperative permission, he pointed to the lift, “Press the fifth floor button, the captain is waiting for you.”

As the door of the lift opened upstairs, Vartan faced a hefty Ottoman sleuth. The grim-faced big guy, actually grimmer than the guy at the main lobby, approached Vartan, asked him to lift the arms and began to search carefully. After finishing, he waved to follow him. At the last door in the corridor he knocked on it three times and waited. They heard the sound of the lock, then the door opened. A British soldier appeared and let Vartan in. This was a suite overlooking blue Golden Horn. The next door should be opened to the working room. The soldier first knocked on the door then opened it, “Your guest came, captain.”

Bennett was reading some papers at his desk in the far corner. He lifted his head and spoke with a proper Turkish: “Welcome Vartan Saatçıyan, I was expecting you,” and pointed to the chair opposite of his desk. He left documents on the desk and studied quietly the guest’s face. Gently smiling, Vartan was also staring at the young Captain. He might be in his mid-twenties, a young man imitating a serious man, in civilian clothes, white skinned, without mustache, looking like a teacher than a soldier. “You, devil in disguise,” Vartan told himself.

“I hope Ömer was not unkind while searching you in the hallway, Mr. Saatçıyan. He is a member of the police forces of the Sultan's government. A week ago, the Constantinople Police was attached to my command, and they sent several members to ensure the security here. Ömer is the best. He does not hear well,” and he smilingly added, “Something to my advantage.”

Smiling, Vartan responded, “No problem, captain, I'm pretty get used to these situations.”

Bennett stood up slowly, went to the document cabinet, pulled out a file and sat down. He took a look for a while. “I read it before, I just wanted to remember. Arto, the lawyer, had also mentioned you.” After a friendly gaze, he began to read loudly the note. “Vartan Saatçıyan, born in Erzurum, 1880, speaks Turkish without accent. Single. In 1902, he left the Law Faculty, joined the Dashnak Organization. In 1905, rented an apartment for the group which attempted to assassinate Sultan Abdülhamit. Then he helped them to flee to Bulgaria.”

Vartan was surprised, however, tried to conceal with a smile.

They are really like Satan.

Young captain paused a minute to translate English notes into Turkish. Then continued, “Vartan advanced in the carrier in the Dashnak Organization. In 1908, he started working with lawyer Arto Dinkyan.” To be sure in impressing him, Bennett glanced at his guest for a couple second and went on. “Gabriel Noradunkyan, then Ottoman Foreign Minister, is Vartan’s mentor. He’s Aram's friend, a member of delegation, announcing Sultan Abdülhamit’s removal in 1913 too.”

These bastards may have entered my bedroom!

Trying to hide his astonishment, Vartan began to sweat slowly. Captain proceeded. “There is no need for excitement. I'm just trying to do my job well. Her Majesty's government pays me for it.”

“No problem, Captain. I'm fine.”

“Good. The Ottoman government had neglected to introduce reforms in favor of Armenians in Eastern Anatolia during Great War, so, Armenians supported the Russian and resorted to violence. You also participated.” Vartan nodded in agreement. “I'm finishing. Last note reads: Ottoman government shut down the Armenian committee centers on April 24, 1915, three hundred leaders were arrested, including you. Then, during the compulsory migration, your family went from Erzurum to Lebanon. Many died on the roads. A year later they released you.”

Lowering his head sadly and slowly, Vartan approved. He does not have anything to hide. He had explained to the Turkish friends at Balat that he had gone to Lebanon to search for his family. They had believed. Actually, many of them had supported Armenian friends as much as possible.

Captain put the papers on the desk and leaned back, paused a few seconds and looked out through the window. He waited until his guest could absorb everything he heard. Meanwhile, Vartan was staring at a framed picture on the wall. The man in uniform with epaulets and medals should be King George V. Captain turned to his guest. “You wonder why I called you, right?”

“I'm dying of curiosity. Captain.”

“We know some Turks had behaved so badly to Armenians during the war, exiled hundreds of thousands of Armenian women, children, the elderly, the sick, on foot. You suffered so much, because you lost your people and your property. We are very sorry for that, Vartan.”

“Thank you.” 

The captain's frowning brows softened, and he smiled.

“Definitely, the responsible ones will be interrogated for this crime. Nevertheless, you may have heard; the unionist leaders had flown abroad.” Vartan nodded again. “Now I'm coming to the point. We know many war criminal unionist Turks are still in Constantinople. We obtained some names. We also try to handle the rest, exploring their identity. You, a former Dashnak militant, are asked to contribute to our efforts.”

Vartan refrained himself from hugging captain, but instinctively grinned and then stopped. The hint of a smile crossed his face. He visualized his mother, uncle, sister and other relatives’ sad and suffering faces. Hiding his excitement, “This is a great honor for me, captain,” he said.

“Well, I was hoping that anyway. Every afternoon you will come here and work with us.”

“Every day?”

“Yes, but only for a certain period. I think it won’t take too long. We have other sources as well. Lawyer Arto, I'm sure, will help us. In return, you will receive our support for your legal cases. You don’t need to work in vain.”

“Understood, OK for me. I think Arto will not be a problem.”

“Perfect. The names of war criminals, you specify, will be included in the list as well. In addition, you will help us verify other names too. You can get some information from your friends. But do not mention us. We do not want criminals to escape. You should give priority to this issue. We need to have a speedy means of action to detain and question them. And then they will be sent to Court-Martial certainly.”

“Roger captain, do not worry, I am very discreet.”

“I almost forgot. You will be paid for your services. And, one more thing.”

“What is it captain? “

“It's not just the body, we need the mind and heart.”

“Certainly, captain.”

“I trust you. The hotel's top floor belongs completely to us. You see my aide Smith in the next room. Other details you can handle with him. Due to my tight schedule, I could not offer something. Next time we drink a glass of whiskey, I promise. You can go now, good bye Vartan.”

Bennett stood up and extended his hand. Vartan, half puzzled, half pleased, took his overcoat and left his office. He dealt with necessary details in the next room as he was told. He would bring six passport-size photograph next time. In particular, he had to pay extreme attention when both coming and leaving here and make sure not being followed. They also advise him to do the same thing outside. He had to remember, being not followed was not always good. It’s not necessary to tail someone in case the destination was known. The same attention should withhold in the office and at home.

Before leaving the Kroker Hotel, experienced militant could not recognize himself in the mirror at the side door. His face was flushed with excitement.

They know all my secrets. They can use me as they want.

After years of suffering, good things were now on the horizon. However, this business had an unpleasant side as well. Feelings and thoughts confused, Vartan didn’t noticed how he came to the tunnel station entrance. After a few minutes, he entered a passage, a good place for window shopping among antique retailers. Then he sat down on a stool of a coffeehouse in the hallway, and called to the young waiter:

“Get me a black Turkish coffee!”

***

News Quotes from European news agencies, dated January 27, 1919:

War prisoner situation deteriorates...

Turkish prisoners in Egypt and Russia are deprived of any assistance. Thousands may die from hunger or disease. To avoid it, the Red Cross is asked to help them immediately. Besides, an impartial committee for inspection of war prisoner camps should be organized as soon as possible.

***

In Egypt.

January 1919, Alexandria, Egypt.

There were some places where Mr. History's advice could be heard better.

“We will be in Alexandria in two hours. Leaving passengers please prepare!” As the barker repeated the announcement, Scott Wallace opened his eyes. Lying on the chaise longue on the deck and enjoying the Mediterranean sun in mid-January, he had quietly taken a nap. The Scottish journalist had dropped his book into his lap. He didn’t bother and pulled his watch from vest pocket. It was 1 P.M. sharp. He might have napped an hour or so.

After leaving Britain they first sailed southward and subsequently entered the Mediterranean waters. Later on they always went on eastward. As they proceed this ship route, the captain alerted them twice to advance the time. First off the coast of Sicily, second just before he fell asleep. He tried to remember ‘Standardization of time zones’ in the world. Such interesting but unnecessary details were also of his interest. There might be those who thought, he was trying to prove what a smartass he was. Never mind. The forerunner of it was the UK, the ruler of the global empire. Standardization of time zones could solve many problems. The promoter was Sandford Fleming. And the Meridian Conference was held in the USA about forty years back. The whole world was divided into 24-hour segments. The UK's Greenwich Observatory was chosen as a starting meridian. Another Fleming’s success. Now the world began to set the time according to the distance from this meridian.

“You've finally woken up, Mr. Wallace.”

Blinking his eyes, Scott straightened. He saw Mr. Rana, looking at him with a smile sitting on the next chaise longue. They became travel friend with this Indian Origin British merchant, in his forties.

“I saw the book you read, Mr. Wallace. I'm also a fan of Charles Dickens.”

Scott held his book with one hand, stood up and adjusted the chaise longue. As he sat down, answered with a weak voice, “I was reading my book, then I must have fell asleep. However, I was very pleased, on behalf of Dickens, Mr. Rana.”

Sagir told his companion that his name was Rana, just like it was recorded in the ship’s passenger list. He went on. “Weekly or monthly publication of his novels put Dickens among celebrities. He was the pioneer of the periodical literature.”

“Yes, there is no limit to creativity. I also like his style.” Scott was about to add, “Creativity is God's gift,” but gave up. He was not ready for literary discussions at the moment. However, Rana insisted. “Do you know, Dickens developed his characters from real life and improved them based on his readers' critics?” While he was trying to cut it short, Scott preferred to appear amazed. He inhaled through the nose, waited for a few second, exhaled through the mouth and replied briefly, “No, I did not know. I thought he created everything in his own mind.” Rana didn’t miss the opportunity to address. “Dickens also was a master at inserting current events in his stories.” With a smile on his lips, Scott pretended to think for a while. Then, in order to change the subject, he said, “I watched you at an ambitious chess party the previous night. You were very good.” The Indian replied with a smile, “Thank you.” Scott kept on smiling, “You're so different about chess, Mr. Rana. Though we're leaving each other in two hours, I wonder if you can give me a few chess lessons?” As Scott started filling up his pipe, the answer came, “Gladly, Mr. Scott, but what do you think you can learn in two hours?”

“I am good at learning, I would say.”

Lighting his pipe, Scottish journalist blew up the laughter. The passengers on the other side started to smile simultaneously. Sagir affirmatively responded, “Then we can start, Mr. Wallace,” and the journalist's eyes shone. “Do you trust your memory?”

“I don't know; I think I'm not that bad about it too.” Now the young man was expressing astonishment. “What would be your answer if I say Mr. Wallace, ‘You have to memorize up to a hundred championship matches?’”

“One hundred? You're not kidding, are you?”

“I'm afraid, no. I know this will take a lot of time. However, I can say fifty if you like.”

“Please continue Mr. Rana.”

“There will be a chessboard, 64 small squares, and sixteen white, sixteen black pieces in front of you. You will play this fifty match one by one and step by step.”

“Where do I find the moves of the fifty or hundred championship match?”

“I can recommend a book for you. You can find in the big bookstores in England. You know how to use algebraic notation to record the moves, right?”

The journalist's eyes shone. “When Ne5 is typed, it indicates the Knight has gone to the e5 square. Isn't it?”

“Good. You will be working for a week for the first game. You'll repeat it many times. Until you memorize the moves. Can you do that?”

“I think so.” Scott's face was getting serious.

“Second week, the whole game is played in the mind only. No chessboard, no pieces.”

“It's getting hard, Mr. Rana.” Half joke half serious, he seriously frowned.

“Let's remember how Dickens wrote his novels. I bet, Mr. Wallace, he could visualize all characters and the story from start to finish. You, too, will do the same for the games.”

“Perfect analogy Mr. Rana, thank you.”

“So you will try to understand the intricacies of attack and defense, and the cheats will work. If you can do this from your mind, we are done. Then you can read more chess strategy books.”

“I understand you'd already taken these steps, hadn't you?”

“Yes, years ago, I had to stay in bed for months. So I developed my chess skills. I memorized the games. I could see the end when I started the game.”

“Super. I hope I get the same level too.”

“To strengthen your memory, you should pay attention also to the foods you eat. I can recommend fish, eggs, chocolate, and vegetables like broccoli, red cabbage, red onion, asparagus, spinach, and also fruits such as blueberries, strawberries, blackberries.”

“Thank you, Mr. Rana. One last question. May I ask you to summarize your favorite game in a few sentences?”

Sagir, closing his eyes, thought a few seconds. “It's a tough choice. I think I'm going to suggest this game: First, to increase the opponent’s self-confidence, I would give away my queen and other important pieces as if they got caught up by him. Then, with the help of the rook, I would move a pawn reaching its eighth rank to be immediately replaced by the queen, and finally, after a few moves I could checkmate the opponent.”

Scott showed his admiration with a thumb-up sign. “To look weak to strike the destructive blow. Very impressive.”

“You need to be very careful when doing this trick to the skillful players. They can deceive you by pretending not to understand your tactic. In this case you could be checkmate. You can find many examples of this in those fifty or hundred games.”

Scott stood up and extended his hand. “Thank you very much, Mr. Rana. I won't forget what you said. As soon as I get back to England, I'm going to start working on this. Now, with your permission. I have to get my stuff in my cabin.”

“Goodbye, Mr. Wallace. When I'm done in India, I'll be back in England. I wish to meet again.”

As the young reporter moved away slightly limping, Sagir looked back at him with a smile. He should be seven or eight years younger. Sagir was a bit jealous of Wallace’s energy, determination and winning ambition.

The ship's long whistle sounded several times. Departure from Alexandria was eight hours later. Travelers to India could see the city, before the next five-day cruise to India. The calm weather was good for a sightseeing tour. The noise of the crowd outside the main entrance of the harbor, decorated with British flags, was heard from the ship.

A little later, Sagir like most of the passengers was in the harbor. There were many ships at the quay and anchored off the harbor. Armed British soldiers and Egyptian officials lined up descending passengers. Passports, tickets, identity documents and items were being checked. Those who managed to step outside found themselves among peddlers, porters and carriage drivers. People who came to meet their relatives were trying to show themselves if they could find the opportunity.

Sagir had come in Egypt eight years ago when he was thirty-two. Egypt was the UK's forward base. The keeping open of the Suez Canal was vital to reach India. Egypt was in a strategic position to keep the French and Germans away from the Middle East and Asia. Under British occupation Cairo had broken away long ago from the Ottoman capital. The Ottoman governor was just a symbolic ruler. In Tripoli, Libya, Italians and Turks had been fighting deadly. Disguised as a merchant in civilian clothes, Turkish officers who could not go to Tripoli by sea, were trying to reach the battlefield through Alexandria on horseback and on camel. British intelligence had been watching them and ignoring those not dangerous for Egypt.

Sagir had served for two years in Egypt however spent only two days in Alexandria. He had reserved all his spare time seeing the pyramids and the famous Nile Valley. In Cairo, he had investigated the traces of the Shiite İsmailiye sect of his own family in Egypt. The Fatimid State reigned for two hundred years was based on the İsmailiye sect. The Fatimid caliphs had claimed to be descended from the family of Ismael, a descendant of the Prophet. The Iranian İsmaili leader Hasan Sabbah, famous for his assassin bouncers, had been trained in Cairo too. Al-Azhar Mosque and Madrasaha, the University, had been built in Cairo, the capital of the Fatimid. Al-Azhar Madrasah, established for the education and propaganda of Shi'ism, had become a Sunni madrasah later. Famous Bab El Zuveyla, where Mamluk Sultan Tomanbay had been hanged by Ottoman Sultan Yavuz Selim, had been built by Fatimid.

Sagir hired a phaeton, wandered the avenues and streets of Alexandria, revived his memories.

When Scottish journalist Scott Wallace got off the ship, the driver of the military car welcomed him. Great kindness of British authorities. Necessary permissions to facilitate his task had been provided by the Egyptian high commissioner of Egypt and the commander-in-chief of the British Forces in Cairo and of course the department of war prisoners in London. In prisoners of war camps, he could take photos, give gifts to prisoners and speak freely. Documents with his photograph taken in the past six months were arranged in English and Arabic. His father's support had worked very well.

Shortly after, Scott was at the Anglo American Hotel. Enough comfort for the postwar period. He went to the balcony overlooking green Mediterranean Sea. For a while he was fascinated by the magic horizon that stretched out before him.

What had the people thought about the same landscape two thousand years ago?

A glass of whiskey and his pipe filled him with pleasure. He was thirty-four. For nine years, he worked as a journalist for the New State Magazine in London. His military service during the Great War years could be added to this time. His magazine was preparing series of articles about British prisoners of war camps in India, Burma, Malta, Cyprus, Greece, Iraq and Egypt, which would be visited. The camps in Egypt were his duty. He caressed his camera as if he caressed a cat. Like the history of ancient times, he was keen on photography as well. Since his photos and articles were very popular, he could work for other newspapers and magazines by agreeing with New State. In Egypt, he was going to visit many historical places, which he frequently read about. He blew out the last smoke and kept on pondering.

Sebottendorf had talked a lot about these places. Twenty years ago, he was in Egypt. He came here second time with a Turk from Constantinople who taught him the occultism. They both studied the pyramids. He learned cosmic and occult meanings of its measurements.

Scott owed his father his immeasurable gratitude for everything he has done. With father’s backing, he was appointed to the post of the Ottoman correspondent in Constantinople where he would settle down. So, from bookstores in London, he had bought some books teaching Turkish language. Number one was Thomas Vaughan’s book, published in London in 1709. The second was Arthur Lumley Davids’ book, published in London in 1832. In addition to the connection of Chinese history with Turkish history, Uighur, Tatar, Chagatai, Mongol and Huns were also mentioned. His third was James William Redhouse’s book. He wrote it for the soldiers who returned to Constantinople after the Crimean War in 1855. Redhouse strongly advised listening and speaking exercises. First Turkish sentence he learned was ‘Sabahınız hayır ola’. ‘Good morning’ in English. As soon as he got to Constantinople he would start taking Turkish lessons. Turkish was an interesting language. Its grammar was in the same language group with Hungarian and Finnish. As in many languages, the verb was not used after the subject. The verb was in the last place. The Turks were using the Arabic alphabet. Scott also started to learn this alphabet.

Next morning, Scott went to Seydibeşir Camp, situated in a small valley near the sea, 15 km northeast of Alexandria. The Egyptian driver could speak a little English. “British prison of war camp is behind the grove, sir. They keep Turkish soldiers there. There are some Germans too, I suppose.” Then, he continued with a mysterious voice, “They even brought here the old Turks going to the Mecca for pilgrimage. According to a rumor circulated among the people, they blinded some prisoners, during treatment, sir.”

Sighing, Scott thanked the driver. After a while, they stopped at the main gate of the camp. As soon as seeing the documents, the guard said, “Welcome, Mr. Wallace, the commander is waiting for you.” They entered the facility surrounded by barbed wire. The vehicle stopped in front of a barrack a little while later. The commander was right at the front door. “Welcome, Mr. Wallace. This is Captain Coates. I’ll be happy to help you.”

During the traditional tea service, the journalist began to receive some information. In the camp, there were 430 officers of the 16th Turkish Division, 430 orderlies, 10 imams and 20 civilians captured in Mecca and delivered to the British by Sharif Hüseyin, Emir of the Hejaz. 30 German officer and two Turkish deputies exiled to Egypt for their responsibility of Armenians' massacre were among the captives. Coates was assisted by an Armenian translator who spoke Turkish. Deputy Ambassador of the US and Red Cross officials had also visited the camp.

First visit was to the infirmary, under the direction of First Lieutenant Doctor Gillespie, one Armenian doctor, 26 nurses, 21 of them Egyptians, were involved in the health of prisoners. The captive Turkish Surgeon Major İbrahim participated in the surgeries too. Under the bewildered gaze of British people, Scott told Doctor İbrahim a couple of Turkish sentences, in his still rudimentary Turkish. The information given here was quite satisfactory. Everyone was vaccinated against smallpox, typhoid and cholera. There were each week five to six cases of mild malaria, and each month three to five bacillary dysentery. Serious health problems were solved in the British hospital in Alexandria. Drinking water from the city grid, toilets and showers outside the barracks were enough and cleaned every day with limy water and cresol. Scott asked for information about rumors that some of the prisoners became blind. Through the window, the doctor showed the white liquid pool outside. “Baseless allegations! It’s carbolic acid, used as a disinfectant. Prisoners first enter there, and then brush off all kinds of microbe, including fungi. By the way, we had only a few eye patients.”

The wooden prisoners’ sheds were illuminated by generators and their windows were protected by fly swatter. 40 musical instruments, football, tennis, chess and playing cards, books were at the service of the prisoners. Courses were organized for non-professional soldiers and each soldier was taught to learn at least one handicraft. The mosque was open to worship and illuminated electrically. The mess hall was run by a local contractor, working under the supervision of an officer. The daily fee was ten pence for tea and coffee, including sugar. Officers received daily wages and could shop from the canteen or town. There was no payment to the soldiers. Some of them were getting money from their officers. The others were trying to live on their own.

Scott also had a positive impression on other facilities where he took plenty of photos. Nevertheless, an inner voice whispered that the truth was different. It seemed that they were very well prepared for this visit. Everything was much better than it should have been.

Tura prison camp near Cairo, Heliopolis prison camps and others were in a similar situation.

Scott visited the city after seeing the prison camp. Alexandria was founded in 332 BC by Alexander the Great. In ancient times, the Lighthouse of Alexandria was one of the seven wonders of the world. But it couldn't resist long time and had collapsed. Later on, in its place the Ottomans built a large fortress. Now, on top of its tallest tower the British flag was flying. Next stop was the Library of Alexandria. He found the relevant page from his book. This Library had possessed 900 thousand important Ancient Age manuscripts. Every book coming to Egypt had been copied and the copy had been given to the owner. The original book had to remain in this library. The officials sent abroad would buy the books they found in other countries and bring them here. Studies had been written in papyrus and stored in scrolls. According to some experts, there had been very important esoteric information and that knowledge could be saved from extinction in the Great Flood. The esoteric information was described as ‘the traces of Satan’ or as ‘the magic books’ by the fanatic Christians...

The burning of the library was interesting. In 391, the Egyptian Governor of the Byzantine Empire gave the land of the pagan Osiris temple to Christians to build a church. During the excavations, some inscribed stones containing old religion words were found. When Christians ridiculed these writings, the people of this pagan faith got upset and rioted. Many people were slaughtered. The library was destroyed. The emperor was enraged and ordered to burn all papyrus scrolls in the library. According to some historians, valuable information sources about the prehistoric history were destroyed in this fire. For a moment, Scott visualized himself here, standing on the street, watching that uprising and that fire. His heart felt hurt once more. He was very sorry as a ‘chaser of knowledge’. In short, he was very impressed by Alexandria. The later centuries unfortunately witnessed long history of book burnings and the destroying of ‘heretic’ information. The Crusaders who captured Tripoli in Syria burned a library of three million books. In 1258, when the Mongols captured Baghdad, the world science center of the time, thousands of books were thrown into the Tigris river. Using some of these valuable books as adobe Mongols built barns. When the Spaniards captured Andalusia in the 15th century, they made the biggest book burning, destruction of libraries, mosques and madrasas in human history.

How cruel was mankind...

Scott went to Cairo after Alexandria and examined on-site the pyramids. Ancient Egyptians had thought that if the crops grew again after drying, humans would return to live too. In other words, they had believed; human physical life would continue after death. Therefore, embalmment had been developed. The pyramids were the magnificent tombs for the pharaohs. Some experts claimed; the pyramids’ positions on earth were similar to the stars in the sky. Some suggested that the dimensions of the pyramids were adjusted in accordance with the rotational speed of the earth. British Astronomer Piazzi Smyth found out; the Great Pyramid was located on the 30 degrees north latitude, which determined one third of the Ecuador's distance to the pole. It was still unclear how the stone blocks weighing tens of tons had been transported there and properly placed. According to some claims, the pyramids had been built before the Flood. Hermes, namely Thot priests had wanted to convey their sacred secrets to next generations. There were underground galleries inside pyramids and in their foundations. Scott saw the Sphinx as well. Some experts commented that his face represented a pharaoh. Its body was a mixture of lions, bulls and eagles and had different meanings. The Nile valley was also very interesting. It has been a living space for 12 thousand years. Scott enjoyed two weeks in Karnak, Luxor, City of the Dead, the Valley of the Kings and the Valley of the Queens.

***

News Quotes from European news agencies, dated March 17 1919:

Obstacles on the way to Ottoman peace...

The Ottoman sultan's government is worried. The national movement opposes the occupation and cooperates with the communists. This will be very damaging to the peace agreement works.

***

Yusuf and German Bektashi.

March 1919, İstanbul.

“Everything is in your hands, son. Since people are fully concentrated to the outside world, they are not aware of the power inside them.”

Major Hüseyin Üsküplü had heard these words from Uncle Yusuf before, but he couldn't embarrass his seventy years old Uncle. The old man was continuing. “The problem is within us, not outside of us. We must kill the ego and the desires. Heaven and hell are in us. You should restrain your thoughts by using your willpower. In this way, you can shape events and the future.”

The phaeton was passing the Yedikule cemetery. The ruined sections of the Byzantine Walls required maintenance unlike Edirnekapı section. Apparently, managers had not stopped by here. Somehow, it resembled the Skopje Castel in the old town area of Skopje.

When they came to Yedikule gate, the old coachman returned as if he was asking for help. Uncle Yusuf gestured with his hand, “Turn to Zeytinburnu, we will find Zakirbaşı Street.” The whip snapped, they continued on the deserted street.

The cold weather in March was making itself felt. The major in civilian suit looked at his watch. In a distressed voice, “It is about two o’clock, Uncle,” he said. The thoughtful old nodded in agreement. Uncle Yusuf watched recent developments in the country with considerable interest better than newspapers. Now, Hüseyin was thinking of the difficult days of the country too. Returning from Nusaybin, Ali İhsan Pasha and some prominent figures were arrested by the British. Tevfik Pasha government had resigned, now Ferit Pasha the Groom government was in power. The Greeks in İstanbul turned their furor into attacks. The French occupied Kozan, Zonguldak and Eregli. Reports were everywhere; the UK, France, Italy and the United States accepted the Greek occupation of İzmir.

In this mess, what am I doing in a Bektashi Tekke?

He promised Uncle Yusuf long time ago. The old Bektashi had met with the Mürşit - the Bektashi Father, the Mentor - twice to make necessary procedures for Hüseyin to visit Tekke. Therefore, to avoid upsetting his beloved fanatic Bektashi Uncle, the major couldn't refuse him.

Whenever Hüseyin felt himself bored, he tended to go to Uncle Yusuf's copper shop in Balat. Sometimes he went to Uncle Yusuf's house to dinner. From him, he received quite valuable information about Bektashism, in return, he told him his war memories. After Yusuf lost his wife, his life companion and then his son, both was suffering tuberculosis, he went to the Bektashi lodge at every opportunity. He was a skilled coffee fortune-teller. His nickname was Müneccim - the Oracle - because he made usually correct predictions. He was a good amateur astrologer and had a rich bookshelf at the back of the shop. He had numerous valuable books at home too. He said, he was not a magician, he just evaluated the signs God sent to His servants. He read verses from the Qur'an to prove his words. He frequently read the twentieth and twenty-first verse of ‘Surat adh-Dhariyat’.

“20. And on earth are signs for the convinced. 21. And within yourselves. Do you not see?”

To highlight, he repeated in Arabic. “Ve fîl ardı âyâtun lil mûkınîne. Ve fî enfusikum, e fe lâ tubsirûne.” Hüseyin had memorized these two verses.

They felt a sudden shake as the phaeton’s wheel fell into a pit on the lumpy road. Hüseyin, correcting his black velvet calpac thought it was time for mocking.

“Uncle Yusuf, a Bektashi joke came to my mind.”

Old man gave a forced smile continuing to meditate with the rosary. “You know you can't piss me off, son. However, I’m still listening to you.” Hüseyin told himself silently “If you're so sure old man, here it is,” and started to tell: “One day three Bektashis went to prayer. During the prayer a bee began to circulate around. First one complained to second one: ‘I've got a bee around me, I'm afraid it’ll disturb my prayer.’ Second Bektashi warned him: ‘Well, you've spoken, your prayer has already broken, send away this bee, so our prayer doesn't spoil.’ Third Bektashi could not keep calm, ‘Fortunately, I didn't talk to you, otherwise my prayer would be broken.’”

Uncle Yusuf smiled.

Soon, they saw the wooden, unpainted, two-story house at the end of the neglected road that has a small uphill slope. Outside of the building there were tall pillars of wood used as support for the old house. The place seemed deserted except a fountain nearby. Uncle Yusuf said, “Finally, we came to Perişan Baba Tekke -Miserable Father Lodge.” He paid the driver. As they headed to the Tekke Yusuf was giving some information. “This Tekke is named after three persons: Seyyid Mehmet Baba, Perişan Baba and Erikli Baba. Erikli Baba had participated in the conquest of İstanbul and been famous for finding plum in winter. Those two columns show his grave. Over there, you see Yedikule Tower, one of the main posts of the janissaries.”

Hüseyin was both listening to him and watching surroundings. “I remember, all of these Tekkes had been destroyed during the Auspicious Incident.”

“Yes. In 1826, Sultan Mahmut II took one of the most important decisions in history. Before the operation, he had dismissed Sheikh al-Islam, who wouldn’t agree to massacre Janissaries. Then, the new Sheikh al-Islam had given the fatwa. First, Bektashis and the Janissaries had not fulfilled the imperatives and underestimated the worship. Second, they had been disbelievers and against the sharia. Therefore, they must be killed! So, captured janissaries were executed. Bektashi grandmasters were exiled or executed. Bektashi Tekkes were looted and tombstones were broken, their properties were transferred to the Naqshbandi sects. What happened was a nightmare.” Hüseyin nodded in agreement and said that he remembered some details. Uncle Yusuf went on. “Some Bektashis survived the massacre by saying they would remain Sunni. Bektashi grandmasters were despairingly converted to Naqshbandi. After forty years, during the Sultan Abdülaziz Era, who himself and his mother were Bektashi, Bektashis’ life eased a little. Some philanthropists bought their usurped land and donated it to their lodge. However, the pressure came back during the Sultan Abdülhamit Era again. At the time of the Union and Progress, the constitutional monarchy was proclaimed, so, again, they felt great relief. After that, the Tekke took back the ownership of this house, this cemetery and this garden. Tekke’s expenditures were partly covered through cultivating vegetables and fruits here.”

Although ten years passed, no substantial repairs of the house could be made. Bektashis here could only survive. The two visitors reached the lodge’s main door. Above it, Hüseyin noticed a thin marble plaque, where the twelve-sliced Bektashi Crown was carved, and read the scripture:

“Here is the Kaaba of lovers. The Incomplete becomes Complete.”

Hüseyin whispered as they waited for the door to open. “Uncle Yusuf, what an interesting coincidence, we came here on 21 March. Thank you.” He felt impressed by the positive and inexplicable atmosphere at the door of the lodge. He was ashamed of his previous negative thoughts on the road. The old man's eyes brightened. “I'm glad you got permission, son. Nowruz celebrations start today, day and night are equal in length, it is a special day. Sun comes out of Pisces, enters Aries. It symbolizes rebirth and resurrection after death. We are born today in the realm of knowledge and wisdom. We get rid of ignorance. It is also called ‘Kırklar Bayram - the Forties Feast, referring 40 Perfect Men, 17 of them women.”

“On September 21, equality again, right?”

“It's Libra, symbolizes the resurrection before death, Bektashis name it ‘Red Thursday’ and make Keşkül - Turkish Almond Pudding.”

A young man with a mustache and beard opened the door. They entered the house without stepping on the doorstep, as is the custom. Inside was crowded. Every mürit – disciple - wore twelve-sliced turban, cardigan in various colors and designs. They had belts, twelve-pointed ‘the Surrender Stone’ on their chest. Uncle Yusuf put on his costume. Their right hands on their hearts, they kissed each other's hands. With a head sign they greeted Hüseyin in a different civilian costume. He politely gestured in the same way. A female Bektashi candidate and her two proposer were introduced to the Mürşit - Bektashi Father, the Mentor-.

After the ceremony, Uncle Yusuf presented Hüseyin to the Mürşit, a young man with long black beard. The Mürşit leaned slightly forward and saluted with his right hand on his heart. Hüseyin responded in the same way. Young Mürşit spoke smiling:

“Welcome, brother. I'm happy to see you among us. We strive for a better world by increasing the number of generous people, whose ego is controlled, heart is rich, mind is clear.”

Standing closer to Mürşit, Yusuf leaned over and whispered him that he had invited Hüseyin only on this special occasion and he was not a candidate. Bektashi Father saying he remembered they had already spoken put his right hand on his heart and bowed his head again. Then they sat down on the conversation table, or Ali table. Tekke's chef, singing folk songs and hymns, every day sacrificed some animals, cooked meals and prepared appetizers. His cellar was not empty as much as possible.

At the time of this famine, meat, vegetable, pastry, dessert, fruits etc. were prepared for the Ali table. The major avoided saying his thoughts which might upset the landlord, the last thing he wanted:

They keep a very good relation with the war profiteers.

The voices were suddenly cut and a respectful silence began. Mürşit, eyes closed, head down, was starting his opening speech.

“Before the universe was created, the cem - communion - ceremony of the Forties in the world of souls is reflected on the earth, being repeated among people. O thou, who turns our hearts and eyes to good, the nights to the days, adds years to years, turn our state to the best.”

Together, ‘Amen!’ voices were raised. Then the disciples stood up. Three hymns were song with the sign of Mürşit. Then poems mentioning the name of the twelve imams followed:

“Day and night, my only wish Karbala. Come on, let's go to Twelve Imams. I have no other capital than you. Let's be ready for Twelve Imams' love.”

They finally were around the table. Yusuf and Hüseyin were kindly asked to sit down next to Mürşit. On the other side of Mürşit two foreigners, apparently European, have already sat down. Among the crowd, the major couldn't notice them before. One seemed thirty, thirty-five and the other forty, forty-five. They greeted each other with their heads.

Accompanied by the instrumental music of the baglama, the lute and the cümbüş, they started eating foods. Yusuf whispered; before, their beverage was only sorbet, then wine and rakı were added under the influence of Alevism. All Bektashis had a ‘fellow traveller’ on the journey of life. Married people did not divorce. At the end of the ceremony, the saki- cupbearer dervish, as usual, offered milk to the attendees. The ceremony ended with Mürşit’s prayer. He did not forget to add wickedness to be turned into goodness, the outs to be flourishing, the interior to be bright, not to be apart from the supreme meetings and not to leave the right way. Then everyone celebrated each other's Nowruz fest.

Mürşit did not let go his four special guests. While servants tidied the dining room, he led them to his office. When they started chatting, Hüseyin figured out that Mürşit and Müneccim - the Oracle - had already planned this meeting. Their gaze and speech patterns immediately revealed it. He didn't know what to say. The bearded man with blond hair and blue eyes, intelligent face and in plain clothes began to introduce himself. This was his second visit to the Tekke. His name was Sebottendorf, here he was known as the Bektashi Muslim Baron. He was a German citizen, then an Ottoman citizen. He was wounded as he fought on the Turkish side in the Balkan War and then returned to Germany. Sweating Baron wiped his head with a handkerchief. Hüseyin had the opportunity to examine the man's wide forehead, capillary-veiled nose, small soft hands, thin fingers and long cut pink nails. This man was speaking pretty good Turkish. Nevertheless, it was interesting that he was sweating although the room was not hot. Here Mürşit joined the conversation:

“Mr. Sebottendorf is among us for the material and moral support of the national struggle. Our request, major, is to facilitate the connection between the Baron and the Thule Organization and the kuvayi milliye - the nationalist forces - in our fight with the British.

Hüseyin wore a long face. But he recovered immediately. He couldn't know how to reply to this unexpected question. He had heard that Thule had infiltrated the ‘Union and Progress’ and helped in the establishment of Teşkilatı Mahsusa - the secret Special Organization- however he had not cared. A rumor had also emerged that some Union and Progress leaders might be members of the Masonic Society. These could be just rumor, nothing more. He looked at Yusuf first and then the other white-skinned, beardless, mustachless, smiling stranger with blue eyes.

“Let me introduce my friend.” The speaker was Sebottendorf. “British journalist Scott Wallace is a distinguished friend of mine.”

When Hüseyin heard his British identity, he frowned and straightened up uneasy. He was nervous as though he was preparing to fight.

Birds of a feather flock together. A German and an Englishman!

Wallace realized the odd situation and joined the conversation, “I see you're surprised, major. You're right. But I'm Scottish, my ancestors are of German origin. Since they were Protestant, they migrated to Scotland at the end of the 30 Years War.” He went on trying to catch some expression of relief on the major's face. “Scotland had been separate from England at that time. The unification of the two kingdoms took place fifty years later.” Turkish officer now seemed more docile. “Maybe you've heard of it. Most of the Scots, who are of the Celtic race, do not like the British. Some also dream of leaving the United Kingdom.”

Hüseyin made a hand gesture indicating that he was satisfied with the information he received. The Scottish journalist was speaking Turkish, albeit accented. Hüseyin forced himself to smile, “I think I need to introduce myself.” This time, Uncle Yusuf interrupted, “You don't need that, I gave them enough information about you, Hüseyin.” The major looked frowning at him. Yusuf was a little ashamed, then gave a smile and said “I'll explain it later.”

Hüseyin spoke with seriousness and straight-forwardness, “Well, then satisfy my curiosity. Why did you choose me?”

Sebottendorf answered with the same seriousness: “Before you, in recent weeks, we've come in touch with a few high-ranking acquaintances. They couldn't respond because of my German identity and my previous cooperation with the ‘unionists’. They are concerned that the British will use our assistance against the national struggle.”

This time, Mürşit joined the conversation, “So I offered to discuss the matter with our brother Yusuf. He advised you, then we deemed it appropriate to invite you here.”

Sebottendorf went on, “Our aim is to help Turks who were suffering for decades. It's that simple. Your national struggle and Germany's support should be well declared and explained in the European press. We hope you will help us.”

The major looked angrily at Yusuf again then he replied softly, “Well, I'll discuss this subject with my trusted friends and pass the results to Uncle Yusuf.” Hüseyin would bring this up at the first meeting in Karagümrük.

Soon, cem – communion - ceremony in a more religious atmosphere between members of the dervish order and the ‘fellow traveller’ was to begin. Non-members could not participate in these sacred ceremonies called ‘semah’. Requesting permission to leave, the guests went out from the Tekke. Darkness already fell. Uncle Yusuf was trying to defend himself when they walked down the half-dark road to the nearest street where they could find a phaeton.

“Hüseyin, I really thought about telling you this well before. But, I supposed it would be more effective to make it a fait accompli. I hope you're not get angry at me young man.”

The major gave a casual look and responded “To be honest, I felt somewhat offended, old man. At least you could have given me a piece of information before. Several times, I told you about my terrible experience with the German and the British people. Did you forget?”

“I've told you so many times, son. It's a mistake to put everyone in the same pot. There are very good people in the nations or communities that you think are the worst.”

“Anyway, what happened happened. A drowning man will catch at a straw. If you think that is appropriate, so be it.”

Yusuf’s eyes shone. “Sebottendorf is a well-known astrologer, he specializes in palmistry, amulet writing and foresight.”

Hüseyin was quick to take advantage of this opportunity to annoy his uncle. “So he is better than you, you mean it?” Yusuf didn't show a sign of being upset. “I couldn't discuss with him much about these things. However, I have a feeling that this guy can be very useful to us.”

They kept on speaking about Bektashis in the phaeton. In summary, those who do not know how to live in the world, could not live in heaven. After dropping Uncle Yusuf at his house in Atikali, phaeton brought Hüseyin to Balat. The major stopped by the coffeehouse before he went home. People playing backgammon and card games and their viewers drinking tea and coffee under the water pipe and cigarette smoke were in their usual mood. This is the only place for the retirees, for the elderly and for the unemployed. Many people spent all day in this coffeehouse. On holidays, similar things could be said of the working people. The country's serious situation was not felt here. Maybe they took temporarily refuge here to forget what was happening.

In the far corner he saw Sabri, İsmail, Mahmut and Vartan the Armenian. They were focused on the usual backgammon battle. Sabri's hard strokes with checkers were reaching the door. He seemed to revenge against his life's upsets and frustrations by hitting the backgammon box. As Hüseyin approaches their table, İsmail noticed him first. When he gestured with hand, the players turned to him. Hüseyin shook all three's hands and sat next to them, removed his black velvet calpac and put on the next chair. As Vartan extended the cigarette package they exchanged glances with one another. The major took a cigarette and thanked. This guy had a different mood. His fleshy cheeks, little nose, angular chin, thick black eyebrows and hair descending on forehead seemed to hide something. Sabri ordered a cup of Turkish coffee for him, as Mahmut lit his cigarette. And the backgammon party was resumed. Vartan was losing. It was obvious that he was thoughtful and unable to concentrate on the game.

Taking first sip of his coffee, Hüseyin noticed a heated conversation next to them. While watching the players with eyes, his ears and his attention focused on the talk. Political issues were discussed. He silently congratulated these intellectuals. It was promising for the country that they follow and discuss the developments. But little later, he realized that he jumped to the wrong conclusion. The unionists and the nationalists were being ruthlessly criticized. The most-hated enemy of the unionists and of the nationalists, the Freedom and Entente Party, would be only political force that could save the country from this difficult situation. The infidel kuvayi milliye - the nationalist forces - in Anatolia were going to cause trouble for them. The speaker was a middle-aged man with thick framed eyeglasses. With a voice of an actor, he was speaking more than others. Hüseyin, without attracting attention, looked at his face. He didn't know him. Mahmut was attentively looking into the annoying major's eyes. He seemed to expect a sign to beat this guy. The guy in eyeglasses was going on.

“We must not leave our sultan and our caliph alone. Let's not forget that the unionist destroyed the country and escaped laying the entire burden on our sultan.”

No objection from others…

He continued. “There is no other choice but to follow a pro-British politics. The so-called nationalists in Ankara are a continuation of the unionists.”

One of them opposed him. His voice was not very strong, however, he was still involved in the discussion. “But brother Cihat, didn’t Caliph Sultan Reşat declare a jihad, against the British when we entered the war five years ago?”

Hüseyin silently smiled, caliph sultan's fatwa and man's name was exactly the same. And, in fact, an essential question was raised. The man called Cihat did not answer promptly. His response was ready shortly however.

“That fatwa was given under German pressure. If it had been up to our caliph sultan, he would never have entered this war. In fact, the unionists who seized power through a military coup were the puppets of the Germans.”

The others listened to the last words of the bespectacled man without arguing or objecting. The strong voice went on. “Brothers, thank goodness we are here on the Islamic soil, the invaders do not touch our faith. We still have our Ottoman identity. Let's be careful not to blame those who try to save their religion and country. Make sure your words are measured and chosen wisely when criticizing them. Do not blame Caliph Sultan Vahdettin and his government for being close to the British.”

He spoke so confidently that they no longer argued with him. Cihat stood up, saying his last words. “Friends, thank you for listening. I'm leaving, the bill on me tonight. Remember, I will personally present to the authorities those who wants to join the Freedom and Entente Party. Just tell me.”

Sounds from the back chairs indicated that they were standing up while exchanging words on parting. Hüseyin turned around and looked at Cihat, his mouth was tightly closed, teeth were locked, lips were sticky, eyes behind his eyeglasses were full of hatred. Yes, this bastard was a typical enemy of the unionists and the kuvayi milliye - nationalist forces-. He glanced at Hüseyin for a moment. Cihat was directing all his attention at others' faces excited but unaware of the facts. He was sure of affecting or even crushing them. Again, he cast a look at the next table as if challenging Hüseyin: “Please note that the nationalist forces who took the flag of the rebellion in Anatolia against the Caliph Sultan, have been cooperating with the Godless, atheistic Russian communists. God bless you.”

I need to kick this asshole's butt.

Mahmut had noticed the situation. Slowly, he caught Hüseyin's wrist, leaned over his ear and whispered: “Remember. You would let me do this things, sir.” He went to the coffeehouse's garden saying he was going to the bathroom.

Sabri was lost himself in play, but Vartan clearly listened to what was spoken, and perhaps he knew the man called Cihat. Hüseyin had observed their glances at each other from time to time. Both of them had noticed Hüseyin's reaction too. Soon after the game was over, Vartan paid the bill, they left the coffeehouse.

When they got home, İsmail told the story of Cihat. He had recently moved into the neighborhood, was a member of the Freedom and Entente Party, a vigorous opponent of the unionists and nationalist forces, and a man doing errands of Ferit Pasha the Groom, the party leader. His most important motive was that he swore revenge on the unionists who killed his father.

A little later Mahmut entered the room smiling and said: “He can't talk anymore in public here.” Sergeant major İsmail figured out what happened, and asked: “You didn't kill him, did you, Mahmut?” Pretending to be angry, the loyal orderly replied, “No, first sergeant, he was only well beaten until he fainted. When he wakes up in the dark, he'll realize what happened, his teeth missing, eyeglasses broken. Sure, I took his wallet to make it look like an ordinary theft.”

Hüseyin opened the wallet extended to him. There was some money and a few photos that could belong to his family; nothing else. He was convinced that the guys like him had relations with the British intelligence service. If it was up to him, he would shoot them whenever and wherever he found. The propaganda that the national struggle was engineered by the unionists and that they were cooperating with the atheistic communists would harm them. He would bring up this issue in the forthcoming discussions in the ‘Center’. They had to eliminate these collaborative guys immediately without permission.

Shoot first ask questions later!

To discuss these issues in public was forbidden by the general staff headquarters. During the Balkan War and subsequent war years, the fact that the officers and the generals of the Party of Union and Progress and of the Freedom and Entente failed to help each other, just because of differences in political views, had very grave consequences.

They should not forget that veteran unionists and members of the nationalist forces were being sought everywhere.

***

From Bilge Wallace to Önder

January 3, 2019, Ankara.

I started to read the historical novel “After Twenty-One” written by my enigmatic internet friend Bilge Wallace. I copied it on my cell phone too. So when I am out, I can keep on reading. This man claims that he lives in the parallel universe, but from what I've read so far, I find nothing other than what I know and what I remember.

Except Major Hüseyin Üsküplü's family, my family...

His mother Mrs. Reşide, my grandmother, whom I lost when I was a teenager and I still have bitter sweet memories of her. But my grandma didn't have a daughter named Ayşe. They were three sisters including my mother. I didn't have two uncles either; besides, Mrs. Reşide had no sister. There was a different family structure in our family.

But, my inner voice tells me he is still not convinced and insists that it's a joke.

I'm not that stupid. When I find time, I'm investigate the topics I suspect in the internet. What do I find after all?

My inner voice may be right. There exists no extraordinary situation.

I prefer not to share this issue with anyone else for the time being. I have decided not to share this subject with anyone for now. I will keep this person who emerged with the claim of parallel universe, the information he sent and his novel to myself a little longer. A week passed, there was no other news. But when I was checking my e-mails the other night, I saw the message from Mr. Bilge Wallace. It was a short sentence:

“How are you, Mr. Üsküplü? Could you open the novel? Could you read?”

I reluctantly replied. “Yes. No problem.” I looked at the date of the last message: December 27, 2018. I went on. “Almost a week passed. I wouldn't expect any news from you Mr. Wallace.”

His response was quick. The link looked good for now. As if he read my thoughts, he answered, “I know that our communication will not be continuous Mr. Üsküplü. According to our experts, there are others in contact with your side. They also complained about irregular connections. Our experts are trying to find out the problem.”

If he was still mocking me, he was doing it well. I didn't break the flow. “So, there are others in our world who are in contact with you. It's good what I learned.”

“What do you think about the novel?”

“I have just started to read Mr. Wallace. Nevertheless, I can say that there is nothing different than what I know and remember. If we can keep on having text chat with you, I can give you more information.”

“I would be very pleased Mr. Üsküplü. So, can you summarize Ankara’s short story?”

“We live in Ankara, the capital of the Republic of Turkey, established in 1923. At the first opportunity, I'll send you photos and videos.”

“I would be very happy. I am particularly curious about Ümitköy and Çayyolu. I outlined the history of the neighboring states Mr. Üsküplü. I am also sending some information, pictures and videos about Constantinople. I hope you will be interested. Meanwhile, I must say that the Republic of Turkey is an unknown concept for us. I wonder about it, quite often in your correspondence...”

The contact was interrupted again. I did not receive a response to my letter of appreciation. I was on my own again.

I keep on reading the book...

***

News Quotes from European news agencies dated April 27, 1919:

Peace and revenge are moving side by side ...

In the Ottoman capital, the punishing of the persecutors of the Armenians continues.

Meanwhile, there is concern that talks about Greek occupation would cause the Turks to overreact.

***

Witch hunt

April 1919, Constantinople.

Those were the days when arrows began to be launched beyond their goal…

He looked at the boats for a while. Their sail poles were leaning south under the impact of severe north wind. Right next to them, on the coast of the Golden Horn, some boatmen waiting for passengers and cargo were chatting. Some of their words came to Vartan's ears, who walked to take advantage of the April sun.

“Things are going bad my friend. I'm happy if I could bring bread when I get home in the evening. My little boy has not recovered from the disease; I don't know what to do.”

“I also worry that I can't pay this month's rent.”

Vartan kept on walking accompanied with the prayer call from a nearby mosque. Thirty-forty meters off shore, two fisher boats were heading toward Kasımpaşa. Some seagulls waiting for their share over them were tweeting. The steamboat in the shipyard and the British submarine next to it were diversifying the image. The cypress trees watching mosques and graveyards on the opposite bank were easily selected. Looking more carefully, he tried to recognize the Armenian Church. At first chance, he would go to Çukurova - Cilician plain -invaded by the French five months ago. He would see Armenian units established by the French. They were successfully fighting against the Turks.

It had been three months since Vartan served on the witch hunt team established by the British Embassy. Now, he went there every day. The fee was pretty good in this difficult time. From the Armenians he knew or encountered, he took names and addresses of unionist Turks, responsible for the extermination of 1915 and then gave to the working group. The chief of the working group was Andrew Ryan, an interpreter working in Constantinople for years. The black lists of Turkish war criminals began to rise. Anyone who supported the Special Organization and army units, engineered and carried out the massacre of Armenians was a ‘qualified accomplice’. Those who plundered Armenian property, adopted Armenian children for servant, included Armenian daughters in their harems, made capitals from confiscated wealth of Armenians, created business in the areas evacuated by Armenians were considered also within this scope. The gang's chiefs and gang members were the cruelest who attacked the relocation convoys.

Nevertheless, there were good ones too…

According to the studies, many civil servants and Turkish families had helped Armenians. Before the ceasefire, they were in a very difficult situation for helping Armenians. There were also efforts to protect the helpers of Armenians from further damage and even attempts to reward them. After confirming with other sources, the real criminals and their accomplices were taken into custody and interrogated. Then the trial began. This is how the criminals were punished, however, it was long and laborious. A group of Dashnak revolutionary Armenians thought this process could be accelerated. Interestingly, some Turks also supported it.

Vartan was approaching the Unkapanı Bridge. He recalled a story told recently by a British petty officer. Leonardo Da Vinci, the great name of the Renaissance, had offered to build a bridge over the Golden Horn, but his proposal had not been accepted. A new bid had been offered to Michelangelo, another important name of the time to come to Constantinople and design a new bridge, but, that time Michelangelo had turned down this proposal.

Vartan turned back. The attorney office should not be closed for long time. Aggrieved Armenians were strongly recommending Arto and Vartan to each other. The complainants from Constantinople and all over Anatolia came to the office. All evil deeds of the criminals were revealed. They were going to announce this to the whole world.

Many tragedy novels could be written with these stories. For example, the last petition he prepared, Asu's story, came to his mind.

“After burying those who died from illness, we went on walking. Cold, sickness and hunger competed with each other for taking our lives. The cloths on our bare feet were torn, our soles of the feet were swollen and bleeding. At nights we tried to sleep on the ground around the fire. My mother had no power to walk any longer. With a few older people, we were left behind and out of the group. There were no gendarmes protecting us. At a stopover place, armed men took everyone's money and valuables. After a while, next to the ditch we dug, they lined us up and I heard gunfire behind us. People who were shot fell into the ditch. After a while I came to myself. I was living, but I was underground. Breathing hardly, I tried to remove the soil over me. At that moment there was a move up there. Someone I didn't know took me out. In panic, we dug the fresh soil with our hands. The lifeless bodies of my mother and others had already begun to cool down. Crying and sobbing, we covered them with soil again and erect one cross made of branches for all.”

Until today, 160 people responsible for Armenian massacre were arrested. A separate list of 60 people was ready for the second wave. According to the British, their capture was delayed by the unconfident sultan, however, things were now accelerating. It was also said that the interior minister was afraid of the punishment team of the ‘unionists’. To prevent this, the British promised support. Every Turk could be blamed on the grounds of failing to comply with the cease-fire provisions. The concept of war criminals was enough for the sultan to punish the ‘unionists’. There was nothing to fear.

During man hunting in January, 40 senior officials were arrested in Constantinople. To insult the British commanders and officers, to abuse prisoners, to bully Armenians or other races, to participate in the looting, to violate the laws of war, were the justifications. The French, however, opposed these arrests. According to them, this was not done in Germany, Austria and Bulgaria. Turks were being wronged.

When Vartan saw a bagel seller in front of him, he suddenly felt hungry. He took two hot bagels. Ayran or sherbet would be good with. He looked around a while and finally saw the Bulgarian immigrant's shop, known for making dairy products across the road. He sat down at a table facing the road and ate his lunch finishing with a dessert.

He started walking again. The ‘unionists’ in Constantinople began to be intimidated. The case of the former governor of Diyarbakır Doctor Reşit was the clearest example. His crime was obvious. He had condoned the Armenian massacre. But somehow he managed to escape from prison. According to the investigations this was engineered by the Union and Progress. However, Reşit could not shelter in his friends' houses. Some hesitated to help, others were frightened. He could not escape to Anatolia either. When surrounded on a slope between Beşiktaş and Nişantaşı he did not want to surrender and committed suicide with his last bullet.

The arrests were effective. The pressure on the sultan's government worked well. All ‘unionists’ who had signed the Armenian deportation decision must be punished. The liberal and religious Freedom and Entente Party issued a statement accusing the government of lethargy, for not arresting more people. Peyam, Sabah and Alemdar newspapers of the Party were working hard for the arrest of more ‘unionists’. The Unionist Party must be closed and their leaders must be arrested. A coup d'état they were preparing had to be prevented.

When Vartan returned to the office, Arto was writing letters of gratitude to the Greek and Armenian Patriarchates who helped the legal cases. In the meantime, he was complaining about his problems. The works were quite intense; he was considering to get another assistant. The office was inadequate. But the plaintiffs were penniless, they would pay when they get their assets and properties back. Vartan supported his friend, “You are right my dear. By the way, a joke came to my mind.” He thought a while and spoke. “After listening to the first man who complain the second man, Nasrettin Hodja, as a judge, commented, 'you are right.' Then he listened to the second man and told him, 'you're right.' But his assistant immediately whispered in his ear: ‘Hodja, both of them cannot be right.' Nasrettin Hodja answered him 'You're right too.'” Finally, Arto smiled and resumed his usual joyful mood.

They evaluated the last situation. Armenians, Greeks, and even pro-English Turks helped prepare lists. Most of the information were ridiculous but they were being processed. A lot of time was wasted. Attention should be paid to the forgers and crooks. The Armenian-Greek branch of the British Embassy held ‘person slips’ and ‘event slips’. There were about 700 criminals in the ‘person slips’, while ‘event slips’ recorded the crime scenes and the names of those involved in. Most of the information was collected from the Armenian news bureau or Armenians out of Constantinople. The British military intelligence branch was preparing separate lists too. Those who committed a crime during the Balkan War were included also on the black list. Hundreds of people appeared on the black list for the 1913 Babiali raid. It was even considered that Turks had forced 23 British non-commissioned officers and many British soldiers to be circumcised in Kutul Amare. One informant reported that Ali İhsan Pasha had sent 120 cars full of precious rugs belonged to Armenians to Constantinople and bought two mansions at Bebek in Bosphorus with this money. These were reported up to the British Government in London. The British political representative in Mosul listed the crimes committed even 40 years ago.

This extreme attitude started to reduce the effect…

Court-Martial sentenced the Bogazlayan district governor Mr. Kemal to death. Kemal tried to cry out his innocence before he was hanged. Moreover, after the execution, the funeral ceremony caused great demonstrations and reactions. In order to prevent this from spreading, some people who went to the funeral were arrested. The British started to exile some Turkish suspects in Malta.

Witch hunt should be done more carefully…

***

News Quotes from European news agencies, dated April 23 1919:

British interests in India are under threat...

Evolving alliance among Bolshevik Russians, Afghans and the former Unionist Turks wanted by Allies and supported by Germany is creating concern.

***

Afghan Emir.

May 1919, Kabul, Afghanistan.

What did the Chinese say? The well is not deep; the rope is short.

Mustafa Sagir came into his room after a light dinner in his hotel in Kabul. He was registered as a wool rug merchant Rana Han representing East Textiles & Industries Company in India.

Before he came to Afghanistan, he was able to visit his family in Peshawar. The ship journey between London and Karachi had lasted several weeks. He was so exhausted and hated the sea so much that he had told the coachman to take him to a good hotel far away from the sea. Although it was the end of January, he could withstand Karachi's humid weather for only two nights. Then he had gone to Lahore by train. Before that, he had spent two days in the historic Harappa. It was discovered accidentally by the British during the railway construction in the Indus Valley. Harappa was the first excavation center in Punjab. Archaeologists believed that they had found the remains of the ancient Maurya Empire which ruled in India between 322 and 185 BC. Then they realized that they had found a more ancient civilization, the ‘Harappa civilization’ from 3300 to 1300 BC. Jewelry, ornaments, two-story solid houses, cereal warehouses, municipal buildings, public bathrooms were excavated. The fact that all the bricks were the same size astounded and fascinated everyone.

Finally, Mustafa Sagir was at his hometown in Peshawar, his homeland, ‘The City of the Border’, the transit city of the famous Silk Road, the capital of Patans, people of the mountain, who spoke Pashto language. Camel caravans from China to India, Iran and beyond, or to return, would breathe in here. The Khyber Pass, fifteen kilometers away, was world-famous. But Peshawar suffered from the invaders from Khyber. After the Babur Emperor Babur Shah built the Little Castle Bala Hisar in the 16th century, it took a few years to see Peshawar revived and forget their suffering.

Sagir left the birthplace when he was ten years old. He was sent to England to be raised on behalf of His Majesty's government. After fifteen years of training, in 1902, he was able to return to his hometown. His father was proud of him. His mother, on the other hand, was struggling with the emotions between years of longing and assuring the future of her son. First, the UK government had educated Mustafa at a private boarding school. The award was the Oxford diploma. He would work for his Majesty's intelligence agency. He had sworn to the Holy Quran that he would remain faithful to the United Kingdom and would not hesitate to sacrifice his life if the king's crown and throne were in danger. His parents thought that he worked for the British foreign affairs. As a matter of fact, Mustafa had promised his father that he always tells the truth. But for the safety of the family, he was supposed to be a civil servant in British foreign affairs.

And there was a matter of marriage. His mother did not accept her forty- year old son was still unmarried. And he patiently listened to his mother who talked excitedly about the bride candidates. Not to hurt his mother, he replied he could see those girls back from his job in Kabul.

They no longer bothered to their sons' difficulty in pronouncing ‘r’. They even thought it looked good on him.

He spent three weeks in Peshawar. The ancestor of his father, a wool rug merchant, were belong to Shia Nizari İsmailia. They had escaped in the last moment of the slaughter of the Mongols, destroying the Alamut fortress, and had sought refuge in Afghanistan and India. This connection had been maintained since 1256. His mother's family were descendants of Shia Turkmen, member of the Babur Empire. In 1800s, they had come to India and adopted the Urdu language. Mustafa Sagir's father and his relatives were attached to the head of the Nizari İsmailia, Sultan Sir Muhammad Shah, Agha Khan III. Sir Mohammad Shah had the full support of the British. Sagir's family were both Indian and British citizens.

The Muslim identity was an important trump card of Sagir…

During three weeks in Peshawar, he learned the finer aspects of wool rug trade, his father's profession. Wool rugs were very popular in Europe because they provide a healthy environment. The wool was a living fiber, shining, flourished and odorless. It marketed with features of extremely resistant to abrasion, taking excess moisture, giving back when necessary, preventing the drying of air in closed areas at a rate, with little dust holding and not being crushed. The wool taken from animals living in high regions was valued. A beautiful pattern of workmanship, harmonious colors and frequent knitting were sought. Up to fifteen years old was the new rug. Half-aged between fifty and seventy-five years old. Those over a hundred years old were very valuable.

Now he was in Kabul a hundred miles from Peshawar. The next day, he would meet Commander David Nelson, a distinguished member of His Majesty's Intelligence Service. He was a navy officer three years younger than him. He was recruited as an intelligence officer when he was 25 years old. From Egypt, he was sent to Russia. He worked in Petersburg and then in Moscow in the Bolshevik Revolution. He met Nelson in Kiev the previous year, and they worked together in Moscow. They were a good duo.

The location of Nelson who came to Kabul earlier was uncertain as ever, he would find Sagir. The target was the Afghan Emir, who gave the green light to the Indian uprising by meeting with Turks. This alliance including the Bolshevik Russians was threatening British interests.

He woke up with the morning azan. It was a cold February day. He watched the high mountains covered with snow for a while. Then he looked at the people, the animals, especially the camels on the street. He searched his memory. Afghanistan, with dozens of tribes and about twenty different languages, was held together by Islamic religion. The Afghans met Islam during the Four Caliphs era. Then, for hundreds of years, they were under the rule of the Turks, the Mongols and the Iranians. The Babur State under Turkish rule became the largest Islamic state in the 18th century after the Ottomans. Then the Babur State was dragged into civil war and the British forces in India, exploiting this opportunity, invaded Afghan territory. Later on, the competition of the UK and Russia started.

Sagir toured Kabul center all day. He interviewed several merchants interested in wool rugs to deliver to England. When he entered in the secluded breakfast room the next morning, he noticed a man looking at him at the next table. He had dark-hair, thick mustache, goatee beard, round glasses, clothed in a Russian dress. Sagir smiled slightly.

I recognized you, David Nelson.

Blue-eyed, wide forehead, medium tall man approached Sagir's table and spoke smiling “Dobroye utro, tovarish - Good morning, comrade-” Then he walked out, gesturing that he was going to wait outside. Taking a last gulp of his tea Sagir followed him. Outside the hotel door, Sagir got in the phaeton waiting under the snow. He glanced with appreciation at Nelson's kalpak, furry collar overcoat, boots, leather gloves and commented “Your Russian-style cloth is more successfully than last year. I like it.” They shook hands and hugged excitedly. Nelson called in English with a Russian accent to the driver “Bala Hisar Fortress.” They wrapped up themselves in blankets and lit their cigarettes. Nelson said “Here we go my dear partner, I am listening to you.” The coachman whipped and started moving the horse blowing fumes from the nose. “I don't have much to tell you, man. Just a long trip and a three-week family visit.” And Sagir added, “Yesterday I visited the bazaar and examined wool rugs. That's all. I suppose you are going to tell me more important news.” Blowing his cigarette's smoke to the other side, Nelson nodded and started to talk. He played the role of a tsarist merchant who fled the 1917 Bolshevik revolution. He worked around here to help the British to overthrow the Bolsheviks. He sent his earnings to the White Russians who were trying to put the overthrown tsar into power back.

The phaeton went out of the city and headed south. Some rare and weak trees without leaves seemed to try to decorate the frozen road.

The commander came here through India five weeks ago. He had stayed in New Delhi, new capital with giant government buildings and palaces. The British colonial administration had abandoned its former capital, Calcutta. A lot of money was spent. According to the governor-general called ‘viceroy’, the troubles were increasing. The UK, the winner of the Great War lost around 750 thousand soldiers. Many revolts of independence appeared in Ireland, Egypt, Afghanistan and India although they were under British control. British public opinion did not want war anymore. India had unprotected borders. Finally, the UK government allowed India to establish its own government. Mahatma Gandhi who studied law in London became the rising star of Indians. Nelson had told the governor-general that they would do everything they could to eliminate the Emir in Afghanistan.

They approached the ruined castle. They got off the phaeton and walked around the deserted area. The commander kept on telling. When he arrived in Kabul, he made contact with the commander of British troops, who ruled Afghanistan under the governor-general of India. They had an important man here. This Secret Service's agent had established a lodge in Afghanistan under the name of ‘Topal Molla- Lame Mullah’. His men propagated all over Afghanistan that he was a great saint and a great scholar, and his disciples were growing rapidly. Sagir expressed his appreciation, “It is very good idea to evaluate this, commander.” Nelson murmured proudly. “Yes. You know this very well, Sufism and sects have an important place in the religious life of Afghan society. Gazne, Herat and Belch, the famous Sufism centers of the Islamic world are in this region. We evaluate this.”

Sagir needed to give some information. “Please pay attention to one crucial point. Sufism and sects should not be put on the same scale. After Prophet Mohammed’s death, two important views came out. One: Arab nationalism is at the forefront and two: Islam is a universal religion.”

“Like the universal Christian religion of Jesus against the nationalistic religion of the Jews?”

“Nice analogy. Those who adopt universality in Islam settled in Khorasan, which was inhabited by Turks. Sufism was getting away from the excessive enrichment of Islamic conquests. These people are called Sufi.”

“They might be sects.” The commander interrupted to show he was not illiterate.

“True. The Sufis had to enter a sect and connect with a master. Then the free will ended. In other words, the sects became one of the degenerate version of Sufism. The abuse of religion for personal interests took place in Islam, as in every religion.”

“Understood. You appreciate Sufism Mustafa Sagir.”

“Four years ago, when I studied philosophy doctorate at the University of Heidelberg in Germany, this was my thesis.”

“I got it. Thank you, Mustafa. Now I come to our job. Topal Molla was tasked with launching an Islamic uprising against Emir, who moved away from religion. We will be in a close but intimate contact with him. We found two people among his disciples who were close to Emir. You will offer them business and money as a rug merchant.”

“Do we have enough money?”

“There are 50 thousand pounds in the safe of the British troops commander in Kabul. I spent a bit of it, but the rest will do our job.”

“How reliable are these two Afghans?”

“I didn't talk to them. Topal Molla doesn't trust much. So you have to be very careful.”

“Sagir nodded in agreement. The bribable men could usually be bribed by others. It would be insufficient to use them only with money. In this case, they should be threatened with their honor, their lives and their families.”

Snowfall stopped, then a stormy wind came out. They decided to return to the city, and wrapped up themselves tightly in blankets in the phaeton.

A few days later, rug merchant Rana Khan, with his Muslim identity, went to the Sect's tekke - the lodge -. Many beggars in ragged clothes rushed him on the roads. The tekke, a two-story stone building, was in a suburb of Kabul. There was a woodshed on one side and a small cemetery on the other. The young disciple who opened the door said that the foreigners were accepted once a week, and he should come three days later in early hours.

Three days later, when he came to the tekke, there was no difficulty. Sagir saw Lame Mullah sitting cross-legged on the couch in the far corner of the room with a large rug. The word ‘Allah’ was written in large Arabic letters on the opposite wall. Some Qur'anic verses were embroidered on the fabrics nailed to the wall just below the writing. There was a wood-burning stove on the right. With a long white beard, he seemed to be trying to get respect for himself. The mullah told the young disciple that nobody would disturb them. After he left the room, two British agents talked about the details.

The new disciple of the tekke, Sagir, did not rush to make friend with the target collaborators. A month later, he made them a secret partner in the rug trade. Paying often accounts in restaurants and coffeehouses, rewarding them with money, he won their trust. Emir and his stooges were unaware that the two disciples secretly came to the tekke. Haydar, a chief taster, was more useful as the nearest man to Emir. Haydar spent almost all nights in Emir’s mansion.

Two months later, Haydar told all of Emir's extra-marital affairs, thefts, dirty night adventures. Hamid was one of the grooms of Emir. He was with the Emir when he went hunting or retired to the mountain villa. He hated Emir like his friend. Both of them were very poor. The long and tough winter ruined their family. When Sagir visited them, on the roads of their houses, he had to hold his breath due to the disgusting smells of the wastewater passing through the streets. These people lived the scarcity and poverty that ravaged the city. Women and young girls who have not reached the age of adolescence covered their heads and bodies on the streets in fear of Allah and neighborhood. The frightening marauders of some mobs around were added to this. Sagir wondered how his slightly belly-like image was interpreted in the eyes of these helpless, frail and diseased poor people.

These people can do anything to survive.

To tell the truth, he was happy with this situation that made his mission easier. But his feeling of pity was trying to emphasize his humane aspect. His logic came back reminding that he should not trust anyone based on experiences many times he faced.

Sagir did not miss Friday prayers with the tekke's disciples. The preachers included Emir's name in sermons and prayers too. On the other hand, at every opportunity, the preachers drew attention to corruption and counseled the people astray. But the communion listened with resignation trying to hide their virulent gaze from others. The people were afraid of informants around. But it was also clear that they would be happy if the Emir and his accomplices, the real robbers, were eliminated.

His expected response came in early May. Emir's chief taster Haydar said he could do everything for his family. He was tired of life. At that moment, the rug merchant's eyes shone. He hardly kept himself not to scream with joy and grabbed the poor man's wrist and whispered: “Can you also kill Emir, the bandit?”

Haydar suddenly terrified, gazed at Sagir with eyes wide open; after a couple of second, asked in a feeble voice: “What did you say?”

“You heard me, Haydar, calm down.”

It was just around dusk. Checking around and deserted streets the man responded with a lot of suspicion and in a defensive manner: “Do not even think about it. They will chop off my head and that of my family.”

“Nothing will happen my friend. Think about the money you'll get in return. You and your family will live much better forever.”

The worry in the eyes of the confused poor man diminished. The rug merchant kept on impressing him, “You can do it quietly without anybody noticing.”

Haydar began to soften, lowering his voice a little asked: “How?”

Sagir concerned that if he told his plan immediately, he would scare this man. “We'll talk about this later. In this period, you can think about it.”

The chief taster nodded in agreement. After first meeting in the lodge, they would make the final decision. Sagir's plan was ready. He would give Haydar the poison with its antidote. The poison was effective in ten hours and the antidote immediately. So nothing would happen to the chief taster, but Emir's heart would probably stop in his sleep. It was enough to apply a small amount of poison to the bottom of the plate. Sagir had tried this method during his training in England. The poison was transparent, invisible, and most importantly odorless. There was nothing unusual in the taste of the food.

In their next meeting in the tekke, Topal Molla and Sagir watched the chief taster without being noticed. There was no worry or fear in his movements and gaze. Moreover, it could be said that he had a confident, relaxed attitude. When they went out together, his walking with decisive steps was also one of the positive indicators. When the rug merchant opened the subject, Haydar admitted that he had no idea to take action and no experience at all. He did not tell anyone, including his family, about the subject. Then Sagir explained his plan. Haydar was very calm, even relaxed. His breathing was normal. They seemed to be talking about an ordinary incident, not an assassination. Haydar accepted the imminent danger. He no longer needed to be threatened through his family. In their next meeting, he took the two ordinary and inconspicuous rings; the red one with the poison in and the green one with the antidote in. He was going to finish this job as soon as possible.

Sagir tried to keep a low profile after that. He would just wait. But although days passed, there was no news. Moreover, Haydar did not come to the tekke either. Sagir and Lame Mullah decided not to meet. There was no report from Commander Nelson either. He never called. Sagir began to fear that the storm was approaching. It wouldn't be right to move away from Kabul without completing the mission. He couldn't maintain this rug business any longer, knowing that the shopkeepers in the bazaar were waiting for news from him. But, he was stuck in the hotel. He gave himself time to wait; if he got no news in two more days, he would go back to Peshawar.

When someone loudly knocked at the door of his hotel room midnight, Sagir jumped out of bed. A louder knock sounded on the door again. The adrenaline level elevated in his blood. When he opened the door, he came eye to eye with a sullen Afghan officer. The officer turned to the armed soldiers behind him and told them to come in.

Sagir could say only “Wait, I'm a British citizen.”

With a furious glance, the officer grabbed Sagir's pajamas, saying “Shut up, you, filthy traitor!” placed him on the seat. He ordered his men to search everywhere. Under bed, inside bed, cupboard and all side of the nightstand, the lower side of the drawers, bathroom cabinet, the bottom of the sink was searched carefully. The so-called rug merchant was shocked and thought that he was approaching the end of his life. Haydar must have been caught and spoken.

Sagir and grinning soldier who found his hidden money glanced at each other. He could no longer predict what kind of ending waited for him.

Fortunately, he left no traces of the poison he had given Haydar. The Afghans were definitely looking for evidence about it. It was necessary to convince the British authorities to execute him. They asked him to put his clothes on quickly. They handcuffed and shoved him into the cart waiting on the hotel's door. Shivering between the armed soldiers in the darkness of the night, he tried to anticipate his waiting fate.

Behind the bars in Kabul Prison began a horrific phase of his life. He was alone with the lethal loneliness of fear. He didn't want to disappear here. Commander Nelson and the British authorities couldn't sacrifice him. This story shouldn’t end up more like a Shakespeare tragedy.

***

News Quotes from European news agencies, dated May 13 1919:

The UK has difficulty in Anatolia ...

In order to examine on site and prevent the oppression of the Turks against the Greeks and Armenians in the Black Sea region, an inspection will be initiated by the government of the Ottoman Sultan. It was said that, behind the scenes were the UK and Greece.

***

The Raid.

May 1919, İstanbul.

“Either we'll find a way or we're going to open a way.” Who said this?

At the beginning of May, the dusk was falling again. The old Ottoman arsenal in Kagıthane ridges protected by the British was luckier than many arsenals around. It had not been raided by Turkish partisans. A strict dusk-to-dawn curfew was imposed, but the control was poor. Illumination of streets was insufficient. Security measures were increased in the arsenal during these hours. This alarm situation lasted until midnight. So far, no raid was carried out between midnight and morning; so, after midnight standard security state came back again. The evening prayer azan was recited from a distant mosque. The street lamps started to be burned.

The Indian guard on the creek side was observing surrounding area. His buddy had walked away to pee. The dogs of the arsenal barked uneasily. At the same instant, the guard heard some voices from the creek bed. He stared at the darkness, but could not see any movement. Holding his breath, he listened carefully. He heard another rustle from the same place. He flipped the safety lock of his gun and blew his whistle three times. This was the sound signal for ‘Danger!’. His buddy hastily came. One minute later, dog patrols and the commander were next to them. The soldiers in the mess hall also moved.

This was what Major Hüseyin planned. For this mission, the thirty-person fedai - hitman- group, put under his command by the ‘Karakol Center’ was in the opposite direction. Two fedais sent to the creek side had made some noise on purpose. They had succeeded in attracting the attention of the British soldiers.

The main force approached silently the arsenal from above the ridge. Retired Lieutenant Hayrettin's group cut off the telephone lines of the arsenal. The horses and oxen carts gathered from the villages around Terkos waited behind. Cigarettes, fires and lanterns were strictly forbidden. The major decided to wait a little more before the action.

The ‘Karakol’ organization had replaced the abolished Teşkilatı Mahsusa - the Special Organization - three months ago. The name of the new organization was inspired by the names of the Colonel Black Vasıf and the food minister of the ‘unionists’ Black Kemal. Its password was ‘Either independence or death.’

At the previous month's Central meeting, the co-operation with the German Baron Sebottendorf and Thule Organization was accepted. Hüseyin's persuasive speech was effective. Two months ago, their meeting in the tekke - the lodge - and the reference of very trusted Bektashi Yusuf Uncle were enough to eliminate their hesitation. The connection with Enver Pasha, who had various contacts in Germany, should be carried out in secret and very carefully. Mustafa Kemal Pasha, who didn't like the ‘unionists’, would react if he heard this.

Hüseyin was appointed as the head of the Beyazıt Branch of the Karakol organization. He, himself, had chosen, Hayrettin, whom he knew from Harbiye Military Academy, and admired during the Iran mission; Hasan, who had worked under cousin Sergeant Major İsmail in Galicia front; and his loyal orderly Mahmut. And Kara Kemal had added the others.

Hayrettin was punished by the battalion commander in the Mosul front because he, with his engineer company, kept on fighting the British despite the ceasefire. In his personal record, he was described as being disobedient and undisciplined. For this reason, during the downsizing of the army he was retired with the rank of lieutenant and with a small salary. As he abandoned hope of his pension salary which he could not get for months he started to work in his uncle's stove and blacksmith shop in Eyüp. He was quite talented in technical matters. Opening of locked doors, shutters and windows, repair of defective devices and vehicles, preparation of fake ID cards, the use of materials and paints for disguise, counterfeiting, trapping techniques inside and outside the building were among these skills.

Hasan, very fanatical as a psychopath, was the best in the knife fight. He fought for years in the army with the rank of sergeant. His family was killed during the Greek persecution in Crete. Hasan swore to take revenge. His father was a Caucasian immigrant. He graduated from primary school, didn't think so much and might even die when asked. Sergeant Hasan frequently assisted company aid men in battles. He knew first aid well. It was his job to stop the bleeding, interfere with the wound healing, wound dressing, splinting broken bones, and artificial respiration. In the daytime, he run a pickling shop in Fatih Bazaar.

Mahmut was Hüseyin’s orderly in Palestine. He was deadly bound to his commander who saved his life. His father was from Çatalzeytin, Sinop. He was learning a lot from İsmail the Galician, Hayrettin and Hasan about hitman technics. Mahmut was as brutal as Hasan. His arms were very strong. He could do 80 push-ups at a time.

Hasan and Mahmut carried two knives. ‘The karambit’ was their main weapon. With this close combat knife, they could cut the opponent's critical blood vessels and muscle tissue. The ‘launch knife’ was thin and light. They could hit an apple positioned at a distance of 20 meters. They often sharpened the knives with the whetstone and lubricated them with fish oil to ensure that the blades were sharp.

Noise of hustle and bustle and screaming sounds from the direction of the creek were heard. The major gestured with his hand to Hasan on the right and other hitmen on the left to wait. They repeated the same to the people next to them. The commands would be transmitted like this until the weapons fired.

This is our first exam. God willing!

There were no warning signs from the two hitmen who blocked the road far away from the arsenal. Hüseyin was convinced that most of the British soldiers headed toward the other side. Gesturing with his hand, he gave the start command. Hasan and Mahmut, using their knives, silently neutralized two soldiers chatting at the nearest sentry box. Other hitmen quietly approached the British soldiers, who expected them to come from the bottom of the slope. The distracted soldiers, not expecting such a deception, pointed their guns at the bouncer group. But it was too late. ‘Karakol Special Group’ started to fire a volley. Some of the British were shot. The grenades have started to show their effect. The number of soldiers killed and injured was increasing. The rest, including the British sergeant major surrendered. Their hands and feet were tied, mouths clogged with handkerchiefs. British sergeant major handed over the keys without objection. He explained that there were 2,000 rifles in the warehouses, 1,000 crates of ammunition and 100 heavy machine guns. The warehouses were opened immediately and carts and animals started to be loaded and covered. The rifles were in good condition, but the mechanisms of machine guns were missing. The British sergeant major was threatened with death and interrogated. The mechanisms weren't here; he didn't really know where they were taking them.

Weapons and ammunition were loaded before midnight. They quietly moved to Terkos direction. Two bouncers went in front of the convoy, marking the road and providing safety. Three bouncers followed the convoy by clearing traces left behind. They preferred deserted roads. Before dawn, the carts were hidden in farms near the shore. Hüseyin handed over the convoy in the Belgrade Forest to Hayrettin, so, he could start working in the general staff headquarters just in time. Hayrettin would take care of all after that. ‘Karakol Special Group’, finishing the operation with a few injured, would spend the day resting and keeping watch. Guns and ammunition were transferred to the two boats that approached the shore in the dusk and sent to İnebolu.

The following day, the invaders became aware of this operation. Researches and interrogations about weapons and ammunition stolen from the arsenal were fruitless. As the ministry of war launched an investigation, Hüseyin was walking in the corridors of the general staff headquarters. When he returned to his room, Captain Cevat Abbas was reading a newspaper on a wooden chair in front of his desk. Hüseyin had forgotten about him completely.

“Welcome, Captain Cevat, what a pleasant surprise.”

The captain, black-haired and mustached, replied “Mustafa Kemal has some talks on the upper floors. I thought I'd stop by. What are you doing?”

Cevat Abbas was three years older than Hüseyin, and finished Military Academy two years ago, but not being a staff officer, his rank was below. Both of them did not fail to respect each other.

“I have fresh tea. We'll have it, won't we, captain?” He headed to the spirit stove set against the far wall, came back and put filled glasses on his desk. “It's been five months since we did not see each other, it's not possible to stop time.” he said. Suddenly, Cevat's face became serious. “With Pasha, we will soon go to our mission in Anatolia.” After taking a sip of his tea he went on, “Maybe this is our last meeting in İstanbul.”

“Good luck then, may I ask where you're going?”

Lines of joy appeared on Cevat’s face. “We are going to Samsun. Over there, the conflicts between the Pontic Greeks and Turks disturbed the occupiers. It had to be examined on-site by a senior commander and his staff.” He went on after taking another sip of his tea. “I think Pasha will be responsible for Central and Eastern Anatolia.”

“I heard that Pasha also met with Sultan Vahdettin recently.”

Cevat put his tea glass on the coffee table, “Yes, it is true. After having the assignment, they will meet for a farewell again. Goodbye, Major Hüseyin,” he said and headed for the door. As he stepped to the corridor, he turned back and added “I couldn't let you meet Pasha, sorry, he was very busy. Maybe we see you in Anatolia. Again, God bless you.”

“Goodbye and good luck. I have a lot of work to do here. I don't think much about going to Anatolia. I offer my respects to Pasha, I am always at his service.”

Hüseyin remembered the unpleasant day, about a month before the ceasefire, he met Mustafa Kemal Pasha and his aide Cevat around Damascus. It was about the end of the war. They had both complained “The legendary Turks of Dardanelles and Kut Al Amara are absent here.” Yes, they were defeated, they were retreating. They burned the documents, they rendered useless the unmovable cannons and they destroyed all ammunitions. Everybody were hungry, thirsty, sleepless; moving the sick and the wounded became difficult. The Arabs in the region joined the enemy years before. They spilled out their four-hundred-year hatred against Turks. British aircrafts bombed the Turks continuously, sometimes threw out propaganda papers. The photographs of the Turkish soldiers on the banquet table in the Alexandria prisoner of war camp brook the perseverance of the fighting Turks. Hüseyin assessed Teşkilatı Mahsusa - the Special Organization - in Palestine as ‘inadequate’. They could not infiltrate into Arab militia organizations like Arabiya, Ahd, Fetat. They couldn't do anything to stop the British behind them. These militia organizations inflicted serious casualties on the retreating Turkish armies.

He leaned back and closed his eyes. His mind went back to an incident two years ago. More touching scenes that his friends had narrated...

The elderly, women and children who managed to escape from the Turkish quarters have loaded their most needed belongings on mules, donkeys and carts. They will reach Anatolia. German trucks are trying to open the road by honking the horns and German soldiers are firing into the air. At the train station, the patients and the wounded are being put on insufficient wagons. Doctors and nurses are running around. German soldiers with bayonet are not allowing anyone to approach the first two wagons. Arabs are burning the train station. The train is moving. Those who run after it can't catch up. They are kneeling down, crying, damning, cursing. The wounded are taken back to the barracks and schools on stretchers. On the next hill, the train is slowing down. The Germans in the first two wagons are separating the rear part of the train. The detached wagons are coming back. The people over wagons are falling to the ground. Some officers are shooting at the Germans. The French cavalry unit is coming and starts firing at those who were left behinds. The Turks are trying to get away. Arab marauders are blocking their way. Massacre is beginning…

A knock sounded on the office door as Hüseyin wiped his moistened eyes. He straightened up on his chair. “Come!” Major Sergeant Hakkı saluted clicking his heels together as he entered.

“Welcome. What’s going on Hakkı?”

“Colonel Kemal has an order, major, I am going to pass it on.”

Nodding, the major said “Go on Hakkı.”

“First, he thanked for the arsenal operation, sir.”

“Thanks Hakkı. Then?”

“He asks you to track the activities in your area of the...” He paused and read his hand note carefully, “…Islamic Teali - Promotion - Association founded in İstanbul three months ago.”

“Understood. We'll start working immediately. Thanks again, Hakkı.”

When he was alone Hüseyin searched his memory for a while. Yes, he had heard that the Islamic Teali Association was supported by the British. That was all. So, he was going to gather information first thing tomorrow. He had to choose the appropriate men to send to the coffeehouses and mosques in Fatih and Çarşamba quarters.

The British had successfully used Sharif of Mecca Hüseyin against the Ottoman Caliph backed by the Germans. Now, the British were using the Ottoman Caliph for their own purposes. Şükrü, the history teacher, reserve officer, his subordinate on the Palestinian front, had told very clearly and dramatically. Sometimes we were seduced by the German Emperor Haji Wilhelm (!) and sometimes by the tale of Lawrence of Arabia. Muslims did not know their religion, unfortunately.

A hundred years ago, Napoleon's tricks in Egypt were even more ridiculous. He became Muslim ruler Ali Bonabarda Pasha, wandering in Eastern clothes, turban and caftan, regularly visiting mosques on Fridays and taking part in traditional ceremonies. That was not enough, one of his generals supposedly converted to Islam under the name of Abdullah. Well, what did the leaders of the Muslim people lacking of knowledge and good manners? They were enthusiastic to show off their wealth and pretension. It was not difficult to deceive them with expensive gifts.

For a while, Hüseyin listened to the pathetic whine of the Beyazıt Mosque's muezzin, announcing the noon prayer time…

***

News Quotes from European news agencies, dated June 12 1919:

Greeks invade Western Anatolia ...

After demonstrations and congresses calling for resistance, serious clashes began between the local militias and the Greek army. British General Milne asked for the recall of Mustafa Kemal Pasha from Anatolia.

***

In the Lodge, Tekke.

June 1919, İstanbul.

It was eleven o'clock when Scottish historian and journalist Scott Wallace went out from the Pera Palace Hotel, where he permanently stayed. He looked at the cloudless and sunny sky in late June for a while. He hailed a phaeton waiting outside.

“Let's go to Beşiktaş.”

An old German, member of the Thule Organization, had come to the Hotel and told him that Baron Sebottendorf invited him to the tekke - the lodge -. He would see a place different than the old Bektashi lodge they visited three months ago.

Scott could easily read signposts on the roads and shop windows. He had improved his Turkish language in Constantinople, where he had worked for four months. He could communicate in Turkish in the streets, restaurants, coffeehouses, taverns and shopping. He could even understand the headlines of the newspapers at first glance. Turkish conversations with Müneccim - the Oracle - Yusuf from time to time in his shop in Balat or in a tavern were also very helpful.

As they were moving on along the Pera Street, he recalled the parade of General D’Esperey in early February. The commander-in-chief of the French occupation armies had come up here from Sirkeci on a white horse. He had responded to Fatih, the Ottoman Sultan conquered Constantinople in 1453. He had deserved the enthusiastic cheering of the Greeks who followed him step by step.

The day before that, British General Allenby had arrived in Constantinople in a flamboyant ceremony. He had summoned the Ottoman foreign minister and dictated him the twelve item list he had prepared for consolidating British sovereignty in Anatolia. Allenby had also entered Jerusalem by foot as an expression of respect, but he had put his foot on the grave of Selahattin Ayyub and said, “Here we come again, Selahattin”. His reputation in Jerusalem was far above that of İstanbul.

Even though centuries have passed, mankind transferred his vengeance from generation to generation.

When the phaeton came to the middle of the Gümüşsuyu ramp, the sea came into view. Indeed, it was a great view. He watched Dolmabahçe Palace for a while. When they arrived at the seaside, he remembered Smyrna he visited the previous month. The Greek invasion was about to start. Just then, the first armed resistance began. After that, he followed the Greek Army's forward operation for about a month. He was back in Constantinople now. He had missed the establishment of the British Friends Association and protest demonstrations in Sultan Ahmet Square against the occupation of İzmir. The British expulsion of seventy political prisoners to Malta, the dismissal of Mustafa Kemal Pasha after British commanders demanded his recall were among the important events he had missed.

While waiting for the ship at Beşiktaş pier, Scott watched sailing boats, barges and rowboats on the beach. He intended to take pictures, but gave up. Films would be needed in the lodge. It wasn't easy to find films at this time.

On the ship, he sat at a window upstairs, watched the warships. Most of them had the British flag.

After getting off the ship in Üsküdar, he walked slightly limping. His shorter right leg began to tingle. The moisture should be the reason. He remembered the moment he stepped on a landmine while fighting against the Germans on the French front. Both sides could not get favorable results during the mutual attacks. The adversaries fortified very well their positions connected by ditches. As Scott tried to avoid of enemy artillery and machine guns, he had stepped on a landmine buried in the mud. The mine under water was not very effective. He had been quickly transported to the rear area mobile hospital and treated until they were sure there was no danger to life, and then he was evacuated to London. They saved his right leg after a few surgeries, but couldn't prevent to become a little shorter.

He hailed a double horse phaeton. The coachman knew Merdivenköy. On the road, he saw American College's female students wearing black-burqa, walking, laughing, joking. There were women without burqa too. Some of them wore baggy trousers, jackets and headscarves, and some wore long dresses. The French flag hung in one of the houses on the other side reminded him of Syria and Southern Anatolia, where he wanted to go to. He wished to see on site the rotation of the British and French forces.

His thoughts were cut off by a barker with a drum hanged around his neck trying to announce something to the public. He was an interesting man, but Scott didn't understand what he said. Then he noticed the display window of a souvenir shop just down the road. A collection of small sculptures was on display. He told the coachman to stop on the sidelines, stepped down, gesturing for him to wait. He had regretted not being able to give Sebottendorf a proper gift. Scott glanced at the sculptures on the shelves. A small bull with a human body sculpture caught his attention. It was made of quality marble. He asked the shop owner: “I wonder what is this?” The owner was pleased with the interest, explained with a smile. It was the symbol of a Cretan bull cult, hometown of his ancestors and himself. It represented the Minotaur in mythology, meaning “Mino's bull.” It was born to Minos' wife Pasiphae and to a bull sent to King Minos by Poseidon, God of the Sea. King Minos had the Labyrinths palace built to hide this terrible creature. But Ariadne, Minos' daughter, had Minotaur killed. The Greek shop owner added. It had similarity to the human-headed lion Sphinx in Egypt. According to some scientists, the Sphinx was referring to the astrological time of ‘Lion Age’, ten thousand BC. Minotaur might have been referring to the ‘Bull Age’, three thousand BC. The last sentence of the shop owner touched Scott's on his sore spot. There were also some who argued that these could be examples of genetic studies of the superior civilizations that lived on earth before the Great Flood, combining human and animal genes. Scott had seen the Sphinx on site closely. But he got this information now. He requested the name of the related books from the shop owner, and took notes. He didn't mind the high price and had a gift package for the sculpture prepared.

He told “We continue” the coachman taking a cigarette break while waiting outside. Üsküdar houses, vegetable groves, fruit gardens, trees of which he did not know their names, shepherds grazing sheep were left behind. An hour later, they came to scattered houses of Merdivenköy. To find the lodge surrounded by stone walls was not difficult. He paid the coachman and took time to glance around. The two cemeteries on the side should have belonged to the Bektashis. He approached the door and looked at the inscription on the plaque above. There was a symbol he hadn't seen before. He tried to read the Arabic script below the symbol. He couldn't. He pulled the handle dangling from the side of the door. The sound of the rattle coming from inside indicated that the system worked. Ten seconds later he pulled again. The door opened before a third try. A teenager with mustache was inquisitively staring at the tall man with eyeglasses, beardless and without a moustache in front of him. While Scott introduced himself and told the purpose of his visit in Turkish words he memorized before, the boy was looking at the camera hanging on the visitor’s shoulders. He immediately recovered and spoke with respect “Welcome to the Şahkulu Bektashi lodge, the Muslim Baron is waiting for you.” The boy closed the door behind them slowly and lowered his eyes to the ground and told Scott to follow. They crossed a large courtyard. A multi-sided column was placed in the center of the square. The Scottish historian counted the sides as he walked. It was twelve-sided. Then, he counted the sides of the multi-edged courtyard, he had not notice before. It was twelve-sided too. For a moment, this architecture reminded him of the thousands of years old Stonehenge ruins in Wales, in Britain. But he quickly remembered that there was an example of architecture with a circular plan. They came to the main two-story building. It looked different from the small buildings on the sides. They went upstairs, walked slowly and entered a room with the door open at the end of the corridor. With mustache, long beard and plump cheeks smiling at him, the Headmaster rose from the couch and embraced Scott. As the young disciple left them alone, the journalist went back and looked at Sebottendorf from head to foot. The twelve-edged white skullcap on his head suited very well. The white shirt under his light gray robe was adorned with a brown rosary around his neck. Abundant black pants and leather stockings complemented them all. He immediately expressed his appreciation.

“In this outfit it is impossible for the communists to recognize you, Master!”

They bursted into laughter…

The Baron went to the closet against the far wall and pulled out a bottle of beer from the ice bucket. He poured into a large dark glass and came back taking care of his bubbles. “You have to join me. You can't find this German beer anywhere.” Scott took the glass, thanking him. He responded negatively shaking his head as the Baron asked: “Do you know that beer was discovered twelve thousand years ago?”

Sebottendorf explained. “Humans grinded the wild barley to make it edible, then mixing it with water, made a slurry. The slurry under the sun was fermenting. Definitely, they didn't know the germs did it. Water was critical. When the water is low, the dough, when the water is much, the beer was formed.” Sebottendorf went on taking a sip of his beer. “In ancient Egypt, beer was mixed with honey and used for medication purposes. Well, if I ask you one more question, don't you get mad at me?” Scott smiled and gestured him to continue. “Who were the first to produce beer in Europe?” Scottish historian had a big smile on his face, “A very easy question. My ancestors, the Celts of course. But I don't remember exact time, it must be very old,” he said. The baron snapped his fingers, “Right. Two thousand years ago. In Europe, the beer was produced in monasteries, and the monks were both trading and drinking. Bavarian monks thought of putting hop in beer. Because of the cooling problem, beer was always produced in the cold months. Then they learned to keep on ice and in cool cellars. When the steam engine and artificial coolness were invented, beer became one of the most consumed drinks in the world.”

Sebottendorf knew his guest's fondness for this kind of interesting and unnecessary information. Just then, they heard someone with a touching voice start to recite azan. Baron silently waited for the azan to end. Then he stood up and reached the door of the chat room, holding the skirts of his robes. “I will be back as soon as I perform the afternoon prayer. Enjoy yourself. We'll have plenty of time until evening.” He closed the door quietly behind him. Scott was accustomed to this detail that most Christians do not know. In addition to worship, wine, saz and commune were a culture in Bektashism, but these were sin according to Sunni Muslims. He looked out of the window. Requesting permission, he was going to take photographs of the lodge entrance, the inner courtyard, the accommodation and conversation places on the ground floor, the meeting room and classrooms upstairs. He had reserved all films of his 1919 model Austrian camera for this place. He sipped his beer again. It was still cold.

After a while, Baron came back. He brewed fresh tea with boiling water in a copper kettle on the wood-burning stove in the far corner. Saying, “It'll be ready in five minutes,” he sat on the couch. Without any delay, Scott asked him about the architecture of the lodge. Sebottendorf took his time, pondered a bit, then explained. The only column in the courtyard represented uniqueness and semah rotation, the ceremony accompanied by music. Twelve doors and twelve windows in the courtyard with twelve sides referred to the symbols of the twelve imams. As for the photographing, he could take any photo he wanted. No problem. Just then a hymn accompanied by musical instruments was heard from other parts of the building:

“I put my head on the threshold. They took me in, I spilled my tears.

See my fight on the saints' way. I came to the courtyard naked and burned.”

Baron realized that his guest did not understand the words. “I guess you don't get it, do you?”

“My Turkish language is sufficient for daily speeches and newspaper headlines only. It is very difficult to understand such poetic words.”

Sebottendorf slowly translated the words of the hymn into English. Scotsman envied him in his ability to speak Turkish, Arabic and Persian as if his mother tongue. While drinking tea, they criticized and gossiped about the people they both knew. At the insistence of Baron, they had dinner with the disciples in the lodge. With old Mürşit - Bektashi Father, the Mentor - they chatted about Bektashism. The Protestant journalist first time spent the night in a guest room in a Bektashi lodge.

In the midnight, he couldn't notice the insurgents dressed up in black burqa were going out of the lodge, despite the curfew.

***

News Quotes from European news agencies, dated June 23 1919:

The UK is trying to persuade the Ottoman Kurds ...

Ottoman Kurds claim rights according to Wilson principles. Rumors about peace conditions would be against Muslims, in favor of Christians and the GREAT ARMENIA, pushes the Kurds next to the Turks.

***

Armenians forgotten.

July 1, 1919. Constantinople.

When brotherly living had been already forgotten...

The summer heat continued to swelter Constantinople. Vartan opened the second button of his short-sleeved white shirt. He wiped the sweat on his forehead with a handkerchief he took out from the linen pants pocket. He felt that he missed wider, wooded areas and secluded places, instead of going up and returning down among the masses of people in the noisy, narrow and stuffy ramp between Karaköy and Tepebaşı. At this moment, he started thinking of the raid on the old Ottoman arsenal protected by the British on Kagıthane ridges, in May. Some clues were found in the interrogation of the soldiers in charge. The British petty officer was able to describe Turkish partisan leader's face and an expert drawn his portrait. The previous month, ever since Vartan had realized that this person’s portrait on the Kroker Hotel's billboard was very similar to Major Hüseyin, the British began to tail him. After that, Vartan's credibility increased further.

When he arrived at the Kroker Hotel, one of his friends told that he was to see Captain Bennett's assistant Mr. Smith. Vartan went immediately. The red-cheeked plump Englishman was waiting for him. Pointing with his pipe signaled Vartan to sit on the chair opposite him. By looking at his face, it was impossible to understand what this thirty-five years old Smith thought. These types were called ‘poker faces’. Smith didn't even ask what to drink. He just prepared a cup of black coffee from his usual stale coffee, and gave it to Vartan maintaining his seriousness and official attitude. He had met Smith at most four or five times, although it has been five months since he began working here. He was like an invisible man. He was reputed to be self-contained, but in fact he was reputed to be a skilled element as well.

“You're wondering why I called you, aren’t you?”

Taking a sip of his coffee Vartan nodded in agreement. He kept on listening.

“Have you noticed that your ongoing legal cases became easier?”

“I haven't had time to notice it, we were too busy Mr. Smith.”

“I warned my men at the courthouse, they make your works easier. Let me know if there's a problem.”

“Thank you so much.”

“Captain Bennett promised to support you, if you remember.”

“Yes, of course I remember, Mr. Smith.”

“I'm sure Bennett also said we have other sources than you.”

“That's right, I didn't forget it either.”

“Well, now I'm going to say something different.”

The Armenian informant tried to hide his curiosity. Smith proceeded his speech with a smile. “Our politicians think that they have neglected the Armenians while supporting the Greeks, Jews, Arabs and Kurds oppressed by the Ottomans.”

Vartan straightened, “Moreover, they did not suffer as much as we did.”

Smith went on. “We had sociologists who spent a long time among them. They enlightened us. But as far as I know, the Armenians had sought the support of France and Russia.” He stopped looking at Vartan's eyes. When the objection did not come, he proceeded. “But there has been a significant improvement lately. Some of our experts who have lived among the Kurds for years and worked closely with them prepared a study. They think that the ethnic origins of Armenians and Kurds are the same, only their religion are different.”

“I'd heard that before. But no one has focused on it. We had nothing to do with racism. What do you want from me?”

“Something simple. You are becoming friends with the Kurds with whom you have been at daggers drawn for centuries.”

Vartan was somewhat relieved. “Please explain a little more, Mr. Smith.”

“From now on, you will work with a Kurdish of your age. His name is Boran. Get the special file about him, read it. You'll meet him tomorrow. I can say that good things are being considered for both of you in the future. I'm always ready if you have any questions.” He handed the file over and stood up, implying that they were done. As Vartan headed toward the door, Smith called out, “I almost forgot, after that we will meet in my room every weekend. We talk freely about all developments, Mr. Saatçıyan.”

“Of course, Mr. Smith, good bye.”

On his way to the workplace, Vartan was amazed at the fatigue on his body and mind. He didn't remember having such an experience. He lingered with other jobs before reading the file he shuffled among other documents without anyone noticing. He finally opened the file and started reading. ‘Boran, known as Boran the Kurd, was born in 1880 in Diyarbakır. His mother belongs to a rich family. His father is the head of a wealthy Kurdish tribe, served as deputy commander in one of the Hamidiye Regiments, and Boran is his heir as the eldest son.’ Vartan knew that the land property owner was the tribe and the aghas in the Kurdish community, not the Ottoman sultan. They have been granted this privilege for centuries. Ownership passed from father to son. He also knew about Kurdish Hamidiye Regiments established by Sultan Abdülhamit in Eastern Anatolia. Later, they were called Tribal Regiments. They had aimed to prevent the struggles of the Armenian Hunchak and Dashnak Organizations, of which he worked too. These regiments were commanded by a lieutenant colonel or by a major. The tribal heads were the deputy of these officers. He kept on reading. ‘Boran completed his high school and university education in Paris, France. He met the Young Turks in exile who were trying to overthrow the repression regime of Sultan Abdülhamit. He entered the Committee of Union and Progress in 1909 and Teşkilatı Mahsusa - the Special Organization - in 1915. While he was on duty in Erzurum front, took part in the forced Armenian migration. In Iraqi Front he met British Agent Major Noel. His ideas of Ottomanism changed and he became a Kurdish nationalist. At the end of 1918, he joined the Kurdish Promotion Association. He works for the establishment of an independent Kurdistan state.’

Vartan raised his eyes from the file. He took off his thick-rimmed eyeglasses and placed them in his leather case. Then he lost in his thoughts. They had common points with Boran. They had both worked for the Committee of Union and Progress. Then this strange partnership had been broken. The ‘Ideal of Ottomanism’ which tried to keep the nations together, could not compete with the movement of nationalism spreading around the world. Those who claimed that this would not work with a weak economy had been justified. After that, Turks, Armenians and Kurds had turned to their ideals of nationalism. Interesting was that all of them had sought support from Europe. Now everyone was trying to save something from the wreckage of the collapsing Empire.

At this moment, an attendant put the large tray on the service table around the corner and went out. Famous British ‘The five o'clock tea’ was not neglected here. He took a cup of tea. He had learned the history of this tea habit. In Britain only breakfast and dinner used to be eaten. Over time, dinner became a late and heavy meal. One of the nobles exhausted during late afternoon started to order a cup of tea and snacks in his room around five o'clock. Later, calling friends to join him, he made it into an invitation. The King liked it too and started to organize tea parties. These invitations spread all over Britain and then all over the world.

While drinking Ceylon tea, Vartan took a look at the panel showing the latest situation about people responsible for the Armenian massacre. The notices were divided into three classes: R-Reliable, HR-Half-Reliable and NR-Not Reliable. Most of informers were afraid of giving their names and addresses. NR code recipients were two thirds. Nevertheless, the number of criminals in the personal files of Armenian-Greek branch of the embassy had increased to 1,000 from 700. All were arrested by Ottoman courts, few were found innocent and the majority were sentenced to heavy imprisonment or exile to the Island of Malta. Ever since a great turmoil had occurred after the execution of a district governor, no other death penalty was given.

Turkish nationalists were also taking counter measures. According to the billboard, 46 informers were executed. 10 Armenians, 6 Greeks and 30 Turks. Vartan was grieving for the Armenian barkeeper, famous for his appetizers, Bogos, one of those executed.

But the former grand vizier had requested to establish an international commission to investigate the crimes of the Armenian militia organizations. He had also delayed the establishment of court-martials. When he was unable to get Sultan’s support, he had resigned. His successive government, the cabinet of Ferit Pasha the Groom accelerated the trials and the punishments.

Vartan Saatçıyan left the Kroker Hotel in late afternoon and headed directly to Arto's lawyer office. He pondered things they could do. Court files increased substantially. Meeting the plaintiff Armenians face to face, reaching their personal registrations about their heirs, getting their power of attorney from the notary, preparing the petitions, attending the trials and preparing petitions of appeal if necessary required intensive effort. The education of Armenians who would testify and the memorization of their statements prolonged advocates’ works. But to influence the court opinion was very important. For this, hard work was needed. He often ate dinner in the office sent by a nearby restaurant. The British also appreciated that he shared valuable information received from plaintiff Armenians with Captain Bennett. In the meantime, the large and generous awards he received was the most beautiful part.

He turned left from the Tunnel Station and began to descend the stairway ramp of the High Pavement. He couldn't notice the porter with bushy moustache wearing a fez and carrying a backpack...

***

News Quotes from European news agencies, dated July 13 1919:

The UK and the Sultan's government are trying to suppress the Turkish nationalists...

The forward movement of the Greek Army into Anatolia and the expulsion of 67 Turkish politicians arrested by the British in Constantinople (İstanbul) fueled the resistance of the nationalist Turks. Mustafa Kemal Pasha, in charge of preventing the attacks on Greeks and Armenians in Anatolia, was dismissed when he did not follow the orders of the government.

***

In Sofia.

August 1919. Constantinople.

The blue-eyed, black-haired, mustached man was very pensive in the dining car of the train approaching Sofia. At the end of May, the assassination of the Afghan Emir he engineered with Mustafa Sagir had failed. Sagir was captured and put in Kabul Prison. It was a great fiasco. While the British authorities in India continued to fight with the Afghans, they were making every effort to save their prisoners.

Nelson was swiftly appointed to Constantinople and promoted to navy captain. His new job was the branch manager on-site of the British Secret Intelligence (SIS) Middle East Department. His area of responsibility covered Turkey, Egypt, Palestine, Syria, Iraq and Arabian territory. This assignment was made possible, thanks to his seventy-year-old father Henry Nelson. Henry Nelson came to Constantinople the previous month and they were together for three weeks. To be a member of the Anglo-Jewish Association (AJA) made him stronger. Lord Balfour, Lionel Walter and second Baron Rothschild, all Christian Zionists, and his father were good friends. Henry Nelson supported Lord Balfour for the establishment of an Israeli state in Palestine. In this way, they provided the Jewish financial support to the Great War and the United States to enter the war. David Nelson, like his father, was a Mason. But because of his duties, he could not attend works regularly.

As soon as David arrived in Constantinople, he made a detailed assessment of the situation with High Commissioner Admiral Calthorpe, his deputy, Admiral Webb, and intelligence officer Captain Bennett. At the end of the Great War, Calthorpe, over fifty years old, had signed the Armistice of Mudros as the commander of the Allied Mediterranean Navy. He then served as the British High Commissioner in Constantinople. The ambassador would not be sent until the peace agreement was signed. Within this period of time, soldiers would carry out this mission. Calthorpe and Webb were trying to prevent pro-resistance Turkish officers from organizing the Turkish people and at the same time to restrain the Greeks. The British supported the Greek who struggle to take over Western Anatolia, but the embarrassment of the Italians dreaming of the Roman Empire was another headache. As usual, the French were a special concern. They were very upset, because ten months ago, Calthorpe, only himself, carried out the Mudros armistice negotiations without waiting the French to participate in.

The agents would be infiltrated into the French, the Italian and the Greek. Nelson would be in charge of finding local collaborators, intelligence and communication activities, and provoking rebellions. The British government was concerned that the Turkish national movement would spread to the Muslims of India. Afghans became a prominent concern across regions. The Middle East could be kept under control for the time being.

Navy Captain Nelson had also met Andrew Ryan, the second man of the high commissioner, Reverend Frew and others working for the British intelligence. Ryan was an interesting man. He had worked in Constantinople for fifteen years and left when the war began and came back with the cease fire. He knew quite well the sultans, ‘unionists’ and prominent Ottoman statesmen. He was an enemy of Islam. He chased very hard the criminals responsible for the massacre of Armenians, Greeks and Christians.

David's first priority was to prevent the Turkish national movement. A few agents had infiltrated into them, but they were inadequate. The leading Turkish secret organization was called the ‘Karakol’ in Constantinople. They succeeded in smuggling hundreds of officers, many weapons and tons of ammunition to Anatolia. Actually, they were not bad in the press, propaganda and espionage areas. Getting timely and accurate information about the Ottoman government and the Ottoman army was also necessary. For this, a lot of money was needed. Calthorpe would handle it in consultation with London.

Nelson, under the pseudonym of Mr. Ramiz, would work at the Constantinople branch of the representative office of East Textiles & Industries in India. He rented an office in Muradiye Street in Sirkeci and a luxurious apartment in Şişli. The experienced intelligence officer did not have any clear contact with the British. He went to the Embassy only once a month in secret and participated in trilateral meetings with the commander-in-chief of the Black Sea armies. To avoid attracting attention, he did not receive many visitors, gave his instructions and received intelligence reports by mail.

Nelson watched through the train window the plain turning yellow for a while. A week ago, one of the British agents in Sofia had tracked down an Italian Company selling weapons to Turkish nationalists. The company's representative was in Sofia now. He would meet a Turkish nationalist to send a large quantity of arms and ammunition to Anatolia. Nelson decided to take care of the matter himself and the Admiral found it appropriate. Speaking Turkish language well, he would introduce himself as the representative of the Ankara Government and receive the goods if possible. The Italian was apparently the ally of the British, but secretly sold weapons and ammunition to the Turks. Nelson was going to stay at the Brussels Hotel in Sofia. His Bulgarian-speaking agent Gerard, giving some bribe, had arranged rooms for all three. Mr. Arietti, who came to meet the Turks, would stay in the room between that of two agents.

In the evening, Nelson and Mr. Arietti met in the hotel's dining room. The Italian looked casually at his Turkish identity card and confirmed it. He could speak a little Turkish and got into the subject right away.

“The goods are ready in safe hands, near the beach in Burgas and I would deliver them when I receive my money.”

Nelson replied shortly. “The money is ready; I give you as soon as I receive the goods. The boat comes to Burgas in two days. You need to be comfortable.”

But David couldn't learn the exact location of the goods. That night David and Gerard entered Arietti's room with a spare key. He fell asleep on his bed without even taking off his clothes because of too much drinking. The document recording the location of the goods to be transported to Anatolia was in the briefcase. They noted the address and left the hotel in a hurry. The following morning, the British authorities in Sofia informed the Bulgarian authorities of the identity of the Italian smuggler and the location of the weapons. As the real Turkish nationalist from Constantinople met the Italian merchant in the morning, they were probably both very surprised and understood everything. But it was too late. Both were immediately arrested and their property confiscated. The next day the hotel receptionist told Gerard what had happened. His man in the Bulgarian police was going to give Gerard a copy of the statement of the Turkish nationalist later on.

That same evening, enjoying mission accomplished, Nelson was eating a delightful meal at the restaurant of the train. Bulgarian wines were not bad.

***

The Execution.

August 1919. İstanbul.

İsmail the Galician’s face was as pale as snow as he received the execution order of Vartan. Up until now, they could not realize that the Armenian, whom he knew well in Balat, was a British collaborator.

Alas! Brother Hüseyin will be shocked when he hears this.

At the Karakol Organization Center, the office of Attorney Mr. Refik in Sultanhamam, two officials gave this information to Sergeant Major İsmail: As Vartan dealt with Armenian legal claims, the Karakol focused a lot of attention on him in the courthouse. The legal cases he dealt with resulted more quickly than others. The British were engaged in process behind the scenes, cornering the courthouse staff in a way they couldn't escape. The Karakol tailed Vartan. Almost every day he went to the British intelligence center, the Kroker Hotel. He was also among the Dashnak militants wanted. But they had lost his track. The Karakol learned from a reliable source that the Dashnak militants would assassinate the leaders of the Committee of Union and Progress as well as that of nationalist forces.

Under rules of the Karakol, İsmail was prohibited to take notes. He was memorizing the instructions. They were going to give him two bouncers for this task. As British intelligence learned that Vartan was tailed, they started providing tighter security. The action would be taken when Vartan left his lawyer office, where he worked until late. Two bouncers were going to eliminate his personal bodyguard first. It was İsmail's duty to strike the last blow. He was going to explore the area and make a detailed action plan. He had to get results within a week without disrupting his main duty at the Rami barracks.

İsmail went out and checked around as usual. No problem. He checked his gun and knife at his waist, then he headed toward the bridge. How he would tell Hüseyin this? Moreover, two months after the arsenal raid, when his face drawing was published in the streets and in some newspapers, he got very angry. It was a big mistake that he didn't put a mask on his face. He cut his mustache then. But when he found out that Vartan was a British collaborator he would be extremely upset. They didn't realize the traitor right under their noses. Actually, their brother Sabri's over-trust in this Armenian was another mistake. The experienced major didn't like Vartan at all but being too busy he pushed it aside. Had they listened to Mahmut, he would have finish him immediately. Finally, Hüseyin's loyal orderly was selected as a fedai - hitman, bouncer - of the Karakol. Now he was on the job training. They gave him one of the three rooms upstairs at home. He never left his major alone.

In Galicia, İsmail had a quite talented messenger too. Unfortunately, during the same bombardment he was martyred while İsmail was wounded. He read the Surah Al-Fatiha of the Quran for his messenger’s soul. He also remembered his treatment at the Austrian military hospital in Vienna. A professor whose name he could not remember used to visit him. He had honestly admitted that he exploited these visits for his research in Turkish language and literature. A Polish oracle told hundreds of years ago:

“When The Turk watered his horse in the Dnieper River, Poland will rise.”

There were those who attributed this prophecy to the Turkish corps coming to the Galician front.

In the ship, his mind focused on his upcoming action. Closing his eyes, İsmail tried to visualize the action scene and the action path. Either he could suddenly step in front of Vartan, from where he was hiding, or he could approach him from behind. The important thing was to silently reach the arm distance without allowing the opponent to act first. One thing is for sure: Vartan was an ex-revolutionary and couldn't be ignored. İsmail wasn't going to use a gun. He would do it quietly. The knife was more suitable for this action. If Vartan could run away, he'd use the ‘throwing knife’. Vartan would be able to take ten steps at most. Tonight he would sharpen the knives with a sharpening stone and lubricate them with fish oil. It was dark when he arrived, but Hüseyin did not come home yet. In recent weeks he was quite suspicious of being tailed. But he couldn't catch the tailer or the tailers in one way or another.

Then, İsmail went to the coffeehouse and started chatting with an old man. With a deep sorrow he told about his past: “It was 1864. I never forget it. Son, I'm one of those one and a half million people who sailed to the Black Sea to save their life in the great Circassian exile. My father, God rest his soul, could barely bring the whole family to Anatolia. During the reign of Sultan Abdülaziz, we were settled in a village near Adapazarı. I was seven. Most of our relatives suffered from hunger, famine and disease. The Ottoman Empire was also in a difficult position. What could she have done? I was a soldier in War 93. I'll tell it another time, if you like. I have to go home now. Bye, son.”

İsmail sighed looking deploringly the old man. His story was similar to what Sergeant Hasan told about his father. His family was settled in the Balkans centuries ago, but they were resettled in Düzce, near Adapazarı, during the Balkan wars. These people became part of 'living history' and witnesses to history for our generation. But the young ones couldn't spare time from work and listen to them, so the experiences of the old were fading away over time. Ironically, when we had time to listen, we became older, but that time the ‘old witnesses to history’ would have died long ago. Unfortunately, only few people could write their memories. The lame sergeant paid for teas and went out. It was a great evening; the daily high temperature was going down. He headed home.

Hüseyin had come and was dining with his mother and sister. İsmail joined them. As the ladies cleared the table, he spoke in a low voice “Let's talk upstairs, big brother, urgent.” He told everything. As he predicted, Hüseyin was astonished, thought frowning for a while but recovered quickly. “A bad experience for us, İsmail. That is to say we don't pay too much attention. Be careful. Vartan is a former Dashnak militant. It may not be an easy touch. Don't forget to get first aid training from Sergeant Hasan.”

İsmail, every evening when he was not on duty and not in charge, went and examined the area of action wearing different costumes. He determined the best locations for hiding places and escape routes. He noticed that two personal bodyguards protected Vartan. One was tall and thin, the other was stocky. His personal bodyguards watched closely the office sitting in the coffeehouse a little further away. They had guns. Sometimes one went out and checked nearby streets and buildings. When Vartan came out, one kept a close watch, while the other kept a remote watch. There were plenty of dark and semi-dark spots outside. The action, of course, would be taken on the street toward Karaköy. İsmail was going to finish the job before Vartan get to the square. Three fedais - hitmen, bouncers - rehearsed the action plan on the spot. All three would use their knives. First the back guard, then the nearby guard, and lastly Vartan was going to be eliminated. Three fedais were going to hide in different places. The distance from the office to the square was two hundred and fifty steps. Essentially, they had only five minutes to get a favorable result. When the action was over, they were going to run away and disperse in different directions.

The next evening, as two fedais took their places without being noticed, İsmail passed by the office and saw that both Vartan and the guards at the coffeehouse were in place. The ‘fedai team’ was going to wait at least two, at most four hours. But they were lucky, they didn't wait long. The Armenian militant finished his work early and went out. The first fedai waited for Vartan and the personal bodyguard following him twenty steps behind. The tall distant personal bodyguard was also tracing them, up to thirty steps behind. The first fedai silently reached the tall guard from behind in three steps, closed his mouth with one hand and cut his jugular vein with the knife in the other hand. He quietly completed the job. The second fedai approached the chunky personal bodyguard from behind and used his knife. But before he died, the second personal bodyguard uttered a hoarse sound. As Vartan heard the sound he was not in line with İsmail; at this very moment, Vartan began to run towards the square drawing his pistol quickly. But he couldn't avoid from the knife İsmail had threw. Vartan staggered as soon as the knife penetrated into his neck and started shooting with his pistol randomly. He really panicked. İsmail swiftly run after him and reached Vartan forty-fifty steps before the square, using his ‘karambit knife’, he instantly cut the jugular vein of the militant who had run out of bullets. As they planned, all three fedais ran in different directions and dived into the darkness.

The next evening, İsmail came home, told Hüseyin and Sabri what had happened. They had killed Vartan and his two personal bodyguards. They all were relieved.

***

News Quotes from European news agencies, dated September 20 1919:

Nationalist Turks rejected mandate ...

After the Ottoman Sultan and his government accepted the mandate of the UK, Turkish nationalists opposing the invaders also discussed the issue of engaging the mandate of the UK and the US. The nationalists did not accept any mandate management.

***

Getting to know Constantinople.

September 1919. Constantinople.

“Constantinople is one of the world's most wanted cities to conquer, Scott. It is said that the Roman Emperor Constantine had founded it. But there are also some claims that this foundation had been well before. In Latin, it was called 'Bizantium' or 'Nova Roma'. Constantinople became the capital of the Eastern Roman Empire, namely the Byzantine Empire. Later, the spoken language in the Byzantine Empire prevailed and Greek name 'Constantinople' was accepted.”

Baron Sebottendorf, or German Bektashi, took his Scottish friend's arm. They got in a taxi waiting at the hotel door. “Beyazıt will be our first stop, one of the most densely populated places for Turks and Muslims.”

As they descended downhill from Tepebaşı ramp, they asked the driver to slow down and pull over to a place overlooking the blue river. They watched the Golden Horn and the opposite slopes for a while. Then they continued on their journey and arrived at Hagia Sophia Church via Sirkeci. They went in and watched around quietly. They toured every corner reading English and German pamphlets. The Scottish journalist showed runic inscriptions in some places. “These look like the Viking script,” he commented. The Baron first looked at his friend and then the scripts he had showed. He thought for a moment turning his eyes to the ceiling, then spoke in a low voice, “I remember that there are people who propose these writings are similar to those of the Turks in Central Asia. I'll show you if I find the source.” On the way out, they talked about the Catholic Latins massacres, the lootings of valuables and gold during the occupation of the Byzantium.

They came to Beyazıt Square by taxi. They started walking down the square, telling the driver to wait again. Sebottendorf explained, “It was the city's largest square during the Byzantine period, its name was Theodosius Forum. This place ahead of us is the ministry of war. It has a unique feature as you see. Bekirağa Company is inside, it used as a jail for civilian and military political prisoners.” They kept on walking. “In 1453, when the Ottomans conquered Constantinople, they built their first palace here. Then when the Topkapı Palace was built in 1478, the first palace was left to the commander-in-chief of the army as a residence.” Scott was looking at the mosque in the square. “This mosque is the Beyazıt Mosque. It is the second largest mosque built after the conquest of the Turks. We will also see the first one, Fatih Mosque. Further structures are the famous Grand Bazaar. Would you like to go around?”

“Will it take much time?”

“Yeah, maybe we'll do it later. But it's really beautiful. You should definitely see. Now let's go to Fatih. Then we go to Aksaray.”

As they see a grandfather and his grandson begging in the shade on the sidewalk, Baron pulled out some coins and handed them. As they got in the taxi, a double-horse student service cart passed by. Scott watched it with interest. They got out in front of Şehzadebaşı Mosque, quietly watched people performing ablution for noon prayer in the courtyard of the mosque. Sebottendorf spoke glancing briefly at his notes: “You know Kanuni Sultan Süleyman, don't you?”

“Sure I do, we call him ‘Suleiman the Magnificent.’”

“This mosque was built by Sinan the Architect on behalf of his son, Prince Mehmet, who died at a young age. The next buildings are the complexes as we see in Beyazıt. In other words, it is a collection of buildings consisting of library, madrasah, health center, Turkish bath, dining hall, bazaar, caravanserai, shrine and lodge.

“Interesting practice.”

As the vehicle was moving slowly, Baron continued giving some information. He showed the building with the armed guards on the outside door. “This is the Tenth Division Headquarters.” Birdhouses also attracted Scott's attention. Sebottendorf explained. “Turks add bird houses to the outer walls of mosques, inns and mansions. In a corner of public fountains small water basins for birds are seen. More interestingly, some Moslem tombs cavities in the shape of heart collect rain water for the birds. Although Turks are not rich, they are aware that they are responsible to other living things.”

“As it turns out, you like Turks a lot. You are also a good tourist guide. Congratulations, Master.” Scott cornered Baron with a teasingly smile. “Well, what about stray cats and dogs walking around?” The guide didn't give up. “The Ottomans set up foundations and hired men to feed stray animals. They used to distribute meat to cats and dogs. Marshal Von Moltke could not hide his astonishment, like you, seeing in the 1830s, animals walked around fearless and without refraining from people in the streets of Constantinople.”

“Yes, in Europe animals are not allowed to wander the streets.”

“This happened in Constantinople too. Stray dogs were gathered on an island in the Sea of Marmara. But people didn't approve it.”

They continued driving and passed by Fatih Mosque. Soon they were in Edirnekapı. They stopped alongside the walls. “When the Turks conquered Byzantium, Sultan Mehmet entered the city here with his horse.” Baron reminded that six months ago they came to a nearby Bektashi lodge. He just learned something he hadn't known then. The historic walls, a series of defensive stone walls that surrounded and protected the city of Constantinople were built to stop the Hun Turks. “I think you're tired of too much information. This will be the end. They called Constantinople in Arabic 'Byzantiya'. Instead, the Seljuk Turks called 'Konstantiniyye.' Ottoman Turks used different names such as 'Dersaadet’, ‘İstanbul’ or ‘Islambol’.”

In the afternoon it was too hot. After that place, they decided to stop by their Bektashi friend Müneccim - the Oracle - Yusuf's shop in Balat. They went on driving leaving behind two or three-story wooden houses. People accustomed to carts and horse carriages were watching with interest the car they rarely saw. Soon they arrived at the bazaar which was divided into two narrow streets in the center. They asked about Yusuf's shop. It was on the right street. Next to it they saw the Agora Tavern. They've heard its fame for a long time and decided to evaluate this perfect occasion.

Yusuf was surprised to see the guests entering his shop, because he didn't expect them. Of course, he was very pleased and said he was going to wash his dirty hands and come back, he gestured to them to sit outside on the stools. He ordered some tea by sending his apprentice. He came back soon. The guests explained their city trip, then asked about Yusuf 's run of business. Things were in the doldrums; market was stagnant. People contented themselves with their old stuff. Those who wanted to buy could pay a little cash in advance, the rest was to written in the debt book. He could also borrow materials from wholesalers. But life was going on, he had worse days. They had a long time to talk. He wouldn't let them go this evening; they were going to be together in the tavern next door. The guests looked at each other in astonishment. This guy was really an oracle. He had read their minds. Sebottendorf paid the driver and sent the car. After dinner they could return to the hotel with a phaeton.

Soon they were in the Agora Tavern. Yusuf explained why he liked this place. The service and cleanliness were very good. Glasses and goblets always shone. The floors were swept and the tables wiped. Servants and boys in charge of cigarettes, hookah and water pipe were clean and well dressed. Candlesticks, appetizer plates and goblets decorated with candles on the wooden table the chubby tavern keeper Hristo pointed to were appetizing. They sat down on wicker chairs with wooden legs. After Hristo lit the candles, they asked for mastic raki. Then they examined wood carving salt shaker, as a symbol of abundance. Though they didn’t order, white bean and onions salad, sauerkraut and roasted chickpea appetizers were served. As is the custom here, these were free; only drinks and additional appetizers were to be paid.

As they tasted the first sips of their rakı, they immediately recognized the athletic man with a mustache and kalpak, who came in and approached them. Yusuf leaped to his feet and embraced Major Hüseyin. Sebottendorf and Scott got up and shook the young major's hand. They requested the waiter to serve for one more person. Appetizers and rakı were added for Hüseyin. Seeing their curious gaze, the major began to tell. He had taken the afternoon off for her sister's wedding preparation. The evening was his free time; he came to his Bektashi uncle. The neighboring shop owners told that he was in the Agora with strangers. Together they toasted for the happiness of the major's sister.

Sebottendorf asked Yusuf to tell him about his past and then the Turkish interpretation of Islam as he had promised before. He thought he knew most of what he would hear, but a subject would open another subject. Seventy-year-old Bektashi smiling approved it. Caressing his white beard, he thought a while and began to tell. His birthplace and hometown was Karaman. He instantly asked: “Hüseyin knows it, but have you heard of Karamanoglu Principality?”

He went on after negative responses of foreigners. “During the establishment era of the Ottoman State, there were many Turkish principalities in Anatolia. They were small states. Their most powerful among them was the Karamanoglu Principality. Konya, the capital of the disintegrated Seljuk State was there. Karamanoglu Principality had larger territories, more soldiers and more tax revenue than the Ottoman Principality. But the Ottomans were more skillful. They increased their power by gradually seizing the land from Byzantine State and other small principalities.”

The German Baron asked. “How long did it last?”

“Sultan Mehmet the Conqueror, took İstanbul 150 years after the establishment of the Ottoman State. He postponed to fight with the Karamanoglu Principality which, he foresaw, stronger than Byzantium. Ten years after the conquest, he defeated Karamanoglu as well. He deported most of Karamanoglu people to the Balkans. Some of my ancestors lived there.”

Scott couldn't restrain himself, put his pipe on the table and took the notebook out of his handbag. He started to write what he heard. “As a historian, I'm glad to learn that. From now on, I have another research topic. Thank you Mr. Yusuf.”

Hüseyin needed to give some information too. “Most of the Turkish states in history are named after the founder. Arabs are also inherited it.”

Smiling, old man went on. “I did my military service in Egypt, where I stayed for five years. I took Arabic and Persian language lessons, learned to play the saz and the coffee fortune-telling. When I returned, I went to jail for my disrespectful remarks to the Sultan. With the guarantee of a Bektashi I had met in prison, I joined the Bektashi Lodge. I was forgiven when the Russian war broke out and released from prison and re-enlisted. I got wounded in Hasankale, in Eastern Anatolia. I got sick from my lungs and was treated in Erzurum for a year. Then the Russians invaded Erzurum and reached Yeşilköy in İstanbul. Hundreds of thousands of Turks died of cold and starvation. More than a million Turks immigrated to İstanbul. I was 30 years old in 1880. I came to İstanbul with the help of a soldier friend and joined the immigrants. Then I started coppersmithing, my father's profession, here in Balat. I stayed in the shop at night, saved up. I became a dervish in the nearby Bektashi lodge. I got married the following year, had a son in 1882. But two years later, my wife and my son died of tuberculosis. I never married after that.”

Scott interrupted “So, you have lived here as a single for 36 years. I think it was a very hard time for you and for the Ottomans.”

“Exactly, Mr. Wallace. Then I bought my own coppersmith shop, tried to improve myself. With my earnings, I started to buy valuable books.” He pointed towards his shop. “Some are behind the shop; most are at home.”

Sebottendorf nodded. “An interesting story, Mr. Yusuf. After all these misfortunes, you chose to improve yourself. I congratulate. I'm more pleased to know you now. I'm toasting to your honor.”

“Thank you very much, Mr. Sebottendorf. You embarrassed me. Compared to yours, mine story is not even worth telling.”

In the meantime, the songs on the side table interrupted their conversation. They both listened and to tuck into appetizers plates and enjoy their drinks too.

I entered my love's garden, roses are everywhere.

I gave up the rose, I gave up my head, but not my love.

Wine of love is bitter, couldn't drink without water.

They ate up until the songs of the side table were finished. Scott was the first to speak. “I am still curious about the Turkish interpretation of Islam.”

Yusuf took another sip from his glass and began to tell. “You know the Altai Mountains. It's in the middle of Asia. The nomadic Turkish tribes from the mountains and steppes moved to the west in 3rd century AD. They invaded Turkestan and permanently settled till 700. Then they marched from Khorasan to Iran, from there to Anatolia and to the Balkans. Avars, Cumans, Pechenegs and Bulgarians in history are some of these Turkish tribes.” The old man suddenly stopped. An embarrassed smile spread across his face. “Sorry. You probably know that. I don't desire to look like a pedant.”

Sebottendorf touched friendly his hand. “Not at all. I think Scott will join me. We listen with pleasure.” After the Scottish historian approved, Yusuf went on. “They established states in the Volga basin too. They accepted other religions before Islam. Shamanism takes precedence. Buddhism, Judaism and Christianity were also accepted by some Turkish communities.”

Sebottendorf joined the conversation again. “Let us consider how religions were accepted by ordinary people. Did they choose with their own free will?” With asking eyes, he looked at the people around the table. Scott took a puff of his pipe and replied “People usually chose the religion their rulers wanted. This was done willingly and sometimes forced.” Baron proceeded. “But in both cases the old beliefs did not disappear completely. Old beliefs mixed into new beliefs.”

Yusuf drained the glass at a swallow. He seemed so happy. “I've longed for such a nice conversation for a long time. Thank you so much for coming. Let me proceed. What you said was exactly happened. Shamanism culture was maintained in Buddhist, Jewish, Christian and Muslim Turks.” After the waiter refilled the glasses, Yusuf kept on telling. “Shamanism was the common belief of Turks and many Asian peoples. There was the understanding of a God or Heaven God that created and ruled the earth, the heaven, and all beings. Shamanism bore traces of the ancient time before the written history.”

Scott couldn't restrain himself again. “How did the Turks become Muslims? I think you will tell us.”

“Of course. Much of what I'm going to tell is based on a four-volume 'Taberi History'. It's one of my precious books. Taberi was an important thinker. He contributed a lot to the scientific studies of the Golden Age of Islam between 800-1000 years. In this work he tells the lives of the prophets and tribes starting from Adam. First, let's ask the question 'When?’” Yusuf thought for a while. “Turks accepted Islam in the Umayyad era. As far as I recall, it should be between 670 and 740. Second question is 'Where?' The answer to the question is ‘Turkestan’ on the historical ‘silk road’. Turkish tribes used to produce leather, sell cotton, a product of paper and make good money. They operated gold mines too.”

Sebottendorf couldn't restrain himself. “This wealth also increased the appetite of the Arabs.”

“Exactly. But the Turks resisted against the invasion of the Arab armies. Sometimes they repelled the Arabs, sometimes they were defeated and paying tribute survived the sword. But this resistance weakened due to the lack of unity among them and even some who cooperated with Arabs. China was asked for help too. Later, the Arabs supported by some Turkish tribes defeated the Chinese and the acceptance of Islam among the Turks accelerated.”

Hüseyin, who listened to the conversation so far, raised his hand. “Sorry. I'll interrupt. Have you ever been to Iran?” He smiled and looked in turn at friends around the table.

Sebottendorf and Scott shook their heads negatively. The major went on. “I worked in Iran five years ago. I met a lot of Azerbaijani Turks over there. I had the opportunity to learn Shiism from them. If you wish, I can summarize how Iran became Muslim.”

Others approved this interesting proposal. Hüseyin began to tell. “Iran at the time of the spread of Islam, was one of the three superpowers in the world. The other two were the Byzantine Empire and the Chinese Empire in the Far East. The Sassanid State in Iran had been in conflict with Byzantium for hundred years. They believed in the Zoroastrian religion. As long as the fire burned, they believed that good god would prevail over evil god.”

Yusuf interrupted. “Before Zoroastrian time, the Iranians were Sabians, a valid monotheistic religion in the Qur'an.” Meanwhile, he was somewhat apologetic as he looked at the major lighting a cigarette and waved him to proceed. Hüseyin extended the package to his friends, after their negative response, he went on. “Christian belief in Iran also took root. It even started to replace Zoroastrianism. The Arabs then waged war against Iranians who refused to accept Islam. Eventually the Iranians were defeated. I think it was 640.”

Sebottendorf joined the conversation. “In other words, the Islamic religion was also imposed there by a war. One hundred years before the Turks.”

The major approved. “Exactly. Iran embraced Islam. Moreover, the Iranians began to use the Arabic alphabet. They moved from the solar calendar to the lunar calendar. But the Muslim Arab sovereignty strengthened the Iranian nationalist feelings. This is how Shia Islam emerged in Iran.”

Yusuf interrupted him again. “Shiism is a separate issue. We'd better not bring up this subject.”

“Okay Uncle Yusuf I'm finishing. The whole West, including us, doesn't know that the Turks had ruled Shiite Iran for thousand years. Because we could adopt neither our language nor our culture to the Persians. It was even the opposite. Although they were ruled, they melted the ruling Turks in their own culture. We saw this with sadness when we worked in Iran. We subconsciously both envied and appreciated them.”

Scott raised his head from his notes. “Friends, these are very valuable information. Thank you. I cannot believe that such serious issues are being discussed in a tavern in Balat, a nice quarter of İstanbul. I offer a toast to the health of Mr. Yusuf and Major Hüseyin.”

Sebottendorf was happy too. “I also thank you. But we still have not come to the Turkish interpretation of Islam yet. I can't wait to hear it as well.” He smiled and looked at Yusuf. The old man nodded in approval. “We always talk with Hüseyin about these issues. I'm glad to see we didn't bore you. I'm going on to tell. But don't laugh at me. Where was I?”

Scott refrained himself not to laugh, looking at his notes, “Your last words were: The Arabs defeated the Chinese, and the acceptance of Islam among the Turks accelerated.”

“Thank you, Mr. Wallace.” Yusuf patted his beard again and refreshed his memory. “Islam became the official religion among the Karahan Turks. But not for the Turkish people at all. The excessive enrichment brought by the Islamic conquests was criticized. The oppression of Arab nationalism would be opposed. Islam would become a universal religion.” The old man was lost in thought for a while, then proceeded. “A madrasah based on Islamic Sufism, giving importance to science, literature and art was established. The language was Turkish. Thousands of people educated there spread the Islamic Sufism throughout the Turkish world. They have big shares in the establishment of Turkish presence in Anatolia and Balkans. They provided shelter for the poor, orphans and helpless. Among these, Haji Bektash Veli was the spiritual teacher of the janissary, the backbone of the Ottoman army. The expression of ‘Bektashism’ comes from his name.”

To give the old man some rest, Sebottendorf interrupted again. “I know it, but would you explain his seven principles as well?”

“Of course. First, ‘turn to Allah with love’. Second, ‘Islam only for Allah, far from showing’. Third, ‘human love’. Fourth, ‘tolerance, a rejection of the difference of religion, language and origin’. Fifth, ‘equality between men and women’. Sixth, ‘the sanctity of labor and work’. Seventh, ‘science’.”

Scott couldn't restrain himself. “I really didn't expect that much. This understanding certainly is properly reasoned for all humanity. I think being universal means embracing all these principles. In this way, you will make me Bektashi.”

Hüseyin did not miss the opportunity. “Let's raise our glasses in praise of the Bektashis.”

***

News Quotes from European news agencies, dated September 23 1919:

The quest for a peace agreement in Turkey continues...

The British occupation forces in Syria and Cilicia leave their places to the French. The American delegation conducts investigations in Eastern Anatolia. Mustafa Kemal Pasha gave a memorandum to the Sultan: Dismiss the Prime Minister!

***

The Karakol.

September 1919. İstanbul.

Sergeant Hasan was waiting for the sermon of the famous Süleyman Hodja after the Friday prayer in Fatih Mosque. Soon, from the corridor opened next to the crowded congregation, a hodja of middle height, narrow-shouldered, thin, with white beard, a large white turban on his head, a green caftan on his back, approached the pulpit and climbed on it slowly. His caftan, made of precious fabric, was a gift from the previous sheikh al-Islam. After looking through the congregation, the hodja coughing began to speak. His voice was clear, loud and excited.

“Thank Allah Almighty, who proclaims victories to Islam and who will bring back Islam to the right path after ten years of perversity. May the glory of our glorious caliph and sultan Vahdettin whom Allah chose to realize this. Allah's salute be upon him.” Suddenly, his eyebrows frowned, “Believing brothers, terrible events take place before your eyes and you do not react. Do you think that God will not ask any questions on the day of reckoning? Why would God protect you against your enemies if you were not with your caliph and sultan? Have you forgotten that He will punish you both in this world and in the other world? You're still asleep. You expect someone to come and wake you up.” He continued his speech by extending his index finger to the east. “O irreligious, Godless nationalists! You angered the British, inflicted Greeks upon us! To annihilate bodies of nationalists from the world has been a necessity for humanity and for Islam. Our Sultan, our Caliph and our lord has abundant mercy and compassion and he embraces you. Run, come and reach the bliss of the world and the Hereafter! Here I'm warning you. Those who loves Allah, the Prophet and the Sultan come over here!” His voice become more and more stressful now. “They say ‘we make a national struggle!’ I, on the other hand, blame them for treason. Their leader, Mustafa Kemal Pasha has been trying to take over the reign of Ottomans abolishing the caliphate and sultanate. He doesn't care if our women walk around the streets without a veil, exhibit their face and hair in front of the lustful gaze of hundreds of men, being not their fathers, sons and brothers. The period of ignorance, strictly forbidden by God, is coming back, O Muslims! Why would God protect such a country against the dangers?”

He stopped to check the congregation's reaction; they were holding their breath and listening to him.

“Fear! Fear Allah!”

Sergeant Hasan sank into his thoughts among similar sermon rhymes of Süleyman foaming at the mouth. He recalled words of wisdom of an old uncle who had come to the shop recently. There were countless warnings about this in the Qur'an. The uppermost section was Surah al Ma'un, condemning those who show off their prayers. The old man had said quite correctly, emphasizing:

“Those who dogmatize about morality are the most immoral ones.”

Finally, the sermon was over. Hasan put on his shoes and went out. He joined those gathered in the nearby coffeehouse and sat at the desk of glassworker Necati whom he had met during previous Friday's prayers. Hodja's words were being discussed accompanied by water pipes, cigarettes and teas. The influence of turbaned hodjas on these people was far greater than that of teachers in schools. They believed that evil stemmed from those who backslide in their faith. The fear of going to hell after death was above everything else.

He returned home too tired from the pickle shop where worked until evening, He gave the breads, vegetables and halva he bought from the bazaar to his mother who was preparing meals for the guests in the kitchen.

Darkness already fell when Hüseyin came to Hasan's house in Saraçhane which was chosen as the meeting place this week. It was late September. Hasan lived with his widowed mother in this small two-story house inherited from father. They rented the three-room ground floor to a Balkan immigrant family. Hayrettin had already come and had his share of the delicious food of the Hasan's mother and was sipping his tea. Hüseyin had not called his other two friends to avoid interfering with their monitoring duties. He said he wasn't hungry, but couldn't say no to a cup of tea and sat on the chair by the table. His friends immediately noticed that he could not hide his troubled face. Hayrettin opened up the subject:

“I hope nothing's wrong major?”

“They attacked a neighbor's store last night, grabbed his money, beat him with sticks. Then they disappeared. I'm so worried. As they do something prohibited and not be punished for the action, they become more daring and more violent. They organized in other quarters too, but in Balat, the Greeks are getting quite horny. With the support of the occupation forces, they attack the houses and shops of the Turks, they sometimes slaughter them and the lucky ones survived but were seriously injured.”

Hasan leaned forward. “Major, we are confused to choose those we would revenge on. In addition to these gangs, the collaborators surrounded us. We are only eleven in the branch, but our responsibility area is very wide. Both mosquitoes and the swamp multiply rapidly.”

“You're right. We trying to catch up with work in prioritizing our efforts. It's not easy to find additional personnel. I'm getting warnings from the ‘Center’. British intelligence agents are trying to infiltrate Turkish origin agents into our organization. We're very selective. It is not easy to examine and investigate the new element in the middle of all this. We all have so much work to do.”

They refilled the tea. First Hasan explained his job situation summarizing the activities of the ‘Islamic Promotion Association’. He deeply resented to work just ‘watch, listen and report’ method. The traitors were known. It was necessary to kill all of them without thinking too much. When he saw the major was frowning, he came to the point. He worked non-stop in Fatih, the center of ‘Islamic Promotion Association’. The situation was getting worse according to what he heard from the speeches of those who came to the pickle shop and the conversations of those performing ablution in the mosque. This information was verified in the surrounding coffeehouses as well.

Hüseyin commented. “So the number of its supporters is growing.”

“Yes, major. They wanted Muslims to unite for saving the caliphate and the reign. Now they started to say that the British supports them. They impostor! Damn their madrasas!”

“Okay, relax, Hasan.”

“They attack fast-eaters in Ramadan and women who do not follow the hijab, but do not hesitate to become puppets of Christians, protected, controlled and manipulated. I can hardly restrain myself, major.”

“OK. Let's talk about this Süleyman Hodja.”

“I became friends with someone close to Hodja. You remember, his name is Necati, a glassworker at the Çarşamba Bazaar. I have increased sincerity for a month and started to talk about political issues. He trusts me to support the sultan and his government. He came to my store today and asked me to join their organizations, so I accepted.”

Hüseyin exclaimed, “That's it!” and slowly hit Hasan's shoulder. Hayrettin supported, “Just cutting throats is not the way these things work. Now you're going to deal with the whole organization. Your job will be more difficult.” While Hasan nodded in agreement, his thoughtful manner did not escape Hüseyin's attention. “You will monitor and report the people in charge of the ‘Islamic Promotion Association’. You will find out especially their contacts with the British. That's all, nothing more, remember.”

“Okay, major. You can trust me.”

“You will not get in trouble. You're a harmless shopkeeper trying to support your family. You won't carry a knife during the day. It is possible for them to use the same tactic to reveal us. We will be on the alert, friends.”

They refilled the tea. “What's up with you, Hayrettin?”

“I prepared the fake IDs and travel documents for our friends tracked by invaders. I will deliver it to the next courier in a day or two.”

Hüseyin explained. “The wanted list is so big that we can't find talented people to work in İstanbul.”

“The invaders have used the informants well. There were many informants that I broke into their house in İstanbul. I couldn't find much. The wanted list I captured from an Armenian didn't work well. A lot of our people listed in this document had already fled to Anatolia before, although some of them were caught. I watched an informant last week. An ex-marine officer, now a foreman at Reji. His name is Haydar of Kasımpaşa. He was awarded for reporting a boatman caught while smuggling ammunition to Anatolia. He kept this documentation.”

“Thanks, Hayrettin. I'm taking notes. I'll send it to the ‘Center’ right away. As you know, only the ‘Center administration’ can make the execution decision. Execution is prohibited before it. Sometimes they want to tail the suspects and try to catch larger fish. That's why.”

Hüseyin remembered that food prices rose tenfold as he took a sip of sugar-free tea. “In the meantime, I'll make a suggestion to the ‘Center’ again in order to include the black marketers on the execution list.”

Hüseyin left the house first, and Hayrettin two minutes later. They moved in pairs against tracking. The major began to walk on the back streets of Fatih quarter, paying attention not to look behind him.

The ‘Karakol’ organization armed other partisans too. A warehouse was established in Kocaeli in order to transfer the seized weapons and ammunition to Anatolia. They had a powerful influence in the sectors of customs, land and sea transport.

The collaborators were watched by the ‘Organization’ elements such as the cleaners and waiters in the big hotels. They had men in ministries, palaces and occupation forces headquarters too. Valuable information was obtained. Former ‘unionists’ everywhere supported the ‘Karakol’. They received important information through Uncle Yusuf and Bektashis from Muslim Baron and Scottish journalist. But they also knew that some enemy agents infiltrated the Karakol. So, they were watching new people in ‘the Organization’ too.

The Karakol’s rules were strict. Failure to comply with orders, not to show the necessary sacrifice and prudence, to benefit by using the influence of the ‘Organization’, to cooperate with the enemy, explaining the secrets of the ‘Organization’ to the enemies or their relatives, even at the expense of his life, was considered a betrayal. The sentence was death. The training of the fedais –hitmen - working under the ‘special unit’ attached to the ‘Center’ was also very tough. It was taught to disguise in a short time, not to take attention until the moment of execution, to watch the hunted, when necessary, his relatives as a hunter, and to memorize his walking, dressing and habits. Close combat, using pistols and knives were the most important lessons.

As they arrived at Haliç Street, Hayrettin whistled three times, signaling that there was no problem and he would go his own way. Hüseyin did the same and kept on walking.

At the same time, Sergeant İsmail, in civilian clothes, was hidden in the darkness near one of the entertainment spots in Pera. He was waiting for Kasım of Degirmendere. He had informed the British of the weapons' location to be sent to Anatolia. This immoral was a member of the British Friends Association. He was to be executed by the order of the ‘Center’.

Curfew starts at midnight. He'll be out soon.

İsmail was taken into the fedai - hitman - unit of the Karakol organization. The get into the ‘fedai unit’ was voluntary but to leave was impossible. They eliminated those judged dangerous by the ‘Center’. Only in very special cases they could take action without waiting for the Center's instructions. The ‘fedai’ who could not fulfill the duty would be punished. For a year, he had worked both as a platoon commander in the Rami Barracks and as a ‘fedai’ in the Organization. His first target was Belkis, who took British officers into her house. She had given the names of some ‘unionists’ to the British. He had quietly executed this female bastard with the drunk British in her bed. His second mission was a traitor named Saffet, who reported to the French, the garbage trucks that the ‘Karakol’ used in the smuggling. He had killed him in a deserted street. Tailor Mehmet, a member of the Black Jumbo Organization of the British, was the third. He had covertly spied in his shop. İsmail had finished him at the exit of the tavern. İsmail had captured the fake document with the seal of the Representative Committee in Ankara and handed it over to the Karakol's courier. Tailor Mehmet had also transferred important information to the British intelligence about the Turkish partisans trying to eradicate the gangs of the Pontus Greeks in the Black Sea area. He had delivered the lists of active and retired soldiers in Üsküdar and Kadıköy to the British too. It was not enough; he had helped the invaders to arrest some medical students who planned to smuggle the wireless telegraph device from Selimiye barracks to Anatolia.

Poyraz, the north-east wind, together with the damp air of the last days began to intensify, and İsmail’s wounded leg began to ache.

The fucking Galicia's gift!

They had departed from Uzunköprü on a July day by train. The 15th Corps reached the Galician front to the north of the Danube, with a total of thirty thousand soldiers. They undergone all medical examinations, cholera and typhoid vaccines by Austrians. The grandchildren of the Turks, the fearful dream of the Austrians, who besieged twice Vienna, came to help! But the Turks could not get Austria's help in the war against Serbia, Bulgaria and Greece.

Violent battles between the Ottoman and Russian armies had taken place. Usually, the Russians first started intense artillery fire and then attacked in several lines. İsmail was wounded in one of these.

He spontaneously let his Galicia memories drift away when he saw Kasım of Degirmendere, who appeared at the casino gate. Cigarette on his lips, swinging he headed toward the main street. The moment he climbed the phaeton waiting around the corner, İsmail jumped to the other side. The Circassian eyes opened wide in amazement, tried to draw his dagger. But it was useless. İsmail closed his mouth with one hand while cutting the jugular vein with the knife in the other hand. In a low voice, he threatened the coachman trying to understand what was happening, “Be quiet, drive without looking back!” When the victim's violent efforts to free himself stopped, İsmail jumped down to the ground. He disappeared into the dark streets. From the distancing sound of its wheels, he understood that the phaeton was moving on. Nobody had noticed the action.

One more traitor is down.

***

News Quotes from European news agencies, dated November 30 1919:

The Ottoman Sultan and his government are trying to agree with the nationalists...

The uprisings orchestrated against the nationalist Turks in Anatolia failed. The candidates of the nationalists overwhelmingly won General elections. The Ottoman government sent a minister to Anatolia for negotiations with Mustafa Kemal Pasha.

***

From Kabul to London.

December 1919. Kabul, Afghanistan.

Mustafa Sagir, a member of His Majesty's Secret Service, could hardly climb the steep stairs with the help of soldiers taking his two arms. When they reached the top floor, he paused to adjust his breath. His body and mind had almost collapsed during months of horrific life in Kabul prison. As he tried to overcome the fear of death, energetic, enthusiastic and positive side of his existence had disappeared. His confidence, determination and vitality seemed to be over. His body was giving alarm signals too. He could hardly overcome diseases such as heart failure, chest pains, maladjustment of the muscles, lumbar hernia, inflammation of the spinal membrane, frequent fevers.

Sagir immediately sat on a chair when he was brought to the office door of the commander of the British troops in Kabul. He waited until his breathing returned to normal. They would wait till the end of the meeting in the commander's room. The calendar on the wall was dated December 2, 1919. The Indian agent calculated that he remained in custody for more than six months since he had gone to jail at the end of May. Meanwhile, an officer came and asked him to go to the next room. The unit's military doctor began to exam Sagir. He listened to his lungs and heart in thoughtful manner. He checked his pulse, blood pressure, his eyes, ears and throat, the abdominal cavity. Pursing his lips, he murmured:

“After a little rest here, you need to go to a full-service hospital. I'll discuss the details with the commander.”

Soon after the doctor left, they brought some food and water to him. Later on, he was taken to the office of the commander. “Welcome Mr. Sagir. We have worked hard to save you from Afghan Emir’s wrath. After learning that you and your collaborators would kill him, he had decided to execute you. But the Secret Service and especially Navy Captain David Nelson had tried so hard to save you.”

“Navy Captain?”

“Yeah, he was promoted while you were in jail. He now heads the Middle East operations branch in Constantinople. He asked about you every week by telegram. He also put pressure on London.”

Sagir was very impressed by what he heard.

I owe him a lot. I don't know how to pay.

The commander went on. “You wonder how we convinced Emir, don't you?” After the guest's positive signal, they waited for the tea service to end. “While you were in prison, we recognized the independence of Afghanistan on August 8, but the agreement will take some time to ratify. We presently carry on to work here. But we always kept our real power hidden. You certainly know ‘Topal Molla’ as we call ‘Lame Mullah’, our Secret Service employee. He continues to run an active lodge and has countless disciples in Afghanistan. He had started an Islamic uprising against the Emir, who was blamed of backsliding. The protests began four months ago. Meanwhile, we had spread rumors that the Russians cooperated with the fugitive Turkish leaders to realize the Bolshevik revolution in Afghanistan. Finally, the Emir accepted our requests. One of them was your release.”

“Thank you very much.” Sagir could speak in a low voice and being ashamed of himself. This failure had cost everyone a lot.

“Let's not tire you out any further, Mr. Sagir. With London's approval, our plan is as follows: You will stay in our guesthouse for a few days under the supervision of our doctor. After his approval, you will be transferred to our military hospital in New Delhi, where you will receive substantial medical treatment. Once you recover, you will be sent to Britain.”

Sagir regretted being not able to see his family again. But he found solace, thinking that if they saw him like this, they would deplore too much. He was well treated in the military hospital until Christmas. When the tests gave positive results, he was discharged. He also rested well on the ship he boarded in Karachi. When he arrived at the port of Dover on January 14, he felt at home. There couldn't be better proof than this; he was much more bound to England. He will complete his life owing these people a debt of gratitude.

After two nights in a small hotel overlooking both the Strait of Dover and the North Sea, he took the train to London. The landlady, whom he had telegraphed before, had his apartment prepared. A thorough cleaning was done; there were enough food and drink in the cupboard. The American made fridge in the kitchen was a really nice surprise. To find credible tenants such as Sagir was difficult at this time for the landlady. The important thing was that the rent was paid regularly.

The next day Sagir went to the Secret Service which was in the same place and had the same name: ‘Falcon Limited Shipping and Export Company.’ He first stopped by the personnel office and asked about his situation. Since he hadn't used it for many years, he learned that he has a leave for another month and a half. He would come at the beginning of March and get his new assignment.

In this way, Sagir found the free time for realizing the burning studies in his mind. He would be interested mainly in history and philosophy.

***

News Quotes from European news agencies, dated December 27, 1919:

The Great Game between the British and the Russians intensifies in Afghanistan and Turkey...

Bolshevik Russians try to realize the Bolshevik revolution in Afghanistan together with the Unionist Fugitive Turkish leaders. The Brits make counter moves. Turkey will be asked to send a Turkish army to fight against the Bolsheviks along with the White Russians, provided that Constantinople and Thrace were abandoned. The Bolsheviks are afraid that Turks will reach an agreement with the British.

***

The Engagement.

December 1919. İstanbul.

There was no talk about work tonight. While they were drinking their tea, the conversation about family issues started. Hüseyin's sister Ayşe had a good marriage and moved to the Draman quarter. Her husband was a distant relative of Uncle Yusuf. He was reliable, a teacher at a primary school near his house. They were considered as financially independent. As soon as he finished his teacher's training school, he had been recruited as a reserve officer and sent to the eastern front. He was one of the few officers who survived the Sarıkamış Battle. He had lost some of his toes after developing gangrene from the cold. He couldn't walk as he could before any longer. After weeks of medical treatment, he completed his military service in recruiting offices.

There were two bachelors among them. As İsmail said, “I'm in no hurry. My predestined spouse will come to me anyway,” eyes turned to Hüseyin. His mother was a go-getter. Sabri had been married for a long time. Now it was his eldest son's turn. Mrs. Reşide thought she would never find a bride like Hanımşah. In fact, everyone knew that Mrs. Reşide had sealed the deal. When she joined them, it was understood that the expected outcome would be realized. As a fait accompli, she would let Hüseyin visit their relatives' mansions in Şişli. She deliberately chosen Friday afternoon, which was a holiday. Mrs. Müyesser, the future mother-in-law, also requested him to come in his uniform.

On that day, Hüseyin, Mrs. Reşide and his sister Ayşe came to Şişli. Mr. İbrahim's mansion was not difficult to find. The three-story masonry building in the large garden reflected the financial strength of their relatives. The carved ornaments on the exterior facade were remarkable. Among the defoliated trees, a servant took them to the landlords waiting at the door of the building. Apparently, Hanımşah, the delicate, brown-haired beauty was quite excited. She was furtively looking at the handsome major. When Hüseyin saw this beautiful girl's hazel eyes years later, felt a pleasant exchange of emotions. Mrs. Müyesser also looked very happy. Mr. İbrahim, balding, gray-haired, light-bellied with thick-rimmed eyeglasses, shook his guests' hands with a serious smile. He might be 50-55 years old. They went into the well-furnished living room, like the entrance and hall. Their daughter-in-law, widow of their son, a martyr doctor of Gallipoli Battle, and her daughter, a grandfather and two grandmothers were waiting for them at the entrance of the living room. They shook hands and hugged gently.

The chandelier on the ceiling, paintings on the walls, antique sideboard with large mirror, curtains and tulles made of expensive fabrics, pastel fabric seats, large silk carpet in the middle seemed to be carefully selected to impress the guests. Dark yellow and white color were predominant in whitewash and furniture. Decorations with floral motifs on the ceiling complemented the decor.

Mrs. Müyesser immediately started chatting. She might be about forty-five, still considered pretty with her light make-up. She showed off to be an İstanbul lady with good taste. The bride and the elderly seemed to get accustomed to listening to her. After inquiring their health, she began to tell Mrs. Reşide about her residence. There was a sofa on each floor, it was one of the twenty room-small mansions. The coachman, the cook, the housekeeper, the gardener and the servants lived downstairs.

Mr. İbrahim invited the future groom to the study room so that the ladies could chat comfortably. This place was neatly furnished too. An antique desk and armchair, two comfortable armchairs for guests in the front, a library full of leather-bound books covering the side wall, photographs hanging on the wall reflected that he worked closely with the sultan and the grand vizier Ferit Pasha the Groom. They talked about their common memories, about their families until tea and refreshments arrived. İbrahim summarized his life:

“My father had turned his eyes to İstanbul after the 93 War. As a visionary man, he sent me to the Galatasaray boarding high school. Then I studied at Darulfunun - the university-. When I graduated, I served two years as an artillery reserve officer in Diyarbakır and met some Kurds. I still see some of them. Thanks to my father, after discharged, I went to London for three years to study English and master's degree in economics. In the last year, I got married in 1890 and our son Nurettin was born.”

The future father-in-law suddenly took a break. Without needing to hide his watery eyes behind his eyeglasses, he turned the framed photo on his desk to Hüseyin. Four separate images were combined. The baby, adolescent, college student and military doctor. After wiping his eyes with a handkerchief, İbrahim put on his eyeglasses and went on telling.

“After returning from London, I worked for thirteen years as an official in the ministry of economy. Meanwhile, Hanımşah was born. Between 1904-1906, I was granted a doctorate in economics in London. Hanımşah started her first education there. When I returned to İstanbul, I worked as a branch manager in the ministry of economy until 1913.”

He waited for the maid to refill the tea with the teapot. They catch each other's eye, the stiffness in the eyes of the future groom seemed softer. Or he thought so. He handed out the cigarette case and the match on the table to his guest, then took a cigarette himself and they started smoking. He proceeded his story. “In 1908 I entered the Ahrar Party founded by the Young Turks. They modeled the British Liberal Party which I followed closely. We did not succeed in the elections against the Union and Progress Party. A constitutional monarchy was declared. The dominance of the palace ended. The Union and Progress Government began. So, I got cut off.

While his host was taking a sip of his tea Hüseyin said, “Sorry, I interrupt. Isn't that natural in politics?”

“You're right, Hüseyin. I like your frankness. After March 31, 1909 events, Prince Sabahattin and the leaders of Ahrar like me were taken into custody and tried by court-martial. Thank god we were found innocent. But some party members fled abroad. The party dissolved itself in early 1910. Meanwhile, my father and mother came to İstanbul from Skopje by selling the family's real estates. They bought this mansion.”

İbrahim paused to get a cookie from the catering plate. He decided not to say that he entered the Mason Lodge that same year. “You're not bored, are you?”

The young major nodded in approval urging him to continue.

“During the Tripoli, Libya War, the Freedom and Entente Party was founded by the opponents of the Union and Progress. So I became a member. The new party showed its first success by winning the interim elections held in İstanbul.”

“You don't like the ‘unionists’.”

“No I don’t. They were authoritarian, not libertarian, knew only military service. They did not know the most important issue, namely the economy either. Moreover, they had become German's toys.”

Hüseyin was about to say otherwise and that his party was also a toy of the British. But he didn't want to extend the subject. He was getting angry, but he wouldn't let İbrahim provoke himself.

“With the Sublime Porte raid in early 1913, the ‘unionists’ ruled out all of us. I was suspended for five years as well. They made me a member of the supervisory board in the trade ministry. They borrowed hundreds of millions of marks from Germany during the European War, they also printed money against the treaties. Certainly we couldn't object. Before the war began, our son Nurettin finished Medical Faculty at the age of twenty-three and married immediately. They settled here. But unfortunately, my child's happiness did not last long. He was martyred in the Gallipoli Battle, where he served as a military doctor.”

Wiping away tears from his eyes, he pointed to the document of martyrdom framed on the wall. Hüseyin thought he was developing warm feelings towards this man. Maybe he was feeling pity for him. A very comfortable and happy life could turn into a nightmare. He confined himself to say “My condolences. May he rest in peace.”

“Thanks. Bad news had come late. They couldn't find his body. We buried him in a symbolic ceremony. We embraced our widow daughter-in-law and our three-month-old grandson. That was our best. The following year our only child Hanımşah graduated from American College for Girls. It made us feel more alive. When the war ended and the ‘unionists’ fled abroad, I was appointed to a department head of the trade ministry. Meanwhile, Hanımşah started teaching in a middle school.”

He leaned back, thought for a while. He seemed to have more to tell about his family. But then he gave up and returned to his guest, “Our story is briefly this Hüseyin. If you have anything to ask, don't hesitate.”

“Thanks. I think it's my turn, if I may.”

They lit another cigarette each. Hüseyin summarized his story. İbrahim listened with interest his memories of the Turkish quarter’s primary school in Skopje and Monastir military middle and high school. As he told about the March 31 counter-revolution incident he had witnessed when he was in Harbiye Military Academy, in İstanbul, about the British involvement in the revolt and about the termination of Abdülhamit's sultanate, İbrahim asked counter questions. He explained that it was unfair to the sultan, whom he found successful considering the peculiar conditions in which they lived. Hüseyin did not argue with him once again. He went on summarizing his experiences of Staff College after Military Academy and the Balkan War. He skipped his entry into Special Organization and Iranian mission with Mr. Rauf. He wasn't going to touch this for the time being. He would consider it again in the future. Then he explained his experiences on the Palestinian Front and his assignment to the general staff headquarters after the ceasefire. He never mentioned the ‘Karakol’ organization. İbrahim listened to Hüseyin's praise about the nationalist forces, but declared that he disagreed. İbrahim talked about his own views on current political events. He repeated the known words of the Freedom and Entente Party members and tried to impress him. But the future groom listened without arguing and of course without approving.

Then they passed to the living room and joined the ladies. İbrahim gave his wife and daughter a positive sign. When Hüseyin gave the same sign to his mother, the start of close kinship between two distant relative families was approved. Reşide's usual requests for girl's hand for his son echoed in the living room: “With God's commandment and the Prophet's consent, we want your daughter Hanımşah as the wife of our son Hüseyin.”

On his way home Major Üsküplü thought that this development was quite strange. Within an hour, he had tried to share with Mr. İbrahim everything they had not spoken for years. After leaving Skopje, two relative families had been estranged. Now, this situation was beginning to change in İstanbul.

Hüseyin gathered all his friends in Agora to celebrate his engagement the next Friday evening. Before swallowing his drink, Hüseyin made the opening speech, saying “Down the hatch brothers!” After the first sip, he started to sing his favorite song in a voice only those on the table would hear:

No medicine for my hundred pieces-heart,

I know, no remedy is for my wounds.

Even doctors of all world try,

I know, no remedy is for my wounds.

“Bravo Hüseyin! You sing easily, skillfully and beautifully as usual.”

“Thank you Hayrettin. We've been working like crazy for months. We barely had time to breathe. Today's visit to the Eyüp Cemetery apparently was the last straw for us. After visiting both my father and our martyrs, I have plenty of reasons to have the blues. Now is the time to cheer up, and we can celebrate my engagement.”

Hayrettin agreed, “It's good that we took time and prayed to their soul, major. For a long time, I couldn't go to the cemetery next to us leaving the shop and works.”

Sabri called the tavern keeper at the same time: “Hey Hristo of Balat!”

The tavern keeper interrupted his conversation with other customers. He raised his hand and nodded in agreement.

“Hey, isn't this place Agora? You show off that there's nowhere to compete with your tavern, but you don't see our rakı has run out. Captain Asteri turns over in his grave.”

The old Greek hit his forehead with his hand, “Pasha, it is coming right away.”

“Today, in the cemetery, I instantly remembered the cemetery next to the mosque in Skopje. But over there the sounds of the azan and bells of the Orthodox Church used to mingle. All are still ringing in my ears.” Hüseyin said.

İsmail interrupted. “Brother, we're here to celebrate your engagement, to cheer up. Have you forgotten?” Sabri gave his opinion. “Joy and grief are for us. There is a time and a place for everything. Tell us, you can share everything with us. This will relax you.”

Hristo brought a bottle of rakı with his newly prepared Albanian liver. Sabri held old man’s hand as he filled the cups. “Thanks, Hristo, I will do it.”

Hüseyin resumed his talk. “I lived in Skopje until I finished primary school. Our house was in a quarter where Christians and a small number of Jews lived. At that time, it didn't matter who believed in which religion. My non-Muslim friends came to our house when we took a break, and my mother gave us all something to eat. Then we kept on playing in the street. Likewise, I went to their house without hesitation.” After taking a sip of his rakı, he went on. “Sometimes we also visited each other's worship places. I remember my attempt to sneak quietly to the Orthodox Church and the Jewish synagogue. It was weird that there was no need to take off our shoes.”

İsmail joined the conversation, “Brother, I've always heard the Jewish ‘havra’ but I've never seen it. What is its difference with the ‘synagogue’?”

“I think the ‘synagogue’ is Greek and the ‘havra’ is Hebrew. Maybe they call ‘havra’ for little ones. I am not sure. Anyway, when we walked in some people glared at us displeased with our presence, but our childhood was tolerated and they continued their worship. They had kippah on their heads, robe on their backs and scarf on their necks. Weird straps were tied on their biceps and foreheads. Like our mosques, women watched the worship on the balcony with their heads covered. The prayers were read by shaking and prostrating. I got some smells but don't remember if it was candles or incense.”

Sabri asked his burning question. “When did our ancestors settle in Skopje, brother?”

“It is unclear, unfortunately, both my mother and my father remembered only their grandparents. This corresponds to the end of the 1700s. We don't know what happened before that. Nevertheless, we know that Turks had first come to the region after the Kosovo Battle. In the 1500s, the number of Yörük settled from Anatolia to Balkan cities such as Skopje and Monastir had reached 50 thousand. Some had worked in public duties; others had been farmers or cattle dealer. Then they had specialized in various crafts, settled in cities.”

Hayrettin interrupted. “As far as I can remember, Albanians and Bosnians had become Muslim during those dates, but Serbs, Bulgarians, Croats, Slovenians and Greeks had not abandon their religion.”

Together they toasted, “To the Albanians and Bosnians!” Then Hüseyin suggested loudly. “Another toast to our great Macedonian fellow Mustafa Kemal Pasha!”

Mahmut, who had never spoke so far, raised his glass. “To my engaged commander!”

Sabri, known for being always cautious, said, “There's still plenty of time for the tavern to close. Let's go slow. Hristo will remind us of leaving time bowing down to our table. Do not forget.”

Hüseyin replied, “If you remind me that I will be dead drunk, it is useless. Nothing happens to me.” He continued, laughing. “I will pay for the porters waiting to take home the dead drunks. Do not worry.”

Sergeant Hasan felt motivated to cheer them up. “The tavern keeper closed the tavern late and went home exhausted. There was a short knock at the door as he was laying on bed. It was one of the commies. ‘A man asks what time you will open the tavern, sir,’ he said. The tavern keeper grunted angrily, ‘Boy, I just closed it. I'll open it any time I want. And if I open it, I won't let this birdbrain in.’ The child shyly replied, ‘But sir, the man does not want to go in, he wants to go out.’”

Their laughter resounded the tavern. The glasses rose again. “To the drunks!” İsmail did not to fail to talk. “I remembered one of the jokes told when there was no fighting in Gallipoli and Galicia. Do you want me to tell?” All replied with one voice “It will be good!”

“Sultan Murat IV himself drank well. But despite that he imposed a strict ban on alcoholic beverages. One day he takes a walking tour of the city in disguise and gets in a boat. He will check whether people drink on the seaside. When the boatman, who does not recognize the sultan, occasionally takes a bottle out of his pocket and starts sipping it, the sultan asks: ‘What is that you drink?’ The boatman replies ‘A restorative syrup. I feel like a lion when I take two sips of it.’ When the sultan wants to taste it, the boatman thinks ‘who will catch us in the middle of the sea’ and extends the bottle. As soon as the sultan takes two sips, he roars: ‘You, disbeliever! This is wine. Don't you know that I forbid to drink wine?’ The boatman is surprised, 'Who the hell are you to forbid the drink?’ When he gets the answer ‘I am Sultan Murat!' the boatman leaps to his feet as he grabs the shovel. ‘Now I throw you into the sea, you just took two sips, you started to think yourself Sultan Murat. If you take two more sips, you'll say I created the world.'“

The glasses rose again. “To Sultan Murat IV!” Their laughter resounded the tavern again. Hüseyin put his empty glass on the table and suddenly became dull. Hayrettin was the first to notice this. “What's up, brother? Your stomach got worse again, didn't it?” Sabri and İsmail suddenly became serious. “My stomach is fine. But never mind. Don't worry after these beautiful moments.”

At the very moment, Hayrettin’s habit of philosophy reappeared. “To make this rakı table and our joy meaningful we need both the worry and the uneasiness, brother. Look at our lives.” The hearts of Sabri and İsmail sank and they lost their joy. As they tried to comprehend these words, Hüseyin forced himself to smile. “The reverse migration of those coming from Anatolia to the Balkans had begun after Murat IV’s death. I remembered it.”

Sabri served the glass carafe around, filled the empty glasses and added water. “When did it take place exactly brother? Let's open this up a bit.”

“You remember; the Ottoman had conquered Skopje in 1389. I never forget this date. Three hundred years later, when the Second Vienna siege failed, the Austrians burned Skopje. Some immigrants coming from Skopje to İstanbul established a quarter around Unkapanı. In other words, 220 years before our families left.”

Hüseyin took a cigarette and extended the pack to his friends. With İsmail's matches they all lit their cigarettes. Sabri asked curiously. “It means that, our families had stayed in place.”

“Yeah. Like most Turks. Austria withdrawn when the Ottoman army responded to these attacks. The city of Skopje was the most important and most populous Turkish Balkan city after Edirne.”

Hayrettin objected, “But, there were more Turks in our Thessaloniki than in Skopje.”

“As far as I know, it was after the foundation of the Greek State and the start of the withdrawals from the Balkans. Those who escaped from the Greeks and from the inner Balkans found Thessaloniki more suitable and settled there.”

Hayrettin nodded in agreement, “Yes. we lost the Balkans when the Greek State was established. I could never know that Greek children, who were my elementary school friends, would become militants while I was in military middle and high school.” Sabri supported, “When I went to Skopje middle school, our Macedonian and Bulgarian friends started shouting on the streets saying, ‘Macedonia belongs to Macedonians’.”

The tavern keeper Hristo came smiling and brought the last appetizer of pastrami and fried cheddar cheese. Hüseyin got the message. This last appetizer service kindly reminded the customer that it was time to leave. He paid the bill. They immediately finished the plates. Hüseyin looked at his watch. “It's late. We talk about this subject at another time, including how my father and my uncle were killed by Macedonian militants and what happened afterwards.”

***

From Önder to Bilge Wallace.

January 10, 2019. Ankara.

I couldn't communicate with Mr. Wallace for about a week. The test messages I sent were unanswered. I was curious. Finally, the gentleman showed up in my mailbox. I instantly opened it. When I started reading the message beginning with “Hello again, Mr. Önder Üsküplü…” I felt like a poor child who found money on the road. “... I just saw your four messages. It appears that neither of us is likely to see the mail at the same time. How are you?”

I replied immediately. “Thank you, Mr. Wallace, I'm fine. You?”

I didn't wait long for the answer. “I've had better days. If you keep on reading the book, I wonder what your impressions are.”

I started writing. “I finished the events of 1919. I found it successful in reviving the happenings of hundred years ago. I don't know much of what I've read about Hüseyin Üsküplü, my uncle. He never mentioned about his friends he worked with. I do know he was not engaged to a woman. I only remember that he had a short adventure with a woman older than him who lived in the same quarter. There were a lot of Armenians living in Balat. But I don't know Vartan, the backgammon friend of my uncle's brother. Moreover, I had only one uncle.”

I sent it immediately. Five minutes passed. The answer was on my screen.

“I don't have the chance to confirm this, Mr. Önder Üsküplü. I was able to read my father's notes long after he died. Sorry.”

Expecting this answer, I replied. “I don't know that my uncle worked in the ‘Special Organization’ and then in the ‘Karakol’ organization. I don't think some member of the family were aware of this organization either. Unfortunately, none of them whom I can ask are alive.”

Our conversation continued at five minute intervals.

“Perhaps your uncle didn't tell anyone in order not to break his oath.”

“Could be.”

“What will you say about the others, Mr. Önder Üsküplü?”

I did research on Navy Captain David Nelson and Mustafa Sagir. I came across a lot of information and didn't find any difference so far. On our side, it looks like real events.”

“Good news. What about my father, Scott Wallace?”

“There's no sign of him on our side. Numerous foreign journalists had worked in İstanbul and Anatolia during the War of Independence. But I couldn't find your father.”

“Well, wasn't there Sebottendorf either?”

“He was here. And he came out in so many different personality and actions that it will be a lie if I say I wasn't surprised. There are countless articles about him in books and on the Internet. But I couldn't find any information on his relationship with your father.”

“Do you have anything else to tell me before we disconnect again Mr. Önder Üsküplü?”

“In our last communication, I promised I'll send some photos and videos to you about the Republic of Turkey, established in 1923, and Ankara, the capital. You can find them in the attached files. I didn't forget Ümitköy and Çayyolu.”

The connection was cut again...

***

News Quotes from European news agencies, dated January 25, 1920:

Turkish nationalists in Anatolia gets tougher...

Mustafa Kemal instructed the corps commanders that if the British arrested ministers and deputies in Constantinople (İstanbul), British officers in Anatolia would be arrested in return.

***

Italians of Constantinople.

January 1920. Constantinople.

As Scott Wallace came to Maçka ridge with a phaeton, it was snowing with the poyraz wind. He was prepared for it. He lowered his plaid Scottish hat down to his ears, lifted the collar of his cashmere coat and tightened the angora wool scarf around his neck, straightened the blanket on his knees. His shorter right leg began to tingle. Dampness and cold should have triggered it. It was unfortunate that he couldn't find a taxi in this bad weather. He couldn't find a closed landau carriage either. He had obliged to this open phaeton. It was a perfect occasion to catch a cold!

How do they put up with this vehicle in freezing cold places like Russia?

To Constantinople which had started to become westernized seventy-eight years ago, the landau, cup, phaeton and bato vehicles with rubber wheels came from Europe during that period of time. Then these vehicles began to be produced here. To tell the truth, Scott missed the warm air of Egypt, where he was about a year ago. The photographs he took in historical places and prisoner of war camps in Egypt were awarded in France. He was so happy. The certificate of success presented by the high commissioner at dinner in his honor made all his colleagues jealous. Yes, it was good that he came to Constantinople the previous year. He was now the representative of the ‘New State Magazine’ for the Ottoman Empire. He improved his Turkish language quite a bit with the books he bought from the bookstores in London that taught the Turkish language and practicing on the spot. Another good point: The headquarters of the ‘Thule Organization’, of which he became a member two years ago, was also here. Sebottendorf had fled Germany, where the communists had grown stronger. ‘His Organization’ was accused of racism. Through Sebottendorf, Scott met the Bektashis and Major Hüseyin, one of the prominent member of the insurgent Turkish forces. For the time being, the search for the traces of Celts in Anatolia was included in his checklist. He was not able to leave Constantinople so far. However, his research topics were increasing. He had heard about the existence of the Karamanoglu Principality from Yusuf. It was defeated by the Ottomans and most of its people were deported to the Balkans. He also took note about the Turkish interpretation of Islam and learned that shamanism was maintained among Muslim Turks. Major Hüseyin explained that the Turks ruled Shiite Iran for about thousand years.

When the driver, after a few attempts, told him that his horse could not climb because of the frozen ramp, Scott let his thoughts drift away and carefully stepped on the ground. After paying the guy, he started walking. He wondered how the Undersecretary of the Italian Embassy, Gennaro Grasso, went and return to this house in these weather conditions. Scott would bet that even with the Fiat car he hardly drove uphill here. Signor Grasso had invited Baron Sebottendorf and Scott to dinner. Scott met him during one of the national day celebrations. He was the unchanging official of the Italian Embassy, which was opened after the Libya War, then closed during the European War and reopened after the Mudros Armistice Agreement at the end of 1918. While the British and the French appointed admirals as high commissioners, the Italians nominated diplomats. Grasso has been here for nine years. He easily socialized with his surroundings. He did not disengage from around four thousand Italian citizens living in Constantinople.

A few minutes later, the Scottish journalist came to the house surrounded by a stone wall with iron bars. When he rang the bell of the external door, it opened immediately and one of the servants smiling spoke, “Benvenuto Signor, welcome sir.” Scott replied with his poor Italian “Grazie.”

Signor Grasso and his wife welcomed their guest when he entered the residence. Baron had come before; he was drinking Cinzano on the closest seat to the fireplace in the landlord's study room. Grasso offered whiskey to the Scottish guest, but Scott asked for a Campari. They started chatting. The common complaints were scarcity, expensiveness, black market, increasing theft, the lack of public order and the spread of diseases. In fact, what has happened was to be considered normal for the post-war period. The important thing was whether these problems could be overcome in a short time or not. It should not be forgotten that similar situation had taken place before the war. After these conversations, the host smiling asked if it was okay to discuss the political issues he knew best. Two guests replied they would be pleased. Grasso looking at his guests' eyes one by one, began to explain his negative views about the British. Italians joined the Germans who were against the British. “After western Turkey was made a present to the Greeks which had been granted to Italy, British-Italian relationship deteriorated. You know that well.” The guests demanded him to proceed with positive signs.

“In areas under our control, we support Mustafa Kemal Pasha forces in secret. I mean the Aegean coasts and inland areas. I tell you before you ask. We protect our interests.”

Scott kept in mind that he should discuss this with the Greeks at the earliest opportunity. But he was surprised. How would an experienced diplomat share with a British journalist something should remain confidential? Baron asked the question although he knew partially the answer: “Could you enlighten us on your support for Turkish nationalists’ cause a bit more please?”

“We provide free health service to the public by opening dispensaries. We provide financial assistance to those who flee from the Greeks, we give loans to farmers and merchants, open schools, repair roads and mosques.”

Sebottendorf had other news too. “You helped Enver Pasha's family escape to Germany, didn't you?”

“You know that,” replayed Grasso, “Your intelligence is very good. I think most of what I've told is known by you.”

Baron did not respond, smiled slightly.

“Count Caprini, the commander of the Italian occupation forces, was Enver Pasha’s friend. He helped them. Enver's wife gave birth to her second daughter. She was in poor health and had to be treated in Europe. When she was prevented from leaving the country, we gave passports to Enver Pasha's wife and daughters, smuggled them to Italy and then to Germany.”

Scott continued to be surprised. But he joined the conversation, “The British complain about it a lot. They know that Italian merchants sell guns to the Turks, Italian ships smuggle people, weapons and ammunition for Turkish resistance. I also heard that they were watching your ships in the Mediterranean bound for Antalya.”

Grasso took a sip of his drink and replied with a laugh. “Sometimes we do it through Bulgaria as well.” The host filled the empty glass of his guests, and kept on talking. “An Italian company bought the cannons junked by the Ottoman Empire and an Italian ship dropped them in İnebolu like commercial goods. We also ensure the safety of German aid ships coming from the Mediterranean.” Satisfied with Scott's astonishing gaze, he proceeded. “We help to smuggle important names too. For example, if the Crown Prince Abdülmecit Efendi had accepted the smuggling by the nationalists to Ankara, an Italian ship was ready for him. We, as the embassy, helped the Crown Prince's contact with Ankara. When the Sultan and the British noticed this, the Crown Prince was taken into custody. So, we smuggled his private secretary to Germany with an Italian passport.”

The Baron asked. “You openly challenge the British. I really appreciated it. My dear friend Grasso, what did the Turkish insurgents promise you in return?”

“You can guess that. When the struggle in Anatolia is successful, we will take the privilege of the mines. A secret protocol was signed between Count Fago and Mustafa Kemal. We will also lend four million lire to the Ankara government.”

“It is not only Germans and Italians who help the Ankara resistance, my dear friend.” Sebottendorf went on. “Bolshevik Russians engaged too.”

Grasso stood up to refill the drinks, “Yes we're watching this too.”

As the glass was filled, the Baron went on. “Turks supported by the Germans had prevented the British and French navy to pass through the Straits during the European War. Tsarist Russia could not get their help. That is why the Bolshevik Revolution had been successful. So, the Russian occupation of Anatolia had ended. The two sides were happy, you see.”

Scottish journalist jumped into the discussion. “Mr. Sebottendorf, you were in Germany then, weren't you?”

“Yes, at that time the Bolsheviks' cooperation with Jewish bankers came to our attention. Most Bolshevik Russians were Masons. Eighty percent of those who came to Russia from Germany with a sealed train, along with Lenin, were Jewish.”

Grasso supported it. “Mussolini's Fascist Party has the same suspicion. But five of the founders of the Fascist Party were of Jewish origin.” Smiling he went on, “No comment.”

Sebottendorf carried on. “Jewish bankers gave Lenin millions of dollars. In return, they were granted the privilege of extracting Caspian oil. I mean, like you do here.”

Scott broke his silence again. “They will also establish the Jewish State in Palestine. After two thousand years.”

Baron came back to the initial subject. “We know that the fugitive ‘unionists’ met with the Bolsheviks of Jewish origin in Berlin. Their friends in the German general staff help the ‘unionists’.”

The Scottish journalist got to the point. “The Unionist Enver Pasha contacted the British to support them against Russians too. According to my information sources in the government, the UK refused his proposals.”

Sebottendorf concluded his remarks, “The sultan caliph in Constantinople is completely under British control. We abandoned hope of him. Therefore, we should help Ankara, Mustafa Kemal Pasha, giving material, spiritual support as far as possible. Just give me the information. It's enough for me. I transfer it to Turkish nationalists through my friends.”

“I absolutely agree. My sources in London reported that the sultan caliph and the grand vizier signed a secret agreement with the British government. The UK's take over the management of Turkey is being spoken.”

Grasso immediately interrupted, “Do you think that the UK's financial, political and military situation is appropriate for it?”

Scott replied. “There are hot debates in the parliament on this issue. Some find it risky, and there are others who say it can be dangerous for the interests of the country.”

Bektashi Baron changed the subject, saying he would summarize the Thule issue. “Thule recognizes the value of different nations, but does not believe in their equality. It is necessary to open the way for the best and the strongest and to ensure that the weak surrenders. If any race poses a danger to a race higher than itself, Thule does not accept its right to live. If the strong fuses with the weak, he sacrifices himself.”

He lowered his voice as if to say a secret. “Although everyone says so, there is no equality, brotherhood and justice in life. So is the nature. It eliminates the weak and the degenerate. Let me give an example from Germany. About one-third of our population consists of useless, patients, mad, alcoholics, sex offenders, assholes, lazy ones. They take the rights of the proper ones. Their contribution to society is far less than they receive. To educate these growing useless ones consumes a lot of time and resources. Humanity loses. You know what's more funny? Medicine is developing but rather to support those useless. This should be ended.”

He took a sip of his drink and cleared his drying throat. “And who will make this revolution and how? Easy to answer. A few valuable people can do this. But the established order prevents it. No matter what dear people do, they cannot be representatives of the majority. Because the majority are uninterested in social problems, they are foolish and ignorant. Rogue manipulators can easily deceive them and take over the government. Therefore, development is not possible by the will of the majority. It is very difficult to put a distinguished person, an intelligent leader, a great man into power by election. Even impossible. This can only be done with a force, with a blow. Thule will work to achieve this.”

Hot talks ended when Signora Grasso clicked the door and invited them to dinner. As moving into the dining room, Scott thought, as before, about what he disagreed with Sebottendorf. Bektashism was a universal thought and action based on human love. It praised tolerance. People should not be insulted because of the differences in religion, language, color and gender. It advocated, you don't make the differences a matter of fight. But Thule supported the theories of ‘superior man and superior race’. What a contradiction! This began to shake his trust in Sebottendorf. Or did he want to appeal to the rising fascist forces in Germany and Italy? Worse, was this man a charlatan?

The sensitive information that Signor Grasso shared was quite interesting. He especially wanted the British to hear it. This was obvious and as a journalist he would share it with the public. He sat next to him, asked if Grasso found risky to use anonymously what he had told. He did not...

The landlady had prepared her famous roast. There was certainly pasta with it and was mixed with the meaty tomato sauce. The raw ham crudo was not missing. Chianti wine was ready. For dessert, there is the Panetone, stuffed with raisin, orange peel and cognac.

During the meal, they learned that Signora Grasso's mother's family was among Genoese families living in Constantinople when it was conquered by Turks. Her father's Genovese family was brought from Trabzon to Constantinople after the conquest. Signora has much knowledge about this particular subject. She also explained that Constantinople was a city of Italian character. She reminded of the Galata Tower, dome technology and aqueducts, all had come from Rome. She enthusiastically spoke of Venetians, Florentines, the people of Pisa, Amalfi and their Genoese ancestors.

Constantinople could not be left to the British or the Greeks…

***

News Quotes from European news agencies, dated February 20, 1920:

The parliament opposes the Ottoman sultan and government ...

The declaration of ‘Misakı Milli-National Oath’ adopted in the secret session of the Ottoman Parliament is being proclaimed to the foreign parliaments. A 70-member group was formed in the parliament to resist the Mudros armistice agreement. The guideline of the declaration was formed at the Erzurum and Sivas Congresses the previous year. The ‘National Oath’ foresees to continue the struggle until full independence is achieved within the borders when the Mudros cease-fire agreement was signed.

***

The attacker's trail.

February 1920. Constantinople.

Balat Surp Hıvasdagabed Church was going through one of its active days. It was a rare warm weather in February. As women, men, elderly and children Armenians were chatting and going in, they were welcomed with soft and sweet tunes of the accordion, violin and flute played by the musicians, two women and one man. Some laughters were competing with the music. They had the most beautiful clothes on them. Some had new ones and some had repaired ones, as they couldn't afford new ones.

During the Armenian massacre, four women and three boys, who had accepted Islam for fear of being killed, were going to be baptized and became Christians again. Vartan, his aunt Eva, his uncle Ara Kamburyan and his two cousins were attending the ceremony. The cousins were students; Kirkor in dental Faculty, Movses in Vefa High School. After the assassination attempt, Vartan was treated for months. Over time, his mind and body were healed. But they couldn't cure his left arm paralysis. He was therefore depressed and rarely went out of the house. Although he was estranged from church, he couldn't hurt his aunt's feelings. He scanned the environment he was away for a long time. The pale brass plaque at the entrance showed the records of the church which was tried to be decorated with available means. It was a Greek church handed over to the Armenians in 1636. It had survived a lot of fire: In 1692, 1729, 1827. Finally, the wooden church was rebuilt in masonry by Sultan Mahmut II's decree and opened for worship in 1835. They went in. The oil paintings of the Armenian saints placed in the niches on the yellow walls and a high chateau-like altar in the apse where the ritual was held were noteworthy. Above the altar, flashy candlesticks and large candles illuminated the painting of Virgin Mary and the baby Jesus on her lap.

Then, the ceremony began under high-arched windows decorated with pink and blue stained glass, luminous chandeliers and candles. Archbishop also honored the baptism of Father Hagop. The godfathers of those who converted back again to Christianity took their places. The excitement of seven candidates were spreading to all participants. Accompanied by the hymns, they were, in turn, anointed with Holy Muron oil. Silver chain crosses, which were given as gifts by the Patriarchate, were also worn around their necks.

Vartan found this kind of rituals funny. Finally, it was over. As he left the church, he saw his friends in the back rows. They could find a place in the back because they were late. Attorney Arto, Boran the Kurd, and Mr. Cihat the Ententist were side by side. All three were members of the British Friends Association. Udi - Lutist - Hrant Kenkulyan with his dark glasses came with his assistant. They all went out together. As Vartan had a conversation with Dr. Kamburyan, he noticed the chubby man in the black suit among the crowd outside greeting him with his head. Yes, he was British Captain Bennett's right hand Mr. Smith. The poker face turned back and walked away quietly. He had done his duty.

Famous for her warm and fast hospitality, Aunt Eva invited Vartan’s friends to their home considering that he would be pleased. On Sunday, when the Muslim Turks worked, the Christians, who cheered the streets of Balat in their elegant clothes, walked without caring for the angry glances towards them. Now the new era began. The oppressed were changing. As soon as they got home, Aunt Eva and her two sons, whom she taught well housework, entered the kitchen. Guests started chatting with the mint liqueur Ara offered. Some information received from Armenian members of the parliament and journalists was shared.

Vartan was hearing conversations but he was thinking different things. The sinister evening when he had been attacked appeared before his eyes. They couldn't notice the attackers hiding in the dark street. Two guards died on the spot. He was almost dying immediately afterward. He saved his life by using his gun at the last minute. As he tried to escape, suddenly felt severe pain behind his neck. Turning back, he fired six bullets into the attacker, whom he could barely see. But he couldn't hit. He staggered to the square, but fell to the ground. As he tried to remove the knife from his neck, the attacker pressed his arm with his foot and cut Vartan’s right jugular vein with his knife. As those who heard the gunshots came at them, the attacker had to flee. When Vartan woke up in the hospital, two days had passed. According to his doctor uncle the attacker had not completely cut his jugular vein. One of those who came to the aid could not stop the bleeding, but exerted pressure to reduce it. He and another benefactor carried Vartan on their backs to the Austrian Sankt Georg Hospital, a hundred meters away. After the surgery, they kept him in a coma state to reduce his intracranial pressure. After the coma, he remained in the intensive care unit for 24 hours and then was treated in his room for two weeks. In the following weeks, speech, movement, power, vision, coordination and feeling treatments were given.

The emergency staff at the hospital explained that the two benefactors were Turkish, but they could not get the Turks’ identity in the turmoil. No trace of the attackers was found. They also robbed the guards' guns and wallets.

Vartan could see the attacker's eyes before he passed out. He could not forget. He even dreamed it. He had then remembered another detail. There was a skin tag between the attacker's eyebrows. Months later, the first time he went to the neighborhood coffeehouse, a sudden thought had struck him. Yes, those eyes belonged to his backgammon opponent İsmail. And there was also a skin tag between his eyebrows. He and his two cousins were now among the suspects. In fact, the British had tailed Hüseyin before but could not find any suspicious situation. Now, the members of the ‘Nemesis operation’ were engaged, watching all three of them.

“You are lost in thought again Vartan!”

The aunt's husband gently tapped on his wife's nephew's back and invited him to shake rakı glasses. In the meantime, sipping his rakı Master Hrant began to play his lute. The doctor introduced his fellow guest, the humble classical Turkish music composer. He was born in Adapazarı and had to flee to Konya with his family in 1915. He also led high-quality chorus music at different clubs in Galata. Lutist Hrant began to play and sing.

I'm worried, can't find a way.

I'm poor-fellow, don't build a nest.

It's my destiny I always suffer.

I groan but never escape.

Vartan and the doctor joined him. The people in the kitchen came by them. A major choir was formed. To others, liqueurs were refilled. When the song was over, they applauded Hrant. The doctor explained the tears that leaked under his black glasses. “Mr. Ahmet Rasim wrote the lyrics. Its composer was Tatyos Efendi. We remember Tatyos Efendi every time when his works are sung. Sadly, too much drinking caused his health to deteriorate, he was unable to work and died of cirrhosis.”

Dr. Kamburyan turned to politics to dispel the gloomy atmosphere. “Fifteen months after the ceasefire, the peace agreement could not be signed. Nationalist Turks find draft treaties very harsh and unfair. I guess they won't accept. They regard the sultan's government as impotent.”

Cihat interrupted. “I think a balance must be struck between Armenians, Kurds and Turks. If one party outweighs, it will be difficult to reach peace. The British cannot send more troops to Eastern Anatolia and the Caucasus. France's support for the Armenians is insufficient.”

Delicious smells were coming from the kitchen. The mother and her sons did not finish their work yet. Eyes turned to Boran. “We are at an important point. This is also being discussed at our association. Some Americans argue counter-thesis. They say the British want to strangle the nationalist movement by using the Kurds. They traveled around the region with a delegation and made investigations about the Armenian Massacre. They must have gathered enough information about the Kurds. That is why it is necessary to satisfy the Americans as well.” Mr. Cihat interrupted again. “I agree exactly. The British Friends Association also draws attention to the Americans. Without them, the Allies would not have won the European War.”

Meanwhile, the table was ready. Aunt Eva suggested, “Come to the table. We, in the family, eat while have a conversation. You may continue again.” She started giving a piece of information. “This famous appetizer is ‘topik’, made of chickpeas, potatoes, tahini, onion, stuffed peanuts, currants, cinnamon and allspice. You must taste it. Four-side topik linens are added to the girls' dowry. A girl who doesn't know how to make a topik cannot easily find a husband.” The doctor interrupted promptly, “Yes, that's why it was so easy to trick me.”

They laughed.

Aunt Eva went on the presentation. “I also recommend Armenian pilaki. I do it with rooster beans, not every pub can hold this consistency. The doctor is addicted to stuffed mackerel. And my sons love this fried turbot. She introduced others. Mussels, Armenian kebab, bacon, various cheeses, meatballs, harissa made from meat and wheat, pickles, cabbage wrap with olive oil, eggplants with minced meat, lavash bread. Rakı and wines were ready too.

Lutist Hrant was not unfamiliar to the big plate prepared for him. He was both eating and playing. The subject of the conversation was the Armenian Balyan family who built the Dolmabahçe Palace in twelve years. Sultan Abdülmecit had Garabet Balyan and his son Nigogos Balyan built it by borrowing. It was too big. Thousands of servants had worked in the palace during the reign of Abdülaziz. The annual cost had been £ 2 million. The Çıragan and Beylerbeyi Palaces were built by Sarkis Balyan. Feriye Palaces were built by architects of Balyan Family too. Ortaköy Mosque, Taksim Barracks, war ministry and Galatasaray High School were also their works.

After dinner they went to the living room. They returned to political developments with coffee and cognac. Boran went on with his remarks “Bogos Nubar Pasha and Şerif Pasha, two of the Ottoman delegates, agree on an independent Armenian state and an independent Kurdish state. The next step is to convince the Turks. As far as I can tell, the sultan and the prime minister will not cause any trouble.” The Ententist Mr. Cihat also expressed his opinion. “I think that instead of independent states, it is more realistic to think of autonomous governments in Ottoman rule. An important Turkish population lives there. Mustafa Kemal Pasha and nationalists do not accept division. Moreover, the Russians and the French need to be persuaded. My same reservations apply to Armenia too.”

Everything on paper seemed easy. But someone was walking around with grenades pins pulled out.

***

News Quotes from European news agencies, dated March 20 1920:

The political earthquake in Constantinople ...

The previous month, the Ottoman Parliament, unlike the peace-seeking sultan and his government, did not recognize the provisions of the cease-fire by issuing the Declaration of National Oath, got reaction. The Entente States forcibly took the situation in hand and officially invaded Constantinople on March 16. The parliament was raided, some members were arrested and deported to the British Island of Malta. Two days later, the parliament responded. It terminated its activities with the closing meeting. Mustafa Kemal Pasha stated that an extraordinary parliamentary assembly in Ankara will be held promptly.

***

Nelson of Constantinople.

March 1920. Constantinople.

Mr. Ramiz, or David Nelson, woke up at seven o'clock as usual. Before the substantial Turkish breakfast, he did the morning workout. That was one of the good habits of military service. He watched Constantinople from his balcony in Şişli on 21st of March, the equinox day. He didn't forget the breath exercise. Then he took a shower starting with hot water and finishing with warm and cold water. He went out on the street at eight o’clock. As the Turks call it, the ‘moron soaking’ rain started. His umbrella in one hand, leather handbag in the other, headed to the tram stop. Ramiz usually took the tram to the company office in Sirkeci for nine months. He could have used his car, but by taking tram, he intertwined with the public, sometimes obtaining interesting information. One-third of his time was spent on company business. The remaining two-thirds belonged to Navy Captain David Nelson, the Director of Middle East Operations of British intelligence. To send agents, find collaborators, provoke rebellions in Turkey, Egypt, Palestine, Syria, Iraq and Arabia's important spots were under his administration.

There were some empty seats on the Şişli-Tünel electric tram number 10. Since he was going to attend the meeting at the embassy, he did not need to get off at Taksim and transfer to Sirkeci tram number 15. He knew well the tram lines in Constantinople which he used a lot. Its history dated back fifty years ago. For the first time, the Azapkapı - Ortaköy horse-drawn tram was put into service and ten more lines were added later on. Electric trams were almost new. As the tram stopped at Harbiye, Nelson watched the guards protecting the British Forces headquarters behind sandbags. The tram moved on. He was accustomed to the image on the central streets of the city: four-story masonry houses with wooden bay windows, shops, phaetons, pack donkeys, porters, bagel sellers, men with turban, tabard, fez, vest, women with chadors...

They left behind the training camp and artillery barracks in Taksim. Tepebaşı Cemetery appeared in the distance. Meanwhile, David had to listen to the conversation between the two passengers standing next to him.

“Do you know Dingo's stall?”

“I've never heard of.”

“During the horse-drawn period, the trams were towed by two horses.”

“Yes, I can't forget their shits on the roads.”

“They used to take reinforcement horses from Azapkapı in order to climb the Şişhane ramp. The horses were rested in a barn in Taksim and then taken back to Azapkapı. The barn on that plot was run by Mr. Dingo, a Greek. I used to chat with him occasionally. I just remembered him.”

“Where is this Dingo now?”

“I think he went to İzmir. He might be taking care of the Greek army's horses.”

“I remembered now that the balloon flying over the Artillery Barracks over there. Those who took the balloon could see İstanbul from the air.”

Most of the passengers got off at Pera. Nelson looked at the people walking on the roads. A man with shalwar and skullcap was slowly carrying water cans with a thick wand on his shoulders. There was a big difference between him and the man passing by with fez, black suit, tie, black patent leather shoes.

This is Constantinople, the new capital of the British Middle East...

The Navy Captain got off the tram at Galatasaray and headed to the embassy. He didn't neglect to check frequently the environment. They knew that the elements of the Turkish nationalist organization watched the main gate in different dress and the role of peddlers. And Captain Bennett caught them with his civilian-dressed men and questioned them in the cellar of the Kroker Hotel. As they agreed, a third one was added to the two large flower pots at the main gate.

The main gate is clean.

Soon he was in the high commissioner 's meeting room. He looked at Admiral Calthorpe's picture on the wall. He handed over his duty to Admiral Robeck the previous year. His deputy, Admiral Webb maintained his job. General Milne, the commander of the Black Sea Armies had not arrived. He was preparing for departure. The previous week, when his harsh policy attempt beginning with the invasion of Constantinople had been failed, he was dismissed and replaced by General Harington.

Ten minutes later, the meeting began when Milne arrived. Bennett made a detailed assessment. Admiral Webb followed him. The Turkish national movement was developing as expected. But what they feared most didn't come true. It was very limited for Indian Muslims to spread the armed rebellion to their countries, taking Turks as an example.

Navy Captain Nelson's report was longer. The Arabs' Middle East was under control. He gave priority to Constantinople and Anatolia. Turkish nationalists had two sensitive points: their relations with the ‘unionists’ and the Bolsheviks. He and his staff were working on these sensitive points. They started establishing trading companies in various places connected to the network of the Black Jumbo organization. They were in contact with some Bolsheviks. Adapazarı, Düzce and Konya surroundings were convenient in Anatolia. Rebellions against the national movement were supported through distributing money to the public. Nelson had collaborators in the Sultan's palace, in the government, in the Freedom and Entente Party, in the Ottoman army, in customs, in the Maritime Office and in the police. They also identified a conflict between the leaders of the nationalist resistance organization, the ‘Karakol’ and the leader Mustafa Kemal Pasha in Ankara. They worked hard to deepen this separation. French and Italian companies that helped the nationalists were monitored too. Joint efforts were made with the Greeks and with the support of the Fener Patriarchate. The British Friends Association was very successful. Specially selected Armenians and Greeks maintained their training at the Anadolu Kavağı Branch.

They listened to Admiral Robeck's summary of relations with the government. The grand vizier Ali Rıza Pasha and the minister of war Cemal Pasha of Mersin resisted the wishes of the British and Salih Pasha replaced him. But they could not agree with Salih either. All leaned towards the Anatolian movement. The British would need the fourth cabinet of Ferit Pasha the Groom.

The weather was good. Leaving the embassy after lunch, David Nelson decided to walk all the way to Sirkeci. Pera or Beyoğlu, as the Turks called it, reminded him of the streets of Europe. He passed by the Albanian style fried diced liver seller. He was not hungry. In Mr. Ramiz identity he took part in the society of Constantinople. Turkish Bath pleasure, tripe soup, liver pan, water pipe or hookah were included in his habits. The theaters in which the Armenians played the role of women and the Cossacks dancing with knifes imitating a fight were also interesting. The numbers of the bars, pavilions and shithouses in old barracks increased.

When he saw an oncoming Indian, he remembered his friend Mustafa Sagir. After spending seven months in prison in Afghanistan, it took him a long time to recover. They wrote each other. Three weeks ago, Mustafa started to work in the Secret Service in London. It was a boring desk job. He was eager to serve in Constantinople. That was what Nelson desired too. He talked to the High Commissioner and received roughly his approval. In his first report, the Admiral would propose Sagir’s appointment here.

Nelson looked at his pocket watch and realize that he had time for a coffee in his tailor Arman's shop.

***

Kurdistan Promotion Association.

October 1919. Constantinople.

“The Honorable Judge, these people’s family…” Lawyer Arto Dinkyan paused a few second and showed the plaintiffs by hand, “…never sold their mansion to anyone, I submitted its property deeds to court.” Arto proceeded his remarks by pointing to the complainants who demanded the damages to be paid. “The Committee of Union and Progress Government seized the mansion and property of this Armenian family. After that it exiled this family. We are grateful to God, my witness ready to testify here...” This time he showed with his eyeglasses the thin old man on the other side. “… this merciful Turk, putting himself and his family in danger, smuggled his Armenian neighbors to Constantinople, to İstanbul.” The lawyer paused to see his effect while wiping his eyeglasses with a handkerchief. His eyes fixed in his assistant Vartan Saatçıyan, who sat behind his right for a few seconds. His friend was smiling and glancing at Arto expressing full appreciation. Vartan had recovered after the attack, but he was unable to use his left arm and didn't speak much. As the judge was whispering to the assistant judges on both sides, Arto also caught the positive reaction of the Armenian cognates in the back rows. As a matter of fact, Vartan had a great contribution in bringing things to this stage. And with the help of the British, they proceeded quickly in the legal cases.

Vartan had similar thoughts in his mind too. He had made an intensive effort to meet the Armenian complainants face-to-face. He had found most of them after several weeks of searching. Some of them were still scared. He had spent too much time convincing them to sue. They didn't even charge lawyers' fees until the legal cases were concluded. Finally, the judges, including the Armenian Rober Karakaşlı, ended their negotiations and returned to Arto. The chief judge signaled the lawyer to continue.

“Your Honor, we demand the trial of the Turks and Kurds, who occupied the properties, shops, thousands of acres of fields, vineyards and gardens that my clients had left in Kayseri. Those who were poor four years ago should clarify how they prospered in war. Let them tell you how they got their title deeds, Your Honor.”

The judge cut Arto off here glancing at his notes in front of him. “Did the complainants themselves or their agents apply to the Liquidation Commissions?”

“How would these unfortunate people do that in two months, sir?”

“Wasn't it four months, Mr. Lawyer?”

“It was for those outside of the country, sir. The complainants would show a residence at the location of the commission for notification. This was not possible, Your Honor.”

Complaining families began to cry. The judge banged his gavel several times to secure the silence. “You proceed, sir.” Arto resumed his speech with a tone of emphasizing his rightness. “Say, some claimants could do that. They could object to the amount determined by the commission within two weeks. Your Honor, the court decision on that objection was final and the request of appeal was closed.”

When protests rose again from the audience lines, the judge again ordered silence. The lawyer carried on. “There are even those who were deported to the deserts, having only two hours to prepare. To fulfill these obligations was impossible, sir.”

The judge recessed the session stating that they would listen to the witnesses in the afternoon. Arto didn't go any further. They wouldn't spend all the ammunition at once. They obtained most of the population registers and the records of the title deeds of the complaining Armenians. They were able to prepare some of the petitions in advance. The education of the Armenians who testify and the memorization of their statements were completed too. But they had more work to do. The confiscated property of the complainants had been distributed to prominent Turks, Kurds and Circassians, and to the Turks who migrated from the lands lost by the Ottoman Empire in wars. Some were used as barracks, prisons, schools and hospitals. Some Armenian churches were also used as warehouses or burned. They would keep on collecting their documents and witnesses. The confiscated property was worth billions of French Francs. They would work on it. Their next efforts would be focused on the documents of the money in the banks seized from Armenians.

Vartan Saatçıyan had been witnessing important developments. The decision to launch ‘Operation Nemesis’ at the ninth conference of the Dashnak Party was one of them. The members of the ‘unionists’ who carried out the Armenian genocide and managed to escape from the judiciary would be avenged. Obviously, British could not make it, but properly speaking, they would support this operation.

Vartan would not be able to attend the afternoon session at the courthouse, as he would meet his Kurdish friend Boran two hours later. On his way through the crowd to inform Arto, Vartan saw his friend talking to a stranger. He might be a European. He was tall and white. Arto gestured with hand to him to come. The stranger stopped talking and turned to him. He was smiling. No beard and mustache, balding, blond hair. The blue and sharp eyes behind his eyeglasses immediately caught Vartan's eye. Arto introduced them. “Mr. Wallace, this is my best friend and assistant, Vartan.” The stranger immediately extended his hand and said with a broken Turkish, “I am very pleased. I'm Scott.” His cheeks were hollow and he was a little overweight. Arto explained, “Mr. Wallace is a British journalist. He deals with the Armenian slaughter cases. He observed my defense at the hearings. He'd like to get to know me better and obtain some information.” The journalist turned his gaze to Vartan. “I would appreciate it if you would come with Mr. Arto,” he suggested. Arto spoke without giving his friend the opportunity to reply.

“We thank you. We'll come as soon as possible.”

Vartan nodded and requested permission to leave, because he had something to do in the afternoon. He got out of the Justice Palace and watched Sarayburnu and the sea for a while. After recovery, he was protected more remotely but more carefully. He walked slowly to the nearby meatball restaurant. At every opportunity, he ate at this restaurant famous with great grills in Sultanahmet Square. He had uncovered its secret of flavor. They added sheep head meat and tail fat to the ground beef. He gourmandized meatballs and bean salad then paid account. For the last time he inhaled the smell of grills before going out. He was more comfortable recently, thanks to the British intelligence people who captured the nationalist forces elements occasionally tailing him in various disguise. Now he could notice if he was being followed. He had received practical training day and night on the streets of Constantinople. But even so, he shouldn't relax. He remembered the attack on him seven months ago, and looked at his left arm he could not use anymore. He sighed and quickly checked outside. There was no problem. Just then the snow began. He bought two kilos of baklava from the dessert shop next door. Its price was raised again. But he never went empty-handed to places like this. He also knew that the Kurds enjoyed eating baklava. He thought it was a good day because he didn't wait long at the tram stop. The electric Topkapı tram passing through Şehremini was crowded. As standing in the back, he came eye to eye with the boy standing on the back connection device of the tram, and holding the electrical outlet outside. The final form of free travel should be what he did. He didn't care about the danger. Vartan thought about what these boys could do years later as combatants. At first, he didn't mind the cold-faced boy sticking his tongue out at Vartan. Then Vartan did the same.

As he got off the tram snow continued. He had promised to come to Şehremini branch of Kurdistan Promotion Association, or Kurdistan Teali Association as they called, because he could not evade Boran's persistent invitations. He walked through the side streets. Later, he saw the poster of the British Friends Association adorned with large letters in Ottoman and English. The two officials from an open truck were handing out meat to the poor in a queue. There was a British soldier with a rifle to restore order. Because Vartan and Boran were registered as members of this association, he knew that they made this propaganda every day in poor neighborhoods. He greeted the officials and passed them. Soon, he arrived at Şehremini branch of Kurdistan Teali Association. It was an old, two-story wooden building. The name of the association was written in Kurdish, Ottoman Turkish in Arabic letters and English. As soon as he entered, he took off his coat and held it in his hand. Boran was waiting for him. He and his two friends embraced Vartan. They gave him the stool closest to the wood burning stove in the middle of the small salon. After inquiring each other's health, Boran’s short stocky friend left the small salon, saying he would make coffee. Realizing Vartan's eyes were browsing through the pictures on the walls, Boran began to inform. “Abdurrahim Rahmi Zapsu is one of the pictures above. His descent is based on Abdulkadir Geylani and Abbasids. He is the founder of Kurdish Pupil Hope Association and Kurdistan Teali Association. Next to him is Saidi Nursi, a student and a companion-in-arms of Mr. Abdurrahim. Both went to the eastern front in the Great War. They were captured by the Russians.” The tall, weak Kurdish youth summarized the lower line. Şemdinans, Bedirhans, Cemilpashazades, Colonel Halit, Sayyid Abdulkadir were very valuable for the Kurdish nation.

When the short young man brought their coffees, the picture presentation was almost over. This time the coffee was introduced. Menengiç was made by roasting a mixture of cardamom and carob. It contained no cocoa. Vartan took the first sip, held it in his mouth, extended the taste time of his palate and tongue. Then he dropped the coffee down his throat. Light, but too much foam. He smiling commented, “Very different from the coffee I know, but I liked it very much.”

Conversations continued on the political division of the Kurds. Boran explained the current situation, “Some Kurds are concerned about the establishment of an Armenian state in Eastern Anatolia, Vartan. You know this. They cooperate with Mustafa Kemal Pasha movement.” His friends also approved. “Many Kurds participated in the Erzurum and Sivas Congresses. They don't know that they are wrong, they want to combine our destiny with the fate of the Turks.” His lips were trembling. The tall, thin young man joined the conversation as soon as Boran stopped talking. “I would like to narrate a memory of mine.” When the eyes turned to him, he began to tell his story.

“I was twelve or thirteen. Mounted soldiers came to our village. My father, the village headman, and several others greeted the soldiers. Next to the soldiers was a group of Kurds tied with ropes. Soldiers wanted us to surrender the guns in our village. We brought them all. But they also tied my father, my uncle and the village leaders. Soldiers pushed them with the others and left the village. We followed them. They released some in the next village. But they overfilled my dad, my uncle and others into a barn. We watched them from our hideout. The soldiers bayonetted them all. They did so, simply because gun sounds could be heard. Then they set fire to the barn. When the people's screams ended the soldiers left. We ran to the burning barn. There were still people living. But my father and uncle were dead.”

There was an icy silence in the salon. The young man was staring at the eyes of the Armenian guest with tears and hatred. Vartan also fit in with the hosts giving some pathetic examples of what happened during the forced displacement of the Armenians.

After leaving the association Vartan walked through the streets. Those who saw him could easily notice that he was really exhausted. When there were too many clouds in the air, you wouldn't wait too long for the lightning to flash.

***

News Quotes from European news agencies, dated April 29, 1920:

Nationalist Turks are not retreating...

The actions of the Ottoman Sultan with the Sheikh al-Islam, his government and his soldiers to destroy the nationalists were fruitless. The parliament and the government gathered in Ankara under the leadership of Mustafa Kemal announced that the governance of Turkey was taken over.

***

The Prisoner.

May 1920. İstanbul.

This evening, Major Hüseyin Üsküplü came out of the back door of Erkanı Harbiye - the general staff headquarters-. He reached Beyazıt Square by walking down the side street. He stopped and checked to see if anyone was spying on the main gate of Erkanı Harbiye from afar. Some peeper disguised as peddlers had been caught previously. They worked more carefully now. He watched the perimeter for three or four minutes. There was no problem. He ate the tripe soup in a restaurant a little further. He looked at his watch. There was still an hour until the meeting in the Center, he paid for the meal and walked towards Laleli.

Two weeks ago, Uncle Yusuf got a piece of information with high accuracy and reliability. The source was Bektashi Baron. Hüseyin, Sabri and İsmail were being tailed by British intelligence.

The execution of Vartan, a British collaborator, was not successful seven months ago. This dishonest had been treated for months and recovered except his paralyzed arm. To complete the execution by breaking into the hospital had been impossible. In addition to the British, Armenian militants had been watching every corner of the hospital. The Karakol organization had immediately taken precautions too. After conveying the news to the ‘Center’, Hüseyin and the new bouncer Mahmut had moved to Hayrettin's house in Eyüp and İsmail had moved to a friend's house in Aksaray. Sabri maintained his old order. They wouldn't get together. They checked their environment more often. They also paid attention to the technique of monitoring with two people from the front and rear.

Darkness was falling. He pretended to cough and turned his head suddenly to the left and checked the back. He noticed two men, one with a fez and a jacket and the other with a coat. The distance was about ten steps, just behind them was a woman wearing a headscarf. There was nobody ahead but an old man. He speeded up on the side road to Şehzadebaşı, and quickly hid in the shade at the entrance to the first house. He took out his pistol, flipped the safety lock off. He listened carefully counting up to a hundred. If anyone was tailing him, he would pass in seconds.

No one was there...

Soon, he was at the Şehzadebaşı tram stop. The Organization had moved its safe house from Karagümrük to Atikali. All he would explain at this monthly meeting were in his memory. He was going to propose to stop working for a while.

It was eight in the evening when he arrived at the new address. He had arrived just in time. But he couldn't see the white male shirt hanging to dry in the left window of the upper floor. He didn't stop, kept on walking. He worried too much. He immediately went to Hayrettin's house in Eyüp by a phaeton. His friend didn't hear anything. Hüseyin went around the coffeehouses. There was no important news. The next day he went to the general staff headquarters and looked for Hakkı, but the sergeant was not in the office. Then, Hüseyin rushed to the intelligence department. And he got the bad news. The British had detained the suspects of the Armenian genocide and everyone who resisted the occupation forces. At the hearings, the confessors had reported many of them. By noon, the names on the custody list were announced. Pashas, lieutenants, tradesmen, officials, most of the nationalists he knew were taken. Among them were the chief of the Karakol organization, Colonel Şevket of Galata and Staff Colonel Black Vasıf.

They can take me too.

He did his daily work until late evening trying not to show that he was worried. He tried to evaluate the events and news of the previous weeks.

On March 9, the British raided the center of the Turkish Hearths, a non-governmental organization, arrested hundreds of Turkish intellectuals and killed eight Turks. British soldiers martyred nine sleeping soldiers at the Şehzadebaşı military police station. The ministry of war was blockaded and Minister Fevzi Çakmak Pasha was taken among bayoneted British soldiers. Moreover, the Greeks and Armenians in the vicinity did not hesitate to insult him. This was not over. On March 18, the British raided the parliament and dragged some deputies away. İstanbul was de facto and officially subjected to military occupation. On the same day, the parliament announced that it had dissolved itself.

After that, on the orders of Mustafa Kemal Pasha, Kazım Pasha arrested British Lt. Colonel Rawlinson and his men in Erzurum. Rawlinson, a relative of Foreign Minister Curzon was supervising the truce. The British got very angry and began to retaliate. The sultan and the grand vizier detained the patriots on the list. The Karakol organization got a severe blow. Mustafa Kemal Pasha responded also to this. Turkish troops in Eskişehir destroyed the railways to prevent invaders from attacking Anatolia. This was followed by a very important political reaction. On April 23, 1920, the national assembly was opened in Ankara. The conflicting parties did not stop. With the approval of the sultan, some patriots were sentenced to death. Meanwhile, Şevket of Galata, Black Vasıf and Black Kemal were exiled to Malta.

The Organization was in a difficult situation. Worse was the conflict between the nationalists in İstanbul and the nationalists in Ankara. It was also heard that the commanders in Ankara and the Ethem the Circassian, the commander of the expeditionary forces were confronted. Obviously Mustafa Kemal Pasha did not support the Karakol organization. To commit murder and to suggest that a member of the Karakol organization would assist the commander in each barracks had made Pasha very angry and he had rejected. The fact that the representatives of the Karakol had held independent talks with Russians made Pasha upset deeply. The murder of the Gebze nationalist forces commander Yahya Kaptan after surrender, who was accused of banditry, was the last straw. According to Mustafa Kemal Pasha Şevket of Galata and Black Vasıf were responsible for the murder. They did not stop contact with Enver Pasha who had fled abroad.

Hüseyin could spare very little time for his private life. Although he was engaged four months ago, he could meet Hanımşah only three times. Both were unhappy with this, but they were aware that there was nothing to do because of the country's circumstances. When they got that opportunity, he waited in civilian clothes at the exit of her school in Kasımpaşa, then they were chatting at one of the patisseries in Pera. The last thing Hüseyin would do was to impress women with good words. He preferred to listen more to his fiancé. His soul relaxed in the special and pleasant melody of her voice. Hanımşah attended tea parties with Turkish ladies. She supported the opening of women to contemporary life as in Europe. The women began to break the bans. Her father Mr. İbrahim did not object. Hanımşah had become a member of the Islamic Women's Union of the Karakol organization. Her father didn't know that. She also gave additional information. The previous year, the Women's Association of Defense of Law and the Anatolian Women Motherland Defense Associations were established. Mrs. Mediha, the sister of Enver Pasha in İstanbul, Mrs. Şahende, the mother-in-law of Mr. Recep, the secretary general of the parliament in Ankara, the poet Şukufe Nihal, and Naime Sultan and Fehime Sultan, Ottoman dynasty ladies, were among the well-known members.

Hüseyin knew that Fehime Sultan had transferred the information she collected from the commanders of the occupation forces to the Karakol. He was angry at himself because he didn't think that his fiancé could be so patriotic. He remembered how wrong he was in thinking about her before he got engaged. Prejudices could lead people to the wrong ways. Unlike her father, she supported the national struggle on her own. Hüseyin had told his life story in detail to Hanımşah, firstly hinting his contact with the Organization, then explaining it. The young girl was even more open with Hüseyin's appreciative looks and words. She had participated in meetings against the invasion of İzmir the previous year and against the raid on the İstanbul Parliament this year. In all of these activities, she covered her face with a veil.

Hüseyin started to love his fiancé too much and too fast. He appreciated her appearance and much of what she did. He had never been close to a girl or a woman up until then. He was inexperienced about women. Hanımşah reflected the common character of Rumelian women. She was a free spirited young woman. This was the result of good family and school education. She didn't seem a greedy one. She was not pretentious, could combine simplicity and elegance. It was obvious that she did not have any experience of male-female relations. It was easy to understand from the pinking of her cheeks when holding hands, though briefly. Outer corners of her lips were upturned and added a distinct beauty to the heart-shaped face. Her hair was long, usually piled up in a bun. She wore a white hat that did not completely cover his hair, a veil of fine white tulle on his face, and a long, narrow coat of dark color embroidered with elaborate collars and very elegant gloves. Her skin was very delicate and had a wonderful scent. Her voice was mild and profound.

The worst part of their meeting was that they had to leave each other. Major Hüseyin could not give a date for the next meeting. There could be something wrong at any moment.

Indeed, on the morning of May 21 everything changed, their happiness came to an end.

As Hüseyin came to his room in the general staff headquarters, the door was wide open and a lieutenant colonel was sitting at Hüseyin’s working desk. Hüseyin was somewhat surprised but didn't reveal it. He walked in with a forced smile. At the edge of the door two armed military police soldiers were standing. At the other table, the department head seemed to apologize him with a desperate look showing himself much older.

Yes, they all were waiting for him. The lieutenant colonel showed the custody order. He didn't hide his impertinent and arrogant look on his face.

“What's wrong lt. colonel. What is my crime?”

“It is written there, you can read, but I tell you. To be a member of a secret organization, to try to overthrow the government. Now please give me your pistol.”

Hüseyin’s mind began to work quickly. He was expecting it. The objection did not help. The measures had not been sufficient. Did they take İsmail and the others into custody? They handcuffed him. The soldiers took his arm on both sides. They passed the corridors through the curious and amazed gaze of other officers. They got in a covered truck waiting at the back door.

Soon after, the major was walking between two guards at the entrance to the two-story building. They went down a long corridor. They entered one of the cells lined up side by side. He was uncuffed. The door slammed shut. It was a one-man cell. He recalled that it was called ‘stone lodges’. He adjusted his eyes to the cell that received little light. They had closed the window with a width and length of one hand span at the door. The only source of air and light was a small window with iron bars very close to the ceiling. Plasters of the walls were spilled partly. Countless drawings and writings were on them. In the corner, the old, smelly and wooden couch laid with a straw mat would have his single property. He later noticed the potty hidden below. So, that was how to be buried alive.

Hüseyin remained in his cell for weeks before being interrogated. He did not touch moldy bread and soup like dish-water or terrible food for days. He tried not to drink the water left with unclean mugs. He would be expelled from the army and sentenced to imprisonment or exile. Müneccim - the Oracle - Yusuf had said something like this during his coffee fortune-telling and Hüseyin had not believe it.

About a week later, nature gradually prevailed. He began to finish the foods. Then the interrogation started with heavy insults and man-handlings. He was requested to betray the Organization and his friends. They inquired about the arsenal raid, the assassination of Vartan, the executions of other informers. He declined all decisively. He had nothing to do with the Organization. He was innocent and unjustly slandered. The masked interrogators laughed. They told that everyone first said that, but then started to talk. There were numerous ways of torture to overcome the stubbornness. They would just waste time and his body would be damaged. When Hüseyin did not give up beatings began. He was stripped naked and his hands were tied. The beatings were followed by the tortures in the basement without windows, airless, smelly, where two candles lit. The audience in the dark corners behind began to become more frequent. He was often fainted in applications such as the whipping, hanging upside down with chains and extinguishing cigarettes on the body. But he insisted he was innocent. After airless, thirsty and ill-fed weeks, his stomach and lungs started to signal badly. Unbearable pain and inflammation began when they removed some of the hand nails. But they couldn't make him talk.

He dreamed up his mother, his sister Ayşe, his fiancé Hanımşah, Sabri, İsmail, Hayrettin, Hasan, Mahmut, Uncle Yusuf during the most difficult times. They all repeated the same thing: “You must endure! Never give up! Our soul is on your side!” Major Üsküplü thanked them when the torture ended and he was sober in his cell: “So glad I have you!”

Then his real concern began. Who knows how much his loved ones were curious about him. Worst of all, bad things might have happened to his family because of him…

***

The Cockfighting.

May 1920. Constantinople.

“I would like to draw your attention, Vartan Saatçıyan, to the commercial successes of Armenians, especially the goldsmiths, in the last century.” Doctor Ara Kamburyan went on to tell when they got out of the boat in Üsküdar. “You're ignoring the power of money. I hope you won't attack my friend where we're going.” So his wife's nephew, who spoke rarely for a while, was gaining the habit of impressive speech same as before.

“Okay uncle don't worry. While we are involved in very serious issues, your friend only enjoys. I wouldn't go those places, if someone other than you requested me.” Vartan staggered slightly, when his foot stuck somewhere and his paralyzed left arm hurt, but he recovered immediately. “I have no objection to the power of money. Like the Balyan family, we have very successful Armenians in architecture and construction. But as I said before, they all looked after their own interests. These rich people, the ‘Amiras’ were afraid.”

“The ‘Amiras’ played important roles in the Ottoman Empire and made great efforts for the independence of their fellow citizens. You shouldn't ignore that. Building educational centers, charities, hospitals and churches they had embroidered Armenian traces in Constantinople. But they had to hide their support for independence. It would be unfair to expect more from them.”

“Let's not fail to notice this, Uncle. Initially, the Patriarchate and the rich often acted separately from each other. The rich Armenians, as a secular, bourgeois, aristocrat, fully adapted to the Ottoman Empire. But the petty bourgeois team of tradesmen and penniless intellectuals remained on their own. Then the clergy and the rich united. The Armenian tradesmen who were left alone tried to resist. We know that the patriarchate and the rich did not care about the suffering of the Eastern Armenians.”

“I think you're still unfair. I do not believe that they insult them as mountainous, peasant, farmer. This is a propaganda fabricated to divide us.”

When the former militant noticed that people passing by were looking at them carefully, he realized that he was angry without intention and muted his voice. Those who said he became very emotional after the assassination attempt nine months ago were right. “So, why the Dashnaksutyun, namely Union of Armenian Revolutionary Societies was founded?”

“Okay, Vartan. But the Dashnak revolutionaries also cooperated with the ‘unionists’. Did you forget?”

“Certainly I did not. I was involved in that events too. Both sides were against Sultan Abdülhamit and the Kurdish aghas. We had a role in the declaration of the constitution. The Committee of Union and Progress and Dashnaksutyun made a joint list in the elections. Fourteen Armenians entered the parliament in each election.”

“Face it, Vartan. Conditions change, but the target doesn't change. Sometimes you even make friends with your enemy. We have to evaluate things on a long term basis.” The doctor wiped the sweat from his forehead, “Remember, my enemy's enemy is my friend.”

They stepped on the square among the crowd. It was mid-May. On Friday, those who took advantage of the good weather had filled the streets. Avoiding his uncle's notice, Vartan again checked to make sure he was not being followed. He was afraid of making his family members a target too. He had done the same check while boarding and sitting on the boat. The guards should be somewhere nearby. They finally found a phaeton. The doctor asked the coachman. “Do you know the Captain pasha ramp along the bazaar?”

“Are you going to cockfighting, mister?”

“Good for you. How did you know?”

“I just took two people there. It's close here.”

As soon as they moved Vartan went on. “Yes, with the support of Dashnaksutyun, we even had the minister. But even among intellectual Armenians differences of opinion existed. Some were scared and went to France with his family.”

The doctor was happy. Annoying him and making him speak had worked. “Everything can change in politics. It shouldn't be too strict. You will understand this better when you are my age.”

“After the Balkan War, ‘unionists’ adopted Turkism and an ideology of ‘homogeneous Turkey’ and then a dictatorship began. So we broke ties with them.”

“You said it yourself. Politics requires flexibility.”

When they reached the end of the Kaptan pasha ramp the conversation ended. The doctor didn't forget the tip to the coachman. They arrived just in time. The cockfighting had not started. They saw Karabet Çulhayan waving. The Doctor's close friend was a cockfighting enthusiast. He was rich, had many cocks in his mansion, he prepared them for fight. They could not decline to Karabet's persistent invitations. The fighting place was full of enthusiasts. The spectators were betting on the cock they trusted. For form's sake, they bet a bit on Karabet's cock called Acar - the Bold-. It would fight with an opponent named Kabadayı - the Bully-. The owners kissed, caressed the animals and said something to their ears. Eventually the cocks appeared. They began to gaze each other carefully. The owners and bookmakers encouraged them as if the animals knew Turkish. The cocks made their first move carefully. Then they made turns and engaged each other. The feathers flew, and the dust raised. Finally, Kabadayı won. While Acar looked downcast on the floor, Kabadayı flapped his wings. “Hail!” voices rose together with applauses. The curses of those who bet on Acar were heard.

They stayed a little longer to improve Karabet's morale. They drank a cup of coffee on the stools outside the café. Vartan could not decide whether to piss or pity this rich merchant. Vartan politely declined dinner invitation that Doctor accepted. He explained that he had an important job and requested permission.

He didn't tell them he was going to Anadolu Kavağı. The ferry port was close; he decided to walk. At the end of the hill, the shops of the bazaar began to be lined up. He entered the shop selling side-winded gramophones and ‘the owner's voice’ stone gramophone records with a dog's picture. Vartan couldn't find anything he liked. In another shop, he examined glassware, ornaments and imitated old trinkets. He bought her aunt a necklace of antique silver. He passed by those who gathered help for Red Crescent. Soon he was on the ferry port. He also looked at the departure time of the last ferry. He didn't wait too long for the ship. He went up the upper deck. While watching the Dolmabahçe and Çırağan palaces and Ortaköy Mosque, he commemorated the Balyan family. The ship passed by Beylerbeyi Palace and Kuleli Military High School. In Kuruçeşme, he saw the mansion of Enver Pasha, one of the responsible person for the Armenian genocide. He cursed silently. Now the French enjoyed the Bosphorus view at his mansion. This revenge would continue for sure. He lit a cigarette to emphasize his pleasure. The wound on his throat began to itch. He remembered the moment he was attacked. The rascal called İsmail had unfortunately managed to escape. But the ringleader, the terrorist called Hüseyin was now rotting in the dungeon.

The ship came finally to Anadolu Kavağı. Captain Bennett now relied heavily on Vartan Saatçıyan. Bennett presumably blamed himself for the attack. As Kroker Hotel was not as safe as it used to be, he carried out some of its works in Anadolu Kavağı. But Bennett himself could not avoid another attack. The previous month, when he was returning from an invitation on the Bosphorus, a fire was opened at his vehicle around Maslak. Thanks to the mastery of his driver and bodyguards, they were able to escape under the cover of night. Bennett had been wounded and taken to the French Hospital. His foot became slightly disabled after surgery.

Vartan came to the farm known as ‘Agriculture and Livestock Education Center’ by a phaeton. This was his second coming. The farmhouse with twenty acres of land was confiscated by the British. Some of the staff really engaged in agriculture and animal husbandry. The others were intelligence officers. The Armenians and the Greeks who were going to serve under the command of the British were trained here. Their pre-selection was made by the ‘British Friends Association’.

The candidates received three months of training. Those who passed exams and physical tests were assigned according to their success. The ‘weak’ was sent to their homes by being intimidated. ‘The middle grades’ were made interpreters and guides at British police stations. ‘The good ones’ and the ‘the most talented ones’ were used as an intelligence agent and an activist in Constantinople and in Anatolia respectively. ‘The good ones’ and ‘the very good ones’ were received advanced courses of two months, then they were requested to open a business in duty places with British capital. Vartan encouraged the young Armenians he chose for the ‘Nemesis operation’ to be among the best ones. He was trying to provide every kind of support in their families' legal cases. He did not ask for money most of them.

The basic course was ending this week…

When he came to the director of the facility room, the bald-headed, floppy mustache Welsh Gary Blackman was struggling, as usual, with papers on his desk. He got up and poured two glass of whiskey with ice for them. He was one of the highly experienced agent who was about to retire and distinguished in education and training. His main objective was to keep his name clean. That's why he didn't hesitate to employ those under his command to death. He didn't care that they curse behind his back. The fact that he was a distant relative with Deputy High Commissioner Admiral Webb gave him a kind of immunity. Following curtesy words, he began to give some information. There was a new development; some of the Greek and Turks they trust very much began to be trained. Two of the five Armenian candidates would be eliminated. Three of them were moderate. Last exams were scheduled for the following week. One or two could do well.

With Blackman's permission, Vartan summoned his five companions to the meeting room. He told them the situation, demanded them to work hard, day and night and get into good rank. He also reminded them of the awards they will receive. The top of the class in the previous course, he could not name, set an example for them. The British had sent him to Anatolia with an important mission. His family had now settled in a beautiful house on the Bosphorus in Constantinople, which they bought with the ‘top of the class’ prize.

Vartan knew well Etyen, the ‘top of the class’ in the previous course, whom he did not name. His Adana accented Turkish was so perfect that his Armenian identity could not be understood. They used to live in a small rental house in Hasköy. His father and himself worked as locksmiths and carpenters in a rental shop. Because of the 1909 events in Adana, they had abandoned everything and fled here. Vartan had met them over the course of their legal case. Etyen’s duty was so important that he accepted even to be circumcised.

Vartan joined Gary and his friends for dinner. Captain Bennett had said he was going to join them, but he couldn't make it. With red wine, they shared the British dishes they taught to the Greek chef. Mashed potatoes, spicy steak with vegetable, Celtic meat pastry, Cumberland and Arbroath sausage and Welsh cake were appreciated. They called the cook, toasted him hitting the table all together.

As Vartan left the farm, he could not notice Navy Captain Nelson watching him from the window of the upper floor. He thought he had a good day on the way back aboard the last ship. He learned more or less what British intelligence was doing. The British Friends Association had seized the encryption key of the insurgents in Constantinople. The intelligence officers had obtained the credentials given to those who were going to Anatolia. A lot of members of the insurgents were arrested until they became aware of the situation. Nowadays, the British sent many spies such as clergymen, merchants, tradesmen, doctors and pharmacists to Anatolia to rebel, propaganda and assassinate. Among them were also the Armenian Dashnak members known by Vartan.

When the ship docked at the Eminönü pier, Vartan did the usual tail control check. It was quiet. As he headed to the Haliç ferry dock, he read the article prepared for Ramadan between minarets of New Mosque:

“Don't forget the apocalypse.”

***

Descendants of Alexander.

June 1920. Smyrna.

Lt. General Leonidas Paraskevopoulos, the commander of Greek Troops in Asia Minor, felt exhausted of his energy after lunch. He was annoyed that he should skip his midday nap. Hoping that open air would calm his nerves, he got up and opened the window overlooking Smyrna Bay. Four months later, he would be fifty. The time was indeed merciless. That sporting young officer was now an old general with the curled up Kaiser Wilhelm mustache, who did not need to hide his belly. St. John's ceremonies to celebrate June 21 when the sun was at its peak were left behind. He could not remember where he had read that these ceremonies were the pagan rites inserted in Christianity. Now the summer was coming, the suffocating weather of the Aegean was approaching.

Mosquitoes are coming too.

He looked at the street along the sea. It was full of carriages and people on a walk to take advantage of the good weather. He closed his eyes, took deep breaths and felt sweet emotions, tingles and delights of his spirit vibrating with memories of his family elders and ancient Greek stories. He had come to Smyrna as the commander of the Greek troops, where his grandfather had to flee. He was very proud of himself. His family and his glorious nation had given him a very important task. It was time to work day and night. The entertainment and rest was a reward he would deserve after the end result. An award he could also leave to his children and to his grandchildren.

As usual, he hardly heard that there was a short knock at the office door. He inherited tinnitus from his youth. His wounds were healed, but a few months later the tinnitus was arisen in his left ear. That damn machine gun had had a malfunction very close to his ear. Technicians had attributed it to a misalignment. The British called it ‘head space which referred to the bolt and cartridge case of the round for the machine gun being in alignment. The damage had been done. He was hard of hearing. The doctors were desperate too. They wouldn't do anything but give aspirin anyway. Now, he heard a louder knock at the office door.

“Come in!”

The aide entered and saluted clicking his heels together. “The British journalist you waited for has arrived, sir.” The general had forgotten this appointment. He grimaced. “Okay, save me two minutes, let me see my notes again,” he said. “Yes sir!” The aide left the room again clicking his heels together. Leonidas thought he had to live with these journalists.

Neither with them nor without them.

He sat down at the desk, found his file. Preparations for the operation he set out seemed to be complete. But one of the assumptions was wrong. According to the Greek Government, Turks would struggle until they gained independence within their last defensive lines when the Mudros Armistice was signed. The British were of the same opinion as well. Bravo! The huge Ottoman Empire was sinking, but Turks were still dreaming. How could the Greek government take this seriously? The thing was simple: To hit the deadly blow before the Allies changed their minds!

His headquarters was in the same building of the Turkish corps which had been expelled from Smyrna. He had found sufficient just a few minor changes here. Anyway, he wouldn't stay long here. In Asia Minor, other office rooms were waiting for him. When he finished his notes, the aide came in, saying “Sir, British journalist Scott Wallace!” and let the guest in. Rising from his chair, the general extended his hand and said in English, “Welcome to Smyrna.”

Scott sat down on the couch opposite the desk and began to speak. “Thank you, general. It's very kind of you to have time for me. On behalf of New State Magazine, I express my gratitude.” Showing his camera, he asked, “If you allow, I will enrich my interview with your photo in your office.” The general tidied himself up and straightened on his chair. Scott sat down back on the couch after three or four poses. He took his notebook and pen. “We can start now,” he suggested.

“Please speak slowly and clearly. My hearing problems have increased recently.”

The aide received the guest's coffee request and left the room. The journalist began to talk paying attention to his speech. He glanced at his notes saying “Sure, please ask me to repeat if there are any unclear issues. General, I'm passing on to my questions now. What do you think about the purpose of the resistance of the Turks, how do you evaluate your chances of success?”

“Mr. Wallace, let me put this first. Apart from the sultan, the rebel Turks think that they will establish a new state within the imaginary borders written in the document called ‘Misakı Milli’- National Oath-.”

Scott had made some preparations. Five months ago, the Ottoman parliament had adopted the declaration of National Oath. Two months later, the British had raided the parliament and deported some of its members to Malta. Thereupon, Mustafa Kemal Pasha and his friends had opened the Turkish Grand National Assembly on 23 April 1920 in Ankara. Scott had reported these for his Magazine. Looking at his notes the general commented “Turkish insurgents’ efforts will be in vain.”

“My second question: Italians claim rights in the Aegean too. We got news that there are some problems leading to an increase in tension between you and Italians.”

The general frowned. “It is true. Italians got furious when we advanced crossing the line set by the British last year. Not only did they protest us, but also they began to help Turks.”

“May I ask why and how it affects your operations?”

“Italians supposedly were heirs to the Roman Empire. Furthermore, almost all Western Anatolia had been left to these cunning friends, previously. Don't some European intellectuals, ignorant of the history, know that the land had been Greek, while the Roman name was unknown? Italians landed soldiers to some places just to spite us. There were small conflicts between us.”

Listening carefully and taking notes Wallace joined the conversation. “News came out about the San Remo Conference in the newspapers. I can share that if you allow.” The lt. general reluctantly agreed, “But please be brief. Don't let it digress.”

“The San Remo Conference discussed the sharing of the Ottoman territory and the Middle East oil. The British would be granted a mandate for Palestine and Iraq. Only Smyrna and Thrace would be left to you. Other places would hold by Italy.”

The Greek commander laughed bitterly, “Thank them. They are very gracious. They throw us a bone.” Scott waited a while so that the general could recover from his distress. He changed the subject. “Some Turks also established secret organizations. Does it affect you?”

The general replied trying to look confident. “I suppose not. I think it might weaken them. I would like to draw your attention to the disagreement among insurgents in Anatolia and ‘unionists’ and their followers.”

Wallace was careful not to annoy the commander. He carefully went on. “In your opinion, will the British stay here for good? How far they will go?”

“The British cannot stay in Anatolia for long. The annexation and occupation do not suit your purpose as well. I don't think you want this. You're tired of the war. Your main target is the Straits and the Middle East oil. Other areas are useless. The French and the Italians are in the same situation.”

“So let's leave the remaining areas to you. Is that so?”

The general laughed sneakily. “It is in the best interest of everyone involved. To leave Western Anatolia to Greece instead of Italy is of benefit to the British. I don't expect any Italian armed intervention. But we are careful with that as well.”

Wallace spoke by weighing his words. “How and how long will you be able to break the resistance of the Turks?”

Paraskevopoulos replied with the same seriousness: “I do not argue that we will easily reach the target. Of course there will be resistance. The Turks are approaching the Russians to restock their supply of munitions and armaments. It would be a nightmare for the British that the Russians would reach the Middle East oil. But let us not exaggerate the support of the Bolsheviks. They are not in a good shape for the time being. They couldn't achieve in finishing the civil war. So, the Turks have no chance. They better not resist the occupation forces. They will lose even the little which they possessed.”

“Are your army’s preparations enough?” Scott Wallace shyly muttered. The general had expected this question. From time to time showing the map on the wall, he began to reply he had prepared before. “The Turks are good fighters, but they have little ammunition, no means of transport, and poor communication. Moreover, they lack the support of the caliph sultan and obviously, they were substantially worn out in the Great War. Turkish soldiers who deserted their military units are on the rise. They have to deal with immigrants. There is no health system. Their finance system has collapsed. They can't stand before us. The number of our high-spirited soldiers who have won the war is around one hundred thousand. We have hundreds of artillery guns and machine guns. Our ammunition is in very good condition. The Greeks of Anatolia send the young men to the military and do not spare any kind of assistance. Our rich people in Europe help us too. Our training is very good. If you add our more than fifty aircrafts, you'll see that there's no obstacle for us to succeed. So I see the result guaranteed. All we want is, Mr. Wallace, that the British doesn’t change her mind.”

The Scottish journalist answered immediately. “I don't see any reason for that, general.”

“Everything is possible in politics, Mr. Wallace. I am old enough, please trust my experience.”

Scott kept it short. It was a good interview. He would scoop a lot of his colleagues. He spoke with a smile: “Thank you very much, General. I wish you success. I'm going to Constantinople for some work. If you have an order, I will do it with pleasure.”

“Thank you, Mr. Wallace. I will have the first interview with you in Ankara. Just follow us.”

The commander of Asia Minor troops filled a glass of ouzo after the journalist left the room. He didn't forget the green olives. The price for bringing freedom to this geography was high. The Turks will pay for it. Europe was about to solve the Eastern Question. It was the right decision to delegate the Greeks to deliver the death-blow. Prime Minister Venizelos was a great man. General Paraskevopoulos also congratulated the people who brought to power a politician that suits Greece. Now it was Greek soldiers' turn. The descendants of Alexander the Great would show that they were worthy of their ancestors.

When he stepped outside, Scott took a few shots of the headquarters building where the Greek flag was waving and joined the people marching along the seaside. He met his friend Franco, a Swiss war correspondent, who was waiting in a coffeehouse in Kordonboyu. Franco monitored the Greek military action and forwarded by cable a copy of each news he sent for his own newspaper to the Pera Hotel for Scott at the same time. For every useful piece of news, Scott sent fifty British pounds to Franco’s bank account.

On the way back to his hotel, he remembered the words of the German Baron. “The Straits, Anatolia, the Caucasus and the Middle East should not be left to the British, which is a Jewish toy.”

He smiled and remembered the matryoshka dolls. The western Turkey was passing into the hands of the Greeks, which is a British toy.

It was wrong to underestimate the Jews. They hadn't been annihilated for two thousand years. Many historians have found traces of Jews in European, Asian and African history. According to some historians, on the other hand, they tried to imply that the Jews were strong.

***

News Quotes from European news agencies, dated June 20, 1920:

The achievements of the nationalist Turks attract reaction ...

The official delegation of the nationalist Turks who opened the assembly in Ankara is on its way to Moscow. The sultan’s units were defeated by the nationalists Turks. The twenty-day cease-fire between the nationalists Turks and France ended. Greeks and Armenians are expected to take action.

***

An Indian in Constantinople.

July 1920. Constantinople.

HMS Iron Duke, a.k.a. ‘the Monster’, one of the flagships of the British Mediterranean fleet approached its target. She was named after the legendary Duke of Wellington. She was famous for destroying the enemy's largest, most powerful warships with her twenty-four cannons. Her record indicated that she had come to Constantinople the previous year too. She was among the allied warships that supported the Tsarists in the Russian civil war. Three days before the Greek occupation of Smyrna on May 15, 1919, she was also in the forefront of the seizure of important targets on land. Two weeks ago, along with the Shark destroyer, they had destroyed the coastal batteries of the Turks protecting the Bosphorus in the Black Sea.

Entering the Bosphorus from Marmara on July 4^th, ‘the Monster’ was on a different mission. Before showing her two chimneys and cannons, she blew her whistle. Meanwhile, an official car approached the Galata quay. One of the policemen with short pants on patrol greeted Captain Bennett stepping out of the automobile. Young Captain immediately muttered, “They just radioed. The warship was off the coast of Zeytinburnu. Did you see her?”

“No, Captain. But we heard her whistle several times. she must be about to come.”

Sooner, the warship was just off Tophane. A few minutes after anchoring, a boat landed. Five minutes later, the boat docked. In front was a naval officer, and behind him was a short, fat, dark-skinned man with eyeglasses. Slowly he jumped to the pier. Right after mutual courtesy sentences they got into the car. Bennett said again, “Welcome to Constantinople, sir.” After the driver put the luggage in the trunk they moved. While watching the surroundings, the guest expressed his first impression. “The streets of Constantinople are narrower than I thought.”

“Over Beyoğlu, Pera, is better sir.” The captain replied calmly, while thinking about his guest's records. Mustafa Sagir was of Indian descent. He was selected at the age of ten and taken to England, where he was first educated at a private school. Now, he had an Oxford degree. Since he would primarily assign to the Eastern services, he learned Turkish, Arabic and Persian very well. In fact, he successfully worked in Egypt, Germany, Russia and Iran. He had a PhD in philosophy as well. Sagir was arrested in Afghanistan the previous year and deported seven months later under British pressure.

They arrived at the embassy. Sagir requested to rest for a while in his room overlooking blue Golden Horn. He liked it and found right why it was called Golden Horn. In late afternoon he was in the office of the High Commissioner. Admiral Robeck came to the point directly after courtesy sentences. “You know; it's been 19 months since the cease-fire was signed with the Ottoman Empire. Turkish nationalists started to resist in Anatolia. Although we supported the Greek army, Turks stopped it. We cannot send more forces to Anatolia. Our problems grew in other parts of the world. We have no choice but to kill Mustafa Kemal, the leader of the nationalists.”

“I think that's why I'm here.”

“Yes. Navy Captain Nelson requested permission to have you. So, I applied to the war department. I'm very glad you've been assigned.”

“Thank you, Admiral. If I succeed, I will pay my debt to the UK which saved me from death.”

“I'm sure you'll make it. Please do not hesitate to ask for what you need. It will be fulfilled. Captain Bennett is at your disposal. He is young but a successful officer.”

Sagir slept early and comfortably in the evening after a light dinner to prepare himself for the city tour with Bennett the following day. After doing the city tour in the heart of marvelous and historical Constantinople, they came back to the embassy in the evening and Sagir found Nelson's short note. ‘Welcome. Let's meet at 10:00 P.M. in the Tokatlıyan Hotel, room thirty-seven.’ When Sagir met Nelson at the appointed time and place, the Navy Captain looked at his old friend carefully and embraced, “You seem very well, Mustafa. Now, I am convinced that Afghan dungeons couldn't hurt you. But we better do not talk about that anymore. I don't want you to worry about remembering all details of it.” As he poured a glass of scotch on the rocks for Sagir, he opened himself up sincerely to his friend. “Her Majesty's government did not allow me to die in Afghan prisons. I'm full of gratitude. But I know you have the biggest share in this, David.”

“Don’t mention it, you would do the same. I'm sure of that.”

Taking the glass extended to him, the Muslim Indian, whose eyes watered, remained silent for a while, then he recovered and muttered, “Thank you indeed for everything you’ve done for me. I don’t forget to thank you again for helping me work here. The admiral told briefly yesterday.”

“I am sure he explained that we haven't had any results so far. Our target now is Mustafa Kemal Pasha, the leader of the nationalists. You will kill him. That is your very important task. Needless to say that his moves are adversely affecting the operations of the Allies. And of course, our time is limited. The Turks get dramatically and gradually stronger every month.”

“I'll do my best although I didn't know my mission exactly yet. But I prepared myself by reading many books and analyzing intelligence files about Turkey. I believe that I can present myself as the representative of the Indian Caliphate Committee. This role is the best option that fits my identity and serves our purpose.”

After pondering a while, David supported smiling, “Yes, good idea, you are right, it could be appropriate.”

Mustafa reasoned further, “Indian Muslims were very upset after the March invasion of Constantinople. While in London, I spoke to a representative they sent to meet the British government. Later, he went to Italy and complained about British prime minister to the Pope. With this guise I can join insurgent Turks. Then I can find a way to go to Ankara. Then, I suppose, I can meet Mustafa Kemal and the leading ones there.”

“Very good Mustafa, I concur. But you have to be careful. While in Iran, you remember it for sure, we had identified the secret organization of the Turks. Nowadays, when the one closes, another one opens. Hard to follow. Three months ago, we took down the biggest one. We know that, they are reorganizing for the time being. Certainly, we're trying to watch.”

Sagir agreed. “Okay I'll be careful. I'm leaving the embassy and settling in a hotel in the city as soon as possible.”

“Excellent. I will announce with my men that Indian Muslims have sent a representative here. If necessary, meet me at my office in Sirkeci. Here, I am a representative of a company, the British East Textiles & Industries.”

Sagir immediately requested permission. He needed try to keep low profile from now on, especially with the Turkish informants working in the hotels. Bingo! As he headed toward the hotel main door opening to the street, he saw someone in the entrance lobby reading a newspaper in one of the seats and staring at him. He would do this check everywhere. He kept on walking ignoring the man. But the blond man stood up and waved to himself. He had to stop and looked at the man carefully. Yes, it was him! The British journalist with whom he had been together on the ferry until Alexandria the previous year. He also remembered his name: Wallace. He walked over to him with a forced smile. The journalist extended his hand and requested him to sit down, pointing at the seat opposite him. “Increase your opponent's self-confidence, checkmate in a few moves.” Scott Wallace spoke with a smile. Sagir remembered his little chess lesson he had given to the journalist. “How are you, Mr. Rana? You had mentioned about your work in India last year. I hope everything is fine.” Sagir didn't have to think about the fake name he had told him last year. He answered with a smile, “Thank you Mr. Wallace. My health and my work are good. How are you? What are you doing here?”

“I have settled here for a while to work for my British Magazine and some news agencies.” Showing his camera, he went on, “Did I tell you that I'm fond of human faces and nature photography, beside journalism?”

“I guess, no”

“Then, by the way, I'd like to take your picture. You have a very impressive face. Do I have permission?” Sagir was surprised at what he would say. “I'm very tired right now. I'm sure I'm going to give you a really bad picture. We better do it some other time.”

The journalist didn't give up. “Mr. Rana, it doesn't matter how tired you are. Faces have a constant aspect. I'll take care of it. It's a mirror of your subconscious. No one can change that, except for highly talented actors. Believe me, your image may change, but I will capture its true lines. Please don't say no.”

Sagir realized that there was no escape from it. He nodded helplessly. The journalist immediately turned on his machine, taking three to four frames of photographs from various angles. “Thank you so much Mr. Rana. By the way, I forgot to ask. What are you doing in Constantinople?”

“You certainly know; the Ottoman Empire will sign the peace agreement soon. Then we think we can do a lot of work around here.”

“Yes, it would be very wise, this area is almost completely untouched. How are your first impressions, Mr. Rana?”

“They have to allow foreign capital to draw on the savings of rich countries. We stand on agriculture, textile and mining.”

“Another company is doing similar research currently around here. Maybe you know.”

“I met some of them.”

“I stay at the Pera Hotel, now I’m meeting a friend here. Will you join us, Mr. Rana?”

“Thank you, Mr. Wallace, maybe another time. Now I have to leave. I have another job tonight. I'm so glad to see you. I'm going back to London tomorrow. See you again.”

Sagir was very happy to have gotten rid of this guy right away. Although it had come to his mind, he did not ask whether he had done his homework on chess. But he couldn't avoid to be photographed. He mingled with the Pera's crowd on a hot and sultry summer evening.

***

News Quotes from European news agencies, dated July 29, 1920:

The gap between the nationalists and the Ottoman Sultan deepens...

It was sworn in on the National Oath in the Grand National Assembly in Ankara, while the draft of the Treaty of Peace prepared by the Entente States was accepted at the Council of Sultanate in Constantinople (İstanbul).

The Greek army cannot be stopped in Thrace. The commander of the Turkish forces fell captive to the Greeks. The King of Greece came to Edirne.

***

Scott and the Armenians.

July 1920. Constantinople.

While waiting for the Armenian guests in the hotel's dining room, Scott was thinking of Bektashi Sebottendorf. “Bektashism” was universal, based on human love and immense tolerance. To despise people for their differences in religion, language, color and gender was unacceptable. But the Thule distinguished ‘the superior man’ and ‘the superior race’. This was an important contradiction. Bektashism and ‘the superior man’ or ‘the superior race’ were in the opposite polarities. His confidence in Sebottendorf was being shaken. If this guy was a charlatan, he made a fool out of Scott. He'd ask him to explain it the first time they were alone.

Soon, Arto and his deputy Vartan entered the dining room. They had met three or four months ago during some Armenian legal cases in the courthouse. They nodded, shook hands and sat down at the table. The guest’s clothes were a bit old but clean. They ordered the food after usual courtesy sentences. Arto was chubby, white-skinned man smiling with hazel eyes. He looked like he was around forty years old. He often wiped his forehead with his handkerchief, then his eyeglasses with the same handkerchief. As soon as Arto received his plate, he started eating right away. He didn't wait long to light his cigarette. It was obvious from his yellowed fingers that he was an addicted smoker. Vartan could actually be of the same age as Arto. He was dark-skinned, black-eyed. When he read the menu the waiter brought, he used thick-rimmed eyeglasses he took out of his leather case. In doing so, he only used his right hand and had a little difficulty. There must have been a problem with his left arm. His left hand was not working while eating and drinking either. But he was obviously good with alcohol.

They talked about the general issues at dinner. Scott explained his intention to write articles about the Armenian massacre and the solution of the problem, and later a significant book. He has been collected information, photos and documents to provide an accurate picture of the effectiveness of this subject. He tried to follow these cases in courts as much as he could, taking lots of notes. Armenian lawyers supported him gladly, they would tell everything they knew about this vital subject. Certainly, this would be very useful for their righteous struggles. Vartan suggested Scott to meet his uncle Dr. Kamburyan which could be more helpful with his articles and his book to be written. Kamburyan knew a lot of politicians. Scott responded positively. Both Arto and Vartan spoke Turkish without accent. They had obtained most of the ‘registers of persons’ and ‘title deed records’ of the plaintiffs. Baptism records in Armenian cemeteries and churches were also being collected. They kept on looking for their missing relatives. Appeal petitions, training of testimonies, memorization of statements were main activities they focused on. Five years ago, confiscated properties of the complainants had been distributed to some prominent Turkish, Kurdish, Circassian people and to some Turkish immigrants too. Now, some of these properties were used as barracks, prisons, schools and hospitals. Some Armenian churches were used as warehouses or burned. The lawyers were collecting these documents and searching for the witnesses. The seized property was worth billions of French francs. The files of the seized money of the Armenians in the banks were also in the queue. The lawyers attended seven or eight sessions a week. As time progresses, the financial situation of the plaintiffs was improving too. Ottoman courts did not think much when giving heavy prison or exile sentences. The needs of the future Armenia were extremely high.

After dinner, they chatted at the hotel bar for a while. The lawyers told Scott about the sad stories of their relatives, friends and clients during the deportation in 1915.

Mankind was full of passion, opportunist, manipulative, and was very cruel at worst. In this respect, religions were not useful in their current efforts to correct humanity. Like the Bektashis, those in the minority could not prevent these negative attitudes of mankind either...

***

News Quotes from European news agencies, dated August 22, 1920:

Sevres Treaty disordered Turkey ...

Nine days after the signing of the Sevres Agreement between the Government of Constantinople (İstanbul) and the Entente States, Ankara reacted strongly. Those who ‘approved’ to sign the agreement and those who ‘signed’ the agreement were declared traitors.

In Antep, the encircling of French by the nationalist forces are also being watched with concern.

***

New Organization.

August 1920. İstanbul.

Major Hüseyin, who was pushed a military police truck in a semi-unconscious state, could not come to himself although he constantly leaped and jolted over the bumpy streets. He himself was lost in dreams, and all around him a surreal landscape opened… The initiation ceremony to Teşkilatı Mahsusa - the Special Organization-.... Trainings... Close combat... Shooting with pistol and rifle... Using a knife... Manufacture of grenades and explosives... Darkness... Glowing Persian Desert... Scorpions... Poisonous snakes... Germans... Hunger, thirst...

When he was sober, he realized he was somewhere else. He thought he had died and come to the other world. He was dizzy, his ears were buzzing. He thought for a while without moving. He had to pee. No, he wasn't dead. This place was different from the dark, cold and damp stone room in Bekirağa. He moved his eyes slowly from side to side. No door, only iron bars. It was lighter, cleaner. He moved his hands; he was covered by a blanket and wasn't cold anymore. He checked himself; his whole body ached and there were wounds and bruises all over. His internal organs must have been damaged. A disgusting taste in his mouth. He was exhausted. He hardly straightened. He drank from the water in the jug he saw at the foot of bed full of hay. He pissed on the bottom potty. In a weak voice he could say, “No one?” A military police soldier extended his head behind the bars.

“What, what do you want?” He replied.

After he was arrested, he got used to not being respected as before. “Where am I?” He asked.

The guard replied. “In the military police headquarters.”

“So we're in Sultanahmet. Is that so?”

“Yeah.”

That was good. He had survived the Bekirağa dungeon. The guard didn't know much. They had probably brought him here for a while to rest and improve his health. He would wait to be judged in court-martial. The major asked the guard what day it was today. It was August 16th. So, three months have passed after his arrest. Lying down on bed, he looked at the writings on the wall. They were meaningless. But one caught his attention. It was a short poem about Palestine. It was engraved with curved writings:

I left the Masjid Aqsa.

I couldn't protect the relic.

They chained my love.

She was crying.

The images flashed in sequences across his memory, Hüseyin went to those lands.

“We were raided down!”

Tak… Taka… Tak… Boom…

“The British entered our trenches!”

Tak… Taka… Tak…

“Let's escape, save our lives!”

Captain Hüseyin was very close to the front platoons. With his messenger and orderly he was in a hasty position prepared in limited time and materials. As soon as he heard the gunshots, he tried to figure out what was going on in the dark.

Machine gun bullets and artillery shells were falling near them. The soldiers close to him were both shooting and screaming. “Stand to arms! Wake up the sleepers!” In the vicinity an artillery shell exploded. Hüseyin closed his eyes to avoid the blown sand. Then he called the company sergeant major about ten meters away, “Muharrem, are you there?”

Tak… Taka… Tak…

“Here I am, sir.” The young sergeant's voice was full of excitement.

“I am going to the first platoon on the right wing. You go to the second platoon on the left and find out the situation.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Help the platoon commander protect the unit.”

“Aye sir.”

“Nobody move; positions will not be abandoned without my order.”

“Roger that, sir!”

Muharrem jumped out of his position. With a rifle in his hand, leaning, he began to run over 50 meters toward the front positions. At the same time the messenger came crawling to Hüseyin.

“Where the hell were you, son?”

“I went back in need, sir.”

“Where is Mahmut, my orderly?”

“He was going to smoke behind a hillock so the enemy couldn't see.”

“You have the rifle?”

“Yeah.”

Hüseyin made the messenger repeat the order, making sure that he understood and sent him to the reserve platoon positioned about a hundred meters behind. He leaned over and started to run to the first platoon to his right by zigzagging. Desert sands were slowing down him. He heard a few bullets passing over his head. He began to crawl down.

Boom ...

This time it was a mortar shell exploding right in front of him. He heard the buzz of the shrapnel.

God damn it! I think I'm hurt.

He felt a pain in his left arm.

Hüseyin had arrived at Lieutenant Kamil's position. But he wasn't in place. He should have been with the squads in front. Hüseyin crawled closer to the front positions, saw one of the medics trying to help an injured. The captain shouted:

“Son, where is your platoon commander?”

The medics replied by continuing to stop the wounded soldier's blood, “I just heard his voice in front positions, sir.”

Hüseyin crawled a little further under the rain of bullets. Blood was coming from his wound. He took his handkerchief and wrapped it firmly between the bleeding wound and the shoulder. He was going to get the medic to deal with it later. He finally found the lieutenant in the front position and asked how the situation was. The British had quietly obtained some positions of the neighboring company, about a hundred meters to their right. There were Arabs with them. They heard their speeches. Probably our soldiers on the listening mission had been asleep. The neighboring company, being night raided, had been panicked. All preparations were ruined in a few minutes. Those who woke up had left their positions and fled back. Most were shot by machine gun fires. The screams of the wounded were heard. The undisciplined volley fires that started in the neighboring troops had also spread to Hüseyin's company. But soon they had controlled the situation. Thank god, our soldiers did not have any trouble. Lieutenant Kamil was in charge of his unit, talking to his squadron commanders face to face. Hüseyin comprehended the situation. Their positions were intact, but their right wing was open. He ordered them to shift the machine gun there and not leave the positions. Crawling, leaping back to his place he learned that there was no problem in the other platoon either. He was breathless but relieved soon.

The bleeding in my arm continues.

There was no word from the battalion commander. Hüseyin had to reach him. He called the reserve platoon commander over, told him to hurry back to take orders from the battalion commander. The sandstorm has begun. Now he felt the desert's night cold more.

I'm cold.

His messenger couldn't find the medic. He kept on searching. Ten to fifteen minutes had passed, but there was no word from the battalion commander. There was no sound from our artillery either. Hüseyin started to worry. He ordered the company sergeant major to load ammunition and other stuff into the carriages. A distant noise was heard from far away. It was a retreat order...

İsmail the Galician was covered in sweat again in the August heat. The humid heat of İzmir was unbearable. He headed to his pot and his bundle he left in a shadow in Uncle Selahattin's tangerine garden and vineyard. Ayran was warm, he drank it all, ate his lunch consisting of cheese, bread and tomatoes, then lit a cigarette and was lost in thought on the tree he leaned against. In May, he found out that they had been wanted in İstanbul. Nevertheless, his job in the Rami barracks had not changed. He became very suspicious when he hadn't heard from his friends for a week. The military police who came to take him into custody had visited first the battalion commander. When a friend heard this, giving a note, made a messenger rush. As soon as İsmail read it, he instantly ordered the platoon a quick march in the opposite direction and he himself ran for the vegetable garden on the other side. To be in the training field had saved him. He immediately went to the house in Aksaray and took the money he had kept, then disappeared by taking his civil clothes and small suitcase. He had bought a crutch and bandage in Sirkeci and wrapped his limping leg under the knee. Disguised as a cripple, he went to Bandırma with a steamer and then took the first train to Soma. So, from that moment on, he was in the Greek occupation zone. He stayed in several inns for a few days there. Then, giving money to a villager he came to İzmir in a horse-drawn carriage. Greek soldiers were everywhere. The Aegean Greeks citizens had already joined them. They reported every suspects. When İsmail arrived at his mother's house in Karşıyaka, he waited for five minutes in a shady place, making sure there wasn't someone spying on the house. He had gently knocked on the door and when Mrs. Didar open it, closing her lips with his hand İsmail prevented his mother's possible exclaiming. He embraced his mother who suddenly found his son after many years. When his brother heard their noise, İsmail warned him not to make a sound.

The last time he came home, he had been on a sick leave. All night he explained them what happened and they all decided that if İsmail stayed home that would be dangerous for everyone. Then he settled in his uncle's small farm in Seferihisar, about 40 kilometers away. He'd been here for three months. His uncle's son was martyred on the eastern front five years ago. İsmail helped his uncle as much as he could. He seldom went to town, but stayed only for a short time. When the Greeks started advancing operations eastwards, their control here was weakened. But, it was absolutely bad for the Turkish homeland. They occupied Thrace, the Inner Aegean and the south of the Marmara. These days, forces of Ethem the Circassian raided the Greeks and threw them to the south of Demirci. Ethem, whose fame began to spread everywhere, was a chief sergeant like İsmail. He had worked for the Teşkilatı Mahsusa - the Special Organization - too.

İsmail got bored to death around here. He should contact Ethem...

Retired Lieutenant Hayrettin, woke up suddenly, opened his eyes and jumped out of bed.

They found us too, we'll be arrested!

But he was awakened by the fedai – hitman, bouncer- Mahmut who was snoring. This happened almost every night. Hayrettin got up, shook the half deaf big boy and Mahmut stopped snoring. But then, Hayrettin kept turning and turning in his bed, and if lucky, he could sleep again. If not, he stared at the ceiling and struggled with hundreds of thoughts in his mind. About three months ago, when they realized that they were wanted by the British, he had to share the same room with Mahmut. İsmail moved to a friend's house in Aksaray, Sabri maintained the current order. Before long Major Hüseyin was arrested. First, they imprisoned him in Bekirağa. He heard from him long after. He was alive and transferred to Sultanahmet military police headquarters. Mrs. Reşide had begun to mourn and assumed that her eldest son had been killed. İsmail was more fortunate and managed to escape. They never heard from him.

Fourteen months after the establishment, the ‘Karakol’ organization was collapsed. The British and their collaborators did well. Balkan war veteran, retired Captain Emin Ali was assigned to re-establish ‘the Organization’. Emin Ali had received password keys, seal and money from Black Vasıf who was arrested. Emin Ali was older than Hüseyin and one of the founders of the ‘Karakol’. The actions of ‘the Organization’ were suspended. Its only mission was to gather information. Hayrettin and his two assistants had arranged different identities. The money, buried weapons, ammunition and explosives had been moved to other places at night. Safe houses were disposed. New houses were bought or rented in different quarters. Communication equipment was installed in two different houses.

Although the new chief Emin Ali and his colleagues had worked hard, they failed to succeed and were demoralized. Hayrettin had replaced Hüseyin, met with Emin Ali several times, said that they would give him all kinds of support and tried to comfort him. Emin Ali didn't react positively. He just said he'd meet Lt. Colonel Hüsamettin.

When he heard the morning azan of Eyüp mosque, his thoughts went back...

He recalled 12 June, when the morning azan was recited. He had watched the executions in Beyazıt Square feeling nauseated. An assassination attempt targeting Ferit Pasha the Groom, Ali Kemal and Sait Molla had been discovered. The scene was still alive: Rıza of Drama and his three friends were taken out of the cart. They had been dressed in long white shirts, with labels on their chests and handcuffed behind. Navy Captain Halil İbrahim was dragged and executed immediately. Then Rıza of Drama was brought. He had kept his nerves under control. Without the help of the guards and hangman he jumped to the chair and shouted: “The traitors who sold the homeland to the enemy are killing us with enemy money!” The gendarmerie colonel closed the mouth of Rıza. “Hang him!” he shouted. The hangman put the noose around his neck and swayed him kicking the chair. Then Mr. Mehmet Ali cried on the gallows: “Long live the Committee of Union and Progress!” Then he extended his neck and the hangman executed. Mr. Tevfik, in the last row, climbed to the chair. The hangman did his job without resistance.

Hayrettin got out of bed when the snores started again. He wore his shirt and pants. His uncle and aunt were asleep. He removed the envelope he had hidden behind the kitchen cabinet. He reviewed his encrypted notes. Emin Ali had himself requested for his dismissing. A new organization would be established in place of the ‘Karakol’. An agreement was reached with those in Ankara. Hayrettin burned the gas stove and set the envelope and papers on fire, put the ashes in the hole of the sink then opened the tap.

Hayrettin was at the house in Cibali the next day; three people were waiting for him. He recognized the new chief, Staff Colonel Çopur Neşet, among them. Neşet wasn't treated with respect by his friends. But his relationship with the senior grades was very good. It was told that he had founded the secret organization Molteke. But nobody knew what this organization was doing. They started to work immediately. The atmosphere of chaos and uncertainty in İstanbul was appropriate for them. Ankara had ordered the dissolution of the Karakol organization. The scattered groups would consolidate. Neşet had returned to İstanbul with the orders of Mustafa Kemal Pasha and Colonel İsmet, the chief of the general staff. He would send the establishment, the job descriptions of ‘the Organization’, the took over resources and the names it recruited to Ankara and get the approval. The new organization was called the ‘Hamza Group’. The ‘Ferhat Group’ and the ‘Kerimi Group’ would wait as a reserve.

Hayrettin became İstanbul regional manager of the ‘Hamza Group’. He took Sabri, Hasan and Mahmut into his service. Bektashi Yusuf joined the team as a communication element. They planned a short adaptation training for former fedais - bouncers - with different identities. The take over money was handed over to new accountants. Weapons, ammunition and explosives buried in the ground were debited to the suppliers. Safe houses were given to new owners. The houses where communication facilities placed in were rearranged. The craftsmen were reorganized. The new organization was scarce in number, but the gap was going to close with education and loyalty.

***

Mr. Wallace lost.

January 10, 2019. Ankara.

I continue reading the novel Mr. Wallace forwarded to me. I carefully study the events described until the autumn of 1920. As before, we couldn’t communicate for a week. I cannot confirm any of the things I read about my uncle Hüseyin Üsküplü. All the relatives and even distant relatives who are still alive are of the same age. They also say that they have never heard of the stories in this book. I found the phone numbers and social media addresses of my uncle's two childhood friends in Balat. They have never heard of Armenian Vartan, Arto and Doctor Ara Kamburyan. First friend has heard about a doctor, but he was Jewish, not Armenian.

When I find the time, I read what I can find about Teşkilatı Mahsusa - the Special Organization - and the Karakol organization. I did not come across the slightest piece of information about Uncle Hüseyin's work in these organizations. But British Captain Bennett was real. There was a lot of information about him.

That evening I found three messages of Mr. Bilge among my e-mails. Number one and number two were just test messages. The dates were a week ago and three days ago. The last one was sent two days ago, but I got it a few hours ago. I read it right away.

“I wait for your impressions about the book. I read your note about the Republic of Turkey and Ankara. We watched photos and videos with my wife. We watched Ümitköy and Çayyolu several times. There are big differences compared to ours. We can write more about them. The Republic of Turkey with a population of 80 million affected me a lot. It seems that economic and social problems cannot be solved. But it appeared that you are strong both politically and militarily. Mustafa Kemal Pasha and his friends must have the biggest share of this. His surname, Atatürk, shows that how much he is valued. But the situation on our side was different. You will see this by the middle of the novel. Greetings...”

I replied immediately, summarized my latest research. I added that the population of Ankara is 5.5 million. Even four hours later, there was no answer. The next morning the situation did not changed.

I couldn't open the attached photo and video files. I had decided not to share it with anyone, but only ‘the computer doctor’ could solve this problem. I had no choice.

***

News Quotes from European news agencies, dated October 27, 1920:

The Soviets are cornering the nationalists of Ankara while the Allies are cornering the government of the Ottoman Sultan.

Soviet embassy delegation came to Ankara. Soviet proposals against the national goals of the new Turkish state were rejected in parliament.

The British, French and Italian High Commissioners gave a joint note to the sultan's new prime minister for ratification of the Sevres Peace Agreement.

***

The Escape.

October 1920. İstanbul.

Major Hüseyin Üsküplü had been in the jail of the military police headquarters for more than two months. The infirmary doctor came and examined him every four or five days. His wounds healed with little marks left. His internal organs and pneumonia were recovering. His breathing returned to normal. He had an appetite and started to digest all the food. He was approaching his old weight. His family were informed that he was here. But visitors were not allowed. Something seemed to change in the last few weeks. It was as if a secret hand protected him. The prosecutor who took his statement three weeks ago was also very nice. Hüseyin could not have known that his mother and Sabri had told everything to his future father-in-law Mr. İbrahim through his fiancé Hanımşah. The senior official of the ruling party had not helped first. The arrest of his future son-in-law could shake his position. 'Being a member of the secret organization, trying to overthrow the government!' These were very serious accusations. But İbrahim couldn't bear his daughter's insistence. Then he spoke to a prosecutor, a friend from college and the party, and requested to investigate it secretly. The response was positive. They could postpone the proceedings as much as possible. Nothing more could be done. The British had special personnel monitoring legal cases in the courthouse. But the number of files was so high that they couldn't see the wood for the trees.

Yusuf the Oracle was active too. He had requested Bektashi Sebottendorf to use his power. Sebottendorf was going to talk to acquaintances among the government and senior officials of the allies. Most of them would reciprocate Sebottendorf who supplied them essentials such as sugar, cooking oil and even bread obtainable only on the black market. Naturally, he had needed some time. Finally, he contacted the doctor who looked after Hüseyin. The doctor would extend the treatment as long as he could and avoid giving a clean bill of health. Occasionally, the patient was going to have sudden physical discomfort without causing any harm.

Hayrettin had also mobilized the ‘ex-unionists’ and the unarrested seniors of the ‘Karakol Organization’. Two sergeant majors at the military police headquarters were going to help. For now, they would provide Hüseyin with good conditions only. Then they were going to try to create an opportunity. Hayrettin and his men had convinced sergeant majors to become members of the ‘Hamza Organization’.

The miracle took place on October 17, 1920. The grand vizier Ferit Pasha the Groom resigned. According to Sebottendorf's journalist friend Wallace, Ferit was unable to succeed against Mustafa Kemal Pasha; on the contrary, he was discarded for inciting resistance. Since the peace agreement had been signed, he was no longer needed. Four days later, old Tevfik Pasha, a member of the former Committee of Union and Progress Party, was appointed grand vizier. He had been the head of the delegation who had not accept the Sevres Agreement draft and returned to İstanbul. Tevfik was expected to eliminate supporters of Ferit. The groom had gone and the grandfather of sultan's grand children came.

The second miracle was not delayed. Mr. İbrahim maintained his job and his heart was softened. It was easier for him to use his office and his influence in Hüseyin's favor. He couldn't stand pouting of his daughter and his wife.

Certainly, Hüseyin was unaware of these developments. But he could see that some things were changing. More abundant and hot meals... One bath per week... Increasing interest of the guards... The doctor's lengthy examinations, giving some information about the developments outside... Changing his straw bed with a wool mattress and getting a pillow...

Mrs. Reşide's endless prayers worked. Yusuf the Oracle's heralding coffee fortune-telling also fed the hopes of the family.

It was the end of October. Hüseyin could not believe his eyes when he read the message written on tiny paper hidden in the bread.

“We will take you out. Hayrettin and Hamza.”

Hayrettin was okay. But who was the man called Hamza? He heard his name for the first time.

A trap? Were they trying to finish me off on the run?

After the next evening head count, Hüseyin lay down on his bed and heard screaming in the hallway as he was about to fall asleep. There was a strong smell of smoke or burning. At the moment he was going to call the guard, an unknown soldier extended his head. Putting his index finger to his lips, signaled that Hüseyin should keep quiet. He unlocked the iron barred door and spoke in a low voice:

“Put this wet handkerchief in your mouth, major. Let's hurry, we're going out!”

***

News Quotes from European news agencies, dated November 29 1920:

Nationalist Turks have secured the eastern border, but things got messy in the west...

Armenians who lost the military struggle in Eastern Turkey asked for a truce.

Meanwhile, it is reported that the relations were broken between the nationalist Ankara government trying to establish a regular army and the militia commanders opposing it.

On the same days, Greece, replacing the supreme commander of the occupying army in Turkey, is expected to undergo a strategy change.

***

The Reckoning.

November 1920. Constantinople.

That night, Scott Wallace had agreed to meet Sebottendorf at a German-owned brewery in Pera to drink German beer. He was going to ask him to explain how Sebottendorf associated Bektashism and the Thule Organization, which defended the thesis of ‘the superior race’. To tell the truth, the German was an expert on both. Scott had respected him. But his trust in Sebottendorf was shaken. Was he a Fascist? Or a charlatan? His use of many different names and identities increased his suspicions. His attempts on black market were a separate gossip. As Scott entered the beerhouse he saw Sebottendorf sitting at a table in the back. When he saw Scott, he waved. They shook hands, and asked the waiter for two large size beer and fried potatoes.

“I just got here and chatted with a few friends, but didn't start drinking beer before you come.” He looked at her friend's sulky face, who kept silent. “Are you all right? You seem to worry today.”

“Just a slight malaise, it passes soon.”

“OK. How are you? What are you doing?”

Scott pulled out his rose root pipe and tobacco bag, filled vanilla tobacco, lit it, then blew the smoke. He summarized his work on the Armenian question, his meeting with the commander of the Greek troops in Smyrna in June. The baron explained what he thought. “If British support for Greeks is not cut off, the nationalist Turks in Ankara will not be able to resist. Mustafa Kemal Pasha's men will lose the war.”

“I still think that Mustafa Kemal Pasha is not an easy bite. I want to interview him in Ankara about the challenges over the years to come. So, I need help from an influential person who can reach him. I don't think he gives me an appointment if I requested first hand.”

“That would be good. I'll see what I can do about it.”

Scott took another sip of his beer; his tension seemed to ease gradually. He continued to talk. This summer he ran into a British businessman at the hotel. The businessman thought that after the peace agreement, they could do a lot of work in banking, transportation, communication, agriculture, textile and mining. Other companies were doing similar research too. Scott should follow the economic dimension of the developments as too. At the first opportunity, he would meet with European companies settling in the city. They then discussed Major Hüseyin's detention and trial process.

The Baron listened with a slight smile and nodded. Suddenly his face became serious and he spoke combing his thin hair with his hand. “Now come to the point, my friend. Tell me what's on your mind. Start telling me the real subject you want to talk about.”

Scott didn't expect that, this attack made his blood boil. He was very surprised, but he played it cool. He kept silent, took a puff on his pipe. While blowing up the smoke, he examined Sebottendorf's broad forehead, squinted eyes, and red capillary nose. Then he spoke in a low voice. “So you had noticed.”

“Dear Scott. You've been exasperated for months but never opened. You think I don't understand that?” He took a sip of his beer. He was smiling now.

“So you can read what's going through my mind?”

Sebottendorf didn't reply, smiled slightly, then raised his hands up, using his thumbs he rubbed other fingers imitating a wizard. The Scotsman knew that he was an expert of stellar science, palmistry and foresight. Sebottendorf had said he knew some of the secrets of the Mesopotamian oracles. Scott wiped his sweaty forehead with his handkerchief, barely muttered the first sentence that came to his mind: “You're guessing the question I'm going to ask as well.”

“All right, let's try.” He closed his eyes and thought for a while. Then he opened his eyes, radiating intelligent sparkle and looked carefully at his friend. “You've been judging me for the contradiction between Bektashism and Thule. You've always postpone to ask. Is it correct?”

Scott's right leg, which was a little shorter, began to tingle. He replied uncomfortably. “True.”

“Bektashism first... Those who advance the way towards Bektashism which does not compromise human love and equality have the object of becoming ‘the Perfect Man’ at the end. But not everyone can. I'm in the middle of it yet. So I'm not perfect. Bektashism represents my peaceful side. I need to say this, too. I urged the Bektashis to be tough when necessary.”

The Scotsman, who listened attentively, interrupted. “I guess you're having a lot of trouble with this.”

The Baron looked at his friend who was beginning to soften. He paused to sort out what he will say and replied in a confident tone: “You're right. But I don't give up easily. I remind them that the Janissaries, the professional soldiers of the Ottoman Empire, had been also Bektashi. I tell them how cruel warriors they were in due course.”

Scott didn't react, waiting for him to proceed.

“The world is not black and white, my friend. There are countless colors and their shades in between. Life is not a fairy tale. There are facts. The world will never be under the direction and guidance of the Bektashis.”

Scott still preferred to listen. The German Bektashi proceeded. “People have more than one side. I'm on my warrior side now. Thule's superior race vision and anti-Semitism... Let me touch an important point. There are important differences between Jews, Zionists and Kabbalists. Some consciously and others mistakenly call them all Jews. As a historian and Protestant you know the mysteries of Mu, Atlantis, Mesopotamia and Egypt. I don't need much detail.”

The Scottish journalist inclined his head as if giving approval. Sebottendorf went on. “We know of the British nobles who have been the toys of the Zionists and Kabbalists. But when we learned that the filthy rich Zionists and Kabbalists had been behind most of the communists who came to power in Russia, we realized that the danger was growing. A number of German thinkers and scientists began to prove that ‘the superior people’ who were genetic inheritors of Mu and the Atlanteans were some Germans, not some Jews. The world could not be left to the Kabbalistic Zionists.”

The Baron paused. He moved his hand over his forehead which began to wrinkle and continued. “You remember the Zion Protocols. Zionists shared secretly in 1905. Politics had no ties to morality. Bribes would be given for the cause. Freedom, equality and brotherhood were all a lie. The elected rulers would be weak and obedient. They would dominate the world. They were going to use non-Jewish masons. They would rule governments with money and blackmail.”

Sebottendorf waited for the waitress to get new beers and potatoes. They took a sip of their beer. Finally, Scott spoke after taking a deep breath. “So, when appropriate you are a Bektashi, when appropriate a racist. Did I understand correct?”

The baron gave a resentful look. “So far, I waited for you to oppose. But you kept quiet. Now you call me a hypocrite. Then some more details are necessary. In fact, we try to protect humanity.”

“From whom? From the Kabbalists?”

“We know that Mu and Atlantis inhabitants had been members of a superior civilization. The villains that almost destroyed this prehistoric developed world were among them. Their successors, the Kabbalists, have come in secret ways until today, taking refuge in the darkness.”

“Then Thule becomes successors of the good.”

“Exactly right. I had told you a little about this when you became a member. Scott, believe me, these guys are more dangerous than you think. They work systematically and patiently. We can improve ourselves through Bektashism, but we cannot fight these demons. If this is a hypocrisy, I accept.”

The headmaster looked carefully at the Scotsman who listened to him. “Now I wonder what you will say.”

The Scottish cleared his throat, coughing. “Let me put it together. In ancient times there were superior people. Spiritually and technologically they were far ahead of our time. But there were the good and the bad among them. The descendants of the bad guys are Kabbalists or Zionists. The descendants of the good guys are some members of the Aryan race.”

“I have no doubt it, my friend.”

“So some Germans are good. Bad ones are some Jews.”

“We had discussed this, Scott. The good ones aren't just some Germans. We spoke of some Anglo-Saxon elites speaking English and German. The Bektashis come into play here. Some of the survivors of the continents buried in the oceans had fled to the highlands of Asia.”

Scott approved. “Uighurs.”

“Yes, Uighurs.”

“Their successors, some Turks, becoming Muslim had come to Anatolia and combined Islam with Uighur culture.”

German Bektashi's eyes shone. “Thanks, Scott. The Bektashis are the silent and peaceful wing of this struggle. It is important for individual education. Now you understand Sebottendorf's two faces. The struggle goes on. The bad guys who learned our work started a counterattack. They began with the propaganda. They say that Thule is a myth invented to empower the Germans who collapsed after the European War.”

“I hope you're not mad at me for reopening old wounds. One last question. I heard you were working on black market. Is it correct?”

Sebottendorf inhaled through the nose, waited for a few second and exhaled through the mouth. “You have been pretty suspicious of me. But what you heard is right. Power is required to fight. You need money, Scotsman. Without money you can't struggle against the filthy rich Zionists and Kabbalists. One of the reasons I have many friends in active environments is to provide them with their scarce needs. This is real life.”

Scott expressed his satisfaction. “I appreciate your frankness.” The German Bektashi crossed his arms over his chest signaling him to continue. Scott went on. “I wish we had this conversation before.”

“Better late than never. So I confessed in this sense, dear Scott.”

The beerhouse owner put another record on the gramophone. They began to listen to the German composer Wagner's opera 'Parsifal’.

***

The Indian Caliphate Committee.

November 1920. Constantinople.

Mustafa Sagir, the representative of the Indian Caliphate Committee, looked again in the mirror. His hair, beard, mustache and eyebrows lightly yellowed with oxygen suited his dark skin. He put the fez on his head, went out of the hotel. It was a sunny day. He was in Gar Square soon, then, he headed toward the Galata Bridge ignoring people glancing at him with evasive glances.

As he passed the Egyptian Bazaar he remembered the Grand Bazaar where he went shopping with Bennett. The captain had informed him of the bazaar. It was 450 years old, one of the important economic projects of the Empire. There were more than three thousand shops and fourteen inns. At that time, it was one of the largest and oldest covered bazaars in the world. Accessories, carpets, gold, silver, copper and clothing were sold. They had lunch at a street restaurant. Bennett admitted that he had learned a lot from his guest's bargaining in Turkish. The following day, Sagir had moved from the embassy to the hotel in Sirkeci.

Mustafa Sagir Khan had brought the love and the respect of millions of Indian Muslims to Turkey. The meeting place was Navy Captain Nelson's dummy company office in Sirkeci. Sagir had cut ties with the British embassy. When he was not satisfied with the first hotel in Sirkeci, he had moved to another more comfortable hotel nearby.

Now he should join the İstanbul elements of the nationalist leaders managing the resistance from Ankara. He should compensate his failure in Afghanistan. He wouldn't rush, but wasn't supposed to be late either. He had studied the tourist map of the city. Sagir included nineteen mosques and lodges and tea houses around them on his visit list. He went to mosques on Fridays and to others on the remaining days.

This Friday was the Eyüp mosque's turn. He had a lot of time until the prayer began. This was his second visit. He sat down at one of the tables in the garden. He liked this garden. Some of the customers greeted from afar. It was not forgotten that he gave lots of tips and ordered customers tea and coffee. Some Algerian Muslim soldiers came to Friday prayer too. He tried to chat with them in Arabic. Their language was slightly different, but he handled. His Turkish with Indian accent sounded strange for the audience in the beginning, but after a while they liked it. Someone who listened him had told this. He met numerous people of all ages in different places. Muslim Indian’s pilgrimage adventures, worships, religious knowledge, Turkish love and generosity spread from ear to ear. Navy Captain Nelson's men probably made some contributions. The fate of Indian Muslims and the fate of the insurgent Turks were the same: “It is not possible to take a sigh of relief to the Islamic World unless the British nation disappears... Indian Muslims admire the Turkish national struggle; their hearts beat with yours. The heroism of the Turks is legendary in the distant provinces. Allah willing, your success will be our success in the future, brothers... We have an obligation to help. I'm here for this. if Allah allows, we will succeed in this. We have no doubt.”

The waiter interrupted his thoughts. He brought his coffee with a little sugar. He took a sip and started listening to the songs of two street musician gypsies with clarinet and darbuka which reminded him of Peshawar. With the music of the gypsies, the songs of his country sung with sitar and tabla started to echo together. The Balkan and Arabian tunes here combined with the Indian, Central Asian and Persian vibrations in his mind. The weak gypsy started to collect money by reversing his darbuka. The young man's eyes shone as Sagir handed out one Kaime paper money.

After the gypsies left, Sagir mused among the bird chirps. He gathered important information in the conversations. The hunt for ‘the unionists’ and ‘the nationalists’ had attracted a lot of reaction. The exact opposite of what the invaders thought occurred. Resistance was fueled by secretly distributed newspapers and flyers. At night, free loads and goods were transported and the participation in secret societies increased. The open punishment of those arrested did not work. Food shortages, diseases, smuggling and black marketing helped the insurgents. Meanwhile, some Turks who took advantage of the opportunities also helped the sultan's government or the invaders. 

Sagir could not contact the insurgents for four months. Patience was the best remedy. Finally, long-awaited encounter was realized. He had come here the previous week for Friday prayer. After the prayer, he had met Mahmut. The twenty-two-year-old young Muslim was impressed by the speech of the Indian. Mahmut had fought in Palestine, come to İstanbul when he was discharged and found a job here. He would support the national struggle to the bitter end. He was going to forward Sagir's help proposal to his acquaintances. Mahmut had requested to meet today. Mahmut came a little later. They started chatting until the water pipe and tea arrived. “I was in a hurry last time, but I'm comfortable now and looking forward to what you tell,” he said. Sagir patted his beard and sorted the sentences he repeated many times. “There are riots in Egypt, Afghanistan and India under British rule. Eighty million Muslims live in India. Thanks to our caliph, they feel connected to the Turks and they respect the Turks for centuries. When the Turks took up arms against the invaders, that action increased the love and respect in the hearts of Muslims of India.”

The young man spoke after taking two, tree puffs from his water pipe. “Sir, I did not have much education in schools. But I know this: The caliph has nothing to do with our national movement in Anatolia. He has been united with the British.”

Sagir had made a mistake, thinking Mahmut was an easy bite. Coughing, he cleared his throat: “You're right, mine is a language habit. The majority of our people do not know this detail. But the educated Muslim Indians applaud the struggle of the Turkish nation, not the caliph.” After that, Sagir would pay attention to his speeches. The word caliph was meaningless for nationalists. They were insulting him as a collaborator. He should use the word 'sultan' instead of 'caliph'. He went on. “Mustafa Kemal Pasha is the great leader of the insurgents, the national hero.”

“How will you help us?”

“For now, we can do financial aid. A campaign was launched for you at this time. In a few months, six or seven million British gold were collected. It may collect as much as this within the next three to four months. Turkish-Indian Association was established for this purpose. If a similar association is established here, the aid work will be easier.”

Mahmut was delighted, “Yes, it can be very useful, sir.”

“But I haven't been in touch with Turkish nationalists for three months. I thought of going directly to Ankara, but the roads are closed. The British and the invaders keep a sharp lookout. I will be caught if I attempt to do this alone.”

“It is true.”

“My request is that you introduce me to an authorized Turk who has contact with Anatolia.”

“I'll think about it. Let's meet again next Friday.”

“I can come here again.”

“Agreed, sir. I'm here at the same time.”

Looking at the chain watch pulled out of his vest pocket, Sagir muttered, “It's time for prayer, would you allow me?” and stood up. “I pay the bill, no objection.” he said and went to the coffeehouse owner. Then he headed to the mosque. When the Indian disappeared, Hayrettin sitting behind Sagir came with his water pipe. He looked like a Thracian peasant. His worn out jacket were completed by moccasins, knitted socks, shalwar, girdle, and a kerchief hat. Mahmut asked immediately. “What are you saying? Could you hear our conversations?”

“I heard a lot of it. After your objection about the caliph, his voice got complicated. Then I listened more carefully. There is no doubtful situation.” He leaned over the table and went on with a whisper. “It's good you got some time until next Friday. This man could be a spy.”

“Then they take our heads. Major Hüseyin would think better, if he was here.”

“More important than our lives, Mahmut, the national struggle would suffer. But he talks about millions. It is a homeland duty to deliver this money to Ankara. If we neglect, we can do great harm to the struggle.”

“So we are between two fires.”

Hayrettin nodded in agreement. “But we have to start from somewhere. The Hamza Group was founded. An agreement was reached with those in Ankara. I will discuss with our chief, Lt. Colonel Neşet, immediately.”

A few days later, the chief did not ask questions and told Hayrettin to do whatever he thought was right. The next Friday they met with Sagir in the same place as they agreed. Forty-three-year-old Indian Muslim felt old when he met Hayrettin, twenty-three-year-old. He was surprised, but he tried to betray no emotion.

We'll work a bunch of kids!

Hayrettin introduced himself briefly, and said that they accepted his proposal. Sagir was delighted: “This decision shows that you are a benevolent Turkish citizen. I'm congratulating.”

Hayrettin unperturbed said, “Every Turk would act in this way.”

“Don't say that. We also have those who sell themselves to the British. But the majority is not so.”

The coffeehouse apprentice, showing full respect for Sagir, brought coffees to all three. Saying “Coffee has just arrived from Yemen, sir,” he implied that he deserved his tip.

Hayrettin promptly opened the discussion. “What can we do now, sir?”

“I'm not comfortable in my hotel. The police constantly check. I want to move in a house. I'll pay the rent anyway. I'd appreciate if you help me. I can't do it alone.”

Hayrettin immediately relieved Sagir: “An acquaintance has an empty house. I think we can rent it for you.”

“I would love to. Where?”

“It is near Aksaray. The rent would be up to 30 liras.”

“Can we see the house?”

“I talk to the owner and call you. Where do you stay?”

Sagir gave the address of the hotel in Sirkeci. When Hayrettin requested, Sagir summarized the stories he repeated many times before. He issued letters of recommendation from the President of the Indian Caliphate Society. They were arranged in English and Arabic. He showed his British passport too. Hayrettin examined all of them. He was considered an expert in this field. There was no problem.

A few days later, a message was left at Sagir's hotel. The address of the house was written too. He went immediately. It was a two-story wooden house. He rented the house and gave the landlord 100 Lira to buy the goods he needed. Sagir knew that the nationalists would not trust him right away and would tail him. He quickly settled in. The new nationalists he met recently also helped.

It was the Ashura, the Shiite holy day. It would coincide with the tenth day of Muharram. He mourned for ten days without telling anyone. With his warm and solemn behavior and helpfulness, he gained the trust of the Horhor quarter’s people. Questioning gazes, suspicious eyes were diminishing.

At the end of October, the Zabitan Group took over. Staff Lt. Colonel Mustafa of Mugla became the chief. Hayrettin and his friends informed the new chief about Mustafa Sagir. They got his approval. Mustafa of Mugla also informed Ankara that the Turkish-Indian Association had started its activities and requested for instructions. A few weeks later, the Association strengthened with new participations. They would send their charter to India and ask them to collect aid again.

That same evening, Sagir went out with his violin in the bag. He was disguised as a gypsy working in music halls. He walked to Aksaray, took the tram to Topkapı. From there, he took another tram to Beyazıt. He was at Navy Captain Nelson's office in Sirkeci, making sure he wasn't being followed. They told each other what had happened in the last three months. After that, they talked about what they could do.

***

Ramiz and his company.

January 1921. Constantinople.

Scott occasionally enjoyed spending the evening outside the hotel as he found time. Sometimes he met with the Undersecretary of the Italian Embassy, Signor Grasso, or his foreign journalist friends in authentic coffeehouses in Pera. Kibele, Peradox or Agustine coffeehouses near the German Embassy were the best. He mainly dined at Pera Palas Hotel where he stayed. Sometimes he tried the restaurants of Tokatlıyan Hotel, Cercle D'Orient, Turquoise and Eden.

Eden's owner, the White Russian beauty, Madame Eva was also a smart woman. She was in her early thirties, among those who fled the communist revolution in Russia. When Scott became generous with the tips after ordering expensive food and vodka, Eva started to take care of him. Sometimes she came to his desk and they chatted. Most of Eva's family, pro-overturned tsar, had been killed in the revolution. Eva, her sister, her brother-in-law and their two children had been able to save their lives by giving up everything and bribing. They had first come to Constantinople together, and then her brother-in-law had taken his family to France. Since the civil war was still going on more Russians were going to flee to Constantinople. Grigory Petrov, the popular orator and writer of Russia, was among the asylum seekers too. Currently, he lived in misery in Yeşilköy. Some Russian nobles worked as waiter, assistant cook and janitor. Rumor said that their wives, daughters, and sons engaged in prostitution. Though they had escaped from the Bolsheviks and saved their lives, but they have had great difficulty here.

Scott dined at Eden restaurant with two European journalists and a British banker friend working in Galata on New Year's Eve. He had not an appetite for his favorite borsch soup made of beet and vegetable. He started with zakuski, made of seafood and appetizers, continued with Kromeskies bacon pastry. He had a stroganoff steak prepared with mushrooms as a main course. He asked for a drink of vodka ohotnicya flavored with juniper, ginger and clove. His friends, who came here for the first time, asked for three types of vodka and other examples of Russian cuisine.

After a while, Scott noticed Eva chatting at someone's table he had never seen before. He should be a White Russian too. From time to time he began to examine the man opposite her. Scott thought that he was getting jealous of Eva, smiled slightly. In fact, there was no romantic relationship between them except some conversation. His photography enthusiast eyes were examining the stranger who spoke to Eva. He looked in his forties; a lean man with blue eyes, forehead wide, black hair, thin mustache. Realizing that he often looked away, the banker turned to his left side curiously. He saw the people sitting at the table ahead. “When you see a beautiful woman, you can't stand it, Scott. Now I know why you're less interested in us,” he said.

The Scottish journalist quickly combed his hair with his hand, “I was looking at the man next to her, not the woman. I was thinking that I may have seen him somewhere.” When other friends looked that way too, the banker continued to question him. “Well, did you recognize him?” When he received a negative answer, the banker went on again, “I know him. His name is Ramiz. He began to take part in the Constantinople society. He is the representative of a company based in India.”

Scott, the historian, checked his memory. His grandfather, too, knew a lot about the companies based in India, he used to tell Scott from time to time. The East India Company had opened its first factory in the early 1600s. In that period, the company had become a political and military structure. It was the instrument of British colonialism, spreading all the way up to China. It had apparently worked for the Babur State, but the company really controlled India with its powerful army. In 1857, the last Babur Sultan had been exiled and British colonial rule begun in India. Scott’s grandfather had been in India at that time. Then the East India Company was dissolved.

Scott turned to the banker: “I didn't know that someone in Constantinople does business with India. I would like to meet this Mr. Ramiz. He can help me with my writings and the book I'm going to prepare.” His banker friend could make an appointment since he had business with him being one of his financer.

A few days later they were in Sirkeci. They had easily found the Constantinople office of the East Textiles & Industries Representative Office thanks to the brass plaque in English and in Ottoman Turkish. The two-story masonry building belonged to the company. The young employee sitting at the desk in the hall welcomed them saying his boss was waiting for the guests. He called his boss over the phone and led them to the stairway. Mr. Ramiz's room was upstairs, he was waiting at the top of the stairs. Like the entrance, his room was carefully furnished to impress the visitors. During courtesy speeches, Scott scanned the room trying being unnoticed. Ceiling decorations, crystal chandeliers, walls, curtains, armchairs, carpets, mahogany desk and cabinet, carved wooden wall clock, tiled stove were tastefully chosen. When the banker friend introduced the British journalist and explained his aim, Mr. Ramiz said that he was pleased and started promoting his company. Their head office was in India. Most of its capital belonged to the British. The share of Indian entrepreneurs could not exceed forty-nine percent. They trade opium, cotton, silk, salt and tea. The British put into force ‘the capitulations’ to make the Ottoman Empire pay its debts. Ottoman treasure was under the control of ‘Duyunu Umumiye Teşkilatı’ in Turkish and ‘Public Debts Organization’ in English. Some of the companies of the ‘unionists’ who fled the country were liquidated. Their company has taken their share of the cake. The Ottoman market would become increasingly attractive. His banker friend interrupted and told that Mustafa Kemal Pasha collected the tax revenues of Anatolia in Ankara. The government in Constantinople has had difficulty in finance. The company should pay attention to it. He was also interested in money coming from Bolshevik Russians to nationalist Turks. Mr. Ramiz resumed his speech. In addition to the Russians, he had heard, also Indian Muslims provided money to the nationalist Turks. The company tried to increase its financial interests by staying out of political issues. The occupation forces and the governments of the sultan provided all kinds of convenience. They would also open affiliated companies in the new states to be established after the Treaty of Sevres. They would request additional resources for this. The calming down of the political environment and the establishment of public order could be delayed.

Scott was just listening simply because he kept on taking notes. Here he joined the conversation and asked what he was wondering. Mr. Ramiz thought a while and replied. He spoke English, Russian and Turkish, but his Turkish was a little bit accented. The banker put another question; “Is it okay for you to introduce yourself a little?” Ramiz didn’t object. His mother was of Russian descent. His father was a rich Ottoman pasha who died young. Ramiz had studied high school and university in England. Then he had lost his mother too. He had no financial problem. Scott asked one last question. “Europe and the world are turning towards the Middle East. The oil is on the agenda. India seems to be losing importance. What do you think of that?”

“Good question,” Ramiz responded nodding and after thinking for a while said, “The company is investigating the cost and effectiveness of the oil investment. But I think it can be undertaken on a long-term and state-guaranteed basis.” He looked at his banker friend. The banker nodded in agreement.

Scott requested permission to photograph before leaving. Ramiz asked to shoot only the building. The photo of the people was not considered appropriate. He apologized for it. They thanked and went out. It was raining lightly. They opened their umbrellas and mingled with the people going to Eminönü.

***

News Quotes from European news agencies, dated January 27, 1921:

Nationalist Turks who waged war against the Allies resist...

Nationalists repelled the Greeks and the revolting Ottoman militia forces west of Eskişehir. Even in this environment, the adoption of the constitution in the parliament in Ankara shows Mustafa Kemal's determination.

The Allies requested the Ottoman sultan's government to send delegates to the London Peace Conference.

***

The Friends of England.

January 1921. Constantinople.

Vartan came out of the inn where the law firm was. The streets between Galata Tower and Şişhane were partly covered with ice. Walking carefully, he headed toward Tarlabaşı. Their financial situation was improving in parallel with the revenues in the legal cases. Meanwhile, the British raised his salary. Despite his aunt's objections, he had moved from the house in Balat to his rented house in Cibali. He got used to live with one arm in the course of time. Now, he had his own house close to work and to his aunt's house, both in walking distance. Security was the most important thing. He had no right to endanger his relatives after a fatal attack on him.

Vartan could not recognize the building on the Mis Street in Tarlabaşı quarter where he had come several times. British and Ottoman flags were displayed on the door. The view of the three-story building was completely changed. It was renewed. The plaque at the entrance was replaced with a larger and brighter marble:

“Association of the Friends of England in Turkey. İngiliz Muhipleri Derneği.”

But there was a difference. This time it was written first in English and then in Turkish.

He rang the doorbell. Electricity was connected too. He entered the building by showing his member ID to the official. The interior of the building shared the same glow. The walls, floors, windows, curtains, chair and sofa upholstery, chandeliers hanging from the ceiling and paintings all resembled private clubs in England. Through the open door he headed to the meeting room, where loud chatting and laughter were overflowing.

The end of the Ottoman Empire has come. To tell the truth, the empire was successful in solving its problems for hundreds of years by using the conflicts of interest among the powerful countries.

The King is dead. Long live the King!

This expression came from the depths of history and did not changed. Mankind always surrendered those who took power. Boran and Cihat had taken their places in the back row. When they saw Vartan waved their arms to attract his attention. After they shook hands quietly, tree comrades tried to recognize the people in the front row. Sait Molla, the founder of the association, was there. He should be in his forties. He was jurist, an ex-member of the state council and the ex-undersecretary of the ministry of justice. He was chatting with the president of the association, British Reverend Frew at his left. At his right was ex-minister of interior Ali Kemal from Freedom and Entente Party. At Ali Kemal’s right was the other founder, ex-sheikh al-Islam Mustafa Sabri, who gave the fatwa for the execution of Mr. Kemal, the Boğazlayan district governor, as well as the fatwa for signing of the Treaty of Sevres. At Reverend Frew's left was an Englishman, whom he did not know. Cihat informed Vartan “Ali Kemal, currently writes editorials for Peyami Sabah newspaper, supports the Freedom and Entente Party and the British Friends Association. Reverend Frew is the representative of the British Intelligence Service and the British Red Crescent in İstanbul.”

Some British and senior Ottoman officers, whom they did not know, took their places in the second and the following rows. Vartan roughly counted the audience. More or less forty people. Soon, they began to listen to a middle-aged man with suit and tie who came to the stand. First of all, he thanked the founders and managers on behalf of all members, then summarized their works. The Treaty of Sevres was signed only five months ago while the Association was founded eighteen months back. In other words, they started working long before the agreement was realized. This showed how predictable the founders were. The number of members was increasing day by day in Constantinople and in Anatolia. The last figure was close to twenty thousand. They were happy to gain people's trust. Many secret Turkish nationalist organizations trying to destroy the friendship between the UK and the Ottoman Empire had been smashed. The members of the association had an important share in this. The directors of the association's educational affairs were above all praise. They worked day and night. They also owe gratitude to the donors. The speaker also praised the last Ottoman government for its. He concluded his half an hour speech supported with figures with these words:

“Well, lastly I want to stress this: The UK has saved us from enemy invasion four times. The British are one of our old friends. Incorrectly, we had accepted the British as enemies. But we were so wrong. Let's not be wrong any further. Let's stick heart and soul into British friendship. Our salvation is only possible if we are friends with the British. Let us warn our friends who do not see, do not travel and do not read history. Let's proceed our efforts for reliable new members. Thank you.”

The audience applauded loudly. The famous and important persons in the front row congratulated the speaker by calling him over. An official invited everyone to the catering table prepared in the sofa next to the entrance. Tea or coffee in their cups, pastries and desserts on their plates groups began to chat. Boran had brought his two friends from the Kurdish Promotion Association. He introduced them. They were on the list of candidates to join them.

They discussed Hüseyin's escape from prison three months ago. Tough the secret Turkish nationalist organizations were collapsed; they were still strong in certain places. They would keep on watching them.

The British handed over the embassy under military command to experienced diplomats two months ago. Sir Horace Rumbold and his deputy Neville Henderson were adapting to the current issues as well as the new environment. But they didn't participate in this meeting.

***

News Quotes from European news agencies, dated February 24, 1921:

Nationalist Turks get stronger...

The rebellion of the militia forces against the nationalist Ankara was suppressed.

At the London Peace Conference, the Ottoman prime minister left his voice to the nationalist Ankara delegates.

***

In Çatalzeytin.

February 1921. Çatalzeytin.

Major Hüseyin Üsküplü jumped out of bed at cockcrowing. It was just before the dawn. He stretched himself out putting legs and body in a straight line. Then he opened the window overlooking the mountain. It was snowing lightly. He breathed deeply for a minute, but it was very cold, he closed the window, took off his woolen pajamas and folded it neatly, put it under the quilt. He remembered military school days. He was punished for making his bed improperly and that was the first one and became the last one. He was not granted weekend leave. He wasn't punished again until he became an officer. He put on his wool vest, socks, clothes, wrapped his wool scarf around his neck, wore his kalpak. Silently, he stepped down the stairs, went out wearing his boots at the entrance. He took some water from the water pump and hit in the face three or four times, then wiped his face and beard with his handkerchief. He tightened his wool scarf and put on his woolen gloves. The fingernails of his thumbs and index fingers of both hands, which had been removed during the torture six months ago, began to grow. This was good news according to the doctor in İnebolu whom he visited every month. His angry, serious, sullen, furious facial expression on the mirror was softening as well.

As he began his morning walk, clutching on his stick, he heard voices coming from the barn under the house. Mahmut's grandmother was milking cows like every morning. He patted the dog's head that approached him. Together they passed through fields resting under a white sheet.

Except for the last few weeks, the five months in prison had been full of nightmares. While himself and his companions were trying to recover ‘the Karakol Organization’, he had been reported to the Brits and thrown into famous prison in Bekirağa Company. He could not count his passing days of hunger, cold, dark, stink, rats. The informer was unclear, but Vartan was the prime suspect. When his lungs and stomach got badly damaged after weeks of interrogations and torture, he was transferred to İstanbul Military Police headquarters. He felt a little better there. He could escape during the phony fire engineered by the insiders of ‘the Organization’. He vaguely remembered that with the help of Hayrettin and Mahmut who entered his arms, they arrived at the seashore, crossing trough the dark streets. He could regain consciousness in cold, windy and humid weather. They sailed in an old fishing boat waiting for them. The engine was not activated, the lantern was not lit. They hardly came to Kadıköy by rowing among the waves. From there, they arrived at the Uzbek Tekke by hiding in a cart loaded with hay. Hayrettin returned to İstanbul and Mahmut stayed with him. Through Uncle Yusuf, he had a rest in the tekke for a few days. From there, Mahmut and Hüseyin, again hiding in a cart loaded with hay, came to the shores of Şile at night. They arrived in İnebolu with a well-maintained boat waiting for them. The next night they moved to Çatalzeytin in a small boat. The following day they arrived at the village of Mahmut on horseback. Mahmut fulfilling his longing for his family and entrusting his major to his mother, stayed for three more days and returned. On the way he often repeated: “I'm going to kill that bastard, Vartan, sir. Don't worry, he will pay a heavy price for it.” Before returning to İstanbul, he did not forget to introduce Hüseyin to the elders of the village. He was called here “Ghazi major” or “Ghazi officer”. Bektashi Yusuf's coffee fortune telling was accurate. “I see hard times, long journeys and longing for home,” he commented. Frowning he added, “You'll feel bad, but you're at the start. You'll take heavy responsibilities and continue.” Then the old man patted his back with a forced smile.

An old peasant passing by with his mule patted his shoulder and greeted him. He was going home with the water jugs. Water coming from the spring on the mountain constantly flowed from the fountain in the square. That's what they do to keep it from freezing at night. He stopped when he arrived at his usual place. He glanced over the distant mountain with snowy summit, the hills and slopes in front of him. Sometimes the clouds covered the top of the mountain. He had started chatting with the mountain. Sometimes the mountain pouted its face and sent storms to the village at night. There were times when the mountain was angry enough to rip the trees out of their roots. The eagles and hawks the mountain hosted in its hills were its guards. The forest remained in its high hills and the mountain left its lower parts to the mossy rocks. Sometimes Hüseyin wished to mount up a horse and go to those rocks, to the forest behind them and to the caves and springs hidden over there. But his health prevented him from doing so.

He deeply breathed. The simple life here was full of homesickness, but the fresh air strengthened his body and soul. It was curious why they had settled on this mountain slope, one hour of horseback riding to the sea shore, in place of the sea shore, or in place of the vicinity of one of the streams on the way to the village. Uncle Nuri, a retired teacher, one of the scholars in the village, explained the true story.

“Do you remember ‘the Auspicious Incident’ Ghazi major?”

“Of course I do, dear teacher. It is the annihilation of the Janissaries in 1826.”

“OK. The barracks of the rebel janissaries were bombarded. Artillerymen, military engineers, sailors and armed people attacked upon them. The Janissaries began to flee. Those who were captured were either killed or executed. It is said that 25 thousand janissaries were killed.”

“Yes, dear teacher, the Bektashism to which the janissaries belong was abolished too. Bektashi fathers were hanged or exiled. The Bektashi tekkes were destroyed.”

“But all janissaries could not be killed, dear Ghazi Officer. Some of them survived and came over here. They established this village in a hardly reachable place. They also took into account the water source of the mountain.”

“I guess their families wasn't touch.”

“Some were killed, some managed to hide. Later, the families joined their fathers, their husbands. In this period, the families of our village founders came here as well. They married the local girls or boys from nearby villages and vice versa. This is our hundred year-story.”

The uphill walk took fifteen minutes. The return was easier. When he came home, the wood-burning stove was on fire. They set down to a meal as a family. Mahmut's grandmother, his mother and two sisters, ten and twelve years old, became Hüseyin's small family here. They had a nice breakfast of toasted bread, hot milk, butter, cheese and honey.

It was the shopping and mail day in Çatalzeytin with a donkey carriage. He was informed by Hayrettin's letter the previous month that he had been expelled from the Army. They'd cut his salary since the arrest. He tried to support the family with the money given by ‘the Organization’. After arriving in the town, he took a break in a coffeehouse in the bazaar. He chatted with two young people who went to Kars last autumn. They had volunteered for Lame Osman's Armenian campaign. He listened to their stories. Later, he went to the blacksmith shop of Veysel, the liaison element. If there was a reliable man from Çatalzeytin going to İstanbul, Veysel would send his letters to Mahmut, who worked at the quilt maker in Balat. There was a letter from Hanımşah. He put it in his pocket. He would read it later. He received the latest news from Veysel orally. Hayrettin had replaced him. The ‘Hamza’ organization which had taken out him from prison, was restructured first as the ‘Zabitan’ and then as the ‘Mücahit Group’. The last news was the most important. Hüseyin was going to be in Ankara at the beginning of March. They did not see appropriate his return to İstanbul. He was both delighted and upset. He was delighted because he would maintain his unfinished struggle. Moreover, he would be very close to Mustafa Kemal Pasha. He was upset, mainly because these people and the charming village on the mountain slope he got used to so much would be left behind.

He thought about this while he was watching Veysel carefully measuring the horseshoes and nails and placing them on the shelves on the wall according to their kinds. He also noted that Veysel put his hand tools, sandpapers and fillers back into place, after cleaning them. Veysel learned his profession from his master. But he learned also how to keep his tools well maintained in the military. The major appreciated for his quality of maintaining the skills that the military gave him and doing his job meticulously. They overhauled together the horseshoes of the donkey pulling his carriage.

Section II. The difficult years of Ankara.

Other Ankara.

January 17, 2019. Ankara.

I read Mr. Bilge Wallace's novel “After Twenty-One” in intervals. I read it with interest that my uncle Hüseyin ran away from İstanbul Military Police headquarters and hid in a village of Çatalzeytin for months. I've never heard that story. My memories do not confirm that he served in Ankara either. Uncle Yusuf the Oracle was also unknown in Balat. But the stories of Navy Captain Nelson with Mr. Ramiz identity and Mustafa Sagir were real so far.

On the night of January 17, 2019, there was no news of him in my e-mail. We could no longer communicate at the same instant. I tried to send my mail to Mr. Wallace in advance. “I read the book you forwarded as I find time. I am in the Section II, namely 'The difficult years of Ankara.' I can't go faster because I double-check all gray areas for accuracy. Some parts accord us. You demanded more detail about the Republic of Turkey and its capital Ankara. I attache my short biography, the information note about İstanbul with some photos and videos. Regards and greetings...”

I couldn't open the video and photo files that Mr. Wallace attached to his previous messages, although I tried numerous programs and scanned for viruses. I took it to the ‘computer doctor’. He solved the problem as usual. They were three-dimensional and their software were very different from what I knew.

I watched the files. They were some photographs of Ankara. The first one had a red flag with a white, eight-pointed Seljuk star in the middle. “Orta Anadolu Cumhuriyeti, OAC- Central Anatolian Republic, CAR” was written under it. The official language was Turkish and English. The population was 34 million. 75% were Turks, the rest were Greek, Armenian, Russian, Ukrainian and Georgian origin Christians. There were about a hundred thousand Jews.

This city was Ankara but the name became ‘Ancyra’ and the state was not ‘Republic of Turkey!’

In the other picture, the first parliament building in Ulus was seen. But the surroundings were different. I clicked the camera icon on the edge. The video ran. Ancyra Castle with the flying CAR flag above it came in sight. The surrounding area was quite empty. It was in a park of green grass and various trees. I zoom in. There were play grounds for children and coffeehouses. These were real people, not three-dimensional images created on the computer. Pausing the video, I was able to read the signs ‘Don't to step on the grass.’ They were written in English and Turkish. But the Arabic letters were used. I went on. I recognized the Sultan Aladdin Mosque, the first mosque in Ankara in the Inner Castle. The camera turned to Samanpazarı, showed mosques whose names unknown to me. They were surrounded by parks and gardens like the synagogue in the Jewish quarter. A church was rising in place of the Ulus bazaar. The camera came to the Temple of Augustus and Haji Bayram Mosque and the shrine adjacent to it. It kept on going. The Julian column, Taşhan - the Stone Inn - and the Roman Bath were also fantastic.

My curiosity and interest were growing.

I passed to the second one showing Hüseyin Ghazi Hill in Mamak. I opened its video. It was a large park and promenade area too. The territory of the Garrison Command was completely different. At the entrance there was a museum built according to ancient architecture. I focused on the big plaque in front of it: it was written 'Corbeas Museum' in two languages. On the left side of the plaque was a picture of a warrior with a helmet, loose trousers, long jacket, spiked shoes, striped shield, big sword, ax, a mustache covering his mouth and an amulet on his neck. I had trouble with the Arabic letters. I read English scripture:

‘Some Celtic (Galatian) tribes emigrated to the east at the warning of their oracles. In 260 B.C. they arrived in Ancyra. They settled here. They lived in the Roman Empire and in the Byzantine Empire for one thousand years. They accepted Christianity. As a result of the Byzantine attack, the Galatians left Ancyra and retreated to Malatya under the leadership of Corbeas. Then, with the help of Abbasid Amir Hüseyin Ghazi, Corbeas fought the Byzantine army. He died in the fight on this hill in 863. Here was named after him.’

Although I was interested in ancient history, I didn't know about this subject. I asked Google. There were hundreds of articles about Galatians. I read four or five of the most clicked. They confirmed the writings. Some were narrated more detailed.

I clicked on the third photo then started its video. In place of Anıtkabir - the mausoleum of Atatürk -, there was a large church and a large mosque next to it. I read their plaques: Rasattepe Protestant Church and Rasattepe Mosque. The architectures of both buildings were impressive. Stone, brick, tile, colored leaded windows, copper-plated domes shining in the sun, minarets, towers... A few tumuli surrounding them were attractive too. They were the graves Phrygians built for the elders.

I continued and recognized the railway terminal right away. It was a more different structure. Youth Park, Sıhhiye and Kızılay Squares, wide boulevards and streets were surrounded by a maximum of four-story buildings constructed with stone, brick, wood and tile. Ugly reinforced concrete structures of the vulgar, greedy contractors, unaware of the art, did not exist. I envied. In place of the Kocatepe Mosque, buildings group, copies and mixtures of Buckingham Palace in London and Topkapı Palace in İstanbul were seen. I focused on their plaques. The first building was the residence and headquarters of the British governor-general who ruled the state for up to twenty-five years. It was now the president's residence and headquarters. The other was the parliament building.

These were not video fraud. I decided to share it with my dear friend Hasan Algan. He is somewhat arrogant. He'll make fun of me first. But being fond of the history, he'll be interested. I need his critical look.

***

News Quotes from European news agencies, dated March 31, 1921:

The success of the Turkish nationalists who rebelled against the Ottoman Sultan and the allies continues...

Two weeks ago, Turkish nationalists signed the Moscow Agreement with the Soviet Union. The Russians are expected to send gold and weapons to Turkey in exchange for Batumi. For the first time, signing a treaty with a western state is described as a powerful blow to the Allies in international political circles.

Turkish nationalists again repelled the attack launched by the Greek army a week ago in the west of Eskişehir, just like two months back. This was the second blow to the Allies in two weeks.

***

From Athens to Ankara.

February 1921. Athens

Mustafa Sagir finally saw the sky. He closed his dazzling eyes with his handcuffed hands. The hatchway of the ship's hangar, full of mice, dark and stinking, had been opened with annoying squeaks. To breathe inside vas very hard. He couldn't figure out how many awful days had passed there. Ten or twelve? They had only given water and stale bread. Open cans in the far corner were used for peeing and defecation. He felt very weak and exhausted. The sullen and hostile looking armed guards took all the prisoners to the deck in turn. While the unfortunate prisoners in shabby cloth were about to be glad to get outdoor, the rain with a cold wind warned them not to hurry.

It was the first time the British agent of Indian origin saw the harbor they berthed at. There were warships and merchant ships in the open and on the quay. He tried to read large Greek letters on the walls of buildings of various sizes. He could not succeed. He looked at the others. Everyone including the Bulgarian captain was surprised. But one of the Turks had been here before. They were in Piraeus port. Coercively they were taken off the ship. All of them were unshaven and unkempt. Their clothing looked terrible. Sagir's redingote jacket was dismantled in many parts and slightly torn. It was evening. Soon, they were taken to two military trucks delivering with a list. The weak man who remembered this place spoke in a wheezing voice. Piraeus was the port of Athens. This road was going to Athens. It was dark when they arrived at Athens Military Prison surrounded by high walls. They were pulled out of the car and lined up, then taken inside of the prison through the main gate. They crossed unorderly labyrinth of paths, narrow corridors, dark stairs. After the Indian was stuck in a cold, dark, small cell with a wooden bed and a seat, the heavy door locked from the outside. The window way above was his source of light and air. His bad days in Kabul prison were back…

Days later the interrogation began. He was accused of espionage. The punishment was heavy. Sagir's British citizenship was useless. They knew the impostors. Then he was stripped naked, washed with cold water and tiny soap in two minutes. The fact that Sagir was circumcised like the Turks increased the doubts. Weeks passed until he was taken to court. He was regarded as the prisoner of war. His objections were in vain. They were here until the extradition of prisoner of war agreement was signed with the Ottomans. But he had some of his money and his watch. That wasn't bad anyway.

Last summer, he had come to İstanbul. For weeks, he had visited the great mosques of İstanbul and the coffeehouses, tekkes around them, and finally met the insurgent Turks. They had trusted the representative of the Indian Caliphate Committee and agreed to send him to Ankara. He had talked to Navy Captain Nelson, a.k.a. Mr. Rasim, what they could do to increase the confidence of the insurgents. The British had raided his house in the way they had engineered before. He had been reported for being a supporter of the nationalist forces. They had taken some documents and himself. Hayrettin was afraid that this could bring much trouble on them. Sagir was released a few days later and it was deemed appropriate for him to rush to Ankara.

But how?

To go over the land was dangerous. Greek and Armenian partisans were everywhere. The sea route was safer. Firstly, to Bulgaria then from there to İnebolu. But this was risky too. In the Black Sea, the occupation forces had battleships and patrol ships. The British also used some Turkish ships. One was located in Trabzon and the other in Sinop. In this way, they controlled ships carrying military equipment and passengers to Anatolia.

On the other hand, Turkish nationalists obviously didn't trust Sagir. They did not want to disclose the overland route they used. The experienced agent was aware of it.

The course of action was simple. He needed to find Mr. Mehmet in Bulgaria. Sagir hid the address and the letter written to him in the undercoat of his jacket. He was going to help Sagir get to İnebolu.

On the departure day, British policemen had deliberately created difficulties. Supposedly, the pages in the passport had been modified. Sagir had continued his protests. The problem could be solved only a few minutes before the train departed. Knowing he was being watched, Sagir felt certain that he could show the insurgents that he hardly got on the train.

He was asleep when the train left İstanbul. The border crossing with the British passport was smooth. He arrived in Sofia in the morning. After he had a rest at the hotel, went to Plovdiv by evening train, then stayed in a hotel for the night. The next day he was in Burgas. But he could not find Mr. Mehmet at the given address. He was going to return from Sofia the following day. Sagir had the opportunity to go around the area. Then he found Mr. Mehmet. Two days later a big boat would sail to İnebolu. Sagir said he would donate to the Turkish authorities in İnebolu and bought the boat instead of renting it. The captain and his crew were to return with one of the boats coming to Burgas.

Taking a few Turks, they sailed at the beginning of December. The journey would take three days. They had bought enough food. They were going to refuel at some ports. The captain, who speaks some Turkish, had memorized the sea route.

They sailed smoothly off the shore until a damn Greek warship stopped the boat in the morning. The Greek arrested them all and sunk the boat. The British passport was unimportant. They had caught a lot of people with fake passports. The days passed, and those who brought to the lazaret with handcuffed hands were increasing. Their number reached thirty.

Sagir spent the winter in Athens prison. He was fortunate to have no health problems other than the common cold he was caught several times. After months spent in Kabul prison, he thought that he had become immune to some physical problems.

Finally, by bribing all his money he was allowed to write a letter to the British embassy in Athens. He explained his situation. This move worked and Sagir was released at the beginning of February when the British Embassy intervened.

After a week of rest, he returned to İstanbul by ship. He went home directly and the next day he met Hayrettin. Their man Mehmet in Burgas had reported to İstanbul that Sagir departed by boat. When they had not heard from İnebolu, considering a long time had passed, they had even thought he was killed. They felt responsible for sending him on this dangerous journey during the winter. The Indian explained in detail what had happened. He had lost weight and his health deteriorated. He needed time to recover. After resting, he would, again, set off on a journey to Ankara with an assistant of Hayrettin.

He had gained the trust of Hayrettin and his friends…

The British agent was in Navy Captain Nelson's office a few days later. His old friend was awaiting him eagerly. They had been very curious. His men in Ankara had reported every week. Sagir had not arrived. They had mobilized their men in Bulgaria and they searched every place wherever possible to find him. They had started to think something bad had happened to him and reported to London too. As hopes were about to abandon they were very happy when received the message of the British Embassy in Athens.

They reviewed the latest situation. Sagir would send his letters to Ramiz through Cavit in Ileri newspaper. With visible ink, he would use praiseworthy words about people in Ankara and write the actual message between the lines with invisible ink. The replies would be the same manner. In case of emergency, an encrypted telegram would be used. The contact with the agents in Ankara and the agents to be sent later would be limited. The Black Jumbo agents would watch and protect him. The phone would not be used in any way. Nelson was going to deposit twenty thousand Ottoman banknotes into his Ottoman Bank account. It would appear to be sent from India. He could withdraw the money from Ankara bank branch. He took a thousand Ottoman banknotes and the amulet given to all agents to hung it around his neck. There was poison modified as a chewing gum in it. If he was caught, by all means, he would be tortured long time and eventually executed. It was meaningless to try to be killed a few weeks later. He wouldn't hesitate.

A week later, the Bahricedit ship departed to Trabzon. Hayrettin had appointed Navy Lieutenant Mehmet Ali to assist the Indian Caliphate Committee representative. The middle-height and stocky young was twenty-five years old. He was the son of a pasha of Ürgüp. He was respectful and curious, noted always the details in his notebook ready in the pocket.

Sagir met Lt. Colonel Kemalettin Sami on the ship. He participated in the national struggle in Anatolia and went to İstanbul on leave for family reasons. He was returning to Ankara. Sagir impressed Kemalettin Sami, explaining that the Indian Muslims had sent him to help the national struggle.

Within two days they arrived in İnebolu. The ship anchored offshore. They descended on a boat with their stuff. Fifteen minutes later they were at the pier. Some enthusiasts looked with interest at the bearded dark-skinned stranger. One of them approached and said that the strict governor was waiting for coffee. He sent a cart for his stuff too. After a short walk, they came to the district governor's office building where the Turkish flag was hung on the gate.

The young district governor was awaiting them. He was informed by telegram from Ankara. The roads were considered safe. But sometimes it was possible to run into the Greek partisans or deserted soldiers. Weapons should be kept ready. He didn't recommend a night trip.

After serving coffee and tea, Sagir briefly explained his mission. Lt. Col. Kemalettin Sami listened smiling and approving the Indian.

Then the district governor gave some information about İnebolu. The city held an important position. Most of those who went to Ankara to actively participate in the war of liberation came to İnebolu. Here was the entry point to Anatolia of materials coming from İstanbul and Russia. The British and the Greek began to inspect the pier with their navy. Sagir said he was not unfamiliar to the subject, and as he briefly told about his adventure in Bulgaria and Athens, they listened to him with interest.

After the meal consisting of tarhana soup, pita and halushka patty, they moved right after buying some food and water. Two gendarmes accompanied the three-person group getting the best horses. The group crossed the mountains and highlands between İnebolu and Kastamonu in three days. At night they gave a break in the appropriate villages.

The governor they visited in Kastamonu talked about the armed clash between non-Muslims and Muslims in one of the larger towns. He advised them to pay attention to the partisans until Çankırı. After changing gendarmes and horses and resupplying food and water, the group left the city. They rode through bad roads that don't match the great scenery. They crossed Ilgaz Mountain in four days, riding their horses in the daytime, usually under rain. Via the town of Çubuk, they finally arrived in Ankara five days later.

***

The Medium Term.

March 1921. Constantinople.

The patrol boat of the British navy approached the pier situated almost at the junction point of the Black Sea and the Bosphorus. Captain Bennett glanced around the small and charming seaside village. The people of ‘Anadolu Kavağı’ in Turkish, ‘Anatolian Poplar’ in English, settled on the shore because they made their living from the sea. The name of the village came from these very long poplar trees, seen everywhere from the shore to the ridges. The sunny March morning made the view more charming. He wanted to walk a little on the seashore but there were people waiting for him on the pier. He got in the phaeton with the guard. They went through the gravel paths until the coast was out of view.

Navy Captain David Nelson had called him to the farm behind the hill, unseen from the seashore. They were going to discuss the medium-term plan. Bennett also brought his own draft document. His nest at the Kroker Hotel in Pera, where he had worked for two years, was exposed. Nationalist Turks were watching him. A few weeks ago, at midnight, around Maslak, his vehicle was fired. He was wounded, but they could escape thanks to the experienced driver. Bennett had been operated at the French hospital. Now he had a limp leg. This threat was valid for Nelson too. They had shifted a significant portion of their work to the secluded Anadolu Kavağı farm. They took up the challenge of a long journey. But safety would come first of all.

Nelson wasn't on the farm due to an emergency job. He told he would return towards the evening; the captain should wait. If Bennett desired, they were prepared to show the area. He accepted with pleasure. This trip would be good instead of the walking he wanted to do on the beach. First they went to Yuşa Hill. The view was spectacular. From there they went to Yoros Castle. His guard and guide gave some information. When the empire weakened during the Byzantine period, this place passed into the hands of the Genoese and remained in their hands for a long time. The Black Sea and the Bosphorus could be watched and covered with fire. With Imros Castle on the opposite shore a vital power had been gained. The view of the Black Sea side and the Anatolian Lighthouse were also great. Next time he was going to bring a camera. They eagerly finished the food and red wine in the picnic basket.

When they returned to the farm, they were said Nelson had just arrived. He was waiting for the captain in his room. Nelson had gone to the Ottoman Bank, transferred 400 thousand gold lira by telegraph to the nationalist forces Account in the name of Mustafa Sagir, who started to work in Ankara. It was the first installment of the aid payment. They had to show the nationalist Turks that Sagir, the representative of the Indian Caliphate Committee, was a trusted man. The money had already come to Constantinople from India.

They started working. “New Middle East Medium Term Plan” was written on the file with “Top Secret” stamp. The plan was based on the expansion of the applied system. After locating the hiding insurgents, the intelligence people handed them over to the assassins and they finished the insurgents off. Sometimes the Armenian Dashnak Organization was assigned. The starting point was the Sevres Agreement. In the new states, the caliphate, ministries, big newspapers, news agencies, military headquarters and secret organizations were among the centers to be infiltrated. The qualifications, the training programs and the training centers of the personnel to be specially trained were in a separate chapter. The associations to support these works would be expanded. An inspection branch composed by the Secret Intelligence Service (SIS) agents under Navy Captain Nelson was to be established. In the last chapter, the needs were mentioned: Personnel, materials, weapons, ammunition, buildings, land, and most importantly, money. It was shown on separate charts by country, divided into years. They were careful not to exaggerate the need for resources.

Nelson was going to outline this plan only to the ambassador, after his approval send it to SIS via a private courier.

***

The Mim Mim, MM.

March 1921. Ankara.

When Major Hüseyin was ordered to go to Ankara, he was not so happy. He was going to leave his little family in the village. He had lived with Mahmut's grandmother, mother and two sisters for months. It seemed like years passed, not three months. He owed gratitude to these beautiful people. As expected, they were very upset when he told the news. Their home would be without a man again. The next day he said goodbye to all the familiar people in the village. Ghazi major was called for duty. Homeland duty was superior to everything. But they were going to be together again soon.

Hüseyin left on the morning of March 5th. With the long beard on his chin, fez on his head, wearing a cloak, a long sleeved vest, a striped shirt, a belt on his waist, black pants and moccasins, he was indifferent from the local people. Almost the entire village came to see farewell before he departed for Çatalzeytin. They filled the cart with food such as bread, cheese, bacon, boiled eggs, onion, apple, dried fruit rollup, pickle and ayran. He would be on the road for two weeks. He shouldn't be sick again by staying hungry and thirsty. The grandmother had quickly knit woolen undershirt, wool socks and wool cardigan, as a reserve of his clothing.

In the afternoon, Hüseyin took a small boat in Çatalzeytin. By nightfall he was in İnebolu. The gateway of Anatolia on the Black Sea was not only used by nationalists. He would pay attention to the British agents. He remembered his first arrival. They had come here by boat after he had been taken out of jail. The next morning, they had moved to Çatalzeytin.

The houses painted with ochre among gardens and the roofs covered with stones were very nice. He walked into town with his suitcase in one hand and his bag on his shoulder. He found Uncle Mesut, a member of the Mücahit Group, awaiting him. They moved into the old tailor's back room.

While they were drinking tea, Mesut explained. When the courier bag sent from Ankara was lost, the Mücahit Group was restructured. In mid-February, the Armed National Defense Group started its activities. It was shortly called the ‘Mim Mim’ Group. Its symbol was MM. The unification, which not achieved for various reasons, was now accomplished. Anyone who wished to establish an organization around him could no longer do it. All the insurgents of the nationalist forces were going to be directed by retired Cavalry Lt. Col. Hüsamettin in Ankara. Those who independently acted would regret. The tailor had good news too. Hayrettin had come here two days ago.

When it was dark, they went to Mesut's brother's small farm nearby. Hayrettin, sitting at the brazier with the host in the hall, as soon as saw Hüseyin with elongated beards leaped to his feet. First they hugged, then, studied each other avidly at arms-length. Hüseyin met Mr. Murat, the host. Until the meal was prepared, they sent Hayrettin and Hüseyin to the guest room to have a heart-to-heart talk.

Hayrettin came here both to see Hüseyin and to report after supervising the work around İnebolu. The occupation forces controlled İnebolu very closely from the sea and from the land. They supported Greek partisans too. The organization’s work had slowed down. He would return to İstanbul after seeing him off. They tried to find the hidden elements and persuade them to join the new organization. Sergeant Hasan and Mahmut were with him. He finished with a smile: “Major, Mahmut was your orderly, I'm telling, maybe you don't know, sleeping in the same room with him is a punishment.”

“I do know! I couldn't sleep simply because he always snored when we stayed in the same position. But once we had survived an ambush, thanks to his snoring.”

They laughed.

“I forgot the actual news. Mahmut could not kill Vartan. As he had slipped on ice, Vartan took out his pistol and fired all bullets at his back. There were others coming too. Mahmut hardly run away.”

Hüseyin frowned. He would do it himself later. Hayrettin spoke about Mustafa Sagir, the representative of the Indian Caliphate Committee. He would donate millions of Lira to help us in our struggle. They sent him to Ankara recently. On the orders of the former chief, Lt. Col. Mustafa of Mugla, Sagir was accompanied by the Navy Lt. Mehmet Ali who would help and watch Sagir.

His mother, Ayşe, Sabri and his family were good. His fiancé Hanımşah maintained teaching. She came to Balat every weekend and visited Mrs. Reşide. Her father, Mr. İbrahim was still in office. Under pressure from her daughter, her future father-in-law's help in the trial of Hüseyin was appreciated.

I felt that.

Hayrettin did not touch upon that Cihat with eyeglasses tailed and harassed Hanımşah several times. Uncle Yusuf, the Oracle, continued his life. Yusuf kept on saying that there were good things about Hüseyin in the coffee fortune-telling. As the major was about to ask, his friend preempted him. “I left the news about Sergeant İsmail to the end. His story is both long and interesting.”

Straightening up out of curiosity, Hüseyin requested him to go on. “The Galician had disappeared after fleeing from İstanbul. As we couldn't hear from him for a few weeks, we searched him in İzmir under Greek occupation. His mother first told the messenger I sent that she knew nothing about his son. Probably she didn't trust him. But, from his mother's attitude, my messenger understood that İsmail was alive. In his second visit, swearing on the Koran, he convinced the lady. We found out that he was hiding among his relatives. We were very happy. A friend of him who came to İstanbul last fall visited our shop in Eyüp. He told us that they served together in the mobile forces of Ethem the Circassian. They fought both the Greeks and those who rebelled against the nationalist forces.”

Hayrettin stopped suddenly with a serious look on his face. “But Ethem the Circassian, who had rebelled to Ankara, was liquidated at the end of January and his men were disbanded. Some of them joined the nationalist forces. A small group took refuge in the Greeks. After that, we could not hear from İsmail.”

Hüseyin interrupted. “He certainly didn't join the Greeks. He would never do that. He could not return to İstanbul either. He may have returned to İzmir or go somewhere in Anatolia.”

Hayrettin put an end, saying. “I agree. There'll be some news soon. That's all from me. Now, you tell me a little bit.”

Hüseyin, patting his beard, summarized his life in the village. “I loved the people there very much, Hayrettin. Most of them support the national struggle. I tried to follow the news when I went to Çatalzeytin. Newspapers came very late. The fact that nationalist forces led by Mustafa Kemal and his friends had stopped the Greeks twice in Eskişehir, created a positive festive atmosphere there. But people could not understand Ethem the Circassian's rebellion against Ankara. He was a hero six months ago. Now he took refuge in the Greeks. What a shame on him.”

After the guests were invited to dinner, they chatted with the hosts who prepared the latest MM stamped permission documents for the Ankara journey. Also British permission documents were arranged. Hüseyin and his companions would pay attention to the Greek Pontus partisans until Kastamonu. Some of the Greek immigrants brought to the region were subjected to military training by Greek officers. The future military power of the Pontus Government was formed on the Black Sea coasts. Greek partisans also included Greek soldiers. After Kastamonu they were comfortable where Osman the Lime partisans dominated. Within three days, Hüseyin would join the caravan carrying materials to Ankara. Four gendarmes on horseback would provide their security. Hüseyin's horse was ready too.

He requested Hayrettin to send to Ankara as much as possible materials for producing fake document. If possible, a smart, educated young man trained by him would serve much purpose. Actually, it would be better if they worked together again, but Hayrettin was needed more in İstanbul.

On the departure day, a caravan of twenty-five ox-driven carts and carriages was ready. Hüseyin said goodbye to Hayrettin and people hosted him for three days. The food bag was resupplied here. They set off early on a rainy morning. The transportation with ox-driven carts to Ankara took two weeks. Ox-driven cart carried a few hundred kilos of goods. The speed was five kilometers an hour only on straight roads. On the slopes, the speed was reduced to one kilometer per hour. Horse carriages had more or less the same speed. The two horse carriages in the group carried water, animal feed and food for riders. Others were loaded with material. They were all covered with whatever could be found. The drivers were fifteen-year-old children, women and the elderly, all volunteers. Some women had babies with them.

The weather did not cause problems. Twelve days later they came to Ankara. Hüseyin was surprised what he saw. Because there was a view quite different from his dream. Just a barren steppe. He remembered the Iranian and Palestinian deserts. Soon, they came to a neighborhood with uncared mud-brick houses. The caravan stopped at a small farm in the vineyards of Keçiören. The farm owner was a retired teacher. He and his wife and a couple of peasants ran this place. He was one of the loyal members of the nationalist forces. While the people in charge took care of the animals and their cargoes, the people in the caravan were invited to a modest table. The calendar on the wall was dated March 20, 1921. They tried to rest at the places shown to them for the remaining of the day. Everybody ate whatever was left of their pack in the evening.

The next morning a messenger on a horse reported that Lt. Col. Hüsamettin was waiting for Hüseyin. They immediately were on their way. While riding their horses, the young messenger informed. The Mim Mim Group, MM, was newly established. They would be better than before. Twenty minutes later, they arrived at the three-story, ill-maintained masonry house on the Etlik ridges.

They climbed down from the horses. The messenger knocked on the thick wooden door with two wings three times in long and two times in short strokes. A guard with his gun opened the door slightly. When he saw the messenger, he opened it to the end. They headed to the building together with horses.

Welcome to your new home Hüseyin...

***

Sagir and Mustafa Kemal.

March 1921. Ankara.

The group, including the Indian Descent British agent Mustafa Sagir arrived in Ankara on March 11, 1921 via the town of Çubuk. In the afternoon they reached the Keçiören neighborhood. They took a lunch break in a small group of trees. They finished the rations with the gendarmes. After that, Lt. Colonel Kemalettin Sami gave some information. This place was a holiday resort famous for its fresh air and vineyards. The houses were situated in the heart of the gardens of fruit trees, poultry houses, ponds and water wells. The grape and the delicious pear of Keçiören were famous. Ankara's non-Muslims usually lived here. As tradesfolk they were rich and their houses and gardens were cleaner and well-maintained.

Sagir said that he was very touched while watching Ankara seen indistinctly far away. Eventually, they reached the commanding place of the national struggle, which became known all over the world. The representative of the Indian Caliphate Committee opened his English book about the Ottoman Empire. He found the Ankara section. A badly printed photo on top and all the information was half of a page under it. He suggested that he would read it out loud, asking the lt. colonel to confirm. The lt. colonel interrupted him. “That Ankara is ruined, far from the big centers and surrounded by swamps, causes foreigners to despise the national struggle,” Frowning, he added, “I'm afraid the British did not forget to record this information.” Sagir replied that he had not seen it in the paragraph he had read earlier, and that the book was published four years ago. He started reading:

“Ankara is a small Central Anatolian city with about thirty thousand inhabitants. It is situated 900 meters above sea level, on the steppe in the middle of the Central Anatolian plateau with thirteen provinces. Many civilizations, especially the Hittites, had risen and developed in the region. Polar colds are also experienced as much as extreme heat. The most blowing wind is Poyraz, the north-east wind, the health wind. In the Ankara War of 1402, the forests where elephants could be hidden had been already destroyed. The only gate of the city squeezed into the vicinity of the castle is the railway connecting Eskişehir to Ankara. There is a short, narrow light railway line in the east.”

Lt. Col. Kemalettin Sami joined the conversation again, “The tsarist Russians opposed the construction of railways from Ankara to the east. It happened what they pushed.” Sagir read the last sentence and closed the book. “There is no modern heating in Ankara, so the air in the winters is not clean.”

The lt. col. content himself with a bitter smile. He couldn't find anything to say. They kept on riding down the road and found the Hürriyet Hotel. Their rooms were ready and cleaned. The gendarmes helped them to take the horses to the nearest stable. Tonight they would rest at a nearby gendarme station and return the following day. Sagir thanked for their efforts and didn't forget to tip. The lt. col. went to his house saying goodbye to the guests. He reminded that if any problem occurs they can always call him. In two days’ time, he would be at the general staff headquarters.

Sagir slept well that night. When he woke up in the morning, he felt pretty good. He clicked the door to the next room. No sound. Mehmet Ali, as they spoke, must have left early to report to the general staff headquarters in Kalaba. Sagir dressed and went down to the dining room. The hotel customers were not too much. They looked at him evasively and continued with their breakfast. The Indian asked old waiter to bring anything they have. He knew he wouldn't find breakfast and food here like in İstanbul. He had a rugged, unknown road ahead of him. This made his mission more exciting. As a good chess player, he would try various tactics and distinguish who the chess pieces represented. Then he would check the king.

Mustafa Kemal was going to die...

He would be patient and wait for Black Jumbo agents in Ankara to contact him. The first contact of the Greek soldier Yorgi, who was infiltrated as a barber with Turkish identity in the general staff headquarters was very important. It was a great success to be able to take such a delicate task. The other two agents, who were Turkish citizens, would contact him, take care of every need and provide the communication between Sagir and Navy Captain David Nelson. An agent of Turkish citizens in Adapazarı would help Sagir return to İstanbul after his duty. As a second way of escape Bursa was chosen. There was also another Turkish citizen agent ready for help. They were in contact with Nelson. The amulets, which they all hung on their necks, contained poisoned gum. If they were caught before they could use the amulet, they would be prepared for all kinds of torture.

He finished his breakfast. He gave a big tip to the clerk with long black mustache at the reception, requested him to find all the newspapers published the previous week and send them to his room. An hour later he started reading the newspapers. He skipped over local news. The liquidated former member of nationalist forces Ethem the Circassian attracted his attention. His refuge in Greece in İzmir was told in a series for five consecutive days. In the same days, Mustafa Suphi and his friends who were in cooperation with the Bolshevik Russians were lost in the Black Sea. Various news about the London Conference where the future of Turkey was discussed were reported too. For Europe, the end of the Turks has come. The ex-Ottoman commander-in-chief Enver Pasha was in Moscow. He had sent a message to Mustafa Kemal that he would join with his army to the nationalist forces. But he was refused.

Mehmet Ali returned to the hotel in the afternoon. He had gone to the general staff headquarters to report their arrival. The officers there would take care of it and inform Mustafa Kemal. They would wait for the instruction at the hotel.

The following day they visited Ankara Castle. Sagir was going to pay attention to Mehmet Ali. He recorded every detail in his notebook. Sagir wouldn't trust him much. An officer came in the afternoon. The next day he would take them to Pasha. The programs were changing frequently. So they could come at any time of the day. He requested them not to leave the hotel.

Sagir would finally meet famous Mustafa Kemal. His characteristics were in Sagir's memory. He was a good officer and a good general who spoke French and German. He took measured risks. He could not agree with the Germans, the ‘unionists’ and Enver Pasha. According to Mustafa Kemal, the Ottoman Sultan looked like the last king of Byzantium. Mustafa Kemal was interested in a new state form. He appreciated but didn't like Europeans, wanted just to civilize his people. He was ambitious, but knew how to stop. He didn't disregard to eat, drink and enjoy life, could gather the best ones around him, wasn't good with women and money.

The next day before noon, a young officer came to the hotel. He would accompany the guests to the parliament. They got in the phaeton waiting outside. The road was almost secluded except several landons, phaetons and horse carriages. It took them five minutes to get to Karaoğlan Square. They came to the parliament where no other structure was around. The two-story stone building looked like an eagle spreading two wings. Mehmet Ali taking the packages followed Sagir and the young officer who went ahead. The guards at the entrance greeted the officer in charge. They came in front of the office written “The Minister of Interior” on its door. The official in charge was waiting for the guests. The meeting inside was almost over. He told them to rest on the chairs in the hall. Soon, they were taken inside. Mr. Adnan, a cheerful person, said they were very happy that the guests came here and asked about their travels and days in Ankara. He gave some information about the parliament while they were drinking tea. The number of deputies was about four hundred and twenty. Two-thirds were new. Eighty deputies were members of the İstanbul Assembly who dissolved themselves the previous year. Having only his government the sultan’s power was limited to İstanbul and its environs. The Ankara Assembly and government took over the administration of Anatolia. They collected taxes regularly.

Sagir expressed his appreciation. Mr. Adnan added with a smile: “400.000 gold lira were logged into the account of the nationalist forces through the Ottoman Bank. Please convey our thanks to all your friends in India. We are preparing a letter of appreciation as well. We get the address from you.”

Sagir thought while tapping his beard. Nelson did not delay. He spoke masquerading with an embarrassed expression. “We can consider this as a first payment of the aid. The money comes at İstanbul via India and then Ankara. A friend of mine helps me in İstanbul for this.”

When the message came that Pasha would be available, Sagir and Mr. Adnan went to the Mustafa Kemal's office. The aide was waiting for them. He told them to sit down. When the people inside came out, he took the guests to the office and introduced: “Mustafa Sagir, the representative of the Indian Caliphate Committee has come sir.” Mustafa Kemal rose from his seat, said “Welcome”, walked around the desk, shook their hands and returned. He pointed to the two seats opposite his desk. Sagir and Mehmet Ali sat on one and Mr. Adnan sat on the other.

Pasha was in his forties. His blue eyes looked penetrating. He seemed to sleep not much, worked hard and had very tense times. Soon, the servant brought their tea, left the sugar bowl on the tea table. After courtesy speech, Sagir requested permission to come to the point. Mustafa Kemal nodded in agreement. Sagir signaled to Mehmet Ali and the package was opened. He stood up, cleared his throat and began his memorized speech in a serious and formal tone: “I am honored to present this sacred banner to Dear Pasha, on behalf of His Holiness Ebulfazl, the chairman of the Indian Caliphate Committee. Indian Muslims fully join the national jihad that you engage in, they promise that they will not spare their best in spirit and substance. I am charged to announce this decision and sent to you as an extraordinary representative.”

The banner, a very precious fabric, was embroidered with silver thread, “There is no god but Allah, Mohammed is the Messenger of Allah” written on it. Mustafa Kemal kissed the banner holding it with his hands. “Thank you very much Mr. Mustafa Sagir. You've bothered all the way here. This banner will be displayed in the most exclusive corner of our museum. I would like to express my sincere gratitude to the Indian Muslims through yourself. Even thinking about it is of great value for us.”

He signaled to Mehmet Ali and the banner was placed neatly on its bundle. As Mustafa Kemal went back to his place, Sagir said: “Dear Pasha, in addition to the banner, I respectfully offer to accept 6 million gold lira aid collected by Indian Muslims.”

Mustafa Kemal still smiling said “Thank you very much. 6 million gold is a high sum. I was wondering how to get to Ankara.”

“Dear Pasha, money will be brought little by little. We bring this amount in the hope that the Indian Muslims help somewhat the struggle of Anatolia, the war of independence of your Turkish and Muslim state. The greatest help for you will come from God Almighty. Our belief that you are worthy of the moral support of the whole Islamic world is sincere. Please trust this.”

Mustafa Kemal nodded indicating that he understood. “Would you please write my reply letter to Ebulfazl Efendi for his invaluable flags and financial assistance?”

Saying “Certainly, Dear Pasha” Indian Muslim took the paper and pencil handed out by Mustafa Kemal. Mehmet Ali taking the inkpot from the desk placed it on the tea table.

Sagir began to write by repeating: “Your Holiness Ebulfazl, I received with great pleasure the banner you sent to remind our Indian brothers. Thank you, sir, for your caring behavior. I am also grateful for your financial assistance. President of the Grand National Assembly Mustafa Kemal.”

Mustafa Kemal signed the extended letter. Saying “Thank you Mr. Sagir. If you tell the aide outside on the way out, he will present the envelope to you.” He politely implied that the meeting was over, stood up and walking around the desk came to their side. As the guests stood up too, he shook their hands and walked up to the door.

Taking Mustafa Kemal's letter, Sagir with Mr. Adnan passed to the general assembly of the Grand National Assembly. The deputies were waiting for him. They led him to the stand. When presented, he was greeted with applauses. He explained in Turkish the purpose of his arrival and would work for the continuity of the aids. And he concluded: “Our only wish is, after your success, Turkish brothers, who will guide, train and lead us in particular places, would come to our aid. Here we will also establish a Turkish-Indian Association with the permission of Allah. In this way, we can organize the mutual aid business more easily. I came to work day and night to establish the association we established with our brothers in İstanbul both here and in other cities. Brothers, please don't spare your help and support. I extend my sincere respect. Thank you, sir.”

The deputies applauded Sagir for a long time. After attending lunch consisting of dry bean, bulgur pilaf and Çubuk pickle with them, they returned to the hotel with great pleasure. When the rain stopped in the evening they went out. He told Mehmet Ali what he had in mind. They should find a house; the hotel was boring, his friends in İstanbul had taken care of this. He mocked the young sailor, “Let's see if you are as skillful as them.”

The Indian thought what they had seen today. The surroundings of the parliament were empty. The entrance was controlled by armed guards. Internal rebellions were troubling them. Particular attention was paid to foreigners. Pasha's aides were armed. Most of the deputies were armed too, they did not need to hide their pistols. An action in the parliament was very difficult. He or the assassin could be caught. Without even using the amulet…

***

Scott in Ankara.

March 1921. Ankara.

Scott Wallace, Scottish journalist and historian, must interview Mustafa Kemal Pasha, ‘the King’ in this important chess game…

A significant opportunity came out in December. A secret meeting between the Sultan's government and the Ankara government would be held. And Mustafa Kemal was going to participate too. Scott could meet Pasha after the meeting. He had heard this about a week or so before the meeting. Scott could also be included in the İstanbul delegation. From Ambassador Rumbold he requested help for it, but he was refused. He had to reach some influential Turks. Then he asked for help and support from both Sebottendorf and Signor Grasso, the undersecretary of the Italian Embassy. Both had good relations with nationalist Turks. Finally came the news he was waiting for. Signor Grasso had confirmed Scott as a reliable, confidential and trustworthy Scottish journalist, calling his journalist friend Mr. Yunus in Ankara who arranged the appointment. Grasso made friends with Mr. Yunus when he was in Constantinople. Some months ago, Mr. Yunus had fled from Constantinople to Ankara as he was about to be arrested.

They awaiting Scott in Ankara. He was advised to be in İnebolu on March 11-12. They were expecting a confirmation from him. His following trip and the arrangement of accommodation belonged to the Turkish nationalists. After Scott agreed without thinking, Grasso reported by telegram that the guest will be in İnebolu on the mentioned date. Scott, meanwhile, telegraphed and got approval from the New State Magazine in England.

On March 9, he departed from Constantinople by ship. But the air and the sea was very bad. As the ship constantly danced on top of waves in wild strong poyraz northeaster wind, he began experiencing stomach pains and felt sick. He could not think to take a drug against sea sickness. He often recalled severe storms in the North Sea. Scott thanked God several times when they saw the coast of İnebolu at noon on March 11. The storm had eased, but it wasn't over. The ship anchored off shore. They descended on an old rocking boat. Then, again, they climbed on the waves and fell like a rock rolling down the mountain. He forced himself not to vomit until they reached the shore. He held the suitcase tightly; of course he was the first passenger who landed from the docked boat. Since to find a suitable place was impossible, he emptied his stomach right there. When he recovered, noticed the young man standing in front of him.

“Don't worry, Mr. Wallace. Drink a cup of hot tea with mint and lemon in your hotel. You'll recover in half an hour.”

Straightening and holding his suitcase Scott looked at him. Without giving him the opportunity to respond, the young boy continued: “Welcome. My name is Muharrem. I was waiting for you. I will accompany you during your travel to Ankara.”

The journalist was relieved a little. Saying “Thank you” he dropped his suitcase to the ground and extended his hand. The young man had callous and strong hands. He was about ten centimeters shorter than Scott. The young man took the guest's suitcase in one hand and took his arm with the other hand. The hotel was nearby. They went up to the guest’s room upstairs. Scott immediately ran to the shared toilet in the hallway. There was no plumbing. After relieving oneself, the need for cleaning was met with a few pitchers full of water. He didn't mind. When he returned to the room, Muharrem showed the mint lemon tea on the table. He carefully watched his guest finish the tea, like a doctor healing his patient. He urged Scott to eat dinner early, rest thoroughly and wait in the room after breakfast. Then, he requested permission. He was going to stay at the gendarmerie station nearby. If any problem occurs, the hotel staff knew his location.

The Scottish patient did what his young doctor (!) suggested. The next morning, he felt so good. Muharrem came to the room after breakfast. He brought Scott a horse. They started chatting while riding around the town. The young man was a gendarmerie sergeant here for two years. He liked İnebolu too much. The town's climate is mild. Plums, nuts, mulberries, apples, walnuts were grown. The roads were considered safe. But the Greek partisans or Turkish deserters who robbed on the roads could not be eradicated. The weapons should be kept ready always. Scott checked the semi-automatic Luger P08 pistol attached to the trouser belt with a holster, thanked Sebottendorf silently. Knowing this situation, he had given the pistol and two cans of spare bullets.

The next day they loaded the stuff, food and water on a mule. They traveled during daytime, took a break at the appropriate places during nighttime. They arrived in Ankara on 22 March 1921 via Kastamonu-Çankırı-Çubuk. The ride on horseback lasted ten days.

Scott was very excited as he watched Ankara seen vaguely far away. They had finally reached Mustafa Kemal's command post. The first thing that caught his attention was the absence of forests. He tried to predict his Celtic ancestors over these lands thousands of years ago. He could guarantee that it had been greener than this.

***

The Rebirth.

March 1921. Ankara.

Major Hüseyin raised the collar of his cloak while riding horses with the messenger coming 21 March morning. He tightened the wool scarf around his neck remembering Mahmut's grandmother. He still wore the knitted wool undershirt, wool socks and wool cardigan. Ankara plateau was very different from the Black Sea coast. He thought about the events took place two years ago. He was in İstanbul. It was Nowruz, new year day, again. He and Uncle Yusuf went to the Bektashi lodge. The old sage's words echoed in his ears.

“This day symbolizes rebirth and resurrection after death.”

It was as if he had described Hüseyin's this very day. He smiled. They were on their way to meet with the head of the MM Group, Lt. Colonel Hüsamettin. They left behind yellow barracks with yellow painted walls on the crests of Etlik. After riding for five more minutes through the vineyards, they stopped in front of an ill-maintained house. It was the MM headquarters. They took off their shoes and went inside. Lt. Col. Hüsamettin sat around a table with three people at the entrance hall. As the famous cavalry officer saw Hüseyin, leaped to his feet exclaiming “Welcome Hüseyin!” and they hugged each other enthusiastically. He asked the young messenger to serve tea. The others stood up too. The lt. col. introduced them. Hüseyin didn’t met them before. One of them was almost the same age as him, the others were younger. They pointed to the empty chair around the table. They were all dressed warmly. It was cool inside. Hüsamettin resumed working while drinking tea. They would be organized in eight regions: İstanbul, Thrace, Aegean, Mediterranean, Black Sea, Central Anatolia, Eastern Anatolia, Southeast Anatolia. They were going to discuss who would be in charge. He was open to suggestions. They needed to think about the advantages and disadvantages of training in one place or separately. He would decide tomorrow. They searched for an experienced head of the inspection department. Tomorrow, they would also discuss the personnel recruitment, the requirement of weapon, ammunition, technical equipment, building, land and money.

After the meeting was over, the others left and Hüseyin and Hüsamettin moved to the modest office upstairs. The lt. col. explained as they climbed the stairs. Fevzi Çakmak Pasha awaited the completion of the new organization and cornered him. The interior of the building was furnished with makeshift items. His room was indifferent. They sat on the sofa. The curtains looked like old sheets. The wood-burning stove and its pipes in the far corner were old too. Hüsamettin caught his gaze and explained, “We only burn in the evenings as late as possible. We pay much attention to saving.” Then he lit a cigarette and handed the guest the package with a match. He leaned back.

“You seem well, Hüseyin, they took good care of you.”

“Thank you, sir. I'm ready for any assignment and proud that you wanted me with you.”

“I know your work. Your name is everywhere. There were just so many people who recommend you that I cannot name them.”

“Thank you.”

“First, tell me what you've been doing lately.”

Hüseyin summarized his return to İstanbul after the ceasefire, the efforts of the general staff and the ‘Karakol’ organization to recover. He added his apprehension on May 21, three months of prison in Bekirağa and two months in the military police headquarters. He told his escape with the help of the Hamza Group, his hiding in Çatalzeytin for four months and his discharge from the army in January 1921.

“They discharged us all. It is not important. We have the same ranks here. It's very interesting that you could escape. I didn't know that the Hamza Group was that strong.”

Hüseyin contented himself with a smile. He could tell the others who helped him later, when the time comes. Hüsamettin went on. “You would have wondered. I will keep you in Ankara for the time being. I need your brain. Meanwhile, you recover a bit more.” He stood up, walked to the door, opened it and asked his messenger to get two coffees. As he sat down, began to tell about himself. Fevzi Çakmak Pasha, while fleeing to Anatolia the previous year, had called Hüsamettin to Ankara. After the invasion, Hüsamettin was tailed too. He came to Samsun with his family in January and informed Pasha. At that time, a secret intelligence branch was established in the general staff headquarters. Staff Captain Recep was tasked. When Mustafa Kemal Pasha appointed Recep in the parliament, Fevzi Pasha proposed Hüsamettin and Mustafa Kemal Pasha accepted. But since he was not a staff officer, there were objections. Then they appointed Şükrü Ali. They appointed Hüsamettin as the chief of the MM Organization, which was directly affiliated to Fevzi Pasha. Firstly, he would gather the scattered activities of ‘the Organization’s under one command.

While drinking their coffee, the lt. col. explained the new organization. The ‘MM Group’ was managed by five branches. Personnel Branch Manager Captain Muhittin, Intelligence Branch Manager Captain Adem, Operation Branch Manager Captain Ömer, Supply Branch Manager Sergeant Major Bekir, Communications Branch Manager the postal officer Osman. They were all young and loyal friends. The general staff headquarters needed some of them at the front line of the war. They cornered Hüsamettin very hard. But thanks to Fevzi Pasha. Even on these critical and sensitive days, he tried to strengthen ‘the Organization’.

Hüseyin carefully listened the explanations. He took the opportunity as the chief kept silenced and looked with asking eyes. “What mission will I be assigned to?”

“You will be vice chief. Fevzi Pasha approved it too.”

The major straightened up on his chair. “Yes sir.”

The lt. colonel closed his eyes for a while. He was thinking. Then he started talking slowly. “We are in contact with our old men, such as merchants, customs officers, barges, porters, coachmen, maritime workers, police officers, hospitals and hotels staff, cleaners, bakers, boatmen.”

He looked at Hüseyin. “We will secretly listen to telephone switchboards, coffeehouses and even the assembly. We're going to infiltrate in the British Black Jumbo. We'll catch the spies. The most important thing is training. This is the main issue until your health improves. Of course, all information will be evaluated by you.”

“Do not worry. Thank you for your trust.”

“I had the opposite room prepared. That's your workplace and bedroom. We share our modest meals here as well. You'll find this place small and poor. But I believe we will work in better conditions in the future.”

“After five months in prison, this place is like heaven, sir. I know you're busy. With your permission, let me settle in my room.” Hüseyin suggested.

“Settle until lunch, visit the building. You can start working this afternoon. I'm paying our first meal in Ankara this week. It may take a little longer to get your salary. By the way, you better get yourself a new name.”

“Thanks. Now you can call me Mr. Yusuf. As soon as I receive my salary, the first meal is on me, sir.”

Hüseyin settled in his room with his suitcase and his bag. It had a table, a chair and a small cabinet. His hay-filled bed and pillow were hidden in a patched sheet. It was covered with an old quilt and blanket. There was no stove. Grandma's wool clothes were enough. Summer was already approaching. The shared toilet was at the end of the hallway. The water was brought from the well outside.

He walked around all three floors, greeting employees in other rooms. The doors of the interrogation room and the secret communication room upstairs were locked. On the ground floor was the room of the guards near the door. Next to them were the kitchen and the dining room. The large room opposite them was reserved for the servants and the messengers. The horses were stayed outside in the backyard, in a crooked barn built with some materials whatever they could found.

He lay on his bed, closed his eyes, thought of her hazel-eyed fiancé. He remembered her pinkish cheeks as they held hands and wonderful scent of her skin. Her slight flu-like voice echoed in his ears. Although they had been engaged for two years, they could only see each other three times. Subsequent relationships were constrained to the letters. Hanımşah’s last letter came to Çatalzeytin a month ago. He read that letter many times. He also sent her various letters writing in detail about his five-month prison term and his four-month fugitive term. Now he was in Ankara. He explained those facts in his letter he gave to Hayrettin. He missed her very much. If he took on any task, he could visit her in disguise. He knew her father Mr. İbrahim's help during the trial. He owed to him, albeit under Hanımşah's pressure. At the first opportunity he would write him a letter of appreciation as well.

***

Other İstanbul.

January 24, 2019. Ankara

Last week, I shared Mr. Bilge Wallace's novel and videos with my friend Hasan Algan, famous for being excessively proper. He didn't make fun of me as I had expected. I was unfair. He was very interested instead. He demanded a copy of each of them to examine. But we couldn't, all messages were protected against copying. I didn't want to go to the ‘computer doctor’ this time. Hasan came to me some evenings.

On the night of January 24, 2019 Hasan could not come when I had some news from Mr. Wallace in my mailbox. He suggested that we could communicate at different times, so we write down our thoughts and wishes beforehand and send each other. This was appropriate for me too. We could communicate in a more relaxed environment, in more detail. I started writing my thoughts.

“I read the novel 'After Twenty-One' as I have time and try to research anything I find interesting. I'm in Chapter Two, in the middle of 'The Difficult Years of Ankara' section. March of 1921 events are told. Major Hüseyin's participation in the MM Group in Ankara is unknown to myself. However, I confirm what was written about the British intelligence agent Mustafa Sagir and his assistant naval officer Mehmet Ali and Sagir’s meeting with Mustafa Kemal at that time. Regards and greetings...”

I had more time to work on the photos and videos attached to the previous messages. I watched the videos of Ankara. In the world of Mr. Bilge Wallace, the Treaty of Sevres came into force a hundred years ago. There is no Republic of Turkey, instead, the Central Anatolian Republic (CAR) is established. Its capital is ‘Ancyra’. The sense of belonging and values to the Turkish nation fell off the map. After the British mandate CAR became independent, then voluntarily entered the Middle East Confederation. The Armenian and Kurdish states, other Arab states and Israel were also attached there. The political system engineered in our world now, was already established there a hundred years ago. Thrace and Western Anatolia are the provinces of Greece. Antalya-based Western Mediterranean region became a province of Italy first, then left to Greece.

I start to read the notes about İstanbul. As I expected, their İstanbul is very different. The city is called ‘Constantinople’. Its borders are very close to the borders of our İstanbul province. İstanbul and the Dardanelles Straits have also been under the international direction of the United Nations for a hundred years.

I pass on to the summary of the political issues. After the peace agreement, the city was ruled by the League of Nations until 1946. Then the United Nations administration took over the same task. In this way the transition to democracy began. In the first election in 1960, members of the Legislative Council came to power and Constantinople became an independent state. It is a small republic, has a small armed forces. The following year, becoming a member of NATO, its security against the threat of the Soviet Union was ensured.

Mr. Bilge Wallace added a note here in parenthesis: As a matter of fact, the political rule of Constantinople was dominated by the British and then the Americans behind the scenes.

I pass on to economics. The city is a financial center integrated with the global economy, the sixth largest foreign exchange market in the world, one of the busiest port cities of the world maritime trade. The center of world capitalism in the Middle East and the Balkans is here. It is a hyperactive city where economic activities are maintained twenty-four hours per day.

Time differences in the world are not important to Constantinople. Working in shifts, the city has developed in the fields of banking, trade, seafood, tourism, jewelry, arts and culture. Much has been invested in software and artificial intelligence in recent years. Income distribution, welfare and unemployment figures are well above the world average.

While reading these, I deplore on behalf of İstanbul and its citizens where I was born and raised. I am even jealous. I think of the miserable state of İstanbul with seventeen million people. We all manage to destroy this beautiful city.

Social issues contain interesting information too. The city is multi-religious, multi-cultural and multi-lingual. It is one of the most cosmopolitan and colorful cities in the world. Living standards look good too. It is an expensive but safe city. In parallel, taxes are high. A strict citizenship policy is pursued. Not everyone could settle there. Constantinople's population in 2018 was six million. The number of young people is decreasing. The proportion of Turks and Muslims in the population is twenty-five percent and the Christian population is fifty-five percent. The remaining twenty percent are deist, agnostic and atheist. Sixty percent of Christians are Orthodox Greeks, Russians, Bulgarians, Serbs and Macedonians. Ten percent are Catholic Armenians and Romanians. Thirty percent are Protestant. Statistics show that the proportion of Protestants and Deists is on the rise.

Under the heading of education, there is an enviable information too. The first modern schooling activities were initiated by the missionaries of the English Church.

Bilge Wallace opened another parenthesis here: In 1922, the British Empire, with a population of 500 million, established the Anglican Church in order to continue its activities in the religious field too. The British is the pioneer of the worship the same God in many different languages and styles in Europe. The Anglican Church accepts some of the Catholic and Protestant traditions, but does not accept the Pope's authority.

The missionaries of the English Church attracted also Muslim children in Constantinople to their schools. Later, they took over the administration of schools that did not prioritize religion. Also, Muslims did not idle, established their own madrasas. In recent years, contemporary Islamist institutionalization has accelerated too.

I, Önder Üsküplü, the nephew of Hüseyin Üsküplü, then run the English-language demo video of Constantinople. The old İstanbul section between the Marmara, Golden Horn and city walls has been developed with the same architecture without touching its history. Stone, brick, tile, wood is used in construction and repairs. Reinforced concrete is allowed only for the foundations of new buildings. There are no tall buildings. It was banned since the British had been in power. Beyoğlu region between the Golden Horn and the Bosphorus and the two shores of the Bosphorus are in the same situation. The tall buildings are located in the back sections not visible from the sea. The camera begins to move over the city. Hagias Sophia, Basilica Cistern, Sultan Ahmet Mosque and Topkapı Palace are the first ones. Sultanahmet Square and its surroundings are cleared of buildings and united with Gülhane Park. Surroundings of the Fener Patriarchate and the Red School behind it is also cleaned and arranged between parks and gardens. The camera is slowly moving around the city with music reminiscent of classical Turkish music. It is soon revealed in a subtitle that it is Byzantine music. Covered Bazaar, Bozdoğan Arch, Byzantine walls, fortresses, mosques, churches, synagogues, palaces, pavilions, seven hills, woods, forests, vineyards, gardens, people swimming in the Golden Horn... They are all like paintings. There is no bridge over the Bosphorus. Several underwater tunnels are highlighted.

Bilge Wallace finished his message by adding his final note: “I forgot to add some information to my previous posts. Present population of Ankara is 1.5 million. In 1921, it was about 200 thousand. Greetings...”

***

The Armenia of the future.

March 1921. Constantinople.

Vartan tried to use his weak and immobile left arm again but could not move. Sighing he opened the door with his right arm and took off his muddy shoes on the tarp floor at the entrance without using his hand. He wore slippers. He liked his new rental house in Cibali, near Reji, the tobacco factory. He lit the wood-burning stove at first. On his way home, he had dined in a tripe soup restaurant. He started boiling tea water on the spirit burner, put some biscuits, sugar jars and tea cups on a tray. He would then brew his tea on the stove. He returned to the living room, lay on the sofa in the corner, covered himself with the blanket he had folded the previous evening. He had a separate house now, needed someone who took care of everything like his aunt.

It's high time to marry.

He was forty-one years old and had one arm disabled. To find a suitable wife was getting harder. He looked at the ceiling with distress, closed his eyes, started reviving his memory of that unfortunate evening a month ago. That was the second attack on him, seventeen months after the first one. As an experienced Dashnak militant, he had survived the second attack too. Besides, he survived by fighting with one arm only... After Major Hüseyin had been arrested last May his partisans broke up. Three months later, Vartan had suggested that there was no need for bodyguards Captain Bennett had tasked. However, Hüseyin escaped at the end of October and disappeared. Vartan didn't need to ask for protection again. It was a cold and snowy February evening. He had not noticed the attacker on his way to the tavern. After drinking too much at the dinner he had walked out to the street. The man had followed him silently. Suddenly, he had heard a rustle behind him and jumped to the side. He could pull out his pistol from his waist like he had practiced hundreds of times. The attacker had had a hood on his head. He was short. He had extended his left hand to close Vartan's mouth. His move with the knife in his right hand had missed and he had lost the balance on the iced sidewalk. Vartan owed his survival to the ice and his agility. The moment Vartan had kicked the man's groin, they both had begun to slide. As they had been falling, he had barely fired his pistol but missed. The assailant had dropped his knife but being more agile he had jumped to his feet and started running. Vartan had fired all his bullets from where he had fell but he couldn't hit again. They couldn't trace this guy.

Life went on with his guards again. They had bought the new law office in partnership with Arto. A small rest room, kitchen and bathroom in the back was enough for their need. Soon they got electricity service connected. Sometimes they slept in the office at night. Repairs, paints, whitewashes and plumbing was carried out by their fellow Armenians. Most of them received money only for the material they used. One, despite their insistence, did not charged any materials and labor. All items were renewed by the Armenians, too, at very reasonable prices. The British increased their salary to show appreciation for their work. So, he and Bennett became close friends. He invited Vartan to a Greek tavern in Pera last night. Bennett often stared at his left crippled arm. Vartan thought he had to get used to it. The English Captain had mostly talked about Bektashism, his new interest. As Vartan admitted that although he lived in these lands, he had little knowledge of the subject, the young captain enthusiastically told what he had just learned. When Bennett asked, Vartan had summarized the Armenian struggle. As they were leaving, he had suggested that he would invite Bennett to an Armenian restaurant as soon as possible.

He let his thoughts drift away as he smelled the tea scent. He poured a glass of tea brewed on the stove. Now, he could have goods sold on black market such as tea, sugar, coffee, coal. He liked his new street and his neighbors. The outer stairs of the neighboring houses were brushed with Arabic soap. Some windows were decorated with flowers. He made friend with the Armenian draper at the corner of the street. However, fire outbreaks were frequent in these houses made of mostly wood. The previous week, he helped extinguish a fire in a nearby house.

As he brewed the tea the next morning, Arto Dinkyan entered the office with his usual smiling face. There was good news. In Berlin, an Iranian Armenian youth had killed Talat Pasha, who was responsible for the Armenian massacre. Vartan swiftly went back and fetched the Armenian cognac and two glasses he reserved for special occasions and placed on Arto's desk. “Let us raise our glasses in honor of this human butcher's going to hell.”

They discussed the latest status of the legal cases. The number of court files of Armenian victims was over one hundred. They had to attend seven or eight sessions a week. The financial situation of the plaintiffs was improving. The Nemesis operation chasing the outlaws had fatal blows on those who were in list. But for the future Armenia more was needed. The number of Armenian militants trained in the Anadolu Kavağı were insufficient. Only thirty-one elements graduated in one year. Eight of them were taken to assassination teams, the rest were assigned to other areas.

Erzurum, Erzincan, Beyazıt, Adana, Van, Bitlis, Kars, Ardahan were expecting more involvement.

***

Scott and Mustafa Kemal.

March 1921. Ankara.

Scottish journalist Scott Wallace arrived in Ankara in the afternoon on 22 March. They had no problems on the way. The gendarmerie sergeant, charming Muharrem had guided very well. They had passed between İnebolu and Kastamonu without encountering Greek partisans. They had taken two more gendarmes with rifles into service. Only Scott and Muharrem had made the journey after Kastamonu.

The first thing in Ankara was to find the Hürriyet Hotel where the room was booked. They went up to Scott's room. After ten days of travel, he needed too much a hot bath, a clean bed and a hot meal. Muharrem urging him to rest requested permission. He would take the horses to the nearby gendarmerie station, rest there at night and the next day inform Mr. Yunus about their arrival. He was going on a mission outside Ankara for a week. Then he would take care of his guest again. Mr. Yunus would be his guide in Ankara. Scott could call Yunus if any problem occurs.

Scott had a light dinner after the bath. He slept early. When he woke up in the morning he felt stronger. During breakfast he thought of his dynamic and fast-moving life. He was going to be awarded soon. His first prize was the meeting with Mustafa Kemal Pasha appreciated by the intellectuals of Europe. For the first time in Europe, Scott would introduce this Eastern officer, about whom the British public did not know much. His second prize was different. He was in this land where the Celts, their ancestors, had lived thousands of years ago. His father, over seventy years old, would listen to his observations with interest.

After breakfast, he told the front desk clerk that a visitor would come and he was awaiting him in his room. While waiting for Mr. Yunus, he prepared the questions he would ask Mustafa Kemal Pasha. What would the British public want to know? Too many details could suffocate the reader. Complete but brief answers were required. They didn't mention the length of the interview. Averagely, it could be an hour. He would need this time, simply because he would take notes frequently. He was going to ask Mr. Yunus to mediate not to reduce his time. Permission was required for the photographs too. If he got lucky, the interview could be extended. He should have some information from Mr. Yunus which he listed. So he could use his time more sparingly. Scott took a short lunch break and finished his notes by the afternoon. Mr. Yunus had not arrived yet. He looked out of the window, watched people, camels and mules passing along the muddy road, then three soldiers marching slowly. One's had was bandaged, the other's arm was slanged, the third had problem with his feet. He could walk holding his friend's arm and limping. They must have come from the front or would go to the front. He opened the window and took their photos. Then opened the book 'History of Celts' he brought with and started reading again.

‘...The Celts were flooded into Galatia and joined their brothers. In Anatolia, no important event took place without the intervention of the Galatians, there was no event occurred without them. Pontus, Syria and Egypt fought the Galatians. The Galatians won and entered Ancyra. As in Europe, the Galatians came together with their forests. The Galatians, famous for agriculture, livestock, meat storage, drying and beers were relieved. They built their homeland between the Sangarios River (today Sakarya) with plenty of fish and the Halys River (today Kızılırmak - Red River) with fuzzy water and without fish. Tatta (today Tuz Gölü - Salt Lake) in the south and Olympos (today Aladağları - Red Mountains) in the north were now called Galatia. The capital Ancyra was a popular visiting place for valuable goods, passengers, caravans. This attractive region was situated on the crossing path of the religions and the raids.’

Scott stopped reading his book when there was a sudden knock at the door and called out: “Come in, the door is open.” He should be Mr. Yunus, a man with eyeglasses and handlebar mustache, who extended his head with kalpak. Signor Grasso's description matched that of this man. He walked in smiling and extended his hand to his Scottish guest and colleague. “Welcome, Mr. Wallace. My name is Yunus. When I heard about your news from Sergeant Muharrem, I came right away.”

Scott shook the plump man's hand. “Thank you very much for your help, Mr. Yunus. Without your assistance, I could not come to Ankara for this interview.”

“Grasso is a very good friend of mine. When he mediates, I will mobilize all my possibilities. I hope he's okay.”

“He send you his best regards. He asked me to tell you that he owed you again after your help.”

Mr. Yunus heralded that his guest would meet with Mustafa Kemal Pasha the next day and they have their lunch together. He added that he did not take off his coat, mainly because he did not desire his guest's first day in Ankara to pass in the hotel room. Scott got ready quickly. They went out and walked together. They were going to Yeni Gün newspaper. The building was adjacent to a mosque. The mosque with stone base, brick walls and tile roof took its name after the tomb of Haji Bayram in the garden. It was adjacent to the Temple of Augustus. Before entering the newspaper building, Mr. Yunus informed him showing the ruins of the temple. Around 25 B.C., the last king of Galatia had it built to show his devotion to the Roman Emperor Augustus. Scott stopped suddenly. He couldn't believe his ears. He was very excited. During his first walk in the city he found a treasure. That was too much. He was certain that he had not come across this information among what he had read about his Celtic ancestors. He immediately took out his camera and shot several frames. He looked intently at Mr. Yunus's eyes, which revealed that he was pleased. Yunus was looking at Scott in surprise.

“You knew that my lineage comes from the Celts, right? Please confess.”

“No, I did not know. Grasso said you're just English of Scottish origin. So I just remember that.”

“It is impossible that you cannot know the ‘the Galatians’ are also called ‘the Celts’.”

Mr. Yunus replied with an embarrassed expression “Believe me I hear now for the first time.”

“Sorry. I couldn't restrain myself for a moment. I did not intent to test you. I thought you deliberately and especially brought me here, to make me happy. I was mistaken about it. I apologize again.”

“If you only read the history of Ankara from a good source, you will come across Galatians, Mr. Scott. But I don't remember that I heard the Celts.”

“This type of information, related items and ruins are among my topics of interest. Journalism is my second profession. I studied history in college in Scotland. I am particularly interested in antique history and prehistory. If I ask for your help about my ancestors, the Celts, would I go too far?”

“Certainly not! After that, this issue has become one of my interests. You can be sure that I will send you any information I receive.”

The Scottish journalist followed Yunus. The building was an old two-story Ankara house. The printing section and other equipment were stationed in a small compartment converted from a barn. Upstairs, there were a hall and two rooms right and left. Yeni Gün Newspaper and printing house were settled in a small space. The printing machines had been disassembled from the newspaper's building in İstanbul and smuggled piece by piece to Anatolia in secret. Mr. Yunus was the editor-in-chief, the corrector and the columnist. The managing director was also the main dealer. Four typesetters and a machinist were at the same time the porters too. They sat on the couch covered with Turkish kilim. Scott removed a hardcover French book he bought from İstanbul and handed over to Mr. Yunus. It was a small gift. While sipping Turkish coffee brought from nearby coffeehouse, Yunus gave some information. Five days ago, he had also met here with a representative of Indian Muslims who wanted to support the Turkish national struggle and take an example. His name was Mustafa Sagir. They agreed to publish an additional Urdu language newspaper here and send it to India. Financial resources, materials and typesetters would be brought from India. They desired to take the Turkish national struggle as an example. Yunus could even publish a newspaper in English with the help of Indians.

Scott thought he was lucky again, smiling interrupted the host. “Mr. Yunus, I am aware that I have bored you with my requests.”

“Please. I propose to stop the formal conversation between us. If you want, of course.”

“I would love to.”

“Good. I wonder what you're going to say now, Scott.”

“I think I can ask you one more favor. I would like to meet this Indian. If I understood correctly, he came to help you up here and taking you as an example, when they would rise up against the British in India.”

“Exactly. That is their purpose.”

“I have a few more days in Ankara after tomorrow. This subject could be great news for me.”

“I could talk to him. But I think he wants to keep it a secret. He may need permission from his superiors in India to be able to interview you. That means at least ten more days.”

“In my opinion it's worth trying.”

“I think I can see him in a day or two.”

Yunus went on informing. Himself and Mrs. Halide Edip had established the Anadolu Agency. Her husband was a member of the government. Scott was going to meet Mrs. Halide the next day.

They dined together at Taşhan - Stone Inn -. Yunus advised his guest to visit the area and its surroundings when he had time. They were very close to the hotel. The parliament building, seen in front of them, had been completed with the sacrifices of the people of Ankara and brought timely into service the previous year. It was furnished with school desks. The whole national struggle was directed from here. Yunus Nadi did politics here too. He was the deputy of Aydın province under Greek occupation.

The next morning, they had breakfast together at the hotel. Then they went to the village of Kalaba, which is famous for its vine vineyards, twenty-five minutes away from Ankara by a phaeton. The Agricultural School or the Stone School was here. The phaeton dropped them at the gate. They watched Çubuk Stream and the surroundings for about one minute. The general staff headquarters and the ministry of defense were settled in the two-story stone building. The intense work sounds in the hallway and in the rooms on both sides were echoing on the walls and on the stairs. They went upstairs. The room at the beginning of the corridor was Pasha’s office and reception room. The guards in black clothes and the aide were awaiting them. The aide knocked on the door, took the guests to the office and introduced: “The British journalist Scott Wallace arrived, sir.” Mustafa Kemal walked around his desk, shook their hands and spoke with a rich voice, “Welcome, Mr. Wallace.” He greeted Mr. Yunus with his head too. Sitting on the couch in front he pointed to the seats opposite him. He pulled out a cigarette from his silver cigarette-case and put it on his lips. Then he extended the cigarette case to his guests. Yunus took one and lit cigarettes with his lighter. Scott said he wouldn't take cigarette, mainly because he should take notes. The room was furnished simply. There was a meeting table with four simple chairs in addition to one couch and two armchairs. A wood-burning stove was installed on the side. Two windows were tried to be covered with a yellowed tulle curtain. The ceiling was wooden. In the middle an old chandelier hung from the ceiling. Obviously there was no electricity in the building. They seemed to content themselves with spirits and candles. Pasha was in his forties, with blue eyes, thin hair, wrinkled forehead and mustache. Soon, a servant brought their teas, left the sugar on the tea table. Mustafa Kemal asked Scott and Yunus about what they were doing. He listened with interest what they told.

Pasha turned to Scott looking at the watch he took out of his vest pocket. “I have about an hour. Please Mr. Wallace, I am listening to you.” Before Scott started the interview, he took Mustafa Kemal's permission by showing his camera and photographed a few poses. He put the camera in his bag, took out his notebook, put a serious smile on his face.

“My first question is very simple, Pasha. What is your purpose?”

Mustafa Kemal curled his lips to show that he had replied to the same question several times.

“In order to explain our purpose, I must first draw a clearer and coherent picture of the happenings. This definitely does not show a bright and happy world.” He inhaled the smoke by taking a deep breath, blew the blue smoke into the air. “You know enemy states. Your country first. I'm not counting the others. They don't matter.”

Scott stopped taking notes. “Sorry. Aren't the Greeks important either?” He recalled his meeting with Lt. General Paraskevopoulos, the commander of Greek troops, the previous year. According to him, the British could not stay in Anatolia for long. Annexation and occupation was not appropriate to them. The French and the Italians were in the same situation. Greece was entitled to possess Western Anatolia. They were going to take by force.

Pasha thought a few seconds and answered. “The UK made a big mistake and allowed the Greek army to disembark İzmir. When they do not get enough support from the UK, the Greeks will run out of steam.” He added with a laugh, “I am from Thessaloniki, I know the Greeks very well.”

Scott nodded to show that he knew it. Pasha went on. “The UK decided to destroy the Ottoman state and share it with its partners. I ignore the sultan, the caliph and his government. They're just looking for ways to save their own life and comfort. They don't care the people. Our poor people in darkness and uncertainty are out of the picture completely.” He took a sip of his tea and soaked his drying throat. “There were those who began to realize the horror and gravity of the disaster. Our soldiers were the first ones. Being deeply grieved, they saw that the homeland has been broke up. But they were very tired. Some military and civilian people resorted to actions that they considered a remedy for the salvation.” He leaned forward, as if he was going to emphasize an important point. “But first of all, there would be no hostility towards the invaders, and they would remain faithful to the sultan, the caliph. In this way, British or American patronage would be provided and the disintegration of the Ottoman lands could be prevented.”

Scott supported. “I also think they were mistaken, Pasha. Like the other Empires, the collapse of the Ottomans was inevitable.”

“Exactly. Some had resorted to regional liberation alternatives. They were trying to save his own skin by accepting the fait accompli that the Ottoman country would be shared. Now I come to our cause. There was only one decision under these circumstances: unconditionally, based on national sovereignty, to establish a new independent Turkish state!”

Scott asked again. “When did you decide that?”

“It was long ago. But for the first time I told my close friends when I came to İstanbul after the armistice agreement. As soon as we set foot on the Anatolian soil, we started to apply it.”

Yunus could not keep silent, supported Pasha. “Our slogan is clear: either independence or death!”

Scott nodded in understanding. He gulped before speaking, his mouth had dried. “But you may not succeed. Wouldn't the result be worse?”

Patting his mustache, Mustafa Kemal stared at the journalist without blinking an eye: “The result is the enslavement or similar conditions for sure. But a nation risking death for independence is very different. It has made all the sacrifice that is necessary for his dignity and honor. It finds solace in it. It can never be compared to a lazy, dishonorable nation that accepts enslavement spontaneously. Its credibility in the eyes of friends and enemies is completely different.”

Pasha waited for the Scottish journalist to take notes. As he tried to write the conversations quickly, only the sounds made by his pen moving on the paper were heard in the room. When Scott finished writing, he was quick to ask what he had in mind. “What will happen to the Ottoman Sultan and the Caliph?”

“It's very simple, like all the others, they will become history. They're ridiculous in the world of science and technology.”

“Do you think the Turkish people are ready for this?”

“They will be convinced in this subject, and they find surely odd a sultan and caliph who were instruments to Christians. This reality needs to be explained to the Turks with simple and clear words. The Turks, whom the Ottoman palace called rude, ignorant and nomadic, are now on the stage of history. They will be nation, not ummah.

“You and your friends were expelled from the army and sentenced to death. Aren't you worried about your safety?”

“Nearly two years have passed. I'm still here. We declared that the sultan and his stooges are traitors. Definitely, they will be tried in the end, Mr. Wallace.”

“What are the boundaries of the state you will establish, Pasha?”

“The boundaries are written in the National Oath Document. İstanbul's Parliament declared it last year. The document states that Thrace, Anatolia, Northern Syria and Northern Iraq territories would belong to the new Republic of Turkey, the new state that we will establish. In response to the National Oath, you remember, the British troops had occupied the parliament and all government offices and arrested pro-national struggle MPs. Then we had arrested all the British officers and soldiers in Anatolia.”

“What do you say about the Treaty of Sevres?”

“Good question. Thank you. It is a rag approved by the Ottoman sultan and his government seven months after the declaration of the National Oath. Fighting to the last drop of our blood, we will take back our lands, which were broken up with Sevres.”

“What can you say about the leaders and successors of the Committee of Union and Progress?”

There were a few seconds of silence. There was no other sound but the clock on the wall. “They had come to rule with a military coup to save the Ottoman Empire. They made a lot of mistakes, relying on the Germans and even making the state a present to them. They finally destroyed the Ottoman state and fled the country. As for their successors, most of them saw the truth. They're with us now. A small minority is still trying to bring Enver Pasha back. But it won't happen.”

“Like Ethem the Circassian?”

“Yes. We've already solved that problem, Mr. Wallace. Now he took refuge in Greece.”

“You get help from the Bolshevik Russians. Do you trust them? Do you support the development of the communist movement in Turkey?”

“Politics and strategy require long-term thinking. Russians, like us, are fighting the UK and European colonists. They help us giving money, weapon and ammunition. We have good relations with Mr. Lenin. We're just doing politics. We follow communist movements that develop inside and outside the parliament. They don't have much power. Our people don't trust them.”

“Can the success of Mustafa Kemal spread to India and Arabia?”

“It depends on time and leaders. But one day they will rebel against the colonists. Europe must pull oneself together.”

While taking notes, Scott saw that Pasha pulled his watch out of his pocket. “One last question, sir. Why did you choose Ankara as your command post?”

Mustafa Kemal looked at Yunus and smiled. He thought that Yunus requested the Scottish journalist to ask this question. “Before our arrival Ankara was one of the first cities to resist the occupation. Provincial treasurer, mufti, police chief, gendarmerie commander, senior officials did not recognize the collaborator governor of the İstanbul administration and changed him.” Pasha closed his eyes and thought for a few seconds, then proceeded. “Moreover, Ankara has an unknown very special history. As I recall, the Ahi Republic of Ankara, founded after the collapse of the Anatolian Seljuk State, lived for thirty-five years. It had a management based on independent guilds of craftsman and little artisan and elections. We will overthrow the reign and establish a republic based on elections.”

Upon Yunus' sign, Scott arranged his notes in his briefcase and asked for permission. They stood up and said goodbye to Mustafa Kemal. They walked to other building in the valley next to Agricultural School. The students used to stay here. Now Anadolu Agency had settled. There were file shelves, several chairs, two tables, a writing machine. It was obvious that the belongings were old and second hand. Mrs. Halide Edip was waiting for them. She should be thirty-five, forty years old, looked like a serious teacher with medium length, short, brown hair, brown eyes and round-rimmed eyeglasses. Scott introduced himself. Taking permission, he took a photograph of Mrs. Halide. She introduced herself briefly too. She was the first Turkish girl graduating from American College. During the war, she worked as a teacher in Syria and Lebanon. In a conservative society, she worked for women's rights. She was against polygamy. Now she was a journalist and a writer famous for her articles in British newspapers. She had met intellectuals like Bertrand Russell and visited the British Parliament. She was the keynote speaker at demonstrations against the invasion of İzmir by the Greeks. After the invasion of İstanbul, she and her husband had fled to Ankara. She was helping Mustafa Kemal as the correspondent. Among the telegrams he received, she took the necessary pieces for the Agency and prepared some of Pasha's writings. She translated political sections of the English newspapers. She learned to use weapons and to ride horses too. She had joined the Wilson Principles Society founded to demand the American mandate. Then she had given up and started working with Mustafa Kemal for independence. Yunus joined the conversation explaining that he had gone through the same phase. Now they were both condemned to death by the sultan.

Scott said that he was very pleased to know Mrs. Halide and ashamed that he didn't know about her writings in the UK. He'd find these as soon as he got back. He requested that she send her subsequent articles to Pera Hotel, where he stayed in İstanbul. He could add her appropriate articles to that of his for the Magazine.

They had lunch in the main building. Beans, bulgur pilaf and grape compote were the menu of the lunch which would be the same in the dinner. The food was as simple as the rooms. Savings were everywhere.

***

News Quotes from European news agencies, dated April 28, 1921:

The British government having a great difficulty in Anatolia changes attitude...

The British government declared its neutrality in the Turkish-Greek War. The failure of the Greek army against Turkish nationalists makes the British government think. The release of some Turkish notables detained by the British in Malta also leads to various interpretations.

***

Hüsamettin.

April 1921. Ankara.

After dinner at the MM headquarters, tea arrived. People around Lt. Colonel Hüsamettin once again began listening to his nice conversation. “The Balkan war continued. The Greeks conquered Thessaloniki without a single bullet. They moved eastward to Serres. I was a company commander in the 25th Cavalry Regiment. They were about to surround us. When we got off our horses and entered the war on foot, we prevented the siege but lost much soldiers. I was wounded in the hip and taken prisoner of war by the Greeks. I was brought to Florina station on a stretcher. A hustle and bustle began as we boarded the train.”

He looked into the eyes of the audience as if to say 'you wouldn't believe it'. “Greek commander-in-chief Prince Constantine and his aide with his cavalry arrived at the station.”

Hüseyin, known as Mr. Yusuf, commented: “Namely, their current king.”

“That's him. He had seen hundreds of Greeks who died in the Battle of Koumaria. He had also met wounded Greek soldiers with their noses and ears cut. He was extremely angry. Just then, someone showed me lying injured on the stretcher. 'Their Commander is the injured one right here' they complained. The Prince's aide ordered, 'Execute by shooting this officer!' They pushed me down in a pit. I was sweating blood. At that time a Greek soldier in our cavalry company rushed forward. I remembered. He was one of the buglers. 'Wait, this is not the officer who had these done, the partisans did!' he exclaimed. Everybody froze. Our bugler went on. 'I was at the service of this officer, he was good to the Greek prisoners.' This kid had saved my life.” The chief lit a cigarette, the audience sipped their tea. “Then we became friends with the aide, Metaxas, a cavalry captain. He helped me, sent me to the Greek Red Cross hospital for treatment. In our hospital ward, there were Turkish officers from various fronts too. You won't believe it, but most of them thought that war would end with great defeat for us. My most interesting memory was the visits of the Greek, Bulgarian and Serbian Kings.”

One officer interrupted, “While our sultans were afraid of leaving their palaces, the Balkan kings visited the front line of the war and reassured their soldiers. The other broke in. “Which sultan had led the last military expedition? Anyone knows it?” Hüseyin replied, “I think Revan and Baghdad campaign was the last one, in which Murad the Fourth led his army. The following sultans did not lead personally their armies.”

Hüsamettin proceeded. “The French doctor removed the bullet from my hip. When my wounds healed, I started to take leaves to visit Salonika. Metaxas found my family. They migrated from Serres to Thessaloniki, and like all immigrants, they were settled in the buildings of Jewish rabbinate. My family was alive but my little girl was dead.” The lt. colonel tried to hide his wet eyes from his friends. He took another puff of his cigarette, blew his smoke into the air. “I told the rabbi about my history and my family. He promised he'd help. He had immigration passports and permits for me, my family and the two soldiers with me prepared. In the meantime, we got the banner of the 5th Cavalry Regiment, which fought in Manastır, from the banner-bearer who was among the immigrants. With the help of the rabbi, we embarked on an Italian ship bound for İstanbul. Myself, my mother, my wife, my children and my two soldiers safely came to İstanbul.”

Some listeners said the story was very interesting. One suggested he should write it down. After dinner, the chief and Hüseyin worked in the office. MM Group's shortcomings were being completed, İstanbul and Ankara had started working. Samsun and İnebolu had regularly contacted with the ‘Center’. Most importantly, the MM was in contact with the military attaché of Mr. Mdivani, the Soviet Extraordinary Ambassador to Ankara.

Hüsamettin spoke seriously, “We took an important task, Yusuf. You'll take care of it.”

“Certainly, sir.”

“A representative of Indian Muslims met with Mustafa Kemal Pasha the other day.”

“I knew he was coming to Ankara. But I didn't know he would meet Pasha.”

“I didn't pay attention on it either, I forgot. His name is Mustafa Sagir Khan. He suggested he would bring millions of liras to the national struggle. However, Mustafa Kemal Pasha did not believe much.”

Hüseyin commented: “I remembered it. Hayrettin, my successor in İstanbul, had told me. After receiving approval of Lt. Col. Mustafa of Muğla, it was themselves who sent Sagir to Ankara. They didn't want to refuse that much money.”

“Yes, meanwhile Mustafa of Muğla has instructed Lt. Mehmet Ali to watch Sagir.”

“I think Hayrettin mentioned briefly this detail too. Why was Pasha suspicious?”

“As we get help from the Bolsheviks, Indian Muslims send money to Ankara. This is very good. Pasha did not underestimate this help. But he was suspicious that the British, who were afraid of our approach to the Bolsheviks, might have a trick. He ordered to tail the Indian.”

“I will take care of Sagir personally, sir.”

“They stay at the Hürriyet Hotel. Get in touch with Mehmet Ali without being noticed by the Indian.”

“Understood. If you allow, sir, let us immediately send someone who speaks English to India to gather information about Sagir.”

“That would be good. I send an encrypted telegram to our friends in İstanbul. But it'll take months to get the result. You start work right now, Hüseyin.”

***

The Chess in Ankara.

April 1921. Ankara.

The other day, Mustafa Sagir moved to the rented house that Lt. Mehmet Ali found in the Karaoğlan quarter. After losing her husband, the landlady had gone to her daughter. The one-story wooden house in a small garden had three rooms. At the entrance there was a sofa. The house had a kitchen and a toilet sharing the same place with the bathroom with a marble basin. They took water from the street fountain fifty-sixty meters ahead. The landlady had left some of her things at home. For other needs, the MM members would be helpful.

After Mehmet Ali went shopping the next day, Sagir took the invisible ink he had hidden in interlining of his coat and placed it behind a stone on the garden wall. The lieutenant came back in the evening. They carried all stuff together. In this environment, he was able to find only half of the shopping list. They went to the neighborhood fountain, washed the water jugs and copper vessels and filled them with water. He filled the furnace with kerosene he could find on black market. Poppy oil was hold in reserve. They enjoyed the omelet with vegetables and cheese. Sagir congratulated his young friend who was a good cook. They shared young sailor's memories in the light of the wood fire and candles.

The following day they visited Karaoğlan Square. The surroundings of the assembly were improving. Taşhan, coffeehouses, shops and the teacher's school were also near Karaoğlan Bazaar. All the shops were in the vicinity of the fish market, the horse market and the straw market. They met a lot of craftsmen and artisans in Ankara.

The following day, Mehmet Ali left the house for shopping. Soon after, someone knocked on the door. The sailor might have forgotten his key. Sagir opened the door. He was not him. A middle-aged stranger with a small bag spoke shyly:

“Mr. Ramiz's house?”

The short stocky man had said the password they set before. Yes, he was one of his agents in Ankara. Sagir finally began to meet his men he eagerly expected.

The sign had been also determined. Sagir replied immediately:

“No, you've come to the wrong place.”

The stocky man replied in a low voice: “Please follow me.” He turned and started to walk slowly. Sagir quickly put on his cloak and shoes, followed him from afar. They walked one after another into a coffeehouse ten minutes away. The Indian Muslim greeted the people inside: “Salaam aleikum - Well-being to everybody-.” Two customers smoking water pipe, a few people playing backgammon and watchers replied back his greeting: “Ve aleikum salaam - Well-being to you too-.” The stocky man had sat at a table in the far corner. Sagir headed to him, extended his hand like an old acquaintance, sat next to him. The waiter came. They asked for tea. Scanning around with squinted eyes, the stocky agent slowly put his hand to his neck and raised his amulet slightly. Sagir, pretending to cough, opened his collar and showed his. They were both serious, in compliance with their education and training they could not make friends at once. The stocky man started to tell after the tea arrived. His name was Yorgi, he was a barber in the general staff headquarters, known as Muslim Seyfi. Black Jumbo began to watch and protect Sagir in Ankara. He had come to the hotel once and the house once. But Seyfi could not meet Sagir because he was not alone. He could not leave his workplace at any time. He tried not to hamper his work, not to arouse suspicion. His other friend had also tried, but couldn't catch Sagir alone. Leaning forward Yorgi suggested, “If we have any doubts, let's leave the coffeehouse separately.” Sagir nodded in agreement, then whispered, “What do you do in the general staff headquarters? What places can you enter?” Seyfi was hired six months ago, appreciated by everyone in the general staff now. He even shaved Fevzi Pasha. Sagir remembered their attempts to poison the Afghan Emir.

“Mustafa Kemal?”

“He is shaved in the parliament. When he comes to his room in the general staff headquarters, his guards, all Black Sea people, do not allow any of us upstairs.”

Tapping his beard Sagir thought a while. It was not possible to poison while shaving. The Greek barber did not know what was Sagir's task. “Did you see his room?”

“Yes sir. The room next to Fevzi Pasha is his.”

“Do you know how to duplicate keys?”

“Yes. They showed it in Anadolu Kavağı. A mild soap bar is enough for me.”

“Good. You have to watch the locks and the keys. Are the commanders' room keys left in the lock? Who have spare room keys?”

“Yes, sir.

“Not too late.”

“Do not worry.”

“Other than you, who else are available?”

“I only work with herbalist Murat Efendi in Samanpazarı and Şükrü the peddler. There should be others, but we don't know them, and they don't know us either.”

Sagir said he understood, took out his wallet, put a piece of paper money in the barber's pocket on the sly. He added that he would show him the tree which would be their mailbox for communication and the barber should follow himself from afar. Paying the bill Sagir went out. He came to the little grove five minutes from his house, found the oldest tree, checked with his hand the hollow he had chosen before. Seyfi nodded from afar that he had seen it and walked away.

The Indian looked at his watch. He had more time. He walked to the square. Now, he was going to teach two people he had met in Taşhan to play chess. One of them was Mr. Lütfü, the train station manager. When he had requested Sagir to teach English to his twelve-year-old son in exchange for a fee, Sagir had replied that he would consider it. His speech in Turkish in the parliament was heard. He had met with the clergies, MPs, journalists who came to visit him in the hotel for two weeks. He recorded all useful information in his memory repeating twice a day. The written document was very dangerous. He would only use the invisible ink for letters to Navy Captain Nelson. He should find out Mustafa Kemal's weekly and, if possible, monthly work calendar, security measures, habits, weak and vulnerable sides, diseases. He had conversations in Taşhan, restaurants, coffeehouses, parliament corridors and the dining hall. He read two newspapers published in Ankara every day.

He had recently visited the newspaper ‘Hakimiyeti Milliye’- the National Sovereignty - with Mehmet Ali. They wanted to reach the international readers. Sagir promised to help. They could also publish their newspaper in French and English. They even thought of addressing the Greeks too. Five thousand copies were sent secretly to İstanbul and Anatolia. They were very careful in the distribution, simply because the occupation forces imposed heavy punishment to those arrested. Sagir would transfer to Navy Captain Nelson what he had learned.

Later, they had visited the Yeni Gün newspaper. Mr. Yunus had moved his newspaper in İstanbul to Ankara piece by piece. Himself and Mrs. Halide Edip had established the Anadolu Agency. They published news about the nationalist forces. These were translated into foreign languages and transferred to the world. Sagir's proposal to publish a newspaper in Urdu language was also discussed. Materials and typesetters could be brought from India. Indian Muslims desired to take the Turkish national struggle as an example. He would give two thousand pounds a month for this. Three or four thousand copies were enough. After discussing the matter with Mustafa Kemal, Mr. Yunus stated that his proposal was accepted. Things were going well. The printing of the Urdu newspaper was one of the topics he would report to Nelson. The preparation of the money and materials would be necessary.

When he came to Taşhan, two local people were waiting for him. The first lesson was pawns that were supposed to be insignificant. The unprotected pawn was weak. In the middle of the game the pawns in the king's wing should remain in place. If there was a pawn on one wing, the knight was stronger than the bishop. If the pawns were of its own color, the bishop was week. If there were pawns on open wings or both wings, the bishop was preferred to the knight. Sagir could teach English to the station manager's son three hours a week. They agreed.

***

Intense Hunting.

April 1921. Ankara.

The sentry at the entrance of the Redif Barracks near the Haji Bayram Mosque stopped black-bearded local man approaching with his horse.

“Stop! No entry, buddy!”

The sentry didn't know the guy with jacket, loose trousers, knee-high socks and moccasins. The stranger got down slowly from his horse. Holding his horse with one hand, he reached with the other into the pocket of his shirt under his jacket then showed his identity card. The sentry stood at attention as he read the name ‘Major Yusuf’.

“Which way is the barn, soldier?”

The sentry pointed to the building ahead. The major walked with his horse to the barn. Receiving his horse, another soldier recorded the horse owner and his horse. Hüseyin was going to do his work on foot. First he went to Hamza's locksmith shop in Samanpazarı Street. Before he walked through the door, he noticed the quilt maker shop across the street. Mahmoud, his orderly, came to his mind.

I can bring him here too.

Hamza was one of the most trusted MM members. He had worked as a cavalry sergeant at Lt. Colonel Hüsamettin's service. In his thirties, he was a strong nationalist. He had come to Ankara from his hometown Kayseri the previous year and opened this shop. He did all the locksmith works in the general staff headquarters and in some ministries. Hüseyin first asked about his health and condition. While sipping their teas, he found out that Hamza was a friend of the quilt maker. The major briefly described Mahmut, the MM element in İstanbul. He would be of great use to ‘the Organization’ if he hired him here as assistant master. Hamza would speak with the quilt maker at the first opportunity.

“I almost forget my real question, Hamza. Any news from Lieutenant Mehmet Ali?”

“He was seen in the city with the Indian, but he hasn't contacted me yet.” The locksmith thought a bit. “Maybe he didn't get the chance.”

“He's been in Ankara for three weeks and the sailor hasn't contacted you yet. I need to get involved in personally. I'll send Mehmet Ali to you. You're the contact person.”

“Okay, major.”

Hüseyin left the shop. The official at the entrance of Hürriyet Hotel was not in place. He rang the bell on the counter several times. There was no answer. He sat on one of the chairs. Soon a man with a long black mustache came, took his place and looked at Hüseyin.

“Please, what would you want?”

“I want to see my friend Mehmet Ali who came with the Indian.”

“They already left the hotel.”

“Do you know where they went?”

The man with the long black mustache checked the notebook in front of him. He shook his head. “They left three days ago. Some customers leave their address. But they didn't.”

Hüseyin went out. Due to the intensity of his work, he could not deal with Mustafa Sagir and Mehmet Ali. The young sailor should not have been told who to contact and how. Or there was a confusion, mainly because of organizations that were constantly changing structures. Mehmet Ali would give the latest information about Mustafa Sagir. He had been together with him for a month. An employee had been sent to India to investigate the Indian. The result would come months later. Since Mustafa Kemal Pasha did not trust him, Hüseyin was ordered to deal with Sagir. Suddenly, to look at Taşhan flashed into his mind, they might have moved there. He asked the front desk clerk about the Indian and his Turkish company. The clerk shook his head and replied that they did not stay at the hotel. But he knew the Indian, from time to time he came here, sat in the tea room, attended conversations. This was the place frequented by every elite person in Ankara. The major went into the tea room, asked for a coffee, started reading ‘Hakimiyeti Milliye’ newspaper. The Second Inönü Battle fought the previous week was told. On 23 March 1921, Greek troops launched their attacks from Bursa and Uşak. They were going to conquer Eskişehir and Afyon. Then they would march on to Ankara and make the national government accept the provisions of the Treaty of Sevres. Greek troops, outnumbered and with large stocks of ammunition, had to retreat with the counterattack of the Turkish army, although they were successful in the beginning.

Hüseyin stopped reading when the people at his next table suddenly stood up, creaking their chairs. He couldn't believe his eyes. The man he was looking for was walking towards them. He was short and fatty, wearing an Indian style white turban on his head and a black tabard. The glazing motifs on the collar, in front and on the sleeve ends of his tabard were remarkable. After asking about their health and condition the Indian joined the others. Hüseyin began to observe the foreigner on the sly. He was in his forties, an interesting man with eyeglasses, dark skin, dark blond hair, beard, mustache and eyebrows. He started to play chess with two local residents. The chess was a game that Hüseyin was curious about it but he couldn't find an opportunity to learn. He had heard that some staff officer learned this game. The Indian was both playing and explaining.

After the game was over, Sagir got up, shook hands and headed for the door. Hüseyin paid the bill and went out behind him. The Indian walked with confident steps straight ahead. The experienced major tailed him maintaining the proper distance. Suddenly, Sagir dropped his rosary on the ground and bent down to pick it up. At that moment he looked back quickly. Yes, he was checking to make sure he was not being followed!

Was that a coincidence? Or was it an instinctive act? Or else, was this man an experienced agent? Hüseyin increased the distance. Fixing his tabard, rosary beads in hand, saluting people taking his hand to his chest, Sagir kept on walking. He stood in front of a one-story house in a garden. The major started drinking water from the fountain he saw next to him. The Indian quickly checked the area as he took out the key from his pocket then walked in. Hüseyin walked back quickly and turned to the right side road around the corner. He was no longer visible. First thing the following morning he would do was to station two men to watch the house. They would contact Mehmet Ali directly.

The major took the horse he had left to the Redif Barracks and reached the Agricultural School building twenty-five minutes later. He had something to do at the national defense ministry and the general staff headquarters. Lt. Colonel Hüsamettin had made an appointment for Hüseyin with the head of intelligence division. First, he found Captain Şükrü Ali, chief of the secret intelligence branch. After a little chat, they went to chief of division, Staff Major Mümtaz. They discussed how to meet the resource needs of the MM. The supply department had received an imperative instruction. All the weapons and ammunition smuggled from İstanbul were sent to the western front. Since things went well on the eastern front, some materials would come from there. As for the money, they faced with significant adversity, even worse, they had to postpone the payment of the salaries. The MM should be a little bit more patient.

Hüseyin got the answers he had expected. Before returning to the headquarters in Etlik, he found Orhan, an experienced personnel branch officer. Orhan gave good news while they were drinking tea. Right after the liquidation of Ethem the Circassian, his aunt's son Sergeant İsmail came to Ankara and surrendered at the beginning of February. Before he was tried by court-martial he spent about a month in jail. He defended himself from the allegation of gangbanging. He had fought only against the Greeks and the rebels in Anatolia. He hadn't fired a bullet into the nationalist forces. His former achievements and services at the ‘Karakol’ organization had been considered and he had been acquitted. At the beginning of March, they assigned him with the rank of sergeant major to the western front under İsmet Pasha.

Hüseyin was very happy. He also asked about the unit for which the Galician worked. Orhan went out readily and soon returned. İsmail was appointed as a platoon commander of the 190th Regiment of the 61st Division.

Hüseyin returned to the headquarters in Etlik, checked the status of five candidates in training. They weren't bad.

***

A bunch of nationalists.

April 1921. Ankara.

Scott Wallace, the Scottish journalist and historian had been in Ankara for three days, but had a feeling like he had been here for weeks. The days went by so fast and busy. He had spent his second day with his colleague Mr. Yunus. On the third day he had met with Mustafa Kemal Pasha. Although he had prepared it before, he could not ask all of his questions. He had asked Yunus the remaining questions and got some answers. He could add them to his own interpretations. While writing up his notes, he tried to remember Pasha's facial expressions, movements of his body, arms and hands, and the characteristics of his voice. If they asked about his main characteristics, he could say that Mustafa Kemal was an authoritarian and tough character, but kind. Another? He was serious and proud. Anymore? He was energetic, charismatic, risk-loving, determined, creative and challenging. No weaknesses? Definitely there were some: stubborn, impatient, nervous and excited. A more challenging question could have been asked. How much margin of error could be found in an impression obtained within an hour about someone unknown? He would say it was a good question. But he could say the accuracy of these impressions was more than fifty percent, less than seventy percent.

On his fourth day, Scott first went to the Temple of Augustus. He had reviewed his book and notes and made preparations. This ruins had been discovered in 1555 by the Austrian ambassador Busbecque, who had hold office five years in Constantinople. It has a history of 4,000 years. It was a Phrygian temple long before. After the Roman Empire became sovereign to Galatia, it made Ancyra the capital of the province. To show his devotion to Emperor Augustus, the last Galatian or Celtic King had built this temple in the same place of the ruined Phrygian temple. Later, Christians had turned the temple into a church. With a carriage arranged by Yunus for his service, he went to the temple. Haji Bayram Mosque was built on one corner of the area and some houses were built on the other. He toured the temple, took some pictures of Latin and Greek inscriptions on marble walls, the fragmented columns of the temple on the ground. The archeology faculties in Scotland would evaluate them.

From there he went to the Ankara Castle. He walked around. There were marble and brick sections in some parts of the stone walls about 15 meters high. Subsequent changes and repairs were evident. Marble blocks, column capitals and marble gutters of waterways were used. The castle had nearly twenty towers. The 700-year-old Sultan Aladdin Mosque in the inner castle was in use, but the clock tower at its gate was abandoned to its fate. The inner fortress was steeply rocky. As the city in the inner castle grew outwards, the outer castle was built downhill after the Roman invasion of Galatia. Later, the third row of outer walls were built on the skirts of the hill. But they were destroyed.

Scott then sent the coachman telling him that he would visit Hüseyin Ghazi Hill in Mamak the next day and asked him to find a suitable guide. After he had his lunch in Taşhan, started to walk to the hotel before dark. The rain continued. As he was trying to avoid the water-filled potholes on the road, he collided suddenly with someone with fez and the collar of his jacket raised. They both said the same words:

“Sorry.”

The man with fez was unblinkingly looking at Scott. He was apparently surprised to see the tall, blond-haired, spectacled European. At that second, a light shone in his eyes indicating he recognized Scott. But, then he went on his way. Scott had seen him somewhere. He had beards, but his face, eyes, athletic structure resembled him. They had first met in the Bektashi lodge in Constantinople, then in a tavern with Bektashi Yusuf. Sebottendorf was with them too. Yes, he was that major who had told them about his Iranian experiences. Scott called after him.

“Excuse me?”

The man turned his head back. “Have you called me?” He stopped when he saw Scott nodding positively. As he turned back, Scott got a little closer. “I'm sorry, I don't want to bother you.” The man raised his eyebrows as if to say, “What do you want?” Scott cleared his throat. “I thought I know you.” The man was silent again. “I think we've met in İstanbul. Mr. Yusuf was with you.” The man closed his eyes and smiled. “Now I remember. I had similar feeling too. But I couldn't recognize. You're that journalist.” The rain was accelerating. Scott proposed, “My hotel is a bit further. We'll have a little chat there if you agree. When the rain stops, you could go on.” He didn't wait for the major's answer, “Of course, if you have time and if I'm not bothering you.” The major tapped his beard and replied, “There is no inconvenience. I remember you help us. I'd love to chat too.”

Paying attention to the mud and the potholes where the water accumulated, two or three minutes later they came to the Hürriyet Hotel. Scott greeted the man with the long black mustache at the entrance. There was a note for himself. He read it right away. Muharrem had written that; on the morning of March 27, they were going to leave for İnebolu. If there was an impediment, he would inform Mr. Yunus. Scott walked into the dining and tea room with his guest. They sat at the table in the far corner. “Now we can meet again. I'm Scott Wallace, correspondent for the New State Magazine in the UK.”

The major leaned back. “Of course I remembered. There was a German with you. He had also become Bektashi. What was his name?”

Scott replied, “Sebottendorf.”

“Fine. My name is Yusuf.”

Scott was surprised, “I think your name was different from the name of the sweet old Bektashi.” The major tapped his beard again and smiled, “Yusuf is my second name. I will also use the name Hüseyin.”

When the man with a mustache at the entrance came to ask what they drink, they discontinued the conversation. Scott explained that he was a waiter at the same time simply because of staff shortages. They asked for coffee. The waiter heading for the kitchen turned back suddenly and told Hüseyin, “Could you find the friends you looked for, sir?” The major could not hide his surprise. After a moment of silence, he replied, “I found them, I found them, thanks for your interest.” The MM Organization did need people such as this smart man.

While sipping their coffees, Scott summarized the subjects he had interviewed Mustafa Kemal Pasha in Ankara. He added that he would return to İstanbul in two days’ time. Referring to the same subject, the major explained that he had fled to Anatolia like other insurgent Turkish nationalists. He added that he came to Ankara to get a job done. They talked about common friends and current issues for about an hour. Hüseyin left the hotel, saying he hopes to meet again.

The next day was Scott's last day in Ankara. In his book there was a brief information about Hüseyin Ghazi Hill. After living here for a thousand years, the Celts accepted Christianity. Being not able to resist Byzantium attacks in 838, they left Ancyra and fled to Malatya under the leadership of Corbeas. Twenty years later, the Celts tried to take Ancyra back with the help of the Abbasid Emir Hüseyin Ghazi. But they failed. Corbeas died during a fight on Hüseyin Ghazi Hill and was buried here.

Another message from Mr. Yunus was left to the desk clerk at the entrance. Sagir, the representative of the Indian Caliphate Committee, found it inconvenient to meet a British journalist at this stage. He apologized for it.

The coachman arrived a little later with his old friend who knew the Mamak area. The old man sat against him. As they moved the guide started telling. “Mamak has been the eastern gate of Ankara for a long time sir. It was named after His Holiness Ahi Mamak, who established and ruled this town in the past. The fruit of Ankara grows here. Back in the Byzantine days, Islamic armies had come up to Ankara. Many of them had been martyrized. Seyyid Hüseyin Ghazi had died a martyr in these battles. Fatih Sultan Mehmet Khan had built a tomb and a lodge there. His Holiness Evliya Çelebi had come to Ankara and visited the tomb of Hüseyin Ghazi as well. On the slopes of the hill there are still very old axes and knives, sir…”

Scott didn't listen to the old man's other information anymore. He soon shut up. They climbed up the bare hill jumping through broken and muddy roads and rocky paths. Wherever the horse had a difficulty to go further they got out of the phaeton and walked. Ultimately, a wonderful sight was awaiting them. The city and the plain of Ankara were under their feet. Scott turned on the camera. The tomb was five to six meters high with an octagonal plan. He recalled the eight-sided or twelve-sided Bektashi tekkes he visited in Constantinople. The stone walls were covered with a dome. The tomb, which challenged the ruined walls and broken tombstones in the surrounding area was neglected, but standing. Scott took out his notebook, found a place secure from the wind, recorded his notes. Corbeas was forgotten.

They got hungry when they came down from the hill. They stopped at a small restaurant they came across. The owner praised the food cooked on wood fire. They ate tarhana soup, shepherd roast, bulgur rice and ayran. In the evening hours they returned to Ankara. Thanking the coachman and the guide Scott gave their tips. He was very tired. He washed himself in the bath with basin then lay down on the bed, rested for a while. Because his last night was full too. Mr. Yunus had said that his guest was lucky. They went to a hall near the hotel, watched Shakespeare's Hamlet in Turkish in the light of kerosene lamps and candles. This was a very special show for the Scottish historian. He couldn't believe it. The name of the lead artist was very interesting too: Othello Kamil! He also remembered the beautiful words of the genius Shakespeare: “We should do when we would; for this ‘would’ changes. And hath abatements and delays as many. As there are tongues, are hands, are accidents, and then this ‘should’ is like a spendthrift’s sigh, that hurts by easing. But to the quick of the ulcer.”

Scott returned to the hotel late. Before going to bed, he arranged his notes and photos, packed his things. In the morning he loaded the belongings, beverages and foods with the help of Muharrem coming to the hotel with horses and a mule. They stopped by Mr. Yunus's newspaper. It was a short farewell. They left the building and rode horses. Suddenly it thundered and a heavy rain began. Scott asked: “It rained a lot when I was in Ankara. I couldn't imagine why this place was barren.” Muharrem's answer was interesting. “Your luck, sir.” The people on the streets took refuge in the closest doorway or under the bay windows. Muharrem said that there was a closed place a bit further. They accelerated the horses. Meanwhile, Scott saw two people taking refuge in a doorway. The short and fat one had a white turban Indian style on his head, wore a black tabard and had eyeglasses on. Scott could see that much only, because they were moving away quickly. In Ankara, only a single person could wear this kind of clothing. Yes, he was the representative of the Indian Caliphate Committee who refused to meet with him. He did not mind. Soon the rain subsided. They rode their horses to the Ankara exit. The weather turned into a cloudy spring weather soon after.

Their return to İnebolu took less time. Scott stayed there for one night. It was enough for him to relieve the road fatigue. The next morning, he gave Muharrem a big tip and said goodbye. On April 4, he boarded the ship en route from İnebolu to Constantinople. This time he was lucky. The Black Sea was calm.

Scott met Signor Grasso on April 9th. He thanked for his help to arrange the meeting with Mustafa Kemal Pasha. He narrated his Ankara journey and impressions and presented the Yörük rug made of goat hair he brought from Ankara.

An article titled ‘A Handful of Nationalists?’ was published in some European newspapers dated April 12, 1921. The author's name was Scott Wallace. Photographs of Ottoman Sultan Vahdettin, British Ambassador to Constantinople (İstanbul) Horace Rumbold and Mustafa Kemal Pasha were side by side.

The representatives of the Ottoman sultan who lost his empire signed the Sevres Peace Agreement eight months ago. But the parliamentary approval has not taken place yet. The Allies push forward the Greek army to facilitate the efforts of the Sultan's government. However, two attacks in Eskişehir within two months also failed. A great opportunity was missed as the Turks clashed among themselves.

The London Conference after the first battle in Eskişehir was a complete disappointment. The nationalists in Ankara came up with hard nut to crack. Their leader Mustafa Kemal even objected to the representation of the Sultan's government. Tevfik Pasha, the aged prime minister of the Sultan, declared that the real representative would be the nationalists. Allied representatives could not believe their ears. Correction attempts to ratify the Sevres Agreement did not work. General Harington, the commander of the occupation forces in Anatolia, was called from Constantinople to London; he made enlightening statements to the cabinet. He advocated a bilateral agreement between the UK and Turkey.

Let's look at the situation from Greece's side.

Her army is trying to take over Ankara by destroying the relatively weak army of Mustafa Kemal Pasha. But they can't fully use their powers. Half of the one hundred thousand soldiers are in Thrace. It's not a secret that they're afraid of Bulgarians. On the other hand, it is remarkable that Greek officers are depressed and tired of the struggle and war. Party fights within the Greek army are also known. The dissatisfaction with the government of King Constantine is said to be widespread. The Commander-in-Chief Papulas and his staff consist of valuable soldiers. But it is criticized that the lower levels fell into the hands of inadequate officers and retirees. It is also important that the Greek army in Anatolia is not well fed, the corruption of the political representatives in the occupation zone increases and their reputation among the local Greeks was damaged. To tell the truth, the British and French soldiers are in the same situation.

Let's try to evaluate the political developments too.

The British government and especially the prime minister are still in favor of the Greeks. He does not accept other options, not listen to the French, to the opposition deputies and to the press, he refuses a separate peace with the Turks. The news from Russia is bad too. Tsarist supporters could not defeat the Bolsheviks despite the help of the West. The signing of the Moscow Agreement between the Russians and the Ankara nationalist government is also an important development. This is their first treaty with a western state and a powerful blow to the Allies. The Russians will soon send gold and arms to Anatolia. Mustafa Kemal Pasha, who ensured the security of the eastern border, will soon move most of his troops to the west. Then this will make things more difficult for the Allies, and especially for the Greeks.

The Bolshevik Russians declared that they did not recognize the Sevres Peace Agreement. They will also accept the abolition of capitulations. If we add the Treaty of Friendship and Solidarity signed by Turkish nationalists with Afghanistan to this, the seriousness of the situation can be easily understood. For the first time, an Islamic state recognized the Ankara government. An important development is taking place in Iraq too. Iraqi Kurds rebelled against British mandate rule. In Mosul and Kirkuk, resistance is reportedly spreading.

As the UK wants to solve the Eastern Question, the reality is that international trust in the UK has been in decline. Ironically, international trust in Ankara has been on the increase.

***

The Sabotage in Trabzon.

April 1921. Trabzon.

On the deck, the militants selected for the Nemesis operation of the Dashnak Organization were watching with dull eyes Trabzon. Four Armenian youths had met during the Black Jumbo training courses. They all graduated with a ‘good’ grade. The previous year's winner, Etyen, was coming from Erzurum to join them. What made them think was their very specific tasks, not the slopes and coastline of the mountains, which looked like a very green carpet. Their leader Vartan with a crippled arm looked at the same view, thinking about similar things. The Black Jumbo agent of the British consulate in Trabzon had given an important report to Navy Captain Nelson. The weapons and ammunition that the Bolshevik Russians sent to Trabzon were no longer sent to Erzurum. Few of the appropriate brands and models were transferred to Erzurum while the remaining large part was transferred to İnebolu. Besides, some materials came from Erzurum and were put into the warehouses in the harbor. It was also noted that the warehouses were very strictly protected. The British aim was to delay and if possible to prevent Turks from shifting forces from east to west. Vartan had listened this information during his assignment and recorded in his memory. Others did not know the details. They would just watch the targets, hit them and then disappear.

The start of the main road to Erzurum from the sea was Trabzon. Personnel, weapons, ammunition, medicine and other aid from Russia to the Turks were also transferred here. Because of its very important location, the UK, Russia, Iran, Greece, France, Italy, Austria, Prussia, USA and Belgium opened a consulate in Trabzon. The Greeks had more economic power than the Turks, and their contact with the outside world was easier. They were more efficient in chambers of industry and commerce, city councils. The capital of the state they would establish would be Trabzon. Greek officers were training the Greek partisans preparing themselves to become the armed forces of the state. They had seized some of the weapons taken from the Ottoman army and collected in Batumi. They easily received the weapons and supplies that Greek ships transported. British, French, American consuls and missionaries supported the partisans too.

The Turks also had a resistance organization supported by the division in Trabzon connected to the army corps in Erzurum. The Bolshevik Russians' Consulate in Trabzon had a radio station and an intelligence service. It secretly supported the Turks.

The target of the operation was the division's warehouses. Pontus Greek partisans were effective in villages and roads but could not enter military zones. Every serious action in the previous months was learned beforehand by the Turks and measures were taken. That's why they lost so many elements. Some of the partisans were missing. They could have talked. Pontus Greek partisans couldn't find the mole among themselves.

The Black Jumbo agent, who welcomed them, distributed the militants to three Greek houses. The hotels watched by Turkish and Russian intelligence were not safe.

***

The Train Station Manager.

April 1921. Ankara.

Sagir finished the letter he wrote to Navy Captain Nelson. The address in the envelope was ‘Mr. Cavit, the representative of the Indian Caliphate Committee, Ileri newspaper, İstanbul’. Larding with words of praise, he explained his talks with Mustafa Kemal Pasha and other officials. Indian Muslims wanted to take the national struggle as an example. A newspaper in Ankara was to be published in Urdu language. Materials and typesetters were to be brought from India. He would give two thousand pounds a month for three or four thousand copies. In a hurry, he demanded the necessary supplies to be sent without being noticed by the occupation forces, and the money to be taken from the collected aid. He wrote the address of the house he moved, added that he would send the address of the Turkish-Indian Association liaison office he was going to open soon in Ankara. For now, he had nothing to write with invisible ink. He requested Mehmet Ali to mail the letter.

Sagir had been anxious for several days. When he had come home a few days ago, the moment he took out the key, he had quickly scanned the surroundings and noticed a man in Seymen clothing drinking water from the neighborhood's fountain. Immediately after entering he had looked at that way, opening the curtain of the upper floor. No one was there. This could be a coincidence. Or he was being tailed. Then, he tried to be more careful in the house, on the roads, in the mosques and in Taşhan. Did the Greek barber Yorgi, known as Seyfi, manage to duplicate the key? The tree hollow was empty last night.

Mehmet Ali was often outside during the daytime. The needs of the house did not end. In this way, he knew black marketers. He looked for a convenient shop in the bazaar for the liaison office. A little mixing of the valerian, an herbal medicine he bought from the spice-seller, with Mehmet Ali's tea was effective. As soon as he went to bed, he fell into a deep sleep and could not wake up until morning. Then, Sagir could easily work. Some nights he was able to meet his men. One day after Yorgi’s visit, Black Jumbo's liaison officer, the herbalist Murat and then the peddler Şükrü had come. He had showed them the tree hollow system. They would leave their message in this tree hollow checking there every night. Sagir would give a signal by keeping the curtain over the door open if there was a problem. They would be very careful not to be followed and watched. Sagir would meet with agents on different days and in different places. After each meeting, they would determine the time and places for the next. When the invisible ink and the ammonia water that made it legible ran out, Murat Efendi would bring more in the laxative medicine box. It was useful to have some ammonia in the house against spider, centipede, scorpion and bee stings.

The previous day, while chatting with the train station manager Mr. Lütfü, Sagir had got an interesting information. Before elimination, Ethem the Circassian, with some of his men, had gone to Mustafa Kemal's house in the train station and tried to kill him in the sickbed. But Pasha's guards had prevented him. Murat and Şükrü would collect some information about Osman the Lime, the parliament guard battalion commander and his men. One of the black dressed Black Sea people could be hooked. So Pasha could be assassinated at his house or on the road. Mustafa Kemal's couriers were important too. They went to İstanbul via İnebolu. But Pasha and his men took the train to go to the front. The train station manager could be useful. He was going to tighten relationships. His son's English performance grade were not good. Sagir was going to increase lesson hours. He would ask for an extra charge to prevent the station manager from becoming suspicious.

***

New Crusader Conference.

April 1921. Constantinople.

Scott Wallace took another puff on his pipe. This time the tobacco was perfect. Thanks to Sebottendorf; he could find everything he needed in this scarcity. He provided the same support to the top officials of both the occupation forces and the Ottoman Sultan. The smart German made a lot of money from this business. He established a particular network from customs to the Grand Bazaar. Most of his men worked for the organizations that supported the insurgent nationalists in Ankara. Among his black market customers were also the owners of the nightclubs in Pera and the Bosphorus, where the invaders were frequenter and beautiful women of course were his valuable customers too. In this way, it was quite normal for him to have access to sensitive information. Its reward was sometimes money, sometimes drink, sometimes coal.

The Scottish journalist and historian was smiling as he stepped down to the Pera Hotel conference hall. He appreciated the organizers of ‘the Crusader Conference’ which corresponded to this very day, April 10, 1921. Because April 10th was special. On April 10, 837, Halley's comet passed very close to the Earth. The same sky event took place in 1453, when the Turks conquered Constantinople, the center of Orthodox Christianity. Pope Calixtus III. attributed this ominous event to the appearance of a large comet. Rome seemingly had the same misfortune. A new addition to the prayers was made:

“Protect us from the comets and the Turks, my great Lord!”

The famous British astronomer Halley confirmed this. He explained that the 1682 comet named after him was the same as the comet corresponding to the fall of Constantinople. This comet approached the Earth every 76 years.

The guests were about to finish the food and drinks at the catering table. Scott took his camera out. First he took a picture of the big poster written in capital letters in English, French, Italian and Ottoman. There was an NCCC emblem and a comet picture at each of the four corners: ‘The New Crusade Coordination Center. Center Coordination de Nouevau Croisade. Centro Coordinazione di Nuovo Crociata. Yeni Haçlı Eşgüdüm Merkezi.”

Live organ music mixed with the guests' chatters. Scott overheard a group. The event expected for centuries was happening. He glanced around the room. There were several clergymen among the guests. The Christians were listening to the Jewish Rabbi of Constantinople. In the far corner the Orthodox Patriarch was the center of interest. He spoke with feverish gestures.

With the ringing and announcement, the guests took their places in the conference hall. Soon a young lady came to the microphone and spoke English: “Welcome to the meeting dear guests. I am honored to invite Sir Horace Rumbold, the British Ambassador to the stand. Please keep your questions at the end of the speech.”

When the interpreters finished translating these words, the British Ambassador came to the stand among the applauses and greeted everyone. “Distinguished guests, I extend my gratitude to all of you on behalf of my country and the allied countries for accepting our invitation and honoring us in Constantinople.”

Applauses again...

Rumbold put on his eyeglasses, looking at the notes in front of him proceeded.

“The Turks influenced by the Byzantine model established brilliant dynasties in the Middle East and Anatolia. They influenced Islam and made the Ottoman Empire dominant in the Mediterranean.” The Ambassador took a break to clear his throat coughing. “We know that the Crusades failed. Many battles fought up until now could not put an end. To send the Turks to the Asian steppes back and to free the people in the region is our responsibility now.”

Applauses was higher than the first...

Rumbold responded with a smile and went on: “For this purpose we are forming a 'New Crusade Coordination Center' with our allies. These friends will be interested in the fine details of the implementation of the Sevres Agreement.” The Ambassador looked in turn at the other ambassadors sitting in the front row. Then he continued: “For the location of the center, Constantinople and Cairo were considered. Being able to control also the Balkans, the Black Sea and the Caucasus, in addition to the Middle East and the Mediterranean, Constantinople gained higher marks. The purpose of this conference is to officially announce the start of work. We hope that our meetings here will help our representatives. Thank you.”

After applauses the prepared maps were brought next to the stand and illuminated with lamps. Coming back to the stand, the female announcer introduced the guest professor. “Dear guests, I would like to invite Professor Leighton Walcott, Professor of History at the University of Oxford, to make his presentation.”

The guest speaker sitting on one of the front seats came to the stand among applauses. “Thank you. I'll make short sentences to give time to interpreters. The Middle East, the Balkans and the North Africa should be considered together. The most important geography of the world is the Mediterranean periphery.” He carried on looking at the maps next to him. “Since the First Age, the East and the West have fought constantly to dominate the Mediterranean periphery.” He showed the other map. “With the weakening of both sides, the Roman Empire plundered and then ruled the region for 700 years. Then, it weakened against the rising Islamic State and withdrew to Anatolia. The East has taken control of the African-Eurasian civilization belt within fifty years. The West also lost Spain. The Dark Age of Europe lasted for 700 years.”

Professor paused for a sip of water. He continued pointing to the third map next to him. “The Seljuk and Ottoman Turks who conquered the Islamic State dominated the Middle East. They advanced far into Europe. A thousand years ago, the shaman Huns, who changed the ethnic face of Europe, came back as Muslim Turks. This time they took over North Africa and the Mediterranean became a Turkish lake. The Christian world experienced a panic episode. But, Europe, strengthening with the wealth of the Renaissance, discoveries and the Christian Reformation, first expelled Muslims from Spain. Then Europe stopped the Turks in Vienna and defeated them in the Mediterranean. The Russians, too, came from the north and overthrew the Turks.”

Professor raised both arms up. He acted like a prayer. He went on raising his voice. “It was a miracle! The West finally stopped the East!” The audience began to whisper. History expert proceeded his speech by increasing his tone. “The West continued to advance, by-passed the Middle East and reached the Persian Gulf and India.” Walcott held one arm over his head. Like a theater actor, he emphasized each of his words and spoke slowly: “That was very clever, dear friends!”

He took a break of ten seconds for the audience to digest. “Gold of the American Indies began to flow into the West. The industrial revolution was prepared. The West took over the Mediterranean Sea. But there is a forgotten truth. Five centuries after the expulsion of the Crusaders, it was the Russians, the first Westerner who came to the Middle East.”

There was another whispering among the audience.

“The French followed the Russians. Then the British completed them. The periphery of the Mediterranean has been completely saved. We are here now.”

***

The Sailor and the Locksmith.

April 1921. Ankara.

Hüseyin was pleased that the coffeehouse was secluded. At the left corner, the young sailor was waiting for him. He introduced himself as Yusuf. They asked for tea. “As soon as I received your message, I came, Major Yusuf. I thought you forgot me.”

“I did not. I searched you at the Hürriyet Hotel. I was going to meet you without being noticed by the Indian. But you had left and hadn't leave an address. Besides, you didn't report your arrival to Ankara. What's going on?”

“But I reported our arrival on March 12 to the intelligence department of the general staff headquarters in Kalaba.”

The major smiled. “I understand now. In fact, you would have come to the MM headquarters in Etlik. That's the reason of the failure. Perhaps, the people in the general staff headquarters didn't care about your report among all things.”

After locating Sagir's house, Hüseyin had immediately stationed two MM elements to watch. When Lieutenant Mehmet Ali left the house, the watchman had approached in a secluded place and said the keyword: “Either independence or death!” The young sailor had replied with the password. “Long live homeland!” The next day at 10 am Major Yusuf was waiting for him at the Seymenler coffeehouse on the Ulucanlar street.

“I think you want some information about Mustafa Sagir Khan.” As Hüseyin nodded in agreement, the sailor took out his notebook, started reporting. “On February 26, we departed from İstanbul, arrived in Ankara on 11 March. The following day I reported our arrival to the general staff headquarters. We met Mustafa Kemal Pasha on 15 March and presented him with the banner sent by the Muslims of India. Sagir made an effective speech in the assembly. On March 30, we moved to the rental house I found. Many people and managers from Ankara paid visit of welcome at the hotel. They were all within courtesy. No important issue was discussed.”

“Where did Sagir go?”

“First he went to the governor and then to the places where two Ankara newspapers were printed.” He looked at his notes. “Hakimiyeti Milliye and Yeni Gün newspapers. He wants to print a newspaper in Urdu and to announce the actions of the nationalist forces to the Muslims of India. Mustafa Kemal Pasha's approval was also received.”

“With whom does he meet the most?”

“Ten days ago, he started to meet and play chess with the train station manager Mr. Lütfü two or three times a week. Then he goes to his house and gives his son English lesson. He eats dinner at their house. Sometimes another local guy joins them only in chess. I didn't get his name.”

“How does he communicate with India and İstanbul?”

“It's been a month since we came to Ankara. He just wrote one letter. Last week I sent this letter to Mr. Cavit, the representative of the Indian Caliphate Committee. He works for the newspaper Ileri in İstanbul.”

“Did you read the letter?”

“Yes. He wrote about his meetings with Mustafa Kemal Pasha and other officials in Ankara, added that he would issue an Urdu newspaper and requested supplies and typesetters to be sent from India. He wrote the address of the house we moved to, stated that he would send the address of the Turkish-Indian Association liaison office later.”

Hüseyin shook his head. “Nothing remarkable. But I will give you an important task Mehmet Ali. I want you to listen to me carefully.”

“Yes, major.”

“Mustafa Kemal Pasha and some officials do not trust this Indian. We sent someone to India to gather some information about Sagir. You know ‘the Organization’ has commissioned you to keep an eye on Sagir, right?”

“Sure.”

“From now on you will watch him more closely. Search his stuff and the house thoroughly. The devil is in the details. One more thing. The Indian should definitely not notice that we suspect him.”

“Don't worry at all. I will be more careful.”

“Besides, Cavit was going to be tailed in İstanbul and our men gather some information about him. By the way let me ask. How did Sagir learn this good Turkish?”

“A few others asked the same question too. Sagir’s family had hosted a Turkish officer for about six months in Peshawar. He had managed to escape after being captured by Russians in Sarıkamış. Sagir had taught him English and the officer had taught Sagir Turkish. He is very interested in foreign languages. He speaks Arabic and Persian as well.”

After leaving the coffeehouse they went to Samanpazarı. Hamza wasn't in the store. The apprentice said he'd be right back. Soon the locksmith came in with a smiling face. He had good news. The quilt-maker across the street was going to hire Mahmut as his assistant. Trying to be as brief as possible, the sailor met Hamza and said he would come here every other day. Hüseyin added that he should keep an eye to the British agents in Ankara. Mehmet Ali and the MM, the hunters, could become the hunted. Everyone had to make sure they weren't followed.

***

Ankara Turkish-Indian Association.

April 1921. Ankara.

The shop Mustafa Sagir rented on Samanpazarı Street was turned into the main office of the Turkish-Indian Association. Mehmet Ali had worked well. He knew all shops owners and black marketers in the bazaar like the back of his hand. A table, four chairs, a cupboard, a coffee table, a kerosene lamp, some stationery and office supplies, a tea samovar, a coffee pot, a spirit stove and some other stuff for the kitchen and bathroom in the back came in two days. The plaque to be hung on the door would be ready soon. The official opening was going to take place in the next week. He would invite journalists, ministers and deputies. There was good news from Greek Barber Seyfi. He left a short note in the tree hole. “I got the key.”

Sagir answered immediately. “Search Salim's desk and drawers, see his notes. Learn about the places and times of his visit.”

Mustafa Kemal's code name was Salim. There had been attempts by others to kill him with bombs and poison. To poison him would have been almost successful, but through the efforts of doctors, Pasha was able to return to life suffering severe pain. He became extremely skeptical. He was even armed in the residence in the Ankara train station building. He never went out without his guards. He had the house fully equipped with the projectors. Without a special permission none could approach to the environment. When he went to the city, the roads and streets were secured. When he went to a restaurant or a friend's house, armed guards came beforehand. On horseback or car, his aides were waiting for him and watching the perimeter before the ride started. Then they rode their own vehicles and the convoy moved. There was no possibility of approaching Pasha and shooting with a pistol. It was not possible to approach that distance. Murat Efendi was studying the use of poison. Pasha's cook and aide were loyal and very reliable people. It was impossible to put poison in his drinks or food. But couldn't a poisoning arrangement be made in his office? Would it be possible to poison him by inhalation or by contact, gluing some poison on a secret place? There were countless plants that Murat Efendi sold in his herbalist shop. He didn't know much about poison. But there was such information in an old book. He could make a mix and try on animals without being noticed by anyone. He would work with henbane leaves, castor oil, hemlock, insecticides, weed killers, arsenic powder, naphthalene. If the barber had the chance, he could use the poison in his amulet. He could mix it with Mustafa Kemal's tea, coffee or food.

Sagir was obsessed with the same subject. But there was no light at the end of the tunnel…

The previous day he had visited the train station manager in his office and received important information. The primary source of power of the steam trains was coal. In the great war the coal was brought from Germany. Now they had a hard time finding coal. They had to satisfy with wood. The manager also complained that all activities requiring knowledge and skill were still monopolized by non-Muslims. Even the driver who brought Mustafa Kemal Pasha from Samsun to Anatolia was an old non-Muslim. The locomotive driver of the train that took him to the front was Greek and the fireman was Armenian. They gave one Turkish helper to each of them to be trained. The repair of the planes in Eskişehir was also carried out in the railways workshop. Greeks and Armenians still worked at these benches. Moreover, the machines stopped if they were discharged.

“How much do you trust the non-Muslims, Mr. Lütfü?”

“Obviously we don't. The general manager of the Anatolian railways in Eskişehir gave a firm directive. They are all under strict supervision.”

The manager suddenly became serious. He lowered his voice. “Pasha uses only the train for the trips from Ankara to Eskişehir. Mr. Sagir.” He went on in a whisper. “I'm really worried.”

Sagir had a flash of inspiration. He made plans after plans at home. Couldn't the assassination be carried out on this train? He left his note in the tree hollow that night. His agents were to watch the Greek locomotive driver and the Armenian fireman of the train and gather some information about them in a hurry. He was going to propose this in a letter to Nelson in invisible ink.

According to Navy Captain Nelson and Captain Bennett things were going slow in Ankara. Sagir needed more help. Two talented Black Jumbo bouncers were on their way to Ankara. When they received the note Sagir wrote in invisible ink, the first reaction of Captain Bennett was positive. He began to examine the applicability of the assassination on the train. About five months ago, as an observer, he had attended the talks between the sultan's delegation and the Ankara delegation in Bilecik. Mustafa Kemal had come by train to Bilecik to participate in the talks. The train had two wagons. They had to think of as many as thirty armed guards put in the second wagon. They studied the map. Vicinities of Eskişehir were suitable for the action. After the action, it would be easy to run away using mountain roads to cross the border about 60 kilometers away. Locomotive engine failure could be manipulated there. The locomotive driver of the train might be used either by threatening or as a collaborator. Guards could be given sleeping pills. There was a last option to be considered too. The train might be attacked by two or three planes.

The next day Bennett visited his pilot friend at Yeşilköy Airport. He got the latest information. The Turkish pilots were replaced by the Allied pilots. Twenty-four British fighter aircrafts operated in Yeşilköy. Bennett noted the technical specifications of the aircrafts too. The two-person DH-4 bomber had four machine guns, two in the front and two in the back. DH-4 could carry four bombs of 100 kilograms. Its speed ranged from 130 to 140 kilometers per hour. They could temporarily use the İnegöl airfield located in the Greek occupation zone. The flight time would be less than an hour, their fuel tanks were sufficient for roundtrip. Three planes were suitable for the operation. They would also consider the intervention of the Turkish fighter aircrafts. For detailed planning, they should have at least two-days’ notice.

Nelson agreed too. The most appropriate option for the action was air strikes on the train. Explaining the situation first to the commander-in-chief of the Black Sea armies and then to the ambassador, he received their approvals. The directive was issued for preparation. The training flights of the three pilots were directed to the railway line. Meanwhile, they would report the positions and movements of the Turkish army.

A letter was written to Sagir about printing materials from India and the use of the allowance. The actual message was inserted in invisible ink. Sagir was going to continue his works. He should report Mustafa Kemal's first train journey to Eskişehir and the time of departure at least two days in advance by an open but enciphered telegram. The first number to be placed among the words would be the month, the next number would be the day, the subsequent number would be the train's departure hour.

***

The Assassination in Erzurum.

April 1921. Erzurum.

The British Consulate Black Jumbo agent in Trabzon was one of the local Greeks. He worked well. After the day they get off the ship, he took Vartan to the slopes with dwarf trees, where they observed the military depots on the sea side without being noticed. His proposal was simple. Vartan approved. The same evening, Etyen came from Erzurum and joined them. Everyone repeated several times what to do. There was no rehearsal to avoid attention. Two days later the action began. Vartan and the three militants on the first boat paddled in the dark and landed from a place far from the depots. There was an hour to the changing of the guards. Thirty minutes was enough for them. In the first five minutes, they quietly finished the two guards off. Etyen and his friend, waiting offshore in the second boat with dynamite, kerosene and other materials, joined them after they received the ‘ready’ sign with the lantern. In twenty minutes, they placed explosives and kerosene in the depots, ignited the wicks. Five minutes later, the two boats disappeared in the dark waters. The explosions and fires they watched from afar alarmed Trabzon. For a long time, Vartan held his injured left arm in the air with the help of his right arm and screamed repeatedly “Nemesis!” The young militants could not decide which side to look at. Both scenes were more beautiful than the other...

Everything was executed as planned. Without waiting for the morning, they wore the gendarmerie uniforms and rode their horses in the direction of Gümüşhane. Vartan was sergeant major, Etyen was corporal, the others were private. All rifles and bullets had been prepared. They celebrated the local Greek. They were going to give the necessary report to İstanbul. After they reached Aşkale five days later, they found Abdullah assigned by Etyen. He was a Kurdish man from Hınıs in his forties. He worked at one of the Aşkale mines. He took the militants to one of the abandoned houses, showed the water, food, horse fodder, pistols and grenades he had hided under the floor. The action and its aftermath were considered too. Vartan congratulated Etyen for his good preparations. He was a good model for other young militants. They replaced their gendarmerie uniforms with the worn out of Erzurum's peasant clothes. In Erzurum, they found Sait, the Black Jumbo agent, Etyen's assistant. He was a Kurd from the town Çat about thirty-five years old. He was a peddler. They entrusted their horses to two different stables before they broke up in three separate houses in Erzurum.

The target here was Kazım Karabekir Pasha, the commander of the eastern front, who struck the Armenians with great blows. He had warm relations with the Bolsheviks, looked like a Prussian general, was a tough soldier loved and shunned by everyone. He was the boss of Eastern Anatolia. After Talat Pasha was killed by an Armenian in Berlin the previous month, Karabekir Pasha was now protected more closely. The front and rear mounted guards were increased from four to six. He didn't spend much time at his headquarters. He often went out of city to inspect the wide area of responsibility. He had a car, but couldn't use it much, mainly because they had problems finding gasoline and problems fixing malfunctions.

Vartan was very excited to come to his homeland where he was born and raised. It had been just twenty-three years since he had left. Time went by very fast. He went to see their one-story house with a small garden in the Christian quarter. Now others settled there. Like his mother, the deed documents had disappeared. In Constantinople, he had searched his family's records too, as he dealt with legal cases of his fellow citizens. But it wasn't found. Taking advantage of this opportunity, he thought of going personally to the Erzurum land registry office, but gave up. All his identity would become known to local authorities. When they finish this action and returned to Constantinople, they would all be given large amounts of rewards. Vartan could buy a suitable house with it. He predicted that if the landlord sold the rental house in Cibali, he could buy it. That would be a consolation too. He found the Armenian secondary and high school buildings in the quarter where he had lived as a child. Now they were both Turkish schools.

Etyen had also prepared plans. It was plain and simple. They reconnoitered Kars Kapı, İstanbul Kapı and Dumlu directions with groups of two. Action points, escape routes were determined one by one. Thanks to a friend working at the headquarters, Sait of Çat learned and informed Etyen of Pasha's program.

The day of action was decided to be 24 April. Six years ago, on the same day, the Armenian Committee Centers had been closed and their leaders were arrested. Its revenge would be taken. Early in the morning, Karabekir came out of the headquarters with his phaeton to see the troops in Dumlu. The moment he came to the place they had previously reconnoitered, Etyen stepped out of the crowd and threw a grenade. Then the other two young militants used their bombs. As the panicked people scattered, six militants fired their pistols together and gunned the mounted guards down. Then they shot Pasha and his aide next to him. But in that turmoil the youngest of the team was shot and fell to the ground. They didn't comprehend who shot him. They had no time to save him. Five Armenian militants ran in different directions and mingled with the panicked people. The young man who was shot could be dead. If he was wounded and captured, they wished he could have used the poison in his amulet. Taking their horses from the barn, one by one, at intervals of five minutes, they reached the village near Aşkale.

Half an hour later the squad of four gendarmes rode their horses to Bayburt direction. Etyen would remain in his post in Erzurum. He would not show up for a while. Vartan and three Nemesis militants wouldn't have a hard time on the five-day journey. The group had memorized the way back. They returned to Trabzon the same way they came. The team completed its duties with a casualty.

***

Russians in Ankara.

April 1921. Ankara.

Major Hüseyin Üsküplü was on his way to the Russian Embassy on the orders of Lt. Col. Hüsamettin, the MM chief. He was dressed like a local Seymen from Ankara. He stopped near the Kurşunlu Mosque on the slope. Its walls were made of stone. The dome was covered with lead and had an octagonal shape like a brick masonry minaret reminding of the eight-edged Bektashi dervish tekkes.

And their foremost principle: to behave honestly.

People were hard to understand. When their ruler changed, they could behave very differently than before. The Russians, whom he would meet soon, had done their best, under the tsars, to destroy the Ottoman Empire. But after the Bolshevik Revolution four years ago, they had done exactly the opposite. They had relieved the Ottoman army by withdrawing their soldiers in the middle of the Great War and put an end to their 40-year occupation. Now they were supporting the national struggle of the Anatolian Turks. The first European state that signed an official agreement with the Ankara government was the Soviet Union. They were sending weapons, tons of ammunition and money. The Turkish government gave this building to Mr. Medivani, who came to Ankara in a fanfare way; the government also helped the embassy to settle in a large area by evacuating the surrounding houses. The flag of the Soviet Russia with sickle-hammer was flying slightly at the main gate of the embassy building. ‘The Embassy of the Russian Socialist Federative Soviet Republic (RSFSC)’ was written in Russian and Ottoman on the door plaque. Hüseyin showed the identity card prepared for Major Yusuf to the official at the gate and said that acting military attaché Lieutenant Pavel was waiting for him. The official was informed before and immediately took the guest to Pavel's room. Tall, thin, blue-eyed Pavel apologized for not welcoming his guest at the door. His Turkish was quite good. He introduced himself to his guest while drinking coffees. He was from Crimea, twenty-six years old, a fan of the famous composer Tchaikovsky and author Tolstoy. He was single. His birthplace and hometown was Sevastopol. His ancestors were of Crimean Tatar origin and he was pride of it. Therefore, he felt himself close to the Turks. He graduated from the Military Academy in the Great War and fought in Galicia.

Hüseyin joined the conversation and summarized the story of Aunt's son, Sergeant İsmail and the Ottoman army in Galicia.

Pavel had served in the Red Army during the Bolshevik Revolution. His father was a prominent Communist Party leader. Pavel had fought against the pro-Tsarist White Russians for three years. Then, he had come to Ankara with the Extraordinary Ambassador Medivani at Christmas.

He asked Hüseyin if he had seen Sevastopol. When he got a negative answer, he started to tell. The city was called Akyar by Tatars. In 1853, it was severely damaged by heavy shelling by the armies of the Ottoman Empire, England, France and Italy. Sevastopol was rebuilt in 1871.

Hüseyin reminded that the Ottoman battleships under the command of the Germans had bombarded the ports of Sevastopol and Odessa and sunk Russian battleships. There, the Ottoman Empire had entered the European War. After the war, the Unionist Pashas had fled to Sevastopol in a German battleship and from there to Berlin. It was a strange irony of history.

Because the embassy was being watched, Major Yusuf requested to meet in different coffeehouses after this meeting. The Russians were aware of they were being spied on too. They stationed some agents outside of the embassy to take care of the potential spies. They recognized two of them disguised in local clothes. They should be British agents. The Russians didn't get them, instead pretended not to notice and let the spies do their job tranquilly. Pavel hoped that the British agents would relax in a few weeks. Then the Russians would tail them and find their hiding place. The Bolsheviks had applied this tactic successfully while watching the tsarist supporters. Certainly, they would share this information with the MM.

After leaving the embassy, Hüseyin went to Hamza's shop on Samanpazarı Street. Mehmet Ali the sailor had left a message. He carefully searched the Indian's stuff and the entire house. There was not a suspicious situation.

***

Towards Eskişehir.

April 1921. Ankara.

Sagir stopped by the Yeni Gün newspaper near the Haji Bayram Mosque, where he performed his Friday prayer on April 22. He discussed with Mr. Yunus about the publication of Urdu newspaper. The authorities in India found it appropriate. Materials and typesetters were being prepared. The Ankara government was requested to help the transportation without the occupation forces noticed. Expenditures would be covered from the collected aid. He thanked for the news announcing the Turkish-Indian Association's works. As he explained his intention to open a branch of the Association in Eskişehir, Mr. Yunus found it very favorable. A branch to be opened in a place where the battles were most violent would recover people's morale. Eskişehir, being a city that too many Tatar and Circassian immigrants lived, was an important center for the Anatolian struggle. Sagir discussed the opening of a branch in Eskişehir with Mehmet Ali too. Two reliable people should be found there. They would be paid a salary. The sailor would talk with the MM.

Sagir went to Taşhan later. He kept on teaching Mr. Lütfü, the train station manager, to play chess. Sagir talked about ‘Threatening of the king’. The king couldn't stay closed all the time. What to do if the king threatened? We could escape if there was a place. Or we could shield with another piece. But this piece couldn't move anymore. Finally, we could take the piece that threatened our king. Life was like the game of chess.

The Indian came home at dusk. He had checked the tree hollow making sure he wasn't followed. He had immediately put the message in his pocket. The sailor wasn't home. He read: ‘With his doctor’s advice, Salim will move to Eskişehir on the night of May 2nd. He will be back in a week.’ Mustafa Kemal's code name was Salim. The source of the news was Pasha's doctor. Sagir wrote his instructions on the same paper and left it in the tree hollow. ‘Pay your debt to the grocer. Verify quantity promptly immediately.’ 'Grocer' was the code of the Greek locomotive driver of the train. 'Pay your debt' implied 'pay him'. 'Verify quantity promptly' meant 'Verify this information promptly'.

After Mehmet Ali came, they prepared an omelet with vegetables, brewed tea. To hide his excitement, Sagir requested the sailor to tell his short life story. He was born in 1895 in Ürgüp. His father was a civilian pasha. After graduating from primary and secondary school, he had come to İstanbul and studied at Naval High School in Heybeliada. He had graduated earlier than planned from Naval Academy because of the war. At the age of 20, he had started working on the Nusret mine ship. They had laid four hundred mines on both sides of the Dardanelles, after removing mines laid by Russians into the Black Sea. They had made additional obstacles. When the British and the French had destroyed three mines, they had supposed that the strait was clean and their navy had taken a major blow. After the ceasefire, the equipment of the Ottoman navy was dismantled and the staff was discharged. Nevertheless, they had hijacked some battleships. Sagir knew some of these, but he did not reveal, he even asked questions for explaining the issues.

***

The time is running out.

April 1921. Ankara.

Major Yusuf had their security research done before the start of the training of five MM candidates over the age of thirty. The researches also went on during the training. They all couldn't finish primary school. They had fought in the army with the rank of sergeant. Two of them served in Ethem the Circassian's mobile forces units. After the trial, they had been acquitted, like Sergeant Major İsmail the Galician. They had quitted their jobs and joined MM as a volunteer. They tried to support their families with the salary they received from ‘the Organization’.

The first lesson that day was the Ottoman slap, a close combat technique. It would be applied when there was no weapon or when it was not intended to be used. Every day, hands, biceps and arms were strengthened by slapping marble. It was also necessary to yell frighteningly at the hostile during the blows. They started training their throats to make that deep voice. Those who didn't know the crux of the matter could think that these strange people were sick. They exercised ten minutes. The blows were next. The major first showed the palm blow. The adversary's nose tip was hit with full force using the junction of the wrist and the hand palm. The broken nasal bone would penetrate the brain through the eye sockets of the skull and cause sudden death of the opponent.

The second subject was tail and surveillance technics. They went to Ankara in a horse-drawn carriage. In half-hour cycles, one was a target and the other a tailer. The major evaluated the trainings executed in turn. Then they were located at various points of the bazaar and recorded the details they saw in half an hour in their minds and reported. Hüseyin told the rights and wrongs after the training. They would be impartial, without prejudice and uncritical. Then he discharged them. In the evening the carriage would take them back to Etlik.

Then Hüseyin went to the locksmith shop where a surprise awaited him. Mahmut came last night and started to work in the opposite quilt maker a few hours ago. He had also become a master of the Ottoman slap like the use of a knife. He would stay in the little room behind the shop. The researches about Mr. Cavit, the representative of the Indian Caliphate Committee in the Ileri newspaper in İstanbul was continuing. There wasn't a problem for the time being. The sailor had left a message. On the evening of April 24, they were going to Eskişehir with Mustafa Sagir. Hüseyin and the locksmith decided to search Sagir's house that night. The key was already copied.

They sent for Mahmut. His mustache was thicker. Hüseyin hugged him, then they studied each other avidly. After a short while, they went to the nearby coffeehouse. Hüseyin thanked Mahmut again. He had lived with Mahmut's grandmother, mother, and two sisters for four months. They had looked after him as their own child. He owed them gratitude. He was still wearing the wool undershirt, wool socks and wool cardigan his grandmother knitted.

Mahmut brought good news. Hüseyin's mother Mrs. Reşide and his sister Ayşe were fine. Sabri had problem with his kidneys, but he was recovering. Yusuf the Oracle maintained his work and life. Hayrettin was going to send a fake paper print material with a young man named Bekir. His fiancé, Hanımşah, had sent a letter. He read it right away. She kept on teaching in Kasımpaşa. When she had time, she visited Mrs. Reşide. Her father Mr. İbrahim was more friendly to the nationalists. They weren't in a hurry for the wedding. The previous month, the new high commissioner French General Pelle took office in İstanbul. At the ladies' tea party, she met the French Madame Berthe Georges-Gaulis who came to interview Mustafa Kemal. In the search at American College in Merzifon, documents related to the Pontus Club were found, 29 Americans in charge were deported. She was ashamed of graduating from such a school. The poet Mr. Mehmet Emin, whom his father knew, also decided to go to Ankara. Hüseyin could meet him.

Hüseyin missed his fiancé very much. He hoped to go to İstanbul on a mission.

***

Other İzmir.

February 1, 2019. Ankara

The bell rang. It is my neighbor, a college student. He brings back a book he borrowed the previous week. Thanking, he shows an old book he found in the used-book bazaar in Beyazıt. It is the first Turkish translation of ‘Les Miserables’ of the French Writer Victor Hugo, published five years after the transition to the Latin alphabet in 1928. The language used is very interesting. It is read with the Ottoman-Turkish dictionary like solving a puzzle. A lot of fun for him. He requests permission, saying that if I wish, he will bring it after reading. I accept the proposal. I return to the desk with a beer from the fridge. Hasan Algan has not yet arrived. I don't wait for him. I display on the screen Mr. Bilge Wallace's information and documents about Smyrna. İzmir's name was also changed.

Their world is very different. The Treaty of Sevres was put into practice. There is no Republic of Turkey. Different states were established in Thrace and Anatolia. Instead of the Republic of Turkey, a small Central Anatolian Republic (CAR) exists. The name of Turk is not mentioned. After the British mandate, CAR was attached to the Middle East Confederation. The Americans moved the capital to Jerusalem.

I remember Galileo, who lived in Italy in 1600s, searched for the place of the hell in the world. The hell was like a cone rising from the center of the earth. Its axis was passing through Jerusalem!

I keep on reading…

The Great Middle East Project, which is planned to be realized in our world a hundred years later, was realized long ago in Mr. Bilge Wallace's world. There are some differences but it is basically the same. Israel was established. It has a very important position as the capital of the confederation founded in the Turkish, Arab and Persian lands. The confederation's security organization was also set up.

Ankara and İstanbul over there are different from ours. They became Ancyra and Constantinople. Constantinople became an independent city-state in 1960. It is the center of world capitalism in the Middle East and the Balkans. It was declared a ‘Common World Heritage’. Constantinople is the center of the Caliphate of Islam. But its population of Muslims has fallen to the minority. The Shiites do not accept the caliph settled in the Yıldız Palace. They chose their own caliphs working in Qom, Iran. The Sunni world is also divided. The Hashemite Arabs who came to power in the Kingdom of Jordan declared their kings as a separate Sunni caliph simply because they are descended from the Prophet.

I remember similar situations in the 900s. In the Sunni Islamic world, two caliphs emerged in Baghdad in Iraq and Cordoba in Spain. The Shiite Fatimid State in Egypt also established a separate caliphate center in Cairo. There were three caliphs at the same time! It was a tragicomic situation.

Christians are in a similar mess. The Orthodox Church in Constantinople is given a Vatican-like ecumenism. But the problems are not solved. In the 1970s, the Soviet Union lifted the ban on the Orthodox Church. The Communist Party preferred to be more flexible about religion. The Patriarch of Moscow again become an active leader of the Russian Orthodox Church. The two Orthodox patriarchs could not come together like Islamic caliphs.

Now, the video introducing Smyrna...

After the Greek occupation in 1915, the city gradually lost its structure and appearance during the Ottoman period. Especially after the adoption of the Rome Peace Treaty of 15 December 1921, such as İstanbul, the population of the Muslim Turks were deliberately decreased. Almost the entire Aegean region was treated alike in time. There were minor resistance and partisan activities by some Turks, but all suppressed. The region became the Ionian province of Greece. With the support of the UK, the province developed until the Second Great War. Greece expanded its territory towards the Mediterranean after this war. Since Italy was on the defeated side, it left the province of Antalya to Greece with an agreement. When Cyprus, in 1968, connected to Greece with a referendum, Greece became a prominent state in the Middle East and the Mediterranean. It is now a respected member of the European Union, and an active player in the energy policies of the West.

I keep on watching the video...

The population of Smyrna is 1.5 million. It has come to the forefront in trade, education, culture and tourism. In the three-dimensional images taken from the air, the three sides of the Gulf look like its present panorama. Greek flags fly everywhere. The piers, the gardens on the shore, the parks, the sports fields, Konak Square, the Clock Tower and Kordon Boyu are like a replica of the seaside city of Thessaloniki.

The small Yalı Mosque in Konak Square stands in place... With its octagonal Ottoman architecture, Fatih Tiled Mosque is now an Orthodox church... The Kemeraltı Bazaar and the four hundred-year-old Hisar Mosque converted into a church resembles today's appearance. The Kestanepazarı Mosque was also turned into a church, but does not disappear in the Kemeraltı bazaar with its cleaned surroundings... Next to it, Sabatay Sevi's house and its surroundings were rearranged. St Polycarpe Church near the Passport Pier also stands out with landscaping... Alsancak Catholic Church and Bet Israel Synagogue are similar condition.

The camera keeps on moving around...

The Agora Open Air Museum, which was built by Alexander the Great, now decorated with photographs, busts and statues is apparently very well maintained. Kadifekale built by a commander of Alexander the Great is able to reflect the appearance of a thousand and five hundred years ago. Historical mansions, churches, statues of mythology heroes come to view one after another...

In summary, Smyrna is considered to be better than İzmir in historical and touristic terms. But the urban planning is not as developed as Constantinople and Ancyra...

Before I shut down the computer, I send a note to Mr. Bilge Wallace. I write the names of the cities especially like ours.

“Dear Mr. Wallace, after watching images and scenes of Ankara and İstanbul, I watched those of İzmir too. Thank you so much. I would also like to share my thoughts on the novel 'After Twenty-One'.

The actions of Armenian committee member Vartan and his friends in Trabzon and Erzurum, the attempt to assassinate Karabekir Pasha are unfamiliar issues to us. Your father Scott Wallace's meeting with our famous journalist Yunus Nadi and Mustafa Kemal in Ankara is not known on our side either. Meanwhile, I also searched for foreign journalists mentioned in the National Struggle at that time. As I mentioned before, your journalist father is not in our history. But I found others. Meanwhile, I also searched for foreign journalists mentioned in the National Struggle at that time. Ward Price of the British Daily Mail newspaper met with Mustafa Kemal in İstanbul in November 1918. L.E. Browne of the Chicago Daily News observed the mandate negotiations at the Sivas Congress in September 1919. Clarence K. Streit of the US Philadelphia Public Ledger newspaper was in the first months of 1921 in Turkey and met with Mustafa Kemal after being elected to the President of the Assembly. Lastly, French journalist Berthe-Gaulis interviewed Mustafa Kemal in Ankara in April 1921 (According to her surname I presume that she is of Celtic origin like your ancestors!).

It is correct that Mustafa Kemal Pasha did not believe Mustafa Sagir's promise to help millions of pounds. It's also in our records that Sagir was tailed and watched. The British agent Greek barber Yorgi who infiltrated the general staff headquarters under the Turkish name is also real. However, I could not come across the issue of Sagir becoming closer to the train station manager of Ankara. The Crusader conference, open to the press, held in İstanbul is not found in our records either.

Greetings, respects ...

Önder Üsküplü.”

Soon, Hasan Algan rings the bell. He is sorry that he is late. He goes straight to the lounge and confiscates my open laptop…

***

Final decision.

April 1921. Ankara.

Sagir continued to visit mosques, bazaars and coffeehouses for Turkish-Indian Association's activities. He also visited the school of the male teachers where the MP’s stayed and the Jewish quarter. Even the smallest piece of information could work. He performed the Friday prayer together with the congregation at the Namazgah Hill. He learned that people of Ankara collectively prayed there when their soldiers went to war, on holidays and on sunny Fridays and sometimes did their prayer for rain.

He had kept in mind the encrypted telegram to initiate the action: “... weeks ago, I demanded a list of required materials for publishing an Urdu language newspaper. ... typesetter would come from India. Their travel times would be ... days. I still haven't heard of it.”

The first number in the text was the month, and it seemed obvious: Five.

The next number would show the day. It was deemed also to be certain: Two.

The subsequent number would be the train departure time. It wasn't clear yet.

Everything was going well. But the night before the day of departure to Eskişehir, he was very worried when he solved the cipher note in the tree hollow: “They suspect you, you're being tailed. Be very careful. Ramiz.”

He got out of bed, approached the window, opening the curtain slightly watched the street. Nobody was there. He should pay more attention to the opposite and side houses. They could also enter the house. He looked around carefully, checked his books. There should be no written note. The invisible ink was also in its place he had hidden outside. He put one pin to each window ledge. He attached a pin to his jacket lapel to do the same to the door as they left. He placed it too without being noticed by the Sailor.

They departed at eight in the morning. After the five-minute break at Etimesgut and Sincan stations they went on. This train was slower than the train from İstanbul to Sofia. Probably the locomotives were older. As the steam performance of the wood was low, they had difficulty even on light slopes. They reached Polatlı in three hours. After a break of half an hour they moved. They came to the Alpu station through the wheat fields, which constitute exemplary landscapes of the Central Anatolian plateau. It was five hours away from Polatlı. Another break of half an hour there too. The ride from Alpu to Eskişehir lasted two hours. Alpu vicinities could be appropriate for the action. Mustafa Kemal's train was faster. Seven or eight hours after departure, his train could reach these areas.

When they arrived in Eskişehir it was getting dark. At the station gate, two soldiers with rifles hanging over their shoulders passed by. Sagir and Mehmet Ali went to a hotel in Odunpazarı. The next day, they looked for those whose addresses were given. First, they found Mr. Osman, a MM member, forty or forty-five years old, a teacher. He accepted the proposed job as Sagir told the objectives of the Turkish-Indian Association. He knew Mr. Musa, the other MM member. He ran a bakery near French School. The following day he agreed too. It wasn't hard to find a proper shop in the city center these days. Although second Greek attack on Eskişehir failed, people were demoralized. The majority claimed that the Greeks would come again. Some of them had sent his family to Ankara. Sagir commented that the Turkish-Indian Association will help to lift people's spirit. The support of Muslims, thousands of miles away, would reach them. They started wandering around the bazaar. They saw the office of the Yeni Dünya newspaper closed three months ago. When the newspaper defended communism relying on Ethem the Circassian, it was moved to Ankara by Mustafa Kemal's order. It was suitable for the Turkish-Indian Association. They would find the owner and talk.

On the last evening, they were invited to dinner at the house of Abdullah Azmi Efendi, an Eskişehir deputy and a respected cleric. He had important duties in the Defense of Law Society. He was among the clergymen who supported Mustafa Kemal Pasha and the Anatolian Movement. He reminded of the fatwa of Sheikh al-Islam, declaring that the nationalist forces as infidels and that their massacre was necessary. That fatwa was written under British pressure; he criticized the making Islam religion a present to Christians. Later, the Ankara Fatwa of Mehmet Rıfat Efendi, the Mufti of Ankara was published. It was signed by one hundred and fifty-three muftis. The sultan's fatwa was opposed. From the sharia point of view, Islamic people struggling and fighting to cleanse the countries whose legitimate rights and caliphate were usurped from the enemy were not regarded as bandits.

On his way back, Sagir felt that so long as he knew Turkish people he started sympathizing with them. He thought about the reasons for his effort against these people. But his loyalty oath to British, swearing on Qur'an, came to mind. He made a living from English, owed them his life and everything. He had to remove emotions from his job.

***

The search.

April 1921. Ankara.

While Mustafa Sagir and Mehmet Ali were in Eskişehir, Hüseyin and Hamza, the locksmith, went to Sagir's house in Karaoğlan quarter at night. According to Mehmet Ali's meticulous notes, they had moved this house on 30 March. The one-story wooden house was in a garden. They opened the door with the key they duplicated and entered, closed all the curtains of the hall so that no light would leak out. They searched the sofa, three rooms, the kitchen and the toilet. The bed, pillows, quilt, bedstead, bedside table were clean. The clothes and liners in the wardrobe, the inside and heels of the shoes, the turban and the shaving materials were normal. The toilet cupboard had only oxygenated water, a few brushes, a bottle of ammonia and some medicines. There were some books, an English chess book, pencils, a blank notepad on the table. They also searched the bottom of bed and the closet, checked the floorboards one by one. All was in order. They even looked into the curtains. There was no remarkable situation in the garden. Everything was clean. No problem. They closed the outside door quietly and went to Hamza's house.

Hüseyin wasn't sure though. He would keep on tailing the Indian. There were reports that some Turks became British agents. Obviously, most of them were baseless allegations engineered to overwhelm MM and divert its attention away. As soon as the course was over, he would task the best of the trainees to tail Sagir.

The next day, as they agreed, he met Lieutenant Pavel in the disguise of a peasant in a coffeehouse in the bazaar. The Bolshevik Russians who entered the economic crisis were forced to sign a trade agreement with the British. Unfortunately, it was agreed that the Soviet support for anti-British movements would be cut off. They reduced their contacts to every two weeks. According to information from their elements in İstanbul, British spies in Ankara and the surrounding area were multiplying. The Turks were among them too. Others could also speak Turkish very well. Assassinations of Mustafa Kemal Pasha and other commanders could have been engineered in Ankara. The Russians were after two of them, the MM would have their identities and addresses in the coming days to catch them in the act.

Hüseyin evaluated the situation with Lt. Colonel Hüsamettin at the headquarters. The Russians could be right. Even those who were close to Mustafa Kemal had to be suspected. Muhittin Pasha, the commander of Kastamonu and Bolu Area, was also concerned about the assassinations. They heard that Şerif Mecdi Pasha, who received a monthly salary of one hundred gold liras from the sultan, had set up an assassination team. Muhittin Pasha investigated. They were informed that Ethem the Circassian would also send three men to Anatolia to kill Mustafa Kemal. They knew that together with Ethem the Circassian, Kuşçubaşı Eşref had been in the service of the Greeks for three months. There were reports that they cooperated with Greek and Armenian groups and they made several attempts on the Lesvos island. The MM must be very careful.

***

Big day.

April 1921. Ankara.

Sagir and Mehmet Ali returned to Ankara. They had slept somehow on the train. After having tripe soup for dinner at the bazaar, they went home without much delay. Sagir searched for the pin he had placed before opening the door. It was gone. His doubts increased. Mehmet Ali seemed perfectly comfortable. Sagir checked the surroundings on the sly. The direction of the slippers he left on the sofa changed. The curtain of the small window above the door was closed. He was sure he had left it open as usual. Sagir would signal his men by keeping the curtain above the door closed when there was a problem.

Obviously, someone had broken into the house. He smiled at Mehmet Ali without any reaction, went into his room, lit the kerosene lamp. The needle he had placed in the window ledge was in place. But his book on the bedside table was upside down. There were some traces on his desk that he hadn't clean up. His shoes in the wardrobe were more inward position than usual. He shivered. Was he going to re-experience prison days in Kabul?

He went to the bathroom. The place of the ammonia bottle in the closet changed. The pitcher was in a different place. He came into the living room. Mehmet Ali had prepared his tea. As he went to his room and fell asleep after some conversation, Sagir waited for about ten minutes. Then he went out quietly. He checked the tree hollow. There was an encrypted note as he expected. He decoded and read. “The message of the barber is true. The departure is approximately eleven on Monday evening, May 2. Salim in the first car, guards in the second. The two traders we expected came yesterday.”

Experienced Indian agent quickly thought. Mustafa Kemal's departure time to Eskişehir became clear. When the Greek locomotive driver was given a lot of money, the first information was confirmed. Two Black Jumbo agents were added to his team. They would be useful if the train operation failed. He immediately encoded the telegram in his mind and left it in the tree hollow. “Send this telegram to Cavit immediately: ‘Five weeks ago, I demanded a list of required materials for issuing an Urdu language newspaper. Two typesetter would come from India. Their travel times would be twenty-three days. I still haven't heard of it. Sagir.’”

On his way home, he remembered the invisible inkwell he had hidden in the garden wall. He looked at the stone in the darkness. It hadn't move. He quietly pulled out the stone. The inkwell was in place. It was the most important evidence against him. The intruders could not find it. If the British couldn't get a result with the train operation, the Indian agent would focus more on the poisoning of Pasha. In case the poisoning would not work; he would use two incoming agents. The result had to be accomplished in any case. Time was running out. But he should be calm, no need to panic. The intruders couldn't find anything. He would just await the big day to come.

***

The Turning Point.

May 1921. Ankara.

Fake document expert Bekir came to Ankara from İstanbul the previous week. Hüseyin was very pleased. Hayrettin had fulfilled his request without delay. He had also sent a wooden suitcase full of materials with the young person whom he personally trained. Bekir had also brought a 1915 Swiss-made Hermes typewriter, a small paper-cutting machine, black, blue and red inks. The young man had left his high school education to participate in the Gallipoli war. Hayrettin had recognized his talents and taken Bekir into his service. Even though he did not speak a foreign language, he was not bad at producing fake documents. The type and size of the papers were appropriate to the originals. He was able to make copies of seals and stamps in a short time with the help of a magnifying mirror. He could duplicate by looking at the documents of the İstanbul Government and the Allies. It didn't matter if it was handwritten or typed. To distinguish the English, French, German and Italian texts he wrote with the typewriter from original ones was very difficult. The identity and permission documents he prepared seemed flawless.

It was very important to issue fake documents, but the MM could not find a study room suitable for Bekir. Hüseyin had taken him into his room. Bekir should work at the same desk when Hüseyin did not use it. At night, he slept on the chairs putting together and covering a blanket.

Their buildings in Etlik were insufficient. It was also difficult to find accommodation and working rooms for those who came for training and for the former Special Organization members and military personnel joining them. The same problem was valid for the members coming from Anatolia to Ankara. The auxiliary staff supporting the headquarters had also become inadequate. They couldn't find time to rest.

As vice chief, Hüseyin had to solve these problems…

The missions increased too. The monitoring of visitors to Ankara in the last two months was of great importance. The hotel owners immediately informed the new arrivals to the governor's office and from there to the MM. Most of the new arrivals were registered under a false name. They all had different identity papers. Very few were photographed. It was hard to tail each of them with an element. Sometimes the same element was responsible two or three people.

Lt. Colonel Hüsamettin started to establish ‘the Organization’ three months ago and could only achieve this much. Hüseyin had been doing this duty for five weeks. Unfortunately, they could not perform an effective operation so far. In the corridors of the parliament and in the office of the governor, the MM started to be criticized. The lt. colonel could only receive support from Fevzi Pasha. Larger working environment, stronger financial support, more hardware needed. Pasha was not so easy to reach. As the deputy speaker of the parliament, the prime minister and the national defense minister, he tried to do his best day and night.

Hüseyin paused to work as a knock sounded on the door; he called out “Enter!” It was the messenger. The lt. colonel was waiting for him immediately. Telling Bekir to wait he stood up and went to the hall. Hüsamettin's door was open. The chief was on the phone. With his hand he pointed to the door, gestured with free hand to close and sit on the chair opposite him. He was listening to the other end of the phone with his eyes wide open. “I can't believe it...” he exclaimed and continued to listen. Frowning, clenched fists, he said “Understood colonel,” and placed the phone on its cradle strongly.

“Bad news, sir?”

“Not bad, very bad Hüseyin.” He reached into his pocket for the cigarette pack. As he couldn't find his match, the major held out his match. His hands were trembling, he lit a cigarette and took a big puff. He was able to speak as he blew his smoke. “They called from the general staff headquarters. Mustafa Kemal Pasha's train was attacked!”

“What did you say?”

“They raided the train with bombs and machine guns from aircrafts in west of Alpu.”

“Whose aircrafts? The Greeks?”

“They don't know, but may be British aircrafts. They quickly flied away to İnegöl direction.”

“How is the Pasha?”

“Wounded. He was unconscious. Doctor Refik, who was next to Pasha on the train, rendered first aid and then they brought him to Eskişehir. They took him to the surgery room. Pasha lost a lot of blood, but they stopped the bleeding on the way. He had serious injuries to his head and his body.”

Hüseyin froze. How could this have happened? Launching an air attack on a train was organized first time. But how did they hear about this trip?

Of course from their spies in Ankara...

Straightening his back the lt. colonel explained with angry gestures. İsmet Pasha had sent a team to Alpu to help the other wounded and to open the railway. As Eskişehir was not suitable for treatment, he had a train for evacuation to Ankara prepared urgently and tasked another escort doctor. Only Fevzi Pasha knew about the incident. Mustafa Kemal was secretly brought to Ankara and hospitalized.

Hüseyin could not think of what to do in this unexpected situation. With questioning eye, he stared at the lt. colonel. “Keep this between us for now, Hüseyin. We're in a very delicate situation. They called me to the general staff headquarters for an urgent meeting. Everybody should do their daily work here. We'll see what we can do when I get back.”

***

News Quotes from European news agencies, dated May 14, 1921:

Nationalists in Turkey are in shock...

The leader of the nationalists in Ankara, Mustafa Kemal Pasha, survived the air raid on his train. However, it is believed that he was injured and became functionless. New management of nationalists is being established. Meanwhile, it is wondered how the Greek Army, the invading Allies and the Russians would react.

***

The Nemesis is successful.

May 1921. Constantinople.

Vartan Saatçıyan and the activists of Operation Nemesis dressed as a Turkish gendarmerie came to Trabzon on April 30. They had to leave their young friends, who was shot in the head during the clash in Erzurum. On the night of May 2, they boarded the British destroyer F21 in Trabzon and arrived in Constantinople four days later. The destroyer had bombarded the pier and town of İnebolu all day long and gave the necessary intimidation. They also watched it with pleasure.

One day after resting, Vartan went to the Anadolu Kavağı. He reported to British Captain Bennett. The Black Jumbo agent in Trabzon had worked very well. With his help, they had carried out the raid. The depots of the nationalist forces were heavily damaged. The captain confirmed this with a piece of information they had received earlier. However, the assassination of Karabekir Pasha in Erzurum was not deemed to a success. Vartan went on. One of his friends was dead. They had learned in Trabzon that Pasha survived. Bennett corrected him again. The young Nemesis militant was not dead; besides, he couldn't use the poison in his amulet. They probably got him tortured and then killed. But he would speak to Navy Captain Nelson to reward all of them, including the young Armenian who had died. Nevertheless, the ambassador and the general were pleased with the results.

That evening Vartan went to his aunt's home. It had been a long time since he visited these beautiful people. They insisted that he spent the night there. He had long conversations with his doctor uncle Ara Kamburyan who examined his paralyzed arm. His great cousin Kirkor had graduated from the faculty and became a dentist. He opened a small dental clinic next to that of his father. His younger cousin Movses had graduated from high school and began studying at the engineering faculty.

A letter had come from his younger brother Hagop in America. He read it right away. Hagop and a few of his friends sailed first to Marseille and then to New York aboard another ship. Their journey took 17 days, they slept on multi-story beds, ate pasta every day. As they arrived in New York, they got health checks on Elis Island, where the monument of liberty was located. A few people were sent back. Hagop left his address at the immigration office in New York. Earning a weekly wage of 15 dollars, he started working as a pita maker for 12 hours a day. Now he opened his own Armenian pita shop, selling baklava too. He was fine. They organized concerts and theaters every month and sent the collected money to the Armenian organizations in Anatolia. He became a member of the New York Gregorian Church. He was going to engage to an Armenian girl. He sent his current address, waiting for his elder brother. Vartan smiled at her aunt who looked at himself curiously then he explained “I can't go before I'm done here.”

Hagop added an article he had cut from an Armenian newspaper published in New York. It was about the killing of Talat Pasha in Germany. German authorities were concerned that their responsibilities in the Armenian massacres would become evident during the trial. The German government therefore imposed a ban on publication. The article added that it was believed that the British had supported the assassination. The wife of an Indian rich man killed by his driver had made a statement. “The British had my husband killed because he had possessed important secrets such as the award given by the British Embassy to the committee that murdered Talat Pasha and some others like this.” The article argued that such events were expected to go on. There were some evidences too. The Dashnak Organization had previously killed Hemayag Aramyan, Migirdic Harotunyan and Vahe Ihsan Yesayan in Constantinople. Because the Dashnak had determined them to be the collaborators of the Armenian massacre. Finally, it was emphasized that it was a success that European public opinion started to be influenced by the films and theater plays that depict the Armenian genocide.

***

The Brits are pleased.

May 1921. Constantinople.

In the evening of April 30, Nelson received the telegram Sagir had sent to Constantinople. He and Captain Bennett determined on the map the location of the air raid on the Mustafa Kemal's train. It was roughly east of Eskişehir. The operation would begin in the morning of 3 May. British aircrafts' trainings deployed in İnegöl airfield on May 2 were directed to reconnoiter this region. Greek aircrafts were given the task of monitoring Turkish aircrafts. Black Jumbo agent sent from Bursa to Eskişehir would wait in the train station building and report the results of the operation. Nelson himself had given General Harington and Ambassador Rumbold the latest information about their top secret operation. If they couldn't get result, the two Black Jumbo agent sent to Ankara would begin the action under Sagir.

By noon on the action day, the expected news came through a phone call to Captain Bennett, who was waiting in Yeşilköy airfield. Air strikes were successful. After the attack the aircrafts landed at İnegöl airfield and refueled with the support of the Greeks and arrived safely at Yeşilköy airfield. They told the Greeks that they were training. Three pilots and three co-pilots gave their reports at the debriefing. At eight thirty in the morning, they had attacked the train consisted of a locomotive and two wagons. The first aircraft bombed the locomotive. That caused it to derail immediately and the train toppled down all together in seconds. Meanwhile, the second aircraft attacked the first wagon, the last aircraft attacked the last wagon. In the second round, other bombs were used and in the third round, all remaining bombs were dropped. To increase the fragmentation of the bombs, nail-filled bags were wrapped around them. They had tried this technique on the Egyptian Front and observed that the losses were increased. After the fourth round, machine guns’ attacks were carried out on those who tried to escape from the train. Some guards on the ground tried to respond with rifles but failed to hit. When their bombs and bullets ran out, the aircrafts returned using the same flight path over the mountains.

In the evening, the second message was transmitted to Nelson with an encrypted telegram. The Black Jumbo agent disguised as a peddler at the Eskişehir train station reported: “Our patient lives, we sent him to Ankara for treatment.” Nelson knows that ‘The patient’ was the codename of Mustafa Kemal Pasha. The ambassador, the general and Nelson spent 4 May awaiting further information from Ankara. On the evening of May 6, the encrypted telegram was in front of them: “Our patient was paralyzed.”

The ambassador stood up, “I congratulate you and your friends wholeheartedly. Mustafa Kemal was not dead but paralyzed. That's enough anyway, he will become functionless until we are done,” said to Nelson. The general supported: “You have contributed to us at least equivalent to two divisions, congratulations, Nelson.”

The ambassador reminded of the next moves. London's instruction was clear. The second installment of the so-called aid from Indian Muslims was paid to the government in Ankara, and at the same time the Greeks would be helped to accelerate military action. The general asked, “What do you think about Mustafa Sagir, Nelson?”

“Sagir did good job in Ankara. We can work it out a bit more, or we can make an excuse and get him out of there. I have not decided yet. They suspect and watch him. He and we know that. But I need to watch the leadership struggle among the Turks. Maybe we can get their military plans too.”

“I think he can stay a little longer. It would help the Greeks if we get those plans.” The general looked at the ambassador as if to ask what he thought. Rumbold took a sip of his drink and thought a while. “I agree as well. But you can make a preparation to smuggle Sagir quickly from Ankara. If he gets caught and talks, we can be challenged internationally too hard.”

Nelson nodded in understanding. The ambassador proceeded. “Our minister of foreign affairs demanded that the Turks to be finished as soon as possible. He stresses that he will put in front of them all the items of the treaties they have rejected, one by one.”

“We have heard that the Russians are also making a move, Mr. Ambassador.”

“I was going to ask that, you preempted me General.”

“I have officers and intelligence elements working in the pro-tsarist troops, they monitor the developments in Moscow, Baku and Batumi. I think I can get some information soon.”

“Yes. As you know, the Russians signed an economic cooperation agreement with us and they would not support the Turks in return. But they still support clandestinely. We know that. They have tried everything they can to bring communism to Turkey. We will prevent this.”

Harington suggested, “In the meantime, I think we can reconsider Ferit Pasha the Groom as Prime Minister. I have friends who are still in touch with him. I can send up a trial balloon, sir, if you like.”

With a thumb-up sign, the ambassador supported, “Good idea, thank you. If he accepts, I will also talk to the Sultan carefully and prudently.”

***

Find the spy!

May 1921. Ankara.

Hüseyin had excitedly waited for Lt. Colonel Hüsamettin's return to Etlik after the meeting held in the general staff headquarters. The air raid on the Mustafa Kemal Pasha's train was shocking. Those who thought and realized this action should be the devil's team on earth. They were successful anyway. To tell the truth, the nationalist forces have failed in counter-intelligence. Everyone knew the presence of agents of the British and other invaders in Ankara. But none of them were caught. After working for about a year, the ‘Karakol’ was smashed by the British. Its successors were also dispersed by the British in a short time. As for the MM, it had a three-month background only.

The Russians, who were after two British agents, slowed down too.

“Here we are now.”

It was supposed to look into the future. Without delay. This great blow would harm the national struggle too much. This development was not announced to the others. Everyone maintained their daily work.

When the lt. colonel returned things became clear. According to Doctor Tevfik Rüştü, there were bleeding in some areas as a result of rupture of the vessels feeding the brain. This was a brain damage. On the right side there were effects such as loss of movement, inability to speak, and change of face shape. He had a stroke. Loss of consciousness, movement disorders, visual disturbances and sensory disorders could also occur. İsmet Pasha had nominated Colonel Selahattin, the second senior officer, to deputize for him and come to Ankara with Mustafa Kemal. İsmet and Fevzi Pashas were in the headquarters in Kalaba. But this situation shouldn’t be kept secret any longer. Mustafa Kemal did not seem to be able to return to office soon. In his absence, Fevzi Pasha would be deputized for him as the deputy speaker of the assembly and as the prime minister. But what to do in case of a long-term illness was not specified in the constitution adopted three months ago.

Doctor Tevfik Rüştü suggested the transfer of Pasha to Germany. The trip through Russia was dangerous. The roads were still not safe because of the civil war. With a ship from Antalya to Italy first, and then to Germany by train was more convenient to transport. Celalettin Arif, who was appointed as the ambassador in Rome, would be requested help. The doctor and Pasha's aide would accompany him. The government's official declaration should be waited.

The general staff intelligence division evaluated the attack on Mustafa Kemal Pasha and the related developments before that. On 10 April, the New Crusade Conference was held in İstanbul and a start sign was given for the implementation of the Sevres Agreement. Then a sabotage was carried out in the military depot in Trabzon port. On 24 April, a failed assassination attempt against Karabekir Pasha took place in Erzurum. One of the attackers was seriously wounded and captured. It was understood that the British played a crucial role in the behind-the-scenes and Armenian agents were their puppets. Possible developments were also listed. After the restart of the internal rebellions in Anatolia, the Greeks' attack was expected.

The task given to the MM was clear. Frowning, the lt. colonel repeated the order he had received: “Find the leaker!”

They would mobilize all the staff in Ankara. They were going to postpone their work. The first question was: When did Mustafa Kemal Pasha decide this trip? Who knew he was going to Eskişehir by train on the night of May 2nd? The raid of the enemy aircrafts on the train had to be certainly prepared for days in advance. First of all, Mustafa Kemal Pasha’s close men in the general staff headquarters and in the parliament would be questioned. All personnel of the Ankara train station were the next ones. The Greek locomotive driver and the Armenian fireman were suspects too, but both were killed by bombs thrown into the locomotive. Their houses and belongings were to be searched immediately and their families would be detained. The dead, wounded and survivors on the train were to be investigated too. There were a lot of work and the time was short.

They also spoke about the next target of the spies in Ankara. The speaker of the parliament and the commanders could be the next assassination targets. The spies were also investigating the plans, strength, support and weaknesses of the army.

On May 6, the presidency of the assembly made a brief statement to the Anadolu Agency. Mustafa Kemal survived the attack on the train, he would be treated for a while; in the meantime, the new speaker of the parliament was going to be elected.

The interior ministry started investigations the same day. The MM intelligence branch assigned one person each to the investigations. Mustafa Kemal's two aides and two private secretaries and doctors were firstly interrogated. They didn't tell anyone about it including their families. Doctor Refik had learned from the private secretary that he was in the group to go to Eskişehir. He had performed first aid to Pasha after the raid on the train. But he remembered an important detail. While shaving, he had blurted out that the move to Eskişehir would be five days later and that he would attend too. So, the barber was immediately interrogated. As always, he chatted with his client. But he didn't remember hearing anything about the train. Meanwhile, an official searched the barber's belongings. The pressure of the interrogators increased when several keys were found among the barbers' tools. It was found out that the keys opened the doors of the study rooms of Mustafa Kemal Pasha and Fevzi Pasha. The barber was lying. He was arrested and confined to a cell, but was found dead in his cell the next morning. He was poisoned. That the spy network could also reach to prison caused much concern. But later it turned out that he used poison in his amulet hanging around his neck. He probably knew that he would be tortured and executed. So, a clue was found. The amulet was given Black Jumbo agents in advance for suicide.

The investigation expanded. The shop owners selling barber supplies and the locksmiths in the bazaar began to be questioned. The train station manager and his subordinates were also questioned. The manager was informed about the move to Eskişehir three days before the departure and told only the Greek locomotive driver for preparation. They always did this for storing the wood and water the locomotive needed and for cleaning and preparing the wagons. The manager swore on the Koran. No one else knew. No evidence of any crime was found during searches of his office and home. The locomotive driver was killed in the attack and could not be questioned. However, six hundred pounds hidden in his bed was found during the search of his home. The manager was immediately arrested.

The inquiries in the parliament were completed without any problem.

Who was behind the barber and the locomotive driver?

The day the station manager was arrested, Lt. Mehmet Ali reported interesting news. Sagir knew that the house had been searched. But he didn't reveal to Mehmet Ali. He furtively went out at the previous midnight and came back ten minutes later. But the lieutenant pretended to sleep. After putting his pillow in bed and pulling up the quilt, he followed Sagir quietly. The Indian stayed shortly by a nearby tree, then returned home. He went to bed unaware of being watched. Mehmet Ali checked the tree but could not find anything. Those assigned to watch Sagir had been assigned to other tasks. Now he had to be watched again. On May 6 they could only appoint one element.

Mustafa Kemal's paralysis was confirmed. He had to be treated abroad. Dr. Tevfik Rüştü considered Germany. He had heard of Professor Fedor Krause, founder of nerve surgery in Germany. When Fevzi Pasha found it appropriate, he called his doctor friends in Germany and requested their help. The approval was granted for necessary preparations including to take Pasha's German-speaking relative Mrs. Fikriye to accompany him. One of the aides would go with them too.

They would continue to struggle. The most senior of the soldiers was Fevzi Pasha. Karabekir Pasha successfully commanded the eastern front even after being wounded, and he was good with the Bolsheviks. İsmet Pasha was the commander of the western front. He was the best fighter against the Greeks. Refet Pasha, the commander of the southern front, was coming to Ankara. He had failed in the last campaign. The southern and western fronts would be united and attached to İsmet Pasha. Mr. Nazım was a prominent name among the civilians as a candidate for leading the struggle. He belonged to the left political opposition camp. His relations with Enver Pasha and Ethem the Circassian were not forgotten. In the previous year's interior minister election, he had defeated Mustafa Kemal's candidate Mr. Refet by more than thirty votes.

Karabekir Pasha proposed that Fevzi Pasha, the most senior, would take over the interim administration. İsmet Pasha supported Karabekir Pasha. The parliament would make the final decision.

***

The fugitive.

May 1921. Ankara.

When Sagir returned to Ankara on the evening of April 29th, he encountered an unpleasant incident. Someone or some people who took advantage of their five-day stay in Eskişehir had entered the house and searched everywhere. The good news was they were not able to find the invisible inkwell that could be evidence against him. The next day, he had sent an encrypted telegram to start the action to Mustafa Kemal's train. It was a good coincidence that on the afternoon of May 2, the day of departure, he gave an English lesson to the train station manager's son in the adjacent room to his office. Security measures and the excitement of employees seemed to confirm the information they received. Pasha was going to Eskişehir that evening or that night. Sagir maintained his usual work on May 3, the day of the attack. He didn't show his emotion. He did not stay long in the association, wandered in the bazaar, came to the parliament in the evening. There was no extraordinary situation. The day of May 4th seemed to never end. But in the evening, while drinking tea in the train station manager's room, the whole station was evacuated after a piece of news. Sagir moved away from the station to avoid attracting attention to himself. But obviously a critical situation was taking place. On the way to Karaoğlan Square, security measures were taken too.

Sagir was summoned to the parliament on May 5. The second installment, 400.000 gold pounds, sent from India through the Ottoman Bank, had been transferred into the national account. Minister of Finance Hakkı Behiç made a speech in praise of the representative of Indian Caliphate Committee in the special session. Things seemed to be getting better. Sagir was at lunch with the MPs. Two deputies sitting at the table next to him were talking about that Mustafa Kemal was brought to Ankara and he was wounded. The experienced Indian intelligence officer knew that not all MPs supported Pasha. Trying to hide his curiosity and apologizing he said that he overheard and wondered what was going on. The information given in a low voice was surprising: “Unfortunately, Mustafa Kemal's situation is very serious, Your Holiness.”

“God forbid! I hope nothing's wrong, how did it happen?”

“His train was sabotaged. He was paralyzed, but his treatment is ongoing.”

“While there is life, there is hope, Mr. Deputy. I hope he will recover soon.”

After leaving the parliament Sagir went to Taşhan. Mr. Lütfü, the train station manager did not come. He waited for about half an hour. Probably he had an emergency work. Sagir then walked to the association office. Life was going on. Mehmet Ali was absent. Although he thought of going to Murat Efendi's shop, he gave up. Because, he personally requested not to meet face to face. These days, they would be very cautious. He closed the association office. He hailed the first phaeton and went home. Mehmet Ali came later. He had also heard some rumors. He had gone to the general staff headquarters. He could only learn that Mustafa Kemal Pasha's train was sabotaged. He didn't know when and how. Sagir kept to himself what he had heard in the parliament.

As usual, they ate dinner, drank tea. They talked about Cappadocia, where the first Christians hid in underground caves and galleries. After Mehmet Ali slept, Sagir went out, checked the tree hole. It was empty. He left his text message. “Send this telegram to Nelson: Our patient is paralyzed. Treatment is in progress.”

When the Indian agent could not see the train station manager during the Friday prayer at the Haji Bayram Mosque the next day, he became quite curious. He checked the tree hole that night. It was empty again. He kept the curtain above the door open implying no problem. But they didn't talk about how to leave a message if his men had a problem. There was something strange going on. He had the feeling that he was watched frequently that day, but could not see the watcher.

His unrest continued on Saturday. He went to the train station with a phaeton. He got a bad news: The manager was arrested! The officials did not know the reason. As Sagir suddenly felt his pulse rise, his head dizzy, they immediately brought water. After some rest they found a phaeton for the Muslim Efendi. There was no time to lose. He went straight to Murat Efendi's shop. Murat was very surprised. They moved to the warehouse in the back. Sagir said he had come personally, simply because there was no time for a message exchange. He wanted to know the latest news. Murat told excitedly. Barber Yorgi was also arrested. He hadn't come at the weekend. He would never do that. Murat had sent Şükrü to the governor office and found out the situation. These developments were very dangerous. Sagir commented three of them could also be the next. He made up his mind at once.

“Murat, send a telegram to Ramiz immediately. Tell encrypting that I'm leaving. I must escape to İstanbul tonight. I can't stay in that house anymore. Now I'm going to pack my stuff and change my clothes. When darkness falls, have someone take me from the ruins of the Roman Baths. You know where it is, don't you?”

The herbalist became pale and replied stutteringly. “Yes. It is on the street extending from Karaoğlan Square to the west.”

“Good. Be very careful both of you. If you are being watched, leave Ankara immediately. Try not to get caught. Remember that you can use your amulets. If there is no problem, keep on working here. Let the new agents maintain their work too and wait for instructions on what to do. May God be with you.”

Sagir went out of the store. He started walking in the opposite direction to make sure he wasn't being watched, then suddenly turned back. No one attracted his attention. He went to the nearby Ottoman Bank branch. He was going to need a lot of money on the way. He took two thousand Ottoman banknotes from his account in hundreds, fifties and twenty, put them in the inner pockets of his vest. He could take the rest of the money in İstanbul. After walking a while, he hailed the first phaeton he came across. Ten minutes later he was home. He immediately shaved his beard. Only his mustache was left. He removed his turban and black tabard, wore his trousers, shirt and cloak. He cleaned the color of his hair, mustache and eyebrows with cologne. He drank plenty of water. He wore his eyeglasses, put some food consisting bread, cheese, olives, halva in a small bag. Half-opening the curtain he checked outside. He couldn't see anyone. Still, he should be cautious. He quietly sprang over the backyard wall and stepped on the side street, started walking to the ruins with ordinary paces.

***

Let's not demoralize.

May 1921. Ankara.

On 6 May, two MM elements began to watch Sagir on a 24 hour a day basis. Saturday morning, May 7, the watchman on duty followed the Indian until he left the train station, but lost his track because he could not find a phaeton. Fifteen minutes later, he went to the association office with the first phaeton he could find but Sagir was not there. He immediately rushed to his house and began uneasy to watch the house.

Something was going wrong…

About an hour later, the watchman saw Lt. Mehmet Ali approaching the house and invited him to the back street. After discussing the situation, the lieutenant entered the house and five minutes later went out excitedly. They went to the back street again and discussed. Sagir's turban and black tabard were thrown onto his bed. He would never do that because he was very tidy. There was no cloak, no pants, no shirt in his closet. Only empty hangers were left there. The lieutenant had also checked the kitchen cabinet. The food, such as cheese, olives, halvah he bought the previous evening were not in place. Mehmet Ali told the element to keep on watching and immediately went to the association office. The Indian was not there. He came back home. The one at home, the other on the corner of the street, they waited until dusk. They also looked at the tree hollow that Sagir used for communication and they found nothing.

The situation became clear. The bird had flown!

As the watchman continued to spy on the house, the lieutenant went to the street and hailed the first phaeton. Half an hour later, he was in Major Yusuf’s room. He explained the situation. The hard reality was obvious. One of those who tried to assassinate Mustafa Kemal Pasha was this impostor disguised as hodja! The suspicions raised by Pasha seven weeks before were confirmed. This man was a British agent. He had cheated on everyone.

Sunday morning money cash withdrawal and money transfer transaction at the Ottoman Bank were also discovered. This guy had acted quickly. He knew he was being watched. He escaped right after he learned that the train station manager and the barber had been arrested. The Satan should now be on his way to İstanbul. All authorities of the nationalist forces were notified the Indian's appearance by a telegram. If possible, he would be caught alive and brought to Ankara.

Hüseyin was very upset. As the days passed, his sorrow turned into guilty conscience. Hüsamettin assigned him specially to watch this man. But after five or six weeks, he couldn't catch Sagir red-handed. Most importantly, he could not prevent the assassination of Mustafa Kemal. It was a disgrace to national struggle and to the MM.

Mehmet Ali was feeling faints. When he was asked a question, he gaped as if trying to remember something he had forgotten. Both ‘the Organization’ and Major Hüseyin had trusted him very much. He kept on saying he wouldn't forgive himself. He often spoke to Mustafa Kemal Pasha in his dreams. He gave him an account of happenings defending himself and his friends.

Lt. Col. Hüsamettin tried not to show his subordinates that he was in deep sorrow. Fevzi Pasha did not give him an appointment despite many requests. He had only received the written instruction of the general staff headquarters: “First, find the other spies in Ankara and İstanbul. Watch how the assassination is considered among the public.” The MM was trying to find a trail of spies in hotels, inns, coffeehouses in Ankara, İstanbul and Anatolia. Meanwhile, a piece of news from İstanbul relieved the souls a bit. Sagir's assistant Cavit, being watched more closely, was seen entering a British company. Hayrettin kidnapped him and questioned about his contact with the British. His house and his office were going to be secretly searched. The result would be reported.

Mustafa Kemal Pasha's absence upset most of the people. His return time was a subject of curiosity. On the other hand, a minority group expressed their pleasure or secretly rejoiced. The same situation was seen in the parliament too. The pro-sultanate and pro-caliphate deputies, those who opposed Mustafa Kemal Pasha, those who want to revive the Union and Progress began to become a problem. The rumors about Fevzi Pasha were spreading. He was one of those whose rank had been downgraded during the Enver's liquidation of the army, mainly because they had not look favorably on the Party of Union and Progress. Initially, Fevzi Pasha had not trust nationalist forces and Mustafa Kemal. Had Ali Fuat Pasha not convinced Mustafa Kemal, Fevzi could not join Ankara. Some had thought of bring Fevzi Pasha to power, fearing that Mustafa Kemal Pasha would be a dictator. He had refused.

The parliament voted on May 12th. Two-thirds majority accepted that Fevzi Pasha would, with full authority, deputize until Mustafa Kemal recovered. A third of the deputies suggested that Mustafa Kemal's recovery would take a long time, and Enver Pasha would be called to Ankara to take over the struggle. But, they could not pass this motion in the parliament.

On 13 May, Fevzi Pasha received an encrypted telegram. Mustafa Kemal and his companions had sailed from Antalya to Italy on board an Italian ship.

***

We didn't forget 1453.

May 18, 1921. Smyrna.

Scottish journalist Scott Wallace was approaching the headquarters of the Greek commander-in-chief in Smyrna. He looked at his watch. There was still fifteen minutes until his appointment. He sat on a bench at the seashore, inhaled the smell of iodine from the sea. He had witnessed important events. He had been in Ankara two months ago. He had interviewed Mustafa Kemal and could make the news and comment he longed for. In his article published in Europe he stated that the trust in the UK, which desired to solve the Eastern Problem, has decreased and the trust in Ankara has increased. In those days, the New Crusade Conference had been held in Constantinople. Scott had attended the conference and seen the establishment of the New Crusade Coordination Center.

He had found the love of his life in those days. A great improvement. He prepared his pipe and sucked his first smoke with pleasure. Sebottendorf and himself had gone to the German Hospital in Cihangir. The undersecretary of the Italian Embassy, Signor Grasso's wife had been treated at the hospital. They made friends with the Grasso's who had been in Constantinople for ten years. They had brought a beautiful bouquet of flowers for Signora Grasso. Scott had requested the nurse who greeted them when they entered the room to get a vase. The young girl had left the room, correcting her white headscarf and saying in English, “Sure!” The Grassos had stared at Scott with half-angry, half-laughing faces, because the girl was a doctor not a nurse and she takes care of Signora Grasso. Her name was Naciye. Scott had apologized to the young doctor who had returned with a vase. At that moment he had felt strange things in his brain and heart. He was thirty-six years old and had never had that feeling. Doctor Naciye had looked at him with smiling eyes, as if to say, “Things like that happen.” Who knows what funny eyes Scott had tried to hide behind his eyeglasses. His self-esteem had been diminished. Finally, in a low voice, he could say “I'm so sorry. And I have to redeem myself.” Doctor Naciye keeping a smile on her face had replied “Your pardon has been accepted.” Scott had not expected a Turkish girl to behave so relaxed.

A few days later, they had met at the café Kibele near the German Embassy. His eyes had been fixed on Naciye. Hazel-colored almond eyes, small and shaped nose, childish lips, pearly teeth, pink white smooth skin came together in harmony. She was taller than usual; her voice was seductive. She was brave as well as beautiful. Sometimes, she had been staring at Scott with admiring glances. This girl would be unlike any others. He desired her smiling eyes to remain always in his memory. He had demanded to photograph her, but feared of being misunderstood. This was the first spark of love. He would like to live forever with this beauty. Scott had told his own life story and Naciye had listened with interest. Her story was also interesting. She was born in İstanbul as the youngest of four sisters. His grandfather, father and mother's family was known for various services in the Ottoman Empire. She was lucky. But when she was six, she lost his father and grew up in her grandfather's mansion. She graduated from İstanbul American College for Girls. Before the European War, she began language training in Germany. There, because of the war and the lack of foreign language, she had to deal with some administrative problems, but thanks to her English, she was able to learn German in a short time. She had graduated from Heidelberg Medical Faculty with good marks. She had been working at the German Hospital for five months.

Naciye had not forgot to reciprocate; the following week, she had invited Scott for tea at the Augustine bakery in Pera, together with her best friend Hanımşah from American College for Girls. Hanımşah was also a Turkish girl from a good family and she was a teacher. The ring on her finger showed that she was engaged. She hadn't talk much. She had seemed to observe and evaluate Scott for her friend Naciye. Both were about to free themselves from the pressure of conservative circles on women.

He remembered where he was with the sounds of the seagulls. It was time for the appointment. He started to feel quite different now, smiled and headed for the nearby headquarters. He photographed Evzon guards, the ceremonial company and the band at the entrance to the headquarters of the Greek Commander-in-chief General Anastasios Papulas. He had special permission for this. His photographs to be published in Europe must be flawless. Soldiers' clothing and rifles were being checked. With red caps, wide-sleeved shirts, fancy vests, pleated skirts, tasseled socks and shoes with pompoms, the ceremonial company was waiting for his king. The band was ready for the welcome anthem. At the far right, the welcoming delegation and the tall soldier with the Greek flag stood breathless.

Soon the commander-in-chief, King Constantine's car entered the main gate among the horsemen guards before and behind him. The band started playing. After shaking the hands of the general and the welcoming committee, he greeted the ceremonial company. He nodded to Scott as he entered the building. Scott recalled his interview with Lt. General Paraskevopoulos in this building last year. “The Turks cannot stand before us. All we demand is simple, the UK would maintain its support. I hope we will have an interview in Ankara too.”

Five minutes later, Scott was taken to the office. King Constantine and General Papulas sat on the side seats. They stood up and shook the journalist's hand and gave orders to the aide. The king in Evzon uniform was in his fifties, balding, had a mustache cut in the Kaiser Wilhelm style. He looked excited and happy. At that moment, Scott was staring at a photograph on the coffee table opposite him. An Ottoman Pasha was delivering his sword. He had seen it before, but could not remember. The king noticed the guest's gaze and explained: “It shows our takeover of Ioannina from the Turks in 1913. It was taken when I was the crown prince.” There was another photo. He was shaking hands with the German Emperor Wilhelm. The king explained it too: “You know. I'm married to Wilhelm's sister.” He went on as the journalist nodded in agreement, “That's why the French hate me.” Then he burst out laughing. The general smiled politely too. The king's English was not bad. Scottish journalist joined the conversation, “I know you're very busy, Your Highness. On behalf of the New State Magazine, I extend my gratitude for your time.”

“Thanks. We can move on to questions.”

“Will the paralysis of Mustafa Kemal Pasha change your plans?”

“The Sevres Agreement will be implemented. We agreed with the British. We will seize Ankara as soon as possible. I'm here to emphasize the importance of this. I issued my order to the Greek army: Soldiers! The voice of the motherland called me to be your commander again. We're fighting for the Hellenic ideals. March on!” His eyes shone.

“I'm sorry, Your Majesty. I interviewed General Paraskevopoulos in this room last year. He would have the first interview with me in Ankara in a short while. A year has passed. But we're still here.”

“Political struggles adversely affected our soldiers. Now the situation has improved. We reinforced our troops, now we have eleven divisions. The Turkish army has spread a lot. This time they will not be able to protect Ankara. Greek sovereignty will be established here. The forced-displaced Greek sons will come back.”

“I'm curious about timing. When you can finish the operation?”

“Our preparations are over. My generals say it could be between ten and fifteen days for us to get Ankara.” Constantine stopped and straightened in his seat. “Maybe you remember. Constantinople, the Byzantine capital, fell on May 29, 1453. I believe we will enter Ankara on 29 May. With God's blessing.”

“I would like to interview you there too, Your Majesty. If you allow me, I’d like to follow your army closely.”

“By all means. Let us give you a guide and a horse. I hope you're good with horses.”

“Thank you, sir. I'll have a hard time at first, but then I'll get used to it.”

“Tomorrow in Uşak, I will award the banners of successful troops with medals. That's where you start your job. And after that, follow me.”

***

On the way to Constantinople.

May 1921. Ankara.

British agent Mustafa Sagir did a final check before leaving home. Two thousand Ottoman banknotes he had taken from his bank account was in the inner pockets of his vest. The food he needed on the way was in his little bag. His amulet was around his neck. He imagined how to use the poison in it. He spilled the invisible ink he hid on the garden wall to the ground, tossed some soil on it. He was going to throw the empty bottle in the proper place on the street. Jumping off the backyard wall he set off. Soon he was in the ruins of the Roman Baths. He made sure he wasn't followed. But his heart still seemed to stop. He waited with excitement in a secluded place until it was dark. He felt like time was passing more slowly there. Eventually, a shadow appeared in the empty space facing the street. Sagir waited for the stranger to get a little closer. Yes, it was him, Şükrü. “Let's hurry, Efendi,” he said in a whisper. He had brought a straw cart with a single horse. After entering under hay, the Indian covered thoroughly himself. They predicted that the nationalists would block the main roads. They stopped after an hour, talked about their escape plan he prepared with the herbalist. They had chosen the path of the uprisings that had begun in Düzce, spreading to Bolu, Gerede, Mudurnu, Beypazarı and Nallıhan to support the sultan last year. They would only travel at night and take back roads. At dawn, they would rest in a secluded place. If this was not possible, they would go on until they found a suitable place and Sagir would hide under the hay. If they were caught, all their efforts would go down the drain. He should fulfil his task without being despised and blamed.

They went all night regardless of the dry cold. No control was performed. At dawn, they were near the town of Ayaş. They went on. The fugitive hid in the hay again. They took a break in a small grove towards noon. Şükrü and the horse were very tired. They rested until evening. Sagir, meanwhile, asked the question he was curious about:

“Tell me Şükrü. Why are you and your friends against Mustafa Kemal?”

The Turkish Black Jumbo element was surprised. An embarrassed smile appeared on his face. “Long story, sir. I'm not educated. I can't tell you well. We are against him. That's it.”

“Why are you against him? Just say what you feel.”

Şükrü began to tell by shaking his head. “Do you know the Balkan War, Sir?”

“Yeah. It was ten years ago.”

“We lived in a village in Samsun. We had no land, so, we just hired other people's places and cultivated. We had chickens and two cows. I was thirteen, my father thirty-four. They enlisted him. A year or two passed. We haven't heard anything. I took care of my mother and two sisters. The landlord increased the rent. We could not pay. He tried to kick us out. My mother begged and persuaded him by increasing the rent. We tried to survive for another two years. One day the gendarmes came. They wanted me in the army. The government decided to war.”

Sagir interrupted: “The European War had begun. The Ottoman Empire entered the war with the Germans.”

“I was fifteen years old. I showed the gendarmes my ID card. They did not believe. They thought I was late for the registration. I was really a fine figure of a man. Because I've been working in the fields for years, my muscles had developed. I looked older compared to my peers. Also the town doctor decided I was eligible for the military. There were a lot of young people like me. They said the same thing. My mother begged them too much. My father hadn't come back from the army. I was taking care of the family. I was going to be eighteen in three years. Then I would be sacrificed to the motherland.”

“But they didn't listen to your mother.”

“Yes sir. They had deceived us saying that 'we will not persecute; the people will be comfortable'. I had fought in Erzurum and the deserts of Arabia for four years. I was wounded several times, treated and sent to the front again. I came to the village after the war. I searched for my mom and my sisters. They were kicked out after I had left. They took refuge in makeshift huts given to orphans by the sea in Samsun. They couldn't hang on there. Then they went elsewhere. We had some distant relatives. I asked them too. They didn't know. They were also in a very difficult situation.”

“So you couldn't find your family?”

“I went to the governor's office, then the gendarmerie. They know nothing about them. I couldn't find my family. We became miserable. It was just because of the ‘unionists’. I hated them. If I had caught, I could have killed them. But they had fled abroad. Mustafa Kemal and nationalists are like them. They made poor and naive people fight in vein. They angered the British, inflicted the Greeks upon us. After defeat, you must bear the consequence, sir.”

“Then what did you do? Şükrü?”

“When I was looking for a job in Samsun, I met an army friend of mine. He had many pro-sultan acquaintances. He was a member of the Islamic Promotion Association. He made me a member too. I did minor works. Then they sent me to Ankara, next to herbalist Murat Efendi. I've been here for a year.”

When the darkness fell, they went on. The roads were clear. They crossed the town of Beypazarı in the morning. They cheered up because no problem existed so far, stopped to rest the driver and the horse. The next morning, they were in Nallıhan. Then they went northwards crossing Mudurnu through pine forests during a heavy rain. They got soaked to the skin. Five nights later, they were in Bolu on the morning of May 12th. They found Murat's distant relatives' house in the countryside. The hosts never liked the nationalist. The guests were very well received, ate hot food, slept on a real bed. The hosts also fed the horse thoroughly, cleaned, rested. All day was comfortable. The hosts gave one of Murat's nephews as a guide too. The group came through the deserted mountain roads to Düzce. Without entering the town, they reached Hendek through the village roads. There, they also received help from the nephew's pro-sultan friends. In their free time they talked about last year's riots. They listened to the heroism of retired gendarmerie Major Anzavur. Equipped with cannon and machine guns, his force of five hundred people had destroyed the nationalists. Four thousand Abkhaz and Circassian had raided Düzce and evacuated the prisons, taken the nationalists' weapons and imprisoned government officials and officers. Hendek and Adapazarı had been seized. A division sent to fight them had been held captive before it could fight. The governor of İzmit had taken side with the rebels. He had announced the people of the sultan's salute and collected volunteer with one hundred and fifty liras salary. But the partisans of Ethem's, another Circassian, and Turkish nationalists had suppressed the rebellion. However, the region was still mostly pro-sultan.

They were now in a safe zone. The nephew returned to Bolu. After the darkness fell, they moved to Adapazarı along the village roads as usual. There they were going to find the Black Jumbo agent waiting for them. The remaining road was about twenty-five kilometers only. In spite of the bad roads, they would be there before dawn. It had been nine days since they left Ankara. The danger of getting caught was reduced around here. But, even so, the Indian hid under the hay. He should never forget the principle of ‘Safety First’. As a matter of fact, Sagir got used to the hay after some days. Sometimes they were very dry, prickled in the face, neck and body, itched him. Sometimes in the rain and thereafter they became soggy. Then they softened, but smelled awful. He no longer bothered about hay. Mankind got used to quickly. Comparing with prison days in Kabul this distress was not a problem for him. The straw was protective, like the womb. He was ashamed of himself because he thought of straw as useless waste. He dreamed that he would fall asleep in a clean bed after a warm shower in his hotel room in Constantinople soon.

Sagir suddenly opened his eyes. He had fell asleep. He couldn't sleep on rough and ragged village roads. But on plain roads, he could sleep with the sounds of horseshoes sounded like lullabies. That was what happened again. The carriage stopped. Şükrü must have taken a break to rest his horse and themselves. It was still dark as far as he could see through the gap of the hay. He prepared to go out, but gave up. Someone was talking loud. Şükrü sometimes spoke to horses. But it wasn't his voice. Sagir carefully cocked his ears, tried to hear what was saying. His heart began to beat rapidly.

“So, your name is Şükrü, is that right?” Sagir held his breath. This voice could not belong to a conversation between two peasants. The owner of the voice must have been accustomed to order, waiting for the execution what he said.

“Yes, sergeant.”

The fugitive Indian recognized the fearful voice of his companion. He started to be increasingly uneasy about it. His heart beat accelerated so fast that he got afraid of being heard from outside. He started shivering.

“Where are you going in the nighttime?”

“To Adapazarı, sir.” It was obvious that Şükrü's voice was shivering like himself.

“Where are you coming from?”

“I'm from Sheikhs Village of Hendek, sergeant.”

“I couldn't understand why you, at this hour, are moving to transport hay. I work in Adapazarı. There is no shortage of straw. Do you have documents?”

Şükrü did not answer this question. The sergeant broke the silence again.

“Talk to me, man! You're doing something illegal, aren't you? Of course you can't answer.”

This time he yelled. It became clear that the sergeant was getting angry. Sagir was feeling short of breath. Perhaps, this was the end of his dangerous journey. He had always thought of this worst possibility. He had imagined how to use his amulet in a few seconds. He had rehearsed this twice.

“Search inside the hay!”

There were others too. He didn’t need to think much; within seconds, Sagir pulled out his amulet, opened layers of sticky fabric and threw the poisonous gum in his mouth.

Almighty God, forgive me.

***

Latest images.

February 9, 2019. Ankara

Hasan Algan was trying to exceed my expectations. He believed these were not phony. That's why he had confiscated my laptop for a week. He came home with me, then we were together until late hours. Sometimes he shared passages he read and images he watched. We were reading or watching again. When he took a break, he consumed the beers in the refrigerator and then brewed tea. Meanwhile, I was reading the old book that my neighbor, a college student, found in a second-hand bookseller. It was the first Turkish translation of Victor Hugo's Les Miserables. To read again the novel I had read in high school was interesting. But its language was really unclear. I frequently looked up in the Ottoman-Turkish dictionary, which was useful for brain gymnastics.

The point is simple: The man who is sentenced to galley slave for five years for stealing bread, attempts to escape several times. So, his sentence is extended. 19 years later he is granted conditional release. However, because he acts contrary to the conditional release, he escapes and changes his name. He buys a factory by selling silverware taken from a kind priest. By increasing production, he becomes rich and is elected as a mayor. He protects the poor.

What was trying to tell in Les Miserables?

In the 1800s, the French people had suffered poverty. However, we read different things in history lessons. The colonial initiative against the Ottoman Empire of Napoleon who declared his emperorship in France... Wars for colonial sharing with the UK and Russia... France's invasion of Algeria and Tunisia... France's adventures in China... The defeat of France in the war with Prussia and the establishment of the Third Republic... Under the influence of the French revolution, the reigns were destroyed. Nation states emerged. After that, people would be free, equal and brothers...

Freedom, equality and brotherhood were only for the rich. The masses of people became impoverished, suffered, while the filthy rich hit the goldmine. The bourgeoisie got stronger and the exploitation of the peasants continued...

In the following days, Hasan Algan was out of Ankara. The computer was mine again. In his last message, Mr. Bilge Wallace who has health problems stated that he was sorry that they could not correspond for a while.

I have already come to the end of the novel “After Twenty-One” telling about 1919-1922 events. Journalist and historian Scott Wallace was Bilge's father. He was watching the disintegration of the Ottoman Empire and looking for traces of the Celts in Anatolia. He was a member of the Thule Organization of the superior people; but in İstanbul, he was confused when he met the Bektashis who embraced all the people. My uncle, Hüseyin Üsküplü, a member of the ‘Karakol’ organization, met Scott from time to time. The Scottish historian was interested in the Armenian question too. He met with British merchants in Alexandria, İstanbul and Ankara. He didn't realize they were secret service agents. But, most of what was told did not fit our world.

Next were the latest video images...

The first images showed Trabzon, the capital of the Hellenic Republic of Pontus. It was called Old Greek ‘Trapezounta’. The state extended to Giresun in the west and Hopa in the east. Its population was three and a half million. The Turks were only 300 thousand. The state was attached to the Armenian-Pontus Federal Republic, established under US mandate. In 1950, the mandate ended and the federation was dissolved by a referendum. Western Armenia and Pontus were friendly divided into two republics. Trapezounta, with a population of four hundred thousand, was no different from İzmir. So to speak, even worse than İzmir. Their flags resembled the Greek flag. On the upper left corner, a black bird figure with wings spread was added. The signboards in Greek and English ‘Do not forget the Pontus genocide!’ were frequently displayed. The giant ‘Pontus genocide monument’ in Boztepe was adorned with statues of mythological heroes. Nearby was a structure similar to the temple in Athens. At the entrance were busts of the Pontus kings and clergy in the history. Orthodox churches were seen in the squares, named after the Pontus partisan leaders and Byzantine nobles who died during the fighting against Turks. There were also some mosques in the poor areas off the coast. ‘The Black Day’ ritual accompanied by hymns at the Sumela monastery on the anniversary of the 15th of August 1461, when Fatih Sultan Mehmet destroyed the Pontus Greek State, was also impressive.

The next video was about Western Armenia. Progress was made after the US mandate. After 1915, children converted to Islam were found and brought back. Now the population was four and a half million. As job opportunities increased and the safe environment was provided, the number of returnees increased. The Turks were just over a million, but their birth rates were high. The majority of the Armenians were Gregorian and only a few were Protestant. It was not possible to unite with the socialist Eastern Armenia, a member state of the Soviet Union. They did not want the capitalist order. But it became difficult to prevent some of their citizens escaping to the west. The Catholic-dominated Cilician New Crusader Republic also got rid of the French mandate and became independent. For now, it was not pro-merger. Nevertheless, ‘The Armenian Partnership Council’ formed by the leaders of the three states would never give up their historical goal of ‘The Great Unification’.

The camera was cruising accompanied by Armenian songs as well as images taken from the air and from the ground, and the announcer was giving some information. Erzurum with a population of 250 thousand came to the screen. Its name was changed to ‘Garin’. The population of the Turks was 70 thousand. They lived in the poorer outskirts. ‘The Genocide Memorial’ was displayed. There the Western Armenia flag, reminiscent of a rainbow, flied. It was built in the middle of the bastions area. The open air museum and the indoor museum next to it were also in the same area. In the middle of both were torches that never extinguished. Flags were drawn to the Erzurum Castle built by the Byzantines and to the appropriate places of the Seljuk monuments in the city center. The surrounding areas of the Double Minaret Madrasa and the Three Domes to the south, the Rüstempasha Bedesten, the covered Turkish bazaar, Taşhan were evacuated and supported by parks and sports fields. Muratpasha, Bakırcı, Kurşunlu, İbrahim Pasha and Caferiye Mosques were converted into churches. The Great Mosque preserved its feature. All bullet marks on their walls were tried to hide. The names of Armenian architects and masters were written on the plaques at the entrance of the churches of various sizes. Mount Ararat figures and sculptures of Armenian historical figures were displayed on the screen in large and illuminated signboards on the streets. Despite the attempt to mask, the poor urbanization around the city was evident. When attention is paid to some images taken in winter, air pollution could be noticed.

Next came the Cilician New Crusade Republic. Also there, the images taken from the air and from the land accompanied by Armenian songs were reflected on the screen. The announcer was telling. In 1950, together with Syria, they were freed from the French mandate and an independent republic was established. The population was three million. Catholic Armenians two million, Protestant Armenians half a million and Turks half a million. Its lands stretched from Tarsus in the west to the Euphrates in the east. İskenderun and Kırıkhan in the south and Maraş in the north were within the borders of the state. They did not accept unification with Western Armenia, however participated in ‘The Armenian Association Council’ formed by the leaders of the three Armenian states. Like their fellow citizens in Erzurum, there was no mention of ‘Great Unification’.

I switched to other images. First was ‘The Commemoration of the Genocide’ monument. It was similar to Erzurum, and illuminated at night. Adana's name had changed to ‘Adonis’. The name of the Phoenician god of agriculture and plants. I've never heard that. Flags fled all around with red, blue and yellow stripes, adorned with two crossed swords in the center and eleven-pointed stars with ribbons spread over the stripes.

 The camera came to a different place. The city museum. At the entrance, the statues of Armenian kings between the 12th and 14th centuries lined up. Inside, Armenian and French plaques with maps appeared. I knew a little French. I read the first plaque: ‘The Crusader states were the states founded by the Crusaders in the Middle East and Antioch in the 12th and 13th centuries. The first four of them were established right after the First Crusade.’ Following plaques were about other Christian states. They all had the same sentence: ‘These lands, which had become dry under the rule of Muslims for six hundred and thirty-one years, is flourishing in the hands of Christians.’

 Catholic Armenian churches were next. All well-maintained. With the bell sounds appeared also the mosques converted into churches. Christian cemeteries were clean and well-maintained too. The camera came to the Great Mosque, the largest mosque in Adana. It looked well-maintained and tidy. The camera focused on the minaret. There was no speaker, just a muezzin reciting azan. The Clock Square in the city center and its surroundings were also cleaned. The sound of the clock was heard in many parts of the city. The 21-arch Stone Bridge over Seyhan River was called ‘Saros Bridge’ and was decorated with sculptures of famous figures of Armenian history. When I carefully looked at the images I understood that this place could not escape the bad urbanization. French culture and civilization had been defeated by the Middle East...

 Last one was the Kingdom of Kurdistan established under the British Mandate. An expert began to provide some information accompanied by maps. The kingdom stretched to Tunceli in the north, Mardin in the south, Malatya in the west, Van Lake and Hakkari in the east. The population was fifteen million. Kurdish songs started. The flag of the Kingdom of Kurdistan appeared with red, yellow and green belts and a black star in the center. The republic was not preferred, simply because social development was not sufficient. Institutions such as democracy, political parties and elections would settle in time.

The mandate of the Christian West came to an end in the 1950s. In the Middle East there were Christians as well as Muslims. They divided the region into small states and ruled for thirty years. Meanwhile, they established the State of Israel in Palestine. Three monotheistic religions found their place in these holy lands.

The speaker went on. There were interesting developments in the 1960s. The Kurdistan Kingdom tried to unite with the Syrian Kurds in the French Mandate and the Iraqi Kurds in the British Mandate. It didn't work. The rivalry between the tribes was a constant obstacle. Even more interesting was the attempt to unite the Kurds and Armenians. The Hoybun community tried to prove that the Kurds and the Armenians came from the same root. Only their religions were different. But this was not enough for the Armenian-Kurdish confederation. The Great Armenia attempts worried the Kurds too. Some argued that the Armenian initiative was concocted to bring discord among the Kurds.

According to the expert, Christians and Jews found the Islamic Union dangerous. To prevent this, Kurdish nationalism was fueled. The small Kurdish states to be established under the auspices of Christians and Jews should remain in this line. Just like the Arabs...

 Images from the capital Diyarbakır began to be lined up. Its population was a million. Diyarbakır city walls came to the screen. The Great Mosque, other mosques and madrasahs were followed by churches: Chaldean, Armenian and Syrian Churches. Then bazaars, inns and museums were wandered. The Hevsel Gardens between the Castle and the Tigris River were introduced and the video was completed with the Assyrian Castle in Egil.

Diyarbakır was no different from our Diyarbakır, an example of bad urbanization. The inscriptions depicting the Turkish traces on the historical monuments were lost.

It was a genuine Middle Eastern city...

By the way, I wrote a note to Mr. Bilge Wallace:

“Dear Mr. Bilge Wallace, I watched the images about other capitals. Thank you so much. I would also like to share my thoughts on the novel ‘After Twenty-One’. I checked the ‘News Quotes from European news agencies’ sections one by one. They fit our history until May 1921. The aid of the Bolshevik Russians to the national struggle is also compatible. But, it is out of question that Mustafa Kemal Pasha got paralyzed after the attack on his train in Eskişehir. I think this was an important and historic turning point for you. After the Kütahya-Eskişehir battles, the Turkish Army successfully disengage from the enemy and retreated to the east of Sakarya. This occurred as a result of Mustafa Kemal Pasha's proper and risky decision. In the summer of 1921, Greek Army's attacks to Sakarya positions for three weeks in full force were also stopped and the Greeks retreated to Afyon and took defensive positions. A year later, they were defeated and drove back into the Aegean Sea in İzmir after Turkish Army's successful attack.

“I'm coming to the British spy Mustafa Sagir. He was tailed by Turkish intelligence and arrested with evidence, tried and confessed to everything. He revealed British political intrigue in detail. The document spread all over the Islamic world. He bravely confessed the evils he did to his religious fellows. He was executed on 24 May 1921 in Karaoğlan Square in Ankara. Mustafa Sagir passed into history as the first and last foreign man sentenced to death by the independence court.

Greetings, respects...

Önder Üsküplü.”

***

The new target in Germany.

May 1921. Ankara.

The arrested Ankara train station manager had been interrogated for a week and everything was understood. British spy Sagir had made friends with him and evaluated the information the manager had let slip out. He was really good-natured and naive. He was released. However, he was assigned to Konya due to his negligence in the duty.

Major Hüseyin himself was responsible for finding the Devil Indian. Two weeks later, he could not be caught. He must have managed to escape to İstanbul. The MM had given special order for the İstanbul organization to search him. Hayrettin was very upset too. He and his team had taken Sagir into ‘the Organization’. They believed that it would contribute to the national struggle. But because they did not trust the Indian much, Navy Lieutenant Mehmet Ali was tasked to accompany Sagir. MM chief Lt. Colonel Hüsamettin and his supporter Fevzi Pasha were the target of heavy criticism.

The searches in hotels, inns, coffeehouses did not yield results. The only clue they had was Cavit, Sagir's assistant providing contact to India. Hayrettin kidnapped and questioned him. He initially denied the accusations by taking oaths. But when his family was brought in on the matter, he spoke. He worked for the British. He gave just information and news. He did not know anyone except Sagir and Rasim. They worked on a cell basis. He needed money to take care of his sick mother. He just mediated the letters, also described the correspondence with invisible ink. But he couldn't see what was written. He said they communicated with the encrypted telegram in case of emergency. Of course they didn't tell him the code.

Hayrettin requested instructions on what to do to this rascal. They could annihilate or force him to work for MM. In case he tries to play a game, they could tell the British that he had told MM everything. Hüsamettin wanted him to work for MM. Hayrettin himself would take care of him. It was up to him to make an appropriate story for both his newspaper and the British about his three-day disappearance. Meanwhile, the expected telegram came from India to İstanbul. Sagir was not recognized by the Indian Caliphate Committee!

This valuable information was too late ...

Mahmut who had requested duty from Hüseyin was among those who felt responsible himself. When Hayrettin was the Hamza Group İstanbul regional manager, he included Mahmut among the key personnel. As the irony of fate, Sagir had first met Mahmut in İstanbul and hooked him. But Mahmut had also thought the Indian would be a spy. He had even said that if that was true, he would lose his head. When millions of liras were in question, Hayrettin and Mahmut had proposed to recruit him. Mahmut would wait a little longer for becoming a bouncer. A spy to be eliminated was still not found…

Hüseyin and Hüsamettin evaluated the latest developments. Fevzi Pasha had managed the struggle for eleven days. In fact, because he was Mustafa Kemal's closest assistant in Ankara, he knew almost all the details. He had supported Mustafa Kemal in the liquidation of Ethem the Circassian and in breaking the influence of the Enver Pasha team. Mustafa Kemal had moved to Italy with his companions. But on May 24, Bektashi Yusuf conveyed the bad news. British intelligence and the Armenian Dashnak Organization had found the trail of Mustafa Kemal. They had instructed their personnel in Germany to tail Mustafa Kemal and kill him like Talat Pasha. Sebottendorf sent this information first to Yusuf and then to the Thule staff in Germany. Everything would be done for the protection of the diseased Pasha.

***

British Journalist on horseback.

May 1921. Afyon.

Scott Wallace had been following Constantine, the Greek King and the commander-in-chief for five days. ‘British Journalist on horseback’ and Second Lieutenant Costas Zenginis got along well. He was a man of middle height, dark-skinned, stocky Greek young man, 24 years old. His father was a rich farmer in Thessaloniki, owning greenhouses, herds of animals, milk plants. When Greece was established, his ancestors had emigrated from Constantinople to Greece in the 1830s. Costas had studied Economics in London. By the end of 1920 he joined the army as second lieutenant, he participated in the İnönü Battles and lost a kidney because of freezing cold. Now he was in the back up service.

The King toured by car around 160-kilometer front from İnönü to Afyon as well as the corps and division command posts spreading 300-350 kilometers region behind. The buildup of 11 infantry divisions and a cavalry brigade was completed with new arrivals from Greece. 200 thousand troops in total. However, the number of fighting soldiers the army could allocate to the front was reduced to sixty thousand. The army spread to Anatolia very much. The rest 140 thousand troops had to be deployed to protect its rear area on enemy territory. 300 guns and 700 machine guns would support the front.

British, Greek and French journalists watched the events from Afyon. They shared the information in their tent chats in the evening. That's how Scott got the most reliable information. The Turks could not complete their shortcomings for two months. They expected an attack soon. They developed defense preparations as best as they could.

On May 24th, half an hour before dawn, the Greeks began artillery preparation fire. To surprise the location of the main attack, the King was in Eskişehir. Scott was there too. The offense began in Eskişehir region. Four divisions were allocated there. The aircrafts joined the battle there. A weaker preparation fire and attack in Afyon region started two hours later. The aim was the destruction of the Turkish Army. Besides, strategic points such as Afyon, Eskişehir and Kütahya would be occupied. On May 25, Greek troops entered Afyon. Then they advanced in the direction of Altıntaş-Seyitgazi. When the Greek troops stalled the brandy was distributed. The band was approached forward and the attack continued with the anthem ‘Son of the Eagle’ composed for the Greek King.

Eskişehir was occupied on 26 May. On May 28, Turkish troops began to withdraw to Sivrihisar. Combat service support units, supplies and facilities were trying to be carried on the trains. Greek aircrafts supported by British aircrafts attacked trains, making the withdrawal difficult. A Greek cavalry division came from the south and reached Sivrihisar before the Turks occupied appropriate positions there. So, in this way, Greeks blocked the Ankara road. The besieged Turks could not resist much. Some managed to escape to the mountains in the north and others surrendered. The run away from occupied areas started in the direction of Ankara. Some people had burned their houses, sheepfolds, and crops in fields, vineyards and gardens. But most of the properties were abandoned in their current state. Sivrihisar fell on 31 May. Greek troops stopped there and began to reorganize.

King Constantine arrived immediately. He cheered up the Greek soldiers. The Hellenic people were living one of their historical days. They were following their ancestors. The Byzantine State was being reborn. The Turks would be expelled to the Asian steppes they had come from. Mosques would be replaced by sacred Orthodox Churches.

Section III. Central Anatolian Republic.

News Quotes from European news agencies, dated June 12, 1921:

Nationalists in Turkey were surrendered...

The successful operation of the Greek Army was stopped by the British at the request of Turkish nationalists who demanded a cease-fire. Eskişehir Armistice Agreement was signed on June 5, 1921. Political circles expect the peace agreement to be signed soon.

***

MM continues.

June 1921. Ankara.

“I couldn't understand how the Greek troops could come from Eskişehir to Sivrihisar in a week, Hüseyin.” Lt. Colonel Hüsamettin, who couldn't stop his voice from quavering, took another puff from his cigarette nervously. As he saw his assistant was watching him silently, he went on. “You know, every night I went to the general staff headquarters and monitored the developments. Eskişehir was occupied on 26 May. Fevzi Pasha himself was present at the front too. According to the army staff, there were appropriate positions in the rear area. Those new positions would be occupied by reserve units. But an important information was received. Our Afyon front had collapsed. We were being encircled from the south. Fevzi Pasha ordered the entire army to retreat rapidly to the east of Sivrihisar. That night he left for Ankara by train. İsmet Pasha immediately sent the cavalry from Eskişehir to rear area. The remaining troops were both fighting the enemy and trying to retreat on foot. In the meantime, ammunition and other supplies began to be transported on the railway. Greeks supported by aircrafts kept on attacking day and night. The troops left in contact with the enemy could not help main forces to disengage from the enemy. The withdrawal was getting harder. The engineers could not stop the Greeks either. They didn't have enough materials to destroy roads and bridges, they had very little equipment.”

“Yes, sir. The western front needed more time to replenish its combat power through Trabzon.”

 “The Greeks brought their cavalry to Sivrihisar before we did. They blocked the road to Ankara. If they had not paused in Sivrihisar, they would have blocked the railway as well. But we had been enveloped.”

“Yes. Some of our troops surrendered, while some of them managed to escape to the mountains in the north. The number of our troops who have survived the envelop is not known yet.”

“The heavy weapons and ammunition could not be saved either.” Lt. Colonel Hüsamettin eagerly extinguished his cigarette in the ashtray and proceeded. “Most of the Turkish Army created with great difficulties was destroyed. What happened is a shame Hüseyin.”

“Unfortunately we have lost large and fertile lands too. The railways and an important transportation center, such as Eskişehir, fell into the hands of the Greeks. We can't take them back from now on.”

“The parliament is very uneasy. Mustafa Kemal's absence is painfully felt.”

Listening to the chief who summarized the meetings in the parliament for the second time, Hüseyin evaluated the events. The Greeks had used most of their forces in Afyon. Unlike previously, not in Eskişehir. We couldn't understand that. Even if we could, we had been unable to shift enough force, mainly because the infantry troops on foot lacked the mobility.

Hüsamettin went on. “The date June 1 1921 will go down as a dark day in our history, Hüseyin. We had no chance to continue the struggle moving to Kayseri. Fevzi Pasha requested approval from the parliament again. He considers appropriate to make peace. We have to live as a defeated nation just like after our defeats in the Balkans, Palestine and Iraq. We will continue as a nation obliged to survive. His last words were 'God help us!'“

“And today, the ceasefire request was approved by the parliament by a two-thirds majority, Lt. Colonel. What will we do?”

“I asked myself the same question. They haven't decided about us yet. I guess they didn't have time for that. What do you think?”

“We seem to have two choices.”

“What?”

“We can either continue or MM breaks up.”

“What's your heart's desire? Hüseyin?”

“At the end of 1918, while fleeing the country Enver Pasha abolished Teşkilatı Mahsusa - the Special Organization-, but requested its reorganization. He devoted all his resources to the new organization.”

“And he gave me this task. You remind it. I fulfilled completely the order I received. There was no strong government behind me. ‘The Karakol’ was soon established. However, they always selected staff officers as its chief. But, they could not get along with Mustafa Kemal, simply because they were the ‘unionists’. The Karakol could work for a year. Then it was collapsed. Those established after that was also not very successful. We recently founded the MM. We were able to work only four months. You see, in 30 months we've seen a lot of ups and downs in our struggle. We've come this far. You say the same thing is being repeated?”

“Yes sir. Ten or fifteen days after the cease-fire is signed, they will occupy Ankara. So we don't have much time. If the resistance decision is taken, it will be appropriate for us to start working immediately to support it.”

“I agree. You get together and start planning. I will try to meet Fevzi Pasha and get his orders.”

“We'd better think of the Russians with us, Lt. Colonel.”

“Fine. I remind Fevzi Pasha of this too.”

***

Eskişehir Armistice Agreement

June 5, 1921. Ankara.

On the way to Eskişehir in the General Harington's private train, Navy Captain David Nelson was thinking about recent happenings in the last few weeks. He had memorized the dates. Finally, they achieved to overcome Mustafa Kemal Pasha obstacle. Mustafa Sagir, the Muslim agent in Indian origin called for duty by Nelson, made the biggest contribution to the success. As they had planned, Sagir arrived in Ankara on 11 March. He contacted with three British Black Jumbo agents previously settled in Ankara. Nelson learned in late April that Turkish intelligence suspected Sagir. They started tailing him. Nelson warned him to be very careful. On April 27, he sent two other talented Black Jumbo bouncers to Ankara to find herbalist Murat. On 30 April, Sagir sent an encrypted telegram to launch the attack on Mustafa Kemal Pasha's train. The air raid was executed on the morning of May 3rd. Sagir's next encrypted telegram arrived on May 5th. Mustafa Kemal was paralyzed. In case this was not achieved, the Black Jumbo bouncers would take direct action and finish the job. But the news from herbalist Murat was bad. Barber Seyfi was arrested. Sagir and Şükrü left Ankara on the night of May 7. They would go to Adapazarı via Nallıhan and from there to İstanbul. The last news came from Bolu. On the night of May 13, they had moved to Düzce. Three weeks had passed, but they got no news. Something bad must had happened to him. They were either caught or robbed and killed by bandits.

 Now Nelson was on this train to get the results of his hard work…

The train with two wagons was decorated extravagant. They had moved from Haydarpasa station in the morning. The sides were painted with British, French, Italian and Greek flags. ‘Peace’ was written in Turkish and English in capital letters. They came to Adapazarı easily. However, security measures were increased after that. Some Turkish troops had retreated to the mountains in the Eskişehir region. The Greek troops had advanced to Ankara ignoring them. Small armed groups were still considered to be in this area. Geyve gorge following Sakarya valley was passed in day-time and slowly. Armed watchers and guards were stationed in the wagons. In risky areas the train stopped and the guards in the second wagon checked the environment then they moved. At noon, they arrived in Bozüyük and security measures were reduced. The land was open and not appropriate for an ambush.

But postwar images preceded security concerns. The traces of what happened in the battle a few days ago were not removed. They tried to avoid the bad smells by closing the wagon windows. Dead Turkish soldiers and horses on the road side were covered with dust. The corpses that began to decompose became the bait of flies and vultures. Most of them were barefoot. Someone had taken their combat boats. Some soldier's combat boats were untouched. They must be worn out too much. Coarse fabrics wrapped under the knee instead of boots were in place. Another had moccasins, knitted socks, shalwar, girdle on his waist and shirt. His sleeves rolled up, his collar's buttons open. He wasn't a soldier. He looked like an old man. They should have searched his clothes. Another one lay on the ground wrapping his half missing rifle. The corpses of the Greek soldiers had been removed. The Greeks had killed all the Turks they confronted with, regardless of being soldier or civilian. They hadn't want to deal with wounded and prisoners. Nelson had seen similar scenes during the civil war in Russia. Those who escaped using the mountain roads were lucky, they reached the cease-fire line, and saved their lives. Whatever they had left behind was looted or burned. Grasslands, vineyards, and gardens were heart-breaking. Some of the villages were still smoking. The burned vineyards and gardens were full of shredded corpses. He recalled the preaching of Chrisostomos, Smyrna metropolitan bishop, on May 15, 1915: “The more Turkish blood you shed, the more you will acquire merit.” His wish was about to come true. Small-scale British and French troops fighting with the Greeks had intervened between the combatants and in this way, the Greeks could not dare any further.

Nelson was very happy to be included in the cease-fire delegation. It was an important achievement that Turkish nationalists gave up and demanded a ceasefire. In fact, he and his team played a big role in this success. General Harington was going to Eskişehir to sign a cease-fire agreement with the Greek and Turkish parties. Both sides accepted the ‘Neutral Zone’ application. Armies and aircrafts would not enter the twenty-five-kilometer-wide region, which spans between Sivrihisar and Sakarya River. The war was stopped. The political goal was considered to be achieved. It was time for peace. After the cease-fire agreement, the nationalist Turks, the UK, France, Italy and Greece would meet in a European city and negotiations would begin.

Harington, meanwhile, saw the area from the air in a military plane landing on a runway near Eskişehir. He marked on his map the outlines of the Greek troops and the locations of the Turkish troops which retreated to the east of Sakarya River. He chose the Porsuk valley as his flight path. He also saw the place of the air raid on Mustafa Kemal's train. Once again, he congratulated the commander of the pilots who lead the attack. The same evening, he returned to Eskişehir where the cease-fire agreement was going to be signed.

The Turks appointed İsmet Pasha, the commander of the western front armies, to delegate with extraordinary authority. And, the Greeks chose Prince Andreas, the king's brother and the commander of the second corps. The next day, İsmet Pasha arrived in Eskişehir with Foreign Minister Mr. Yusuf Kemal and a staff major. When Pasha got off the train, tried to conceal his sadness that he came to the places where he had commanded as a general who had lost the war. A British officer and two soldiers took the Turkish delegation to a house abandoned and undamaged during the battles.

The next day, under the presidency of Prince Andreas the conference was attended by General Harington as British representative, General Charpy as French representative and General Mombelli as Italian representative. Among the participants were also American, Armenian and Kurdish observers. İsmet Pasha and Mr. Yusuf Kemal tried not to appear depressed. Everyone was happy except them. They enjoyed the victory. Laughing at every opportunity, they exacerbated İsmet Pasha’s unhappiness, who showed countless signs of tension after his defeat. İsmet Pasha was angry and emotional in the beginning of the meeting. Then he accepted the situation. There wasn't much to do. As signing the cease-fire agreement, he said weakly that they would try to revive friendship. Despite the harsh terms imposed on Turks, he accepted it.

Scottish journalist Scott Wallace took several pictures of the attendees. He reported to New State Magazine and some news agencies as follows:

The Eskişehir Armistice Agreement dated June 5, 1921 contains important political items far beyond the concepts of 'cease-fire' or ‘disarming'. The victors want to occupy the Turkish homeland from one end to the other. Terms are harsher than the Mudros Armistice Agreement. The Turks have no power to oppose it. The provisions of the Treaty of Sevres were still not valid as they were not approved by the parliaments. Instead, the Eskişehir Armistice Agreement will be in force. The Government of the UK will guarantee the protection of the New Turkish State whose borders will be determined by the Peace Agreement. Thrace is not mentioned on the borders. The Straits are left under the control of the Allies. As Constantinople (İstanbul) will be the center of the Caliphate, the spiritual power and authority of the Caliphate will be used in favor of the Allies in places where Muslims live. The issue of the Sultanate will be reconsidered by the Allies. Most importantly, independent Armenia and Kurdistan are being established in Eastern Anatolia. Armenians and Pontus Greeks are allowed to return to the land they had left. The determination of compensation rights will also be made by a commission. Sovereignty rights of the UK in Mesopotamia, of France in Syria and Çukurova and of Italy in Antalya and its environs are guaranteed. The Ottomans give up all their rights over Egypt and Cyprus. The Turkish Army, except border and gendarmerie units, will be demobilized within three weeks and their weapons, equipment and ammunition will be delivered to the Allies. The Allies will appoint managers and assistants where they see appropriate in Anatolia. An internal security organization will be established by the Allies. Railways and ports will be controlled by the Allies. War criminals, whose names will be given to the commission, will be delivered to the Allies in Eskişehir within a week. The commission to be established in Eskişehir for the execution of this agreement will include Turkish representatives alongside the Allies. The last word: Are the Turks being repulsed into Asia, where they came centuries ago?”

***

The New Resistance.

June 10, 1921. Ankara.

“Events are developing as we anticipate, friends.” Lt. Colonel Hüsamettin kept on trying to ease his anger with his cigarette. “You know, two days ago, the troops were notified that the cease-fire agreement had signed and requested that cease-fire conditions should be strictly observed. The army will be demobilized except the border and gendarmerie units and the Allies will receive weapons, equipment and ammunition. The parliament will complete works by the end of the month and closed. War criminals whose identities have been sent to the parliament will be handed over to the Allies in Eskişehir.”

The MM branch managers were listening quietly in the chief's office. “Soon they will invade Ankara. We don't have much time here. We must pack our things right away. I got the orders of Fevzi Pasha. In the secret session of the parliament, our same National Oath was accepted. The national resistance we started three years ago will be maintained. To surrender easily does not suit the Turks. We had a heavy blow, but we'll stand up again.”

Hüsamettin waited for the completion of the tea service, then went on. “The decisions of the national resistance are as follows: We will demobilize the army, but the militia will revive. Young and talented commanders will mingle with the community dressed in civilian clothes and under false identities. Public officials who support the resistance will appear to be close to the Allies. It is necessary to bring pro-resistance ministers into power especially the finance, defense and interior ministers in the new government to be established. In the same manner, pro-resistance candidates are tried to be elected in the first election.

Hüseyin asked. “Will the Russians keep on supporting secretly, Lt. Colonel?”

“Yeah. Soviet Ambassador Natsarenus assured that they would be with all those who were fighting imperialism. Fevzi, İsmet, Refet and Karabekir Pashas will soon flee to Russia and lead the resistance from there.”

“What are we doing, Lt. Colonel?” The question came from Captain Ömer.

“The MM Group will play a key role. A lot of secret warehouses and safe shelters are useful. We will reorganize by exploiting the disbanded army and the organizations of the nationalist forces. Financial resources were handed over to myself in gold. I buried in a secret place. Only Major Hüseyin knows its place as a precaution. In case something happens to me he will lead you. Now Hüseyin will tell you other details.”

Hüseyin began to speak by looking at the notes in front of him. “The personnel branch will select unrecognized but reliable elements. There is a high risk of arrest of recognized personnel. We'll hide them. The intelligence branch will list all of our intelligence personnel in İstanbul, Thrace and Anatolia, visiting them personally on the spot. They certainly won't take action. They'll just gather information. The operations branch is responsible for the new organization.” The major placed the hand-drawn sketch on the table. “We have divided our National Oath borders into five fronts. The western front is the area to be left to Greece and the Straits Region. The central front covers the region to be left to the Turks and Italians. The corresponding area of the north front is the region to be left to Armenia. The area of responsibility of the eastern front is the places to be left to Kurdistan. The south front is the area to be left to the French.”

Lt. Colonel Hüsamettin interrupted. “Friends, I personally explained this organization to Fevzi Pasha and got his approval. Hüseyin you go ahead, please.”

“Militia units consisting of one hundred horsemen will be established on each front. It can be fifty horsemen in six months.” Hüseyin shuffled his notes, then continued. “The supply branch will deal mainly with the burial of weapons, ammunition and equipment. We will record these places with code. There's more time for the invaders to get these places. They can't find enough soldiers to control there. They will appoint Armenian and Greek partisans. The intelligence branch will gather information about them in particular. We'll move to Kızılcahamam day after tomorrow. An element of the nationalist forces, a farmer, will host us. Osman will go there tomorrow taking one man from the support section. You'll check how we settle. We have no choice anyway. We will improve our new base before winter comes.”

Lt. Colonel Hüsamettin had the last word. “Let's get to work now. Our mission has become very difficult. May Allah help us." As the staff left the office, the chief signaled Hüseyin to wait and to close the door. He spoke in a low voice. “Seniors are leaving Ankara tonight, Hüseyin. They'll run in small groups. Since day one, it was heard that some would be executed.” He continued with a sigh. “Pavel will accompany our leaders on their journey up to Baku. They will sail from İnebolu to Batumi aboard a Russian battleship. Then they will go to Baku by a private train.”

As they complained about the inadequacy of the buildings in Etlik, now they were in a much worse situation…

***

The Inspection.

June 19, 1921. Ankara.

Scottish journalist Scott Wallace had interviewed the Greek King Constantine in Smyrna on 18 May. His last words were in his ears: “On May 29, 1453, our capital Constantinople had fallen. We will enter Ankara on the same day.” The king was very sure. They learned that Mustafa Kemal was paralyzed and smuggled abroad. The biggest obstacle was eliminated. Later, Scott followed the Greek army. The King's army had defeated the Turks, but on the day he set it, he could not enter Ankara. The British had stopped them. Finally, the Turks demanded a cease-fire on June 1 and four days later the agreement was signed. Scott had transmitted his news and photos about it to his Magazine and to some news agencies.

After the signing of the agreement, Scott had tried to interview İsmet Pasha but failed. Pasha had refused to meet a British journalist. Then, Scott had tried to interview Foreign Minister Mr. Yusuf Kemal instead, but he had refused too.

Scott would write a more detailed article based on the report he had telegraphed. He would also enrich its content with photographs. Therefore, he had to return to Constantinople. However, he postponed his plan because of the information he got. The special delegations were formed to inspect the cease-fire conditions. They would go to the general staff headquarters in Ankara, corps headquarters in Sivas, Erzurum, Konya and Diyarbakır. About ten personnel were assigned to each headquarters. Those who did the inspection task beforehand were chosen. They would supervise the collection and delivery of the weapons, equipment and ammunition comparing with the cadres of the units. They knew these things would be smuggled. They had to hurry. To be challenged by a resistance again was a disadvantage for them. However, they demanded Ankara to guarantee the transportation, accommodation and security of these delegations. İsmet Pasha and the staff major in the delegation had stayed in Eskişehir for this purpose. He was collecting requests and sending to the general staff headquarters by telegram. According to the Allies, the Turks deliberately played for time and made all sorts of excuses.

Before General Harington returned to Constantinople, Scott was able to get permission to be included in the Ankara delegation as a photographer. On June 14, the British delegation led by Major Jack Thomson arrived in Ankara. A week later, the other delegations were in Sivas, Erzurum, Konya and Diyarbakır.

The delegation was settled in Hürriyet Hotel. On the next day they went to the general staff headquarters accompanied by the escorts. Major Thomson requested Scott to take only photographs and not interfere with the negotiations. The gaze and behavior of the Turkish officers at the headquarters implied that their work would not be easy. Negotiations began on cadres, assets, names, weapons, vehicle and material lists, as well as ammunition depots. Two Armenian and Greek interpreters tried to reach every room.

The Turkish army on the western front had begun fighting with 15 infantry divisions, 4 cavalry divisions and 1 cavalry brigade, consisting of 55,000 soldiers. The losses were numerous: 2,700 dead, 8,000 wounded and 2,000 prisoners. 30,000 soldiers were deserted with weapons. The rest were about 13,000. Of the 711 machine guns, 550 and of the 160 artillery guns, 120 were lost. The corps in the east has 13,000 troops and the corps in the southeast has 10,000 troops. Weapons and equipment, a small number of motor vehicles were of Russian, German, French and Italian origin. The ammunition was the same. The number of mount and working animals, most belonged to the civilians, was uncertain.

After Major Thomson finished his desk work, by military courtesy, he demanded to present the results to the highest-ranking commander. He was told that it was unnecessary and enough for him to meet with the colonel, the head of operations division. Fevzi Pasha was also the speaker of the parliament. He was very busy. When Thomson insisted, everything came to light. The top officers were not in Ankara. Nobody knew where they had gone. The major sent a telegram to General Harington:

“Seniors have escaped!”

***

Kızılcahamam

June 1921. Ankara.

The MM headquarters moved from Etlik to Kızılcahamam in four days. Abandoned buildings were arranged as guesthouses. ‘Veterans house’ plaque was hung in front of it. Three people from the support group stayed there. Farmer, rancher and nationalist Mehmet Efendi's hut, makeshift barn and warehouses were insufficient. Tents were set up for agricultural workers who took refuge from occupied areas. Weapons and ammunition were hidden nearby. When the hospitality of the host, his family and the townspeople combined with the optimism of Lt. Colonel Hüsamettin the morale improved. They were going to prepare this place before winter. In groups, they started to produce timber from trees, to transport stones from quarries with ox-driven carts, to prepare mudbricks, and to make bricks from terracotta.

They followed the latest developments through his men at the general staff headquarters. The allied inspection team was still there. On June 17, the seniors had boarded the Russian warship off-shore of İnebolu. They never had a problem. They would also take Karabekir Pasha in Trabzon. Then they would go to Batumi and thereafter by train to Baku. The contact with them would be provided by the Russian Embassy. Lt. Pavel, who accompanied the delegation, would be in Ankara within two weeks.

Sergeant Major İsmail was among the 61st Division soldiers who could pass to the east of the Sakarya River. He was slightly wounded. Now, he was doing the job.

Hüseyin planned to set up a shop in Ankara under a false identity. He could benefit from the experiences of his brother Sabri, the draper. With his help, goods could be sent here. They should think about making money now. The money in their hands would soon be consumed. Ready money will away. The struggle would last long. But he could not tell Lt. Colonel Hüsamettin what he thought. The telegraph from İstanbul to the locksmith changed the situation. His mother was very ill. He was urgently expected. He shyly requested the chief to give three or four weeks leave. Hüsamettin did not hesitate: “By all means Hüseyin. Get ready now. Don't worry about this place. We started a struggle that will last for years. We can't get anywhere just by saying duty. We do the same for myself and other friends as well. Before winter comes, everyone will be on leave for at least three or four weeks.”

***

The occupation of Ankara.

June 1921. Ankara.

The cease-fire conditions inspection team received a cold welcome wherever they went. Their efforts were tried to prevent. They couldn't see the pashas. The trouble was created constantly for it. Finally, it was understood that the commanders and the managers had escaped.

A week after the inspection team, British General Harington's train carrying his staff and a company of soldiers arrived in Ankara. The welcoming delegation consisted of the deputy parliament speaker, the deputy governor, the deputy garrison commander, a major, the head of the British Delegation Major Thomson, Scottish journalist Scott Wallace, the deputy manager of the gar, and several representatives of notables.

Harington was annoyed at being greeted spiritlessly at the railway station that looked like abandoned. The official welcoming ceremony for him was not as glorious as the ceremony held for British General Allenby when he entered Jerusalem four years ago. Allenby had made a very meaningful gesture there. He had put his foot on the grave of Selahattin Ayyub, who expelled Christians from Jerusalem eight centuries ago and said, “Here we come again, Selahattin.” December 9, 1917, was written in the golden pages of Christianity, British and European history. According to Scott, June 20, 1921 was of the same importance. But that would be understood later. Harington and the British authorities should have noted in their memory that this date would be celebrated as a holiday in the future. Thinking for a while, Harington found some consolation. When Allenby arrived in Constantinople on 7 February 1919, he could not repeat the same show. French General D'Esperey had overshadowed the British general entering Constantinople with a magnificent ceremony on the white horse. However, the absence of military units and non-Muslim minorities such as Constantinople in Ankara should be considered normal. They didn't need to be worried. Over time this would happen too.

Scott recognized someone among people getting off the train. He was Mr. Ramiz, the director of the company in Constantinople, its name he could not remember. He hadn't want to be photographed, but Scott didn't forget his face. What would the son of a Russian mother and an Ottoman pasha do in Ankara at this stage? Businessmen like Mr. Ramiz were really marvelous. Scott would meet him later.

Harington didn't seem very happy to hear the latest information from Thomson on the far corner. When the guard company was ready, the delegation headed towards the station exit. The British lines moved with drums beating, bagpipes skirling, a tall banner bearer with the British flag at the forefront, the general riding on a black horse and the officers behind him. Scottish bagpipers with skirted clothing and the guard company followed them in lockstep. Despite many searches no white horse had been found for Harington. Scott started photographing this historic image. The materials came with them were rearmost on the carriages. No one was on the streets. It was very quiet. Fifteen minutes later, they came to the parliament building. At the gate there was no one except two guards and a few officials. Scott recorded this view too. The building was completely reserved for the delegation. The British flag was hoisted on his door right away.

The general's working place was the parliament building. The deputies were dismissed. The delegation was to stay in Taşhan opposite the parliament. And the guard company would settle in the Redif Barracks near the Haji Bayram Mosque.

The next day, Harington and some delegation members went to the provincial building and met with the deputy governor. Taking notes continuously, Scott was among them too. The general, in his usual seriousness and with a sullen face, gave a written memorandum to the deputy governor in Turkish and in English. He would dismiss the officials who create difficulties. The gendarmerie and all security personnel were to be placed under the British captain, the commander of the guard company. Those who broke the public order would be arrested. Railways, telegraph and telephone communications would be given to the British administration. The British could invade any place they wanted.

The officials frowned in anger after hearing this memorandum. Their behavior and words quoted by the Armenian interpreter to the general were not friendly. The questions of the allied persons who started to work in other rooms were answered in a similar way: “I don't know... Someone has taken all the documents... I will keep on searching...”

None of them assumed a humble attitude. Scott felt the approaching storm. The Turks of Ankara would not cooperate with the invaders... The declaration affixed to Taşhan's wall the next morning confirmed this.

‘Today is Ankara's Dark Day! Death to the invaders! Death to the collaborators! Long live the insurgents!’

General Harington expected this. No surprise. He told Navy Captain Nelson to make the agents work harder. The priority of the occupation forces was Ankara. If very strict measures were not taken here, the control of the surrounding cities and towns would be much more difficult. Harington received a report on June 18th that all railways and Black Sea ports, especially İnebolu was under their control. However, they could not prevent the Turkish nationalist leaders from escaping. One of Nelson's tasks was how it was done and who helped. He wanted to know this immediately. He was going to kick their ass. Nelson, as Mr. Ramiz, would open the representation of the dummy company. His men in Ankara were suspicious of the Russians but they had no evidence. They signed an agreement with the Russians three months ago. The UK began providing financial aid to the Bolshevik Government which was in a difficult situation. In return, they would take no action against The UK. The general demanded evidence that they could blame the Russians internationally. That was what London desired.

Scott received up-to-date information from the general during dinner. He was worrying about 30,000 deserted and armed soldiers. There were very few British troops in the region. It was necessary to increase public confidence in the occupants. This could increase the number of the collaborators and the whistleblowers. The caliph sultan should help in this matter and comfort people. They needed a lot of time and hard work to control the area.

Scott had a hard time leaving the notebook and eating... According to Harington, the Italians wouldn't have much trouble. They were good with the Turks. But for the Greeks whom the Turks hated next months and years would not be easy. As a matter of fact, from the beginning he did not trust the Greek leaders. With the successful British operation, they were able to defeat the Turkish Army, which lacked the leadership of Mustafa Kemal Pasha. But their advance to the east of the Sakarya River would be very risky, both politically and militarily. They would be exhausted and face the harsh reaction of the Turks. The ambassador and the general applied to London for an urgent instruction. London accepted their motives and proposals and requested the Greeks to comply with the ceasefire.

The case of Lt. Colonel Alfred Frederick Rawlinson, the nephew of the Minister of Foreign Affairs Lord Curzon was important too. He was sent to Erzurum two years ago. He would collect the weapons of the Turkish army in the East and send them to the warehouses of the occupation forces and supervise the demobilization and the compliance with the ceasefire conditions. He would also secretly explore the possibilities of establishing an independent Armenia. If possible, he would give arms and ammunition of the Turks to the Caucasian Armenians. However, when the British arrested some deputies who supported the resistance in İstanbul last year, Mustafa Kemal Pasha had Rawlinson arrested. He was now released and would come to Ankara after a two-month leave. He had not accepted the American proposal to work together in Erzurum. He demanded to work under the command of the British Governor-General in Ankara. Harington was confident that he would be very helpful with his knowledge of the Turks and his excellent Turkish. Although General kept it secret, Scott knew that Rawlinson was a British secret service official.

Major Thomson was appointed as the commander of the Ankara garrison, and published his first notice:

1. Carrying and possession of weapons shall be considered a crime.

2. After dark, the curfew will begin.

3. Meetings and demonstrations are prohibited.

4. Mosques will only be opened at the time of worship and will be out of politics.

5. Newspapers are subject to censorship.

6. Smuggling and black market will be severely punished.

7. Martial law officials and courts will not tolerate those who disrupt the order of the occupation forces.

Next week, the French and the Italians were going to give Thomson a company each, and the Greeks would give a battalion.

The following day, Scott went to meet with journalist friend Mr. Yunus, who supported the resistance. The door was closed. He had escaped from the British in İstanbul and came to Ankara. The British came here too. It was his fate to live on the run.

***

News Quotes from European news agencies, dated November 22, 1921:

The situation becomes normal in Turkey...

The insurgent nationalists captured were exiled to Malta.

On 1 September 1921, the “Central Anatolian Republic” was declared in Ankara. The first Prime Minister Ferit Pasha the Groom started to work under the British Governor-General. The Ottoman Sultan Vahdettin, who left his throne, continues to serve as Caliph in İstanbul.

The allegations of massacres against Turks in the new states established in Anatolia are denied. Demonstrations and riots against the new order are strongly suppressed.

The peace agreement is expected to be signed soon.

 

***

Mr. Mazhar.

November 1921. Ankara.

The man with black coat, fez, long beard, eyeglasses, using a cane was trying to walk slowly and limping among the crowd. Major Hüseyin Üsküplü in his new guise, or Mr. Mazhar with his new identity was having a hard time these days. The commanders based in Baku were trying to manage a basic dilemma: to fight or endure these humiliating days. In the end, they decided to act long-term and in a well-planned fashion.

Hitting rock bottom would be an opportunity to leap up…

Winter was approaching. By mid-November, it had been rainy and cold weeks. The leaves of the trees came down, the snow occasionally showed its face, and then covered the highlands. Mr. Mazhar closed the shop and took a walk around noon. He was very upset in recent days. He recalled the words of his teacher at Staff College, Colonel Mehmet: “When you feel trapped and overwhelmed, stop working and get away from there, albeit briefly.”

It was Friday. The roads were crowded. People with their horses, donkeys and carts came to market for shopping. On the orders of the British Governor-General, the new administration worked hard to ensure that citizens could meet their vegetables, fruits and other needs before winter. Advertisements were placed on main roads, on the streets to support the new administration. Mazhar heard the azan of a nearby mosque. It was more touching, sadder than three months ago. Or it sounded to him like that. On the streets between Samanpazarı and Bentderesi, he was walking very slowly, limping, holding his black Oltu stone rosary.

One of the measures they took after June was the new identities. Bekir, Hayrettin's expert in producing false documents, did his job well. He was no longer Staff Major Hüseyin Üsküplü. He became Mr. Mazhar of Kastamonu, a draper merchant. He got the new identity from the general register office. Mazhar was a lone soldier who was recorded as ‘missing’ during the Balkan War. Then he showed up as a rich man and settled in Ankara, the capital of the new republic. When he came back from İstanbul, where he was on leave, he opened a draper store in Samanpazarı. He could not do this without the help of his brother Sabri, who has done the same business in İstanbul, and Hamza, a locksmith who was considered a born-tradesman. There had never been an endeavor so-called ‘trade’ in his life. He also received good information from his Jewish friends:

‘Tradesman speak well, does not compromise on smiling face, provides trust to customers, his patrons, treats them well and hosts them nicely. He takes care of his clothing, consults requesting customers. His biggest secret is investment. He is confident, exhibits his goods well, but it is important to win when buying. He must be an entrepreneur, but at the same time he makes savings. He knows income and expense accounting.’

Mr. Mazhar took Mahmut, his loyal friend, former orderly and bouncer, with him. He rented a house close to Karaoğlan Square and stayed together with Mahmut. More interestingly, this house was very close to the house rented for the British agent Mustafa Sagir. This traitor was responsible for the assassination of Mustafa Kemal Pasha. When he was fleeing from Ankara to İstanbul, he had committed suicide, realizing he would be caught in Adapazarı.

Mr. Mazhar was a middle-aged man with health problems. His appearance, walking, speech was slow. British intelligence and local collaborators continued witch hunting. In unexpected places and times, policemen and military police carried out identity checks. He had to be very careful. If he was caught, everything would be over.

As the snow started Mr. Mazhar came to the Jewish quarter. The narrow street where the synagogue was located was secluded. He entered the coffeehouse on the roadside and sat down at one of the tables near the window. He asked for some strong tea, started smoking. Jewish hardware and shoemaker were on the opposite sidewalk. Sometimes they came, sometimes Mr. Mazhar went to them and they chat. But he didn't stop by them this time. He needed a little thought, not a chat.

From June 26 to July 26, he went to İstanbul for a month leave. After his arrest on May 21 last year, his mother became very weak and eventually developed tuberculosis. When the hospital treatment didn't work, they brought her back home, now he was on her deathbed. Mrs. Reşide had initially asked that her eldest son in Ankara not to be notified so as not to worry. But when she realized living her last days, told them to call him. That was her last wish. When she saw Hüseyin she somehow revived. They had chatted until late. She hadn't accepted their requests not to get too tired. Although she had understood the reason for his son's new look, she found it somewhat odd.

Hüseyin could not meet much with his fiancé Hanımşah, whom he missed so much during these painful days. But they decided it would be appropriate for them to get married as soon as possible. On July 8 they got married in a simple ceremony, with the participation of Mr. İbrahim, his father-in-law, Mrs. Kaniye, his mother-in-law, Yusuf the Oracle, his brother Sabri, his sister Ayşe and his close friend Hayrettin. The religious marriage was held at the modest house of Mrs. Reşide in Balat. This marriage she wanted to see meant that every desire in life was fulfilled.

Consequently, the expected end was not delayed. Mrs. Reşide passed away in peace three days later. Hüseyin buried his beloved mother, did not share his sadness in his heart with anybody and maintained his life. He was married and they had spent their honeymoon in Pera Palace, but they did not have their own house. His wife Hanımşah still lived in his father's house. Hüseyin had also stayed there for about a week. They had toured every opportunity and made plans and shopping lists for their future home. Hanımşah was determined, she would keep on teaching and was going to come to Ankara at the first opportunity. Because, after that, the future of the Turks and their real efforts would manage from there. She couldn't stay out of it. At the same time, she would be with her husband who was in need of care. They wouldn't be separated anymore.

The new draper merchant Mr. Mazhar had taken business lessons from his brother Sabri and met wholesalers in the Grand Bazaar. They arranged the accounts through Sabri. The train service between İstanbul and Ankara had returned to normal. They would send the goods from Haydarpaşa by freight trains. This could be done within four to five days. The duration for passenger trains was between 16-20 hours.

But the bad news had come when the leave was running out. A fire had broken out in Bektashi Yusuf's house while he was asleep during the night. He had been saved from the fire at the last minute. His body was burned. He had been in serious condition. They had immediately run to the hospital with Hanımşah. The old man could only smile with his eyes when he saw them. The skin of his face, neck and hands were covered with burns. So was his body. His wounds were deep and the inflammation had begun. His advanced age had aggravated his condition. Moreover, his lungs affected by smoke had been severely damaged. His body had looked shrunk. He had been tired and drawn out.

“I don't have much time, Hüseyin. Those who live long collect regret. Because they think they could do it differently. I have terrible dreams, scary sounds. I always think about yourselves. May God be with you.”

Hüseyin's leave was running out. Unfortunately, he had to return to Ankara. Bektashi Yusuf, whom he had entrusted to Sabri, Hayrettin and Hasan, had spent ten days in hospital and eventually died, as he had expected. With his will, he left all his assets, and especially his books for keeping, to Hüseyin, namely Mazhar. His darling uncle was never afraid of dying. Why would he be frightened of leaving this world where evil are all around and wellness and goodness and beauty are rare? Moreover, he would return to that peaceful and happy life he had left to give this life test. Apart from material things, there was very important lessons left by Yusuf the Oracle: Reason was the most important, but intuition was to be consulted when making decisions too. In difficult moments, no action would be taken immediately. With deep breaths, you would calm down, then decide. Where was the weakest part of the adversary? What was your most powerful weapon? Where was the best place? When was the best time? There was no need for panic, which exposes the smartest, wisest, and even the most valiant, to the weakness and the unconsciousness. The one who runs fast would get tired fast, who stood firmly on the ground with faith and balance would win. In the war, in the struggle, there was also defeat. We were not the first and last people to be defeated. The real gain was that one defeated himself, overcome doubts, fears, ignorance. Then it was easy to stand up.

Mr. Mazhar had returned to Ankara four months ago. While he was in İstanbul, his nephew, Sergeant İsmail, was assigned to general staff support units in Ankara. Mahmut, as in İstanbul, was tasked as a MM fedai - bouncer, hitman - together with İsmail.

On July 16, the British Governor-General took office in Ankara and his first job was to deport the arrested Turkish authorities to Malta.

In August, Mazhar went to the MM headquarters in Kızılcahamam with the texture he loaded on his carriage. Lt. Colonel Hüsamettin was disguised as a peasant and was hesitant to come to Ankara. With the money on hand, they had bought houses, land, bovine animals, sheep and goats, chickens and small farms in the town and nearby villages. In the daytime they were working like peasants, gathering in the darkness. Seeding was to be completed before winter. Straw and feed supply for animals went on. The hidden warehouses and safe shelters in-service were selected two for each region, one as main, one as reserve. The selection of unrecognized and reliable personnel from the disbanded army and kuvayı milliye - the nationalist forces - organizations continued. The gold was buried near Kızılcahamam. He and Hüsamettin went to see its place. No recordings would be made, be saved in their memory only. Paper money was being disposed. It was probably demonetized soon. The intelligence branch listed all of our intelligence personnel in İstanbul, Thrace and Anatolia. They were visiting them and would complete before winter. ‘The Organization’ on five fronts was spreading over time. Smuggling and burying of necessary weapons, ammunition and equipment in the mountains required more priority. Information collection about Armenian and Greek partisans close to here would be maintained. To give a start to the actions was postponed. The ‘Tradesmen Organization’ would be revived. Mr. Mazhar was learning trades. He would take over the management of the ‘Tradesmen Organization’.

September 1, 1921 was a historical date for some people, a dark day for some others. The ‘Central Anatolian Republic’ was declared with magnificent ceremonies in Ankara, chosen as the capital. Under the British Governor- General, Ferit Pasha the Groom as prime minister and British Lt. Colonel Rawlinson as Ankara garrison commander began their duties. The British fan Ferit had done his best to prevent the national struggle. Furthermore, he achieved it. They did not forget that he had 90 thousand chests of ammunition poured into the Sea of Marmara to fawn over the British. Mustafa Kemal Pasha and nationalists in Anatolia began to be insulted as ‘A handful of adventurers’. They were also held responsible for the lives lost in wars. There were trials in absentia. Vahdettin was declared innocent, his righteousness was understood. He was glorified as the Caliph in İstanbul.

Meanwhile, Hanımşah's father Mr. İbrahim was appointed as the undersecretary of the ministry of commerce in Ankara. He was rewarded for being near the sultan and Ferit Pasha the Groom. The bad news was that Cihat of Balat, the enemy of the nationalist forces, was the undersecretary of the ministry of interior in Ankara.

It was Mr. Mazhar's feast day when Hanımşah came to Ankara with his father by the end of September. Due to the difficulty of finding the hotel, he had hosted them in his new home. At the beginning of October, Hanımşah began teaching at a school near the Jewish Quarter. Each evening, he had heart-to-heart talk and argued with Mr. İbrahim, Hanımşah's father. In October, the public order in Anatolia began to be disturbed. There were incidents and even riots in numerous places outside of MM's control. They couldn't know who organized them. As a matter of fact, these uprisings were quickly suppressed. Then, like it was arranged, in the new states, the brutal actions against the Turks began by the non-Muslims and the Kurds. Hanımşah thought that this was deliberately engineered by the enemies of Turks. The Turks struggling to make a living were not involved in the events and in the insurrection. They didn't know who did it. Other suppressions followed. Special Courts and Fact Finding Commissions were set up. Based on the decisions taken there the property of the Turks were confiscated. Reporters and false witnesses were everywhere. The trials of Turks who resisted this began in phony cases.

Tens of thousands of Turks could not stand the persecution. Migrations from the east and the west started to the Central Anatolian Republic. They hoped to take refuge with their close or distant relatives before winter. There were reports that Christians and Kurds were settled on places left by the Turks. On the other hand, it was heard that the oppression and persecution of those who stayed in place were increasing and even they were employed in labor units. Reactions began too. The number of Turkish youth, middle-aged men and women willing to join the resistance began to increase. The MM had to be very careful. It was possible to leak agents among them.

At the end of October, the MM sent a courier to Baku for approval of the Resistance Plan. The priority was in the Central Anatolian Republic. The target would be the British and the officials of the new state who collaborate. In the spring of 1922, operations would begin. Other fronts would wait for action, giving priority to organization and training. Regional bouncers and the formation of troops with 50 men would be completed by the summer of 1922.

They got good news last week. The Bolsheviks had sent five million gold liras for ‘the resistance’, waiting to be spent at the Russian Embassy in Ankara.

Mr. Mazhar paid the account to the waiter he waived. He went out. The snow had stopped. He started walking towards the shop, with a slight limp. His thoughts continued. It was said that the Turkish flag would be changed soon. Those who said ‘There is no Turk. Turkism is separatism’ were awarded. British historians and political scientists were writing the book of ‘Central Anatolian Republic’. They claimed, ‘The damage done by Mustafa Kemal Pasha is more than that of Greece. Fortunately, the Greek is victorious.’

As soon as he entered the shop, Mahmut began to reproach. “Where have you been, major? I almost lost my mind. How could you disappear without notice?”

“Sorry, dear Mahmut. My anger attacks again. I threw myself out. You weren't around. I couldn't tell.”

Mahmut went to call the MM element waiting in the coffeehouse on the corner. They lit a cigarette each. Hüsamettin had sent him. The number of those who join ‘the Organization’ was increasing. They chose an appropriate cave as a base. They stayed away from towns and settled mostly in villages. Additionally, shelters well-hidden and covered were being built. Escape tunnels were being dug from the bunkers. Gunpowder production had started inside some bunkers. But as the militia power increase, so did the problems. There were quarrels during trainings, meals, breaks and in watch posts. The groupings had also begun. Lt. Colonel Hüsamettin had a strict order. Employment of the people for the cause would be provided without offending them.

Mazhar told that he applied to the governor office for establishing the ‘Tradesmen Organization’. They took the sample of the regulation from İstanbul and adapted it to Ankara with Hamza the locksmith. Its main office was this shop for now. The founding members were himself, a friend of Hamza, and the quilt maker in front of him. Their registers and accounts were approved.

There was so much to do...

***

The Immigrants.

November 1921. Adana.

Scottish historian and journalist Scott Wallace set foot in Alexandretta port, in Turkish İskenderun, on a beautiful autumn evening on November 8, 1921. The voyage starting from İstanbul hit the spot in the calm and mild sea and weather of the Mediterranean Sea after the harsh waves of the Aegean Sea. His visit three years ago to Alexandria on the opposite coast of the Mediterranean Sea came to his mind. Alexander the Great had founded both cities by giving his name. Since their English names are so close, these two cities were confused. He went to the hotel in a phaeton. To make a reservation by telegraph was wise. The Cilician New Crusader Republic founded in the French mandate attracted numerous people here. People were coming from Europe, North Africa, Palestine and Lebanon to find their families, to start a business, and to buy still inexpensive assets and real estate as early as possible.

While everyone was happy saying ‘peace has come, let's do our business,’ the systematic massacres against the Turks had increased more than two years ago and attracted world public attention here. That's why the Scottish journalist, a newshound, arrived here. As a historian he had another purpose. The Galatian tribe Trokmi had come up to Cilicia and Tarsus. He would look for their tracks if he had the chance in this turmoil.

Scott retired to his room after a warm shower and a light dinner. Drinking his pipe on his balcony overlooking the bay, he mused. The experiences in the last five months was the milestones of a not yet recorded history...

While in Ankara, British garrison commander Major Thomson issued his first martial law notice on 22 June. French, Italian and Greek officers and some expert civilians had come to Ankara and been placed under his command. Scott could not find his journalist friend Yunus. He must have escaped. Who knows where he is now?

The following week, Ankara was active. The French and the Italians sent a company and the Greeks sent a battalion and they entered into Thomson's service. The counting and delivery of weapons and ammunition depots of military units in Ankara and nearby regions continued. The mysterious Mr. Ramiz was absent. He was told that Ramiz was looking for job opportunities for his company in surrounding towns.

Scott had taken lots of pictures with his Zeiss camera, kept them and notebooks like treasure. He had put them all in a separate suitcase and returned to İstanbul by train in early July. First thing was to meet Naciye, whom he fell in love with three months ago. She maintained working at the German Hospital. A few days later, her friend Hanımşah had married. Dr. Naciye had become Bektashi like his grandfather. She was now the living representative of Fatima, the daughter of the Prophet. When invited to dinner at Naciye's grandfather's mansion in Valideçeşme, Scott was excited like a young boy. Mr. Rumi was a sweet old man in his 75s. He was like a father to Naciye who lost his father at the age of six. His gestures, tone of voice and hand gestures were very similar to his friend, the coppersmith master Bektashi Yusuf in Balat. During the Ottoman Empire, he held various posts in the Balkans and Iraq, such as district governor and governor. He talked about the heretical Bogomil sect in Bulgaria. Scott surprised Mr. Rumi by telling a story he did not know. The Celts, his ancestors, were also involved in the subject. The Byzantine Emperor had exiled some of the Galatians in the Kızılırmak-Sakarya region to Plovdiv. They had not accepted Christianity. The letters of Saint Paul, one of Jesus' disciples, to the Galatians were an important document. The Belgae and the Boi, the ancestors of the Galatians who came to Bulgaria, had lived in the Balkans for a long time. They were called ‘Bogomil’ - The friend of the folk - and regarded as the continuation of the Paflikian, a heretical Armenian sect too. People were like soup.

Mr. Rumi continued by thanking. The Ottoman Sultan Murat I had sent the Turkmen to the Balkans. The Bektashis, who settled in Plovdiv, Belgrade and Didymoteicho had met the Bogomil. Grandpa Rumi and Scott were connected to each other in this manner. Scott was in love with his granddaughter and liked her grandfather too. Rumi finished that evening prettifying with Anatolian folk songs he sang and played with his saz.

Scott could spare some time to collect information, photographs and documents about the Armenian question, which he postponed since March. He couldn't find Vartan in his office and had left word with Arto. Three days later, himself and Vartan had gone to the house of his uncle Doctor Kamburyan, received some valuable information and documents from him. Later, through Kamburyan, he met with many Armenian politicians.

 On July 16, the British Governor-General had taken office in Ankara, General Harington returned to İstanbul the following week. On 1 September 1921, The Central Anatolian Republic (CAR) had been declared in Ankara. The first government and prime minister Ferit Pasha the Groom came into office under the British governor-general. Scott had missed this big deal! He was worried about too much. Without photographs, he had reported it with some information he could get in Constantinople.

If he had stayed in Ankara, he would have had an interview with Ferit Pasha the Groom. He had in mind the most important question to ask him. “How do you feel to be in Ankara, where you and some of your friends were sentenced to death twice last year?”

To ask him the same question next time wouldn't make sense. In another case he would give the answer himself. He had also missed the exile of the captured Turkish authorities to Malta. But he could report that the last Ottoman Sultan Vahdettin maintained his mission being only The Caliph in Constantinople.

In the same weeks, although unrests and uprisings appeared in many parts of Anatolia, they were quelled in a short time. This was followed by massacres in the new states by the end of October. In foreign circles in Constantinople, the news was spreading about the seizure of the property of the Turks, the establishment of Fact Finding Commissions and Special Courts. The news of the resisting Turks in the fake trials were also in public. Scott was going to investigate the news on the spot.

Now he was in Alexandretta, in Turkish İskenderun. The next morning, he was going to Adana. With the help of a French journalist friend, Kenan who spoke little English, and the 1920 four-cylinder Renault car were at Scott's disposal for a month. New State Magazine would pay the bill.

 As Scott was trying to pay the hotel account after breakfast, the driver in his forties Kenan was waiting in the entrance. He was short, dark-skinned, considered handsome with his black short-cut hair, black eyebrows, black eyes and athletic structure. Kenan put the things in the trunk. He was telling when he got in the car. The tank was full of gasoline. He didn't forget the reserve gasoline in the canister. First aid kit, food and water were also with them. They moved. Kenan gave some information about himself. He spoke Turkish, Kurdish, Arabic and some Armenian, French and English. His ancestors were among the tribes of the Hakkari region. They had come to Alexandretta long ago. He was married, had two sons. Their religion was Assyrian Christian. In the Middle East, their numbers were very low. They had adopted the Nestorian belief, also known as the Eastern Assyrians. When they refused to accept Catholicism, they were considered heretical.

In the meantime, Scott was reading boards posted on the walls. They were written in French, Armenian and Ottoman languages showing also the map of the region. ‘Don't forget! The first Crusader State, the Earldom of Urfa was founded in 1098 and survived until 1144.’

A few hundred meters later, the other: ‘Christianity's fourth holy Antioch Crusader Principality was founded in 1098 and ruled also Palestine until 1268.’

A bit more further, another one: ‘The Earldom of Tripoli was founded in 1104, remain standing until 1291.’

The one at the exit of the city: ‘The Kingdom of Jerusalem was founded in 1099, ended in 1291.’

Below all of them, the same sentence was written in larger letters: ‘These lands, which had become dry under the rule of Muslims for 631 years, flourishing in the hands of Christians.’

Kenan was telling. For a short time, he joined the Armenian-Assyrian partisan fighting against the Turks. He was seriously wounded in a clash and treated at the French military hospital. He then left partisans and became a driver in the French legion thanks to his foreign language. He was happy with his new job, proud to help Mr. Scott. He was the first Englishman he has ever met. He was introducing the area. Nur Mountains on the right, Mediterranean Sea on the left. These landscapes were not found everywhere.

 They stopped in the towns of Dörtyol and Ceyhan, where smoke was rising from some quarters. Human and animal corpses and skeletons were everywhere, some covered with blankets. The minarets of several mosques were demolished and nearby graves were opened. They also ran across people who took refuge in destroyed, burned-down houses and were shocked among the debris. Some were trying to save things from the ruins. But Scott couldn't talk to them. When he approached, they escaped with fearful movements. He confined himself to take a lot of pictures.

They went on. The harvest was already over in the cotton fields. They were in Adana at noon. This place was no different from what they saw on the roads. The posters on the walls introducing historic states of Crusades were copies of the previous ones. Among the French and Armenian flags in the prominent places there were debris, fumes and desperate, aimless, miserable people pouring into the roads. They were afraid of looking at the soldiers in French uniforms on horseback and on foot patrol.

The hotel he booked was located in a quiet part of the city. After some rest, they had a light meal at the hotel restaurant. Scott demanded a city tour by car. The first images were not bad. This place was far from conflict. It was Saturday. The roads were full of phaetons, carts and people. They watched a couple of people getting out landons and marching to the casino, partly under reparation. They spoke Armenian and French, were happy with their lives. They moved, passed the Protestant Church. Greek and Jewish quarters, such as the Hıdırilyas Neighborhood where Armenian population was concentrated and the main church Surp Asdvadzadzin located were quiet too. People, shops, pharmacies, houses maintained their lives. They proceeded along the banks of the Seyhan River which divided the city in two. The neglected piers and arched stone bridge sides were calm too. When they came to the densely populated neighborhoods of Turks, dramatic scenes began. Clock tower, Corps square, Bahri Pasha Fountain, governor's mansion square was heartbreaking. It was like post-war. Kenan said this was very similar to the scenes in 1909 when the massacre of fifteen thousand Armenians took place. The minaret of the Great Mosque was destroyed and its interior was pillaged. Tepebağ quarter, Fountain Square, the houses, shops around the muddy roads were burned down. There were still smocking buildings. The fighting wasn't over. Sometimes, they could see a few people. The city center was abandoned.

Just then the rain began. However, the train station was very crowded. Those who could not find a place inside, were willing to travel outside, on the wagons. They drove westward. At the exit of Tarsus-Pozantı road, some Turks had formed caravans as horse carriages, oxen carts, camels and pedestrians. The elderly, middle-aged and children were in the majority. Some of them had bandaged heads, their clothes were torn to pieces. Most of them had bare feet, and those with shoes had their soles separated. Scott got out of the car, started taking pictures. Only a sober-minded middle-aged man could speak among hundreds of people. He was about to cry. But as he spoke, he relaxed and began to tell.

“We have no peace after the invasion, sir. Christians make difficulties at every opportunity, they torture us for no reason. Last month, someone started attacking the Armenians. Then, French soldiers were shot. One was killed and several were wounded. We didn't know how. We couldn't get out of the house when darkness fell. One night, when Armenian churches were set on fire, Turkish workplaces, houses and mosques were attacked. Armed and masked bandits raided Turkish neighborhoods in turn. They killed people regardless of being old, child or woman and disappeared.” He spread both hands as if he prays. “The Turks did nothing, sir. I swear. We were afraid of these attacks. That's why we didn't do anything to create a tension. We avoided talking loudly. We didn't respond to unjust acts committed against us. We followed the order of martial law not to resist. But they attacked us, and then we were reported. In court, false witnesses testified against us. Our goods have been confiscated. We couldn't take it anymore.”

“Where are you going?”

“A new state was established for us inland of Anatolia. We're migrating there. We have no choice, sir.”

Scott retired to his room in the evening. He had taken about hundred images. He corrected his notes. The Cilician New Crusader Republic established in the French mandate would increase the Christian population. The number of Turks was reduced compared to the Armenians brought from Lebanon and Syria. With the banners on the streets it was emphasized that they were the real owners of these lands. In the meantime, the Armenians were taking revenge. Scott had followed some Armenian cases in İstanbul. He had met with Arto and Vartan. He had received some information and documents from the doctor Kamburyan. The Armenians seemed right. The Balkan Christians had been freed from the Ottoman Turks and established their independent states. The Russians had helped them all. But they had let down the Armenians. Now the British and the French were helping. Armenians would have their own state.

Next day he had an important agenda. His friend French journalist was unable to make an appointment with the governor-general. But the garrison commander was waiting for him at 11:00. The French garrison settled in the barracks of the Ottoman army. The guards behind the sandbags pointed the rifles at the car and asked Kenan to stop the engine. They wanted Scott and the driver to get out, took their ID papers. One of the guards searched inside of the car and the trunk. They were guided by a soldier who got in the vehicle and they came to Major Mathieu Clichy's office, passing training soldiers and parked vehicles. After the coffee service, the major began to explain that he was aware of his mission.

“You know, the Ottoman demanded a cease-fire when the war lost. According to the agreement, General Hamlin, the commander of the Syrian Occupation Army, entered Adana with a ceremony at the end of 1918. So we've been here for three years. I was one of the first officers coming here too. After us, Armenian bouncers and immigrants came to the region. They would establish an Armenian State in Cilicia. We supported it too. The Turks revolted, they made the French suffer heavy losses. We had to leave Maraş and Urfa, then we demanded a 20-day truce. Even our Syrian mandate was in danger.”

After Kenan's translation, he went on. “The Armenians were getting stronger. We brought another division after the Treaty of Sevres. But we were exhausted by the end of last year. We stopped the military operation.”

Scott lit his pipe during the translation and commented. “When the Turks signed the cease-fire treaty at the beginning of June 1921, the resistance ended.”

Major Clichy approved. “Exactly, Mr. Wallace. All the troops followed the ceasefire. The inspection teams visited Adana after Konya and Diyarbakır.”

The Scottish journalist came to the point. “What can you say about the outburst of Armenians in Adana and its vicinity in recent months? I visited Dörtyol, Ceyhan and Adana. I talked to some Turks. I've seen and heard unpleasant things.”

We know that. I'm sure they told you they didn't know about those who attacked on the Armenians and Churches.”

“Yes. They believe that someone deliberately made these provocations.”

“I have heard similar complaints. I explored, but couldn't find any tangible evidence. Attacks were made at night. We didn't find perpetrators. The Turks closed their shops. But the Armenians were arming. We have brought four more battalions from Beirut.”

Scott proceeded. “I watched some Armenian cases in the courthouse of Constantinople. They had similar situations. But now they get their rights back. Responsible Ottoman rulers are punished too. Besides, one of them was executed. Years later, you can be sued. I just wanted to remind you.”

The major straightened, cleared his throat. “The records of the real estates vacated by Turks are kept regularly. Christians who need these places are temporarily settled. We also try to protect those who remain in place.”

“According to you, how much mandate time does your government expect?”

“Very difficult to estimate. The mandate management is not as easy and cheap as it seems. We have experiences around the world, as your people do. It seems it takes at least 20-25 years. That's more or less a generation.”

Scott got enough information. Asking permission, he left. He said to Kenan, who took care of the gasoline supply of the vehicle in the barracks, to take him to places he had not seen before. They stopped at a Christian cemetery. It must have been neglected for years and looted by robbers. The craftsmen were repairing broken, damaged crosses, grave inscriptions and statues. The Byzantine Church next door was similar too. Faded inscriptions appeared on the facade with crosses and some ornaments. These were some Bible verses to be repaired later. He took several pose photos. They wandered until evening. It was difficult to envisage how these places would look ten or fifteen years from now.

Scott and Kenan left Adana on a foggy morning. They were driving via Tarsus-Pozantı to Niğde immigrant camp 250 kilometers away. They passed fugitives caravans on the muddy roads one by one. Human and animal corpses and debris continued to be seen near the road, but less frequent than before. Scott felt terrible when he took photos. He thought that he stole something from their souls and owed them. When all was over, what would viewers of these scenes and readers of these stories think about?

About two hours later they crossed Çukurova and started climbing the Taurus Mountains. The roads were broken and muddy. As far as engine noise allowed, Scott was chatting with the Assyrian driver Kenan. He was very close to the Armenians. He found them right. It was enough for them to suffer from the Turks who ruled this land for thousands of years. Now they would comply to suffer too. The Armenians would then live in the states they would establish in their homeland. Muslim Kurds had ill-treated the Armenians with the support of the Turks. In return, they lived better than the Armenians. But they were going to get rid of the Turks and they deserved their own state.

The car started climbing the mountains. Kenan was paying attention to the road. Scott tried to enjoy the nature with deep breaths, could not get enough of snow-capped peaks of the mountains, steep cliffs, cedar forests, rivers, splendid and amazing geography. When Kenan had the opportunity, talked about the Yörük living in these highlands.

Suddenly, the vehicle stopped. Kenan slowly pulled out the cross in his jacket and kissed it. He answered his passenger's inquisitive gaze, signaling with his hand him to be silent. Scott then realized that two Armenian partisans were pointing their rifles at them about ten meters away. One with a hat, the other with a fez, they were scary with cartridge belts crossed over their sheepskin cloaks and grenades hanging from their waist belt. The one with the hat signaled to stop the engine. A third partisan with a gun came out of the trees. He had no mustache, younger than them, approached the vehicle. In a loud voice he ordered, “Get out of the vehicle. Let's see your documents!” The passengers did what was said. He ordered again them to kneel putting hands on their heads and look down. They did it too. Kenan spoke Armenian. “I am an Assyrian, a friend of the Armenian. This is a British journalist. You're doing wrong!” The young militant looked sternly and spoke “Shut up!” He took whatever was on them. He got into the car. It sounds that he was searching everywhere. When they were asked to stand up after about three minutes, they realized that the partisans had usurped everything useful for them. Scott and Kenan should be grateful; they survived simply because they were not Turks. Leaving them some food and water, partisans disappeared in the jungle. The driver and Scottish passenger quietly gathered the belongings and clothes left by the partisans. Kenan tried to lighten the mood saying “It was good that we took precautions before we moved, sir, I warned you about this.” He started the car with a tricky wink. After half an hour they found a stopover by a creek.

“Armenian partisans could not think of looking behind the spare tire. Just as I thought, sir.”

Scott replied with a smile, “Thank you Kenan. I don't know what would I do without you.” He caressed his Zeiss camera which was saved from robbery. “Thanks to you, I will continue to take photos and smoke my pipe.”

The cautious driver replied with a smile too, “Thank you, sir. It is my duty to protect you.”

They collected the remaining food. The Assyrian hid valuable things in the same place. They moved. “We cross the mountains in two hours. Then we'll be in the safe zone, Mr. Wallace.” The British passenger asked him to be in the safe zone before dark. Kenan would do his best. The border lines were unclear. Border adjustment commissions worked in cold regions before winter. They would be here soon. Until the Armenian gangs arrived, the mountain villages were safe for the immigrants of Adana. As they approached the summit, gunfire came from far away. Kenan was unperturbed.

“It's either among the partisans, or they're executing the Turks they've trapped, sir.”

As Renault descended the mountain the rain began. The mild climate of the Armenian Republic of Cilicia and the Mediterranean was left behind. They were entering the territory of the Central Anatolian Republic in the British mandate. There was a history written here. Scott was supposed to document it with some news and photos. Then he would write a book or separate books for each new state. They crossed the mountains towards the evening. Kenan suggested to spend the night in Pozantı. He was going to refuel. He started telling a memory. “In May last year, a French battalion had occupied Pozantı. The Turkish insurgents were strong here. They besieged Pozantı, blocked Adana and Mersin road. The French division commander in Adana ordered the battalion to withdraw from Pozantı, to cross the Taurus Mountains and to return to Mersin. I was in Adana. My Armenian and Assyrian friends were on duty in this battalion. One night, the French crossed the siege circle and set off. Accompanied by the guides, they chose a mountain path that was not known much. But they were trapped in a passage. Six hundred French soldiers were captured.”

“Their commander was very naive, I suppose.” Scott commented.

“Then an Armenian soldier who managed to escape from captivity came to Adana and testified. One of the two guides was a woman. In a narrow passage on the mountain, intense fire was opened from front, rear and sides. The battalion commander decided to surrender to save the lives of his soldiers. The weapons, animals and equipment passed into the hands of the Turks. More painfully, the Turks were at most 40 or 45 men.”

“Really unbelievable.”

“Yeah. The commanding officer of the Turks was very capable. In fact, sir, I still wonder how the Greeks defeated the Turks, who were born soldiers.”

“I was a reserve officer in the European War, Kenan. The commander is everything. He may be a hero, a valiant, ordinary man, helpless, even coward. This is incomprehensible in peace but comprehensible in war. When the Turks lost their commander-in-chief, Mustafa Kemal Pasha, they lost the war.”

“But I believe they will recover again.”

They finally found a small hotel with only one room available. They were considered lucky. The rich Çukurova - Cilician - immigrants were staying here. The toilet was shared at the end of the hallway. They didn't serve food. Kenan went to the bazaar. An hour later, he returned with boiled eggs, cheese, olives, onions, bread and a small jug of ayran, their evening and morning food. He was able to get gasoline from black market paying the French Franc. They didn't accept Ottoman money.

The next morning, they visited Pozantı. The immigrants were everywhere: Schools, stations, gardens of houses, haystacks, benches under trees, muddy roads, water buffalo carts driven by women and children…

Two hours later, they were in an immigrant camp near Niğde. The entrance was not visible. The children and women were half-naked; no adult men were around. Scott remembered his visit to British army prison camps in Egypt about three years ago. They headed to the Red Crescent tent whose flag was waving. Kenan introduced himself to the old man with a white band of Red Crescent on his arm. He explained that they came from Adana and desired to meet with the camp manager. They waited about half an hour in the car. Finally, the middle-aged manager wearing a fez and cloak appeared. Passing through muddy, rough roads they came to a tent in the middle of the grove. The manager began to inform offering tea from the kettle on the wood stove. The Niğde camp was established in the grove in the south of the city, especially for those fleeing from the Adana region. The Red Crescent of the Central Anatolian Republic was ruling and the British Red Cross was helping. The Turks, who could save their lives, came to Konya, Niğde, Bor and Ulukışla. Living conditions were extremely severe. Too many people died because of epidemics, lack of doctors and medications. A complete census was not taken. According to rough estimates, six million of seven million citizens living in the Central Anatolian Republic were Turks. About a million of them were immigrants. Scott interrupted, “So you say that one in six Turks living in the new state is an immigrant. Don't you?”

The manager nodded sadly. “Camps were established in every city and town. Some camps shelter thousand people and some others ten thousand people trying to survive in tents. Life is very difficult here, but at least they are safe, they live.” Seeing the journalist taking notes, the manager went on, “Resources are far from meeting the needs of housing, nutrition, health, work and education. Things will get harder in the winter.” The manager kept on telling. “Most suffered on the roads from cold, starvation, infectious diseases such as typhoid, typhus and smallpox. The gangs cleaned the survivors out, then killed. None could be recorded. The already insufficient population and land registry records were destroyed by engineered fires or robberies.” The number of immigrants in the camp was close to five thousand. Mount animals were a source of food due to the common desperation. But there was good news too. Every immigrant family would be given five acres of land and hundred fruit trees, most of which were apples.

Scott with an official tasked by the Manager wandered around the camp taking photos. He chatted with some immigrants, listened to their stories and took notes. Friends and relatives of some of them were massacred by armed Armenians. Some farms, some villages were raided and burned. There were Turks shot and burned alive in the oven after torture in alleged murder of Armenians. Some churches were turned into bomb manufacturing plant, weapon and bullet depots, and some were turned into execution place also. There were corpses thrown into the wells, hung on the trees, killed by bombs, and beheaded and exhibited in the most crowded place of Adana. Some Turkish girls were married to Armenians and taken to Aleppo. They were supposedly rescuing Armenian children, who, by force, had been converted to Islam by Turks. The goods, products and animals of the Turkish families were shared among the Armenians. An old teacher told different things. “The Armenian militants outside of the local population crowded in Adana and Haçın. They dismissed the Turkish officials. Their ringleader was appointed as district governor. The revenge committee was working against the Turks. They said to the Kurds, ‘You are not Turks’, to the Arabs, 'Why are you under the suzerainty of the Turks?’, to the Afshars and the Circassians: 'You are separate nations, you have the right to be free, leave the Turkish administration.”

They interviewed a handicapped gendarmerie officer too. Before the massacres, the tax collectors began to work by imposing heavy penalties for Turkish peasants and artisans. The punishments that could not be paid were followed by confiscating the goods. There were rumors that Turks attacked Christians and Kurds, especially women and children. Then the armed gangs carried out night raids in villages and neighborhoods where Turks were in the minority. Unquestioned murders and rapes followed each other. There were no raided Turkish house or business left. There were those who didn't escape. All their properties were looted, burned, destroyed. They were going to try to live repairing the ruins. They agreed to work in labor battalions with their uniforms embroidered the flag of the new state on their breasts. For security reason, women were forbidden to wear burqa and to cover their faces with veil. Worship was restricted in mosques. Some Turks agreed to convert their religion. On their foreheads were put holy water and they ate bratwurst. They allege an excuse that some of their ancestors were converted to Muslim for fear of death. On the document given them a picture of Jesus' baptism was printed and ‘This person has become a Christian’ was written. Men would no longer wear fez. And women would walk the streets with their faces open. Apparently, the management was in the hands of the French. But the Armenians controlled every corner. Some French officers, along with the Armenians, began to collect bribes and money from the wealthy and threatened Turks. The weapons collected from the Turks were given to the Armenians. Special ‘Provocation Groups’ were formed. Sometimes they provoked Armenians' enmity towards Turks by distributing leaflets and sometimes took action. The Turks were not idle. Taurus mountains were crowded with gangs. All deserted Turkish soldiers, the ‘order to shoot’ at them was given, were bandits in the mountains. There was also participation from villages and towns. Things were crazy.

Ürgüp was only an hour away. They went there before dark. Scott could see Cappadocia too. It would be wrong to leave without seeing famous fairy chimneys, houses carved into the rocks, churches decorated with frescoes, and traces of thousands of years of civilizations.

Especially traces of the Celts...

***

Epilogue.

The patient and careful reader of this book, like me, witnessed the collapse of the Ottoman Empire during the period between 1919-1922. The Turkish nationalists, namely the nationalist forces led by Mustafa Kemal Pasha, who refused to accept the Treaty of Sevres in August 1920, collapsed at a critical turn in May 1921. Their great leaders were neutralized by British intelligence. He had to quit fighting. The grandchildren of the Uighur Turks were defeated a month later by the Greek army.

They demanded cease-fire. Military and civilian leaders had to flee to Russia. Like the Unionist leaders did three years ago...

What happened then? For those who are curious, I must briefly summarize...

With the Rome Peace Agreement signed at the end of 1921, the last Turkish state became history. As a result of the oppression and atrocities in the new states, the Turks migrated to Anatolia. There was no other place to shelter.

I traveled and saw numerous places in Anatolia, ‘in Turkey’ in the words of Christians. I lived this difficult time with them. When Anatolia was divided into small states by the UK, France and the United States, the Bolshevik Russians panicked. Russia supported resisting Turks in secret, protected their leaders based in Baku.

You can guess the result…

I plan to collect these memories of mine in a separate book...

You read that I could not find tangible documents and evidence between my ancestors in Scotland, the Celts and the Turks' ancestors, the Uighurs. Some of you will think it's already a dream. Some of you may have noticed some of the traces left in the mist. But don't forget that. I found the descendants of Uighurs who came to this land from Asia.

The Bektashi...

I knew these peaceful and civilized people closely thanks to my beloved wife, Doctor Naciye, a loyal Turkish Bektashi, and her family.

I initially stated that my goal was not to tell an exciting, immersive and tension-filled story. I wrote about what I lived and heard. It is my greatest wish that this information is not forgotten and its follow-up is carried on.

Scott Wallace

June 1955, Edinburgh, Scotland, United Kingdom

Prepared by

Bilge Wallace

June 1971, Edinburgh, Scotland, United Kingdom

***

End of the Story.

February 12, 2019. Ankara.

I finally finished reading and watching the book “After Twenty-One” and the current information and videos that came with it. It took me about a month. We discussed these with my dear friend Hasan Algan.

The author of the book was Scott Wallace, who lived in the parallel universe. Thirty years later, he was able to collect his notes but not print them. He was going to collect the happenings from 1922 to 1955, when he wrote the book, in a separate book. But it was understood that he could not do this until 1970 when he died. His son Bilge Wallace had compiled his notes and printed the book. He also tried to fill the time until 2018 with short notes and videos he sent me additionally.

His last paragraphs were as follows:

Dear Mr. Önder, if you read the book to the end and watched all the videos I have posted, I presume that you still have some questions in mind. So I thought it would be useful to share these notes with you too.

My father Scott Wallace wrote the book “After Twenty-One” in small chapters, in which he told 1919-1922 years. He was very busy. While saying he has finished half the book, he disliked it and he returned to the beginning again. He had access to some additional information about the people in the novel and the events he had not experienced in person. When other jobs and travels overwhelmed him, he could not deal with his novel. He hardly finished it in 1955, but could not find a publisher. He left it to me.

It is best to tell these developments chronologically.

My father visited the Niğde Immigrant Camp in November 1921. Then he went to Cappadocia. But when winter came, he could not do what he wanted and returned to Constantinople. He was supposed to watch the second New Crusade Coordination Commission meeting in early December. Ten days later he went to Rome for the signing of the Peace Agreement. Then on January 8, 1922, he married Doctor Naciye, my mother, in İstanbul. I was one of the first children born in the Republic of Constantinople.

We lived in Constantinople until 1939. My father maintained journalism. He regularly visited newly established states in the Middle East and Anatolia. He continued his historical researches when he had the opportunity. We moved to Scotland in order to better monitor the Second Great War and solve family problems. I went to high school in Edinburgh. We lived there until my father died in 1970. For years, Scott Wallace sought Uighur and Celtic traces in Asia whenever he could. He even researched sources of information that were believed to be inaccessible or lost. He tried to reach the depths of time and beyond the lost ancient civilizations. This was the purpose of his life rather than his family.

I, Önder Üsküplü, stop reading the text here…

I think that Scott Wallace would have desired to see Göbeklitepe if it had been found during his years. Twenty-five years after he died, the world's first temple was found near Urfa. It was built 12,000 years ago. It challenged the known written history. It is possible that its builders could be those who came from Asia, thousands of years before Sumerians.

I continue reading Mr. Bilge Wallace's note...

I tried to follow my father's footsteps when I had the chance. At every opportunity I looked for traces of the Celts on Anatolian soil. I founded ‘The Galatians Research Foundation of the Central Anatolian Republic.’ I also examined what linguists wrote about the similarities among Celtic language, Scottish, Basque, Turkish, and Turkish dialects in Asia. I wrote a book on these topics, asking a young friend to make the final corrections. I hope to send you an electronic copy of it when it is published.

I summarized the developments in our world in 30 year-episodes too. Maybe you want to know those lost times.

Developments between 1922-1950:

The population of the British Mandate Central Anatolian Republic (CAR) increased from 7 million to 12 million. 75% were poor and middle-class Turks and the rest were rich Christians. The nationalists struggled for the National Oath; the Islamists for unification with the Kurds, the Arabs and the Iranians; and the Ottomans for re-partnership with the Christian and Muslim states. Separatists struggled for principalities such as the Anatolian Seljuks. They all had separate political parties, associations, armed gangs.

There was constant friction and rivalry between the OAC and the Kingdom of Greece for Constantinople and the Straits. A similar friction continued between the League of Nations and the UK.

A political crisis occurred between Italy and the Kingdom of Greece for the 12 Islands and Antalya. When Italy tried to revive the Roman Empire, they cut the aid to the insurgent Turks, and allied with Germany. And Italy was defeated in the Second Great War. CAR, which has the area of 40 km east and west of Mersin, caused problems between Italy and the Cilician New Crusade Republic.

The Pontus State started to have problems with its partner, the Republic of West Armenia. Like Cyprus, it began to work for joining the Kingdom of Greece, namely ENOSIS.

I also summarized the developments between 1950 and 1980:

The mandate administrations in Anatolia and the Middle East failed. Injustice, unfair taxes, nepotism, corruption, smuggling and black marketing could not be prevented. The mandate administrations ended in the 1950s.

The independent CAR's population grown from 12 million to 20 million. 80% were poor and middle-class Turks and the rest were rich Christians. Organic agriculture, animal husbandry, fishing, food industry, trade, health and nature sports tourism developed. All political parties adopted organization like the Karaman Principality before the Ottoman Empire. In 1965, the CAR joined the US-led Middle East Confederation.

The Soviets demanded a referendum on some parts of Western Armenia and Pontus to join themselves.

In 1965, Western Armenia, the Cilician New Crusade Republic and the Kingdom of Kurdistan joined the US-led Middle East Confederation too.

Pontus joined Greece by a referendum.

In 1946, the Italians, defeated in the Second Great War, left the 12 Islands and the Antalya region to the Republic of Greece. The CAR's objections were not accepted by the UN. Cyprus joined the Republic of Greece in 1965 with a referendum.

40 km east and west of Mersin remained as CAR soil. This area could not get rid of the friction between the Republic of Greece and the Cilician New Crusade Republic.

Finally, developments between 1980-2019:

The oil and natural gas era is ending. The rotation of the earth around the sun and on its axis can be turned into energy. The Confederation of the Middle East is disintegrating due to increasing religious, sectarian and ethnic conflicts.

Over time, the USSR softened the oppressive communist system, maintained the one-party communist order but established the economically liberal system, corrected its relationship with China, which made the same moves.

Now these two countries represent the East…

The United States and the European Union, as you will imagine, represent the West…

The world with a population of 7 billion goes to the Third Great War. In addition to trade wars, military forces supported by weapons of mass destruction and robots equipped with artificial intelligence pose a great threat to humanity. In space, air, sea and land...

We are worried about the catastrophic war just like between prehistoric Mu and Atlantis Empires.

Greetings and love from our universe to your universe...

These were the last words of Mr. Bilge Wallace. Months have passed, I haven't heard any more. Scott had constantly read, researched, gathered information. But he hadn't achieved his goal. Anyhow, his works had not go to waste, he had written a book.

So, myself, Önder Üsküplü, what did I learn from this book?

First: Every decision you take and every choice you make affects your immediate and sometimes distant environment. You wouldn't notice. But the situation becomes more serious when it comes to leaders. This could change the fate of a nation.

Sometimes of the world...

Second: There was a turning point that was not quite emphasized in Turkish Republic history. The Ottomans were beaten and retreated from the defeat of Vienna in 1683 until the war of Sakarya in August 1921. But the war in Sakarya, where the Greeks were stopped, was a vital turning point.

It was a milestone where Mustafa Kemal Pasha became Atatürk.

It was the signal flare of the Republic of Turkey...

Moreover, his vital decision of withdrawal in Eskişehir-Kütahya battles carried us through these days:

“We will retreat to the east of Sakarya!”

“Such a vast land cannot be abandoned to the enemy, Pasha!”

“There is no line defense, there is area defense. That area is the whole country.”

In Bilge Wallace's universe, this decision could not be taken. Mustafa Kemal was paralyzed. According to Fevzi Pasha, there were suitable positions in the area east of Sivrihisar too. But it didn't work!

How was Mustafa Kemal eliminated from the system?

In their universe, the British agent Yorgi the Greek, infiltrated as a barber in the general staff headquarters in Ankara, was arrested only after the attack. In our universe, however, Fevzi Çakmak Pasha recognized Yorgi and he was brought before military court.

In their universe, the spy Mustafa Sagir, tasked with the murder of Mustafa Kemal, came to Ankara as the representative of Indian Muslims, succeeded significantly in his mission, but later was caught on the run and committed suicide. In our case, Sagir was detained as a spy two months before the Kütahya-Eskişehir battles (10-24 July 1921) and executed on 24 May 1921.

In their world, immigration that began in the Caucasus and the Balkans a hundred years ago was not over. The children of the immigrants and their grandchildren also felt the fate of immigration. Their last address was in the middle of Anatolia.

In their world, the good lost and the bad won...

References

6 MONTHS (UNKNOWNS BEFORE SAMSUN). Alev Coşkun

ahistoryofgreece.com

AIR OPERATION IN THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE http://www.tayyareci.com

AMERICAN MANDATE IN TURKEY. Mine Erol

ANKARA 1920s AND BEYOND. Yalçın Ergir

ANATOLIAN REVOLUTION. Sabahattin Selek

ARMENIAN PROBLEM AND GERMANY, Selami Kılıç.

ATATÜRK Jorge Blanco Villalta

ATATÜRK CULTURE CENTER. Miscellaneous articles

BRITISH PRESS IN NATIONAL STRUGGLE II, 1920-1923 FROM SEVRES TO LAUSANNE. Professor Dr. Ergun Aybars

ÇANKAYA, Falih Rıfkı Atay

ÇANKAYA EVENINGS, Berthe G. Gaulis

CELTS COME TO ANATOLIA PART IV www.nadirelibol.com.tr/text/galatlar.html

EFENDİ, Soner Yalçın

ENGLISH DOCUMENTS ABOUT THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE. Gotthard Jaeschke

FINANCIAL RESOURCES OF THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE. Alptekin Müderrisoglu

THE FIRST MAN. Sevket Süreyya Aydemir

Google

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http://www.greeceindex.com

GREY WOLF, Harold C. Armstrong

HISTORY OF NATIONAL SALVATION. Dogan Avcıoglu

HISTORY OF THE GREEK NATION, Vol. XV

HOLY REBELLION. Hasan İzzettin Dinamo

THE LAST PADISHAH VAHIDEDDIN. Yılmaz Çetiner

LIES OF HISTORY OF THE REPUBLIC and miscellaneous articles, Sinan Meydan

THE MASSACRES, MOST IMPORTANT CAUSES OF MIGRATIONS. H. Yıldırım Aganoglu

THE MECMUAYI TEVARIH-I OSMANI.

MIGRATION MOVEMENT AGAINST GREEK OCCUPATIONS Emine Pancar

http://military.wikia.com

MILITARY HISTORY OF THE GREEK NATION

MIT THE MYSTERY OF THE SECRET WORLD FROM PAST TO TODAY. Tuncay Özkan

MUSTAFA KEMAL-VAHDETTİN AND THE SALVATION WAR IN CONFIDENTIAL DOCUMENTS, Salahi R. Sonyel

MUSTAFA KEMAL'S SECRET ORGANIZATION. Sami Karaören

MUSTAFA SAGIR. Murat Sertoglu

OTHER HISTORY AND MISCELLANEOUS ARTICLES. Ayşe Hür

THE REFLECTIONS OF THE GREEK REQUESTS AT THE PARIS PEACE CONFERENCE TO THE WESTERN PRESS. Dilara Uslu

SECRET HISTORY, Yalcin Kücük

SECRET STATE FROM OTTOMAN TO PRESENT. Öner Gürcan

SMOKE ON THE MOUNTAIN TOP, Prof. Dr. Ali Dönmez

THE SPEECH. Mustafa Kemal Atatürk

THOSE CRAZY TURKS. Turgut Özakman

TURKEY IN BRITISH SECRET DOCUMENTS. Erol Ulubel

TURKEY THE REBIRTH OF A STATE Arnold Joseph Toynbee

TURKEY'S POLITICAL SUICIDE NEW OTTOMAN TRAP. Cengiz Özakıncı

TURKISH-RUSSIAN RELATIONS IN LENIN'S PERIOD. Özlem Colak

TURKISH LANGUAGE TEACHING FOR BRITISH IN THE OTTOMAN PERIOD. PhD thesis Erhan Yeşilyurt

TWO GUNFIGHTERS OF ‘THE ORGANİZATİON’ AND MISCELLANEOUS ARTICLES. Soner Yalcin

UNIONISM IN THE NATIONAL STRUGGLE. Erik Jan Zürcher

THE VAHDETTIN FILE. Sinan Meydan

VAHIDUDDIN. Necip Fazil Kısakürek

VEIL OF MYSTERY IN THE HISTORY OF THE UNION AND PROGRESS Mustafa Ragip

VENİZELOS'S PONTUS CONSPIRACY, GREECE'S SEARCH FOR ALLIANCE WITH ARMENIANS. Dr. Mehmet Okur

tr.wikipedia.org

YOUNG TURKS AND THE UNION AND PROGRESS, Sina Akşin