Bir Ankara Gecesi, June 1944
The two men sat quietly in their campaign tent. The big mustache smoked a cigarette, while the small mustache focused on his coffee. The tent flap was open, letting in the cool night air of the Anatolian heartland. Around them were several other tents. It had been tradition since the end of the last war for the graduating class of the Ottoman Officers Military School, and the Ottoman War School, to camp out on these specific June nights on the hills overlooking the Sakarya river valley, as a form of homage to the men who had fought a desperate losing battle, 22 years ago. The current war had not disrupted this tradition.
Ankara had never recovered from the war. The infidels had torched the public buildings, including the First Parliament building. The so called Izmir Corps, with its divisions filled by Rum traitors under the command of that buffoon Ioannou, had devastated the area, torching villages. The region never really recovered. The small town was nestled against the ancient fort. Most of the population that had fled had not returned, seeking opportunities at Sivas and Kayseri. The town mostly served as a waystation for transportation between Eskisehir and Sivas. Of course, the current war had increased the town’s traffic and role, as the Eskisehir-Ankara-Sivas transportation network served the Turkish armies fighting in Bati Anadolu, and holding Trakya. But it was an artificial increase, fed by the voracious appetite of war.
It would not be wrong to argue that the military cemetery doting the hills around Polatli contained more people than the permanent denizens of the town of Ankara. That morning the big mustache had led the cadets and graduating officers in a ceremony of homage to the sehitler buried there. The hoja had read the proper prayers, the cadets had washed the tombs with water. Tradition then called for them all to camp in tents on those hills where that desperate titanic struggle had taken place. The custom was for a rough camp, with bare necessities, a chance for the future of the army and the country to connect to its past. Of course, during the last three years some of their guest officers insisted on coming. Some out of genuine respect for the effort of their past and current allies, some, increasingly to spy on big mustache. But in general, it was a good opportunity to gain some isolation from the world. A break from the current war, and in this case a chance to ponder and plan the future.
The big mustache took a puff of this cigarette. The small mustache winched a bit inside at this. He always remembered the big mustache as a strong man, a leader, and the model of healthy living. Unlike Kemal, he was no drinker, and did not use to smoke. But the weight of this current war on his shoulders had take its toll. Big mustache exhaled and looked small mustache in the eye
“Ismet, you understand what I am asking of you. Once more I ask you my old comrade and friend to sacrifice yourself for the good of the nation and the army.”
“Would not Kazim Pasha be a better choice? Unlike me he is less burdened by defeat.”
“No. You know Kazim. He is no politician. He is a good officer, even brilliant I dare say, but he has no head for politics. Just remember how easily Kemal Pasha was able to get him to follow his lead. Kazim had all the opportunity to take control of the movement in Anatolia. He did not exactly because he knew he was not cut out to be a statesman. He may now think he does, but that is just the curse of growing old. An exaggerated sense of self.”
“Ismet, do you know what is the hallmark of a statesman? The willingness to sacrifice yourself for the nation. Kemal Pasha did it. You did it when you accepted your forced retirement during the war. Therefore it has to be you. I know you, and I order you to save the army and the nation. This is my last order my friend”.
Small mustache sipped his roasted coffee. He looked at his friend and superior.
“Pasham, I have no issue to sacrifice myself and my legacy for the country and the army. But would it gain anything? What you have told me over these last weeks paints a bleak picture. It seems Allah has decreed we drink another bitter cup. I am not sure what I can do?”
Big mustache took another draw of smoke from his cigarette. He exhaled into the cold night air. An air that brought you to life.
“Yes, Ismet, it is bad, and it will get worse. To paraphrase that bastard Talat, we are about to be shat on. But exactly our imminent defeat opens up some ray of hope. Allah never gives up on his faithful Ismet. Those damnable straits and that cursed city may be the tools for the salvation of the nation.
Consider that as the likelihood of the straits being taken from us increases, so does the intensity of the question of their disposition post-war. The Soviets and the Western Allies are not going to be able to decide how to share them if at all. They will squabble, inshallah even get to fighting over them. This opens up the possibility for us to negotiate a peace. We will lose, and a lot of us, including me, will have to sacrifice ourselves for our country. But we might be able to salvage the country and the army for the nation.”
Small mustached spoke
“But will not the Greeks try to take the straits and the City. You know how obsessed they are with it.”
Big mustache smirked
“Well we just launched this war to get it ourselves back, but inshallah we are once and for all cured of this madness. Let the Greeks want it if they are mad for it. They are not getting it. Maybe they will get the Old City, maybe not. Let them ruin their country for once chasing dreams. I have had enough trying to rebuilt what Allah has decreed to be broken. Osman’s Dream was a beautiful one, but its time has passed. We must now focus on a dream of Turkey.
But you know what Ismet. I think the Greeks, despite their romantic madness know they will not get it. That is why that romantic Dragoumis put Stergiadi bey into the prime-ministership. Stergiadi bey is no romantic. He is a practical man, and one known to be willing to defy popular opinion. He is a good statesman, he will take the fall for the good of his country.
This is why I think now, rather than later we must start the plans to make peace. Now that the Greeks have their ardor cut off, and have a pragmatic person for prime minister. That might cut out some of the rancor of the Western governments, and give us some leeway to negotiate with Moscow.”
Small mustache sipped his coffee.
“Pasham I understand, but as you know I have little influence in the Meclis. Kazim probably could carry a majority in his support, especially if backed by you.”
Big mustache waved his hand
“We are not going to seek a majority in the national assembly Ismet. The heir to the throne has agreed to support the plan. And he is working into bringing aboard his sublime majesty, may Allah bless his name. The sultan is old, and his health is not the best. At the proper moment, he will declare his resignation from the throne in favor of the crown prince. This is not unaccounted for in Osmanli history. I remind you of Ikinci Murad. On ascension, by the constitution the assembly must be dissolved and elections called. But due to the war a caretaker government can be called into power, and elections postponed until the state of emergency due to war is resolved. You will be appointed Prime Minister then. Worry not, I am already working on building support for you. Many officers respect you and your sacrifice during the war. And you should be palatable to the Allied governments.”
Small mustache drank another sip of the coffee
“But will Peker accept this? Will the Germans?”
Big mustache’s features hardened.
“If Peker does not have the mettle of a statesman, he will then be forced to act as one. As for the Germans, I will make sure they are in no position to do anything. And the solution to that is simple. I intend to ask for the evacuation of Turkish forces from the straits and Europe. Military necessity demands it, and the Germans can move their forces in Anatolia to take and hold the straits. Let them fight for them, since they are so obsessed with them. We must save the country and the army. Continuing this war threatens both.”
Small mustache spoke
“Pasham, this is a big gamble. A movement of troops can weaken the front and lead to collapse. The Germans might suspect something. “
Big mustache chuckled.
“I am aware Ismet, but we must take risks. Perhaps I am taking massive gambles, but this is my last play in life….Please do not worry. I am no coward to take my life. No, my life is still useful to this country with me breathing. I am going to be one of the prizes that will be offered up to the Soviets in order to gain their agreement for peace. You will offer me. “
“Pasham, I cannot, and the Soviets? They will kill you. I know we have worked with them in the past, but can we trust them?”
“Due to the Greeks, the Western Allies are unlikely to accept peace offers first. The Soviets though are more likely to do so. I do not trust them, I trust cold military logic. They are more under pressure to close this front. They have obtained many of the things they want from us already. We know them and they know us. And we can give them access to the Straits by facilitating their military movements. Maybe you are right and they will kill me, but not at first. No Ismet, giving me up is another sacrifice you have to make. It will be proof of your commitment to changing the policy. And my sacrifice will help you protect the army in any peace treaty.
My friend, after this war is over, you will have a chance to renew the nation. We probably will be free of the Kurdish regions that hold us back. You probably will be able to implement a lot of the reforms that Mustafa Kemal Pasha dreamt off but could not. Our country will need a statesman to guide it between the Soviet and Allied pressures. I cannot trust anybody else. I know you, the army knows you. You must sacrifice once more your legacy and be called the author of defeat. You must sacrifice me. You must so that the other states understand that you are indeed a statesman. So once more, this is my last order. Do this Ismet. You must.”
Ismet Ismirli looked at his friend Marshal Favzi Chakmak, General Chief of Staff of the Army of the Ottoman Turkish Empire. We tears in his eyes he said “Evet Pasham. I obey”.
Big mustache looked at this friend, comrade, subordinate with a thoughtful look. He then took another draw of this cigarette
“Good, when the time comes Kazim Pasha will take up my role. For Minister of War I suggest Pertev Demirhan Pasha.. I know, I know, why this relic…well like you he has a good brain in his head, and like you he is defeated. They will call you the team of losers. But Pertev is not an original ihtilaji and was purged in the Raid to the Subline Porte. And he is a patriot and loves the army. He will be good cover for protecting the staff officers, then you………”
And the two men discussed and plotted the cool Ankara June night away.
