Specialist Sergeant Selim

He woke with a start. He looked around. He was not dreaming. He was crammed into a small ward in Şırnak Prison with 20 comrades in arms. He remembered the words his mother had said two years earlier, when he was going for his medical examination to become a specialist sergeant: “My son, you are so green; may nothing happen to you in the army.” He lit a cigarette and took a deep drag. He thought of the policemen’s curses and the torture inflicted on his commanders, and felt sick at heart.

His mind was in turmoil. He could not make sense of the fact that hundreds of soldiers who only a week earlier had been ready to be torn apart for the homeland among the bombs in urban operations were now prisoners, branded “traitors”, packed like sardines in wards. At one point he nearly cried. His spirit felt crushed. He scanned the prison ward from one end to the other. It was his third day in prison, but it felt as if he had been in this damp ward for years.

From the day he began serving in the commando brigade, he had gone on hundreds of tough missions, sometimes in freezing cold, sometimes in scorching heat. Especially in the last eight months, in operations in built-up areas, he had tasted every kind of fear, but what he felt now was not fear. A deep unease he could not make sense of had taken his soul captive. He did not understand politics and was not very interested in it. His only maxim was “The one who loves his homeland most is the one who does his duty best.” He focused on his duty according to this maxim.

Whenever he remembered the policemen’s curses he nearly cried, and in the face of this situation he could not make sense of he was going through an emotional collapse. At one point he met the eyes of Specialist Sergeant Yasin, who had served in the same team and was seven years his senior. He too was sitting on his bunk, brooding, and he heard him say: “How those guys made fun of us.” The day before, when they had gone out to the exercise yard, PKK militants in the neighbouring wards had shouted taunts at them and mocked them. Specialist Sergeant Yasin jumped down from his bunk and came over to him.

“Rookie, give me a cigarette. Why are you lighting one after another! Don’t be so gloomy; you’re a single man. What would you do if you were married like us?”

“That’s not it, brother. I can’t get my head around what happened. You saw what they did to Captain Fatih too!” he said, and tears began to fall from his eyes.

Specialist Sergeant Yasin’s lip trembled; he took a deep drag on his cigarette.

“Don’t, don’t cry. These days will pass. We’ll be together again. He’s a good soldier; he’ll endure. Let’s not lose ourselves,” was all he could say.

“According to the guards, they’ve taken the officers and NCOs to Mardin. The police have surrounded the brigade. Brother Yasin, we fought shoulder to shoulder with these policemen… What is this, brother?..”

“They’re only following orders too. Some of them apparently have a special hatred for soldiers, but you shouldn’t lump them all together. Look, according to the news we’re all traitors, but they know better than anyone that we’re not traitors. Why do they want to sacrifice us?”

Days followed days, and first Specialist Sergeant Yasin, then Specialist Sergeant Selim were released to be tried without detention. After that accursed night, all the imprisoned specialist sergeants had been released after three months. After getting out of prison, Specialist Sergeant Selim had taken a week’s leave and gone to his village, to his mother. He wished that week would never end. Should he not go back and become a shepherd in the village? But he had become the talk of the village. And if he did not go back, there would be no stopping the gossip and the talk.

When he entered the brigade gate on his return from leave, he felt as if he had come to a house of mourning. Because there were not enough officers for each company, some companies had been merged. The newly appointed brigade commander knew the region very well. It was said that he had told the governor he had no men to send on operations, the governor had told the judges, and they had released the specialist sergeants. When he went to the company building he met the newly appointed administrative NCO. The NCO said to Selim:

“All personnel released from prison are to see First Lieutenant Burak first; without collecting your weapon or your bag, go straight to the company commander and report.”

As he headed for his commander’s door, he met him in the corridor. He immediately reported and introduced himself. First Lieutenant Burak said, “Come on in, Selim,” and they went into the commander’s office. He was a very sincere officer. They chatted for a while. First Lieutenant Burak raised his spirits and consoled him. When he left his commander’s office he felt lighter. He took a deep breath. He collected his rucksack and his gear and went to his room.

A week had passed when the new team commander, the same age as he, announced to the team that there would be a mission the next day. “Back on duty after four months,” he said to himself. But this time he would go to the mountains. He was a village boy; he loved the mountains.

The last days of autumn. The night frost had begun to bite. As he packed his bag, he picked up his khaki wool jumper. He remembered his buddy Mustafa, who had been killed around this time last year. For the first time he had witnessed so clearly the soul leaving a dying person; in the death of his dearest friend he had seen the body struggling helplessly not to go as it breathed its last, and the eyes, slowly losing their light, staring blankly into the void.

Roll call was taken at 10:00 in the morning. First Lieutenant Burak did not come. After the team commanders took the roll call, the company continued its preparations. Meanwhile, Specialist Sergeant Yasin had noticed that there were no officers around:

“Selim, where are the officers?”

“They must be holding a mission briefing, brother; they’ll come to the afternoon roll call,” he said.

Specialist Sergeant Yasin replied, “Strange.”

It was 15:00 in the afternoon, and the order for roll call had been given. As the company stood ready, First Lieutenant Burak appeared at the battalion door. He approached his company with slow steps. After the company NCO had reported, First Lieutenant Burak watched his company in silence for 20 seconds and then said:

“In this adventure of life, no encounter is a coincidence. Every person we meet teaches us something. I came here as an exile, but what those who exiled me do not know is that the real exile of soldiers like us is being separated from one another. Know this first of all, young men. Now I am setting off into a real exile, on a journey into the unknown. Every journey has its difficulties. It cannot be otherwise. But the difficulties and obstacles we encounter are not there to weaken us but to train and mature us. Today I was dismissed from the profession. I will not be with you on the mission you set out on tonight. Be very careful. You will enter an area no one has entered for a long time. Now I want to say goodbye to each of you in turn and shake each of your hands,” he said, and began shaking hands with his men.

When it was Specialist Sergeant Selim’s turn, he did not just take his hand; he suddenly embraced his commander.

“All right, Selim,” said First Lieutenant Burak.

Specialist Sergeant Selim said:

“Sir, this is a mortal world; forgive me any wrong.”

“What wrong could you have done me! They didn’t let us work together. If there is anything, it’s forgiven with all my heart; forgive me too.”

“Forgiven, sir…”

As they set out on the mission, Specialist Sergeant Yasin pointed through the small window of the armoured vehicle at the police armoured vehicles at the brigade gate:

“They’ve come to take the dismissed officers. They’ll take First Lieutenant Burak too. Look at this! The feet have become the head, and the heads the feet!..”

They had no company commander. As they climbed Mount Cudi on a starry night with a sharp frost along winding roads, their hearts were broken and their bodies weary under heavy rucksacks.

An hour before sunrise they reached the area they were to hold. After it had been decided who would take up position where, Specialist Sergeant Selim, Specialist Sergeant Yasin and another comrade advanced towards a point with a good view of the valley. The sun had appeared on the horizon, and the valley was coming alive with birdsong. As Specialist Sergeant Selim advanced, thinking of what had happened the day before, he felt an explosion lift his feet off the ground. As he fell, he hit his head on a rock. He felt his warm blood in his mouth. He was breathless. He could see nothing. He wanted to shout but could not. After a while he heard the voice of Specialist Sergeant Yasin trying to put a drip in his arm. “Hold on, brother, you’ll make it,” he was saying. He asked for water from Specialist Sergeant Yasin, whom he saw blurrily with one eye. He managed one sip. Specialist Sergeant Selim’s feet had been torn off, and fragments of stone had entered his body; his wounds were very severe. He held on for ten minutes and gave up his soul.