Last Train to Istanbul
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
Text copyright © 2002 by Ayşe Kulin
English translation copyright © 2006 by John W. Baker
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.
Last Train to Istanbul
was first published in 2002 as
Nefes Nefese
. Translated from Turkish by John W. Baker. First published in English in 2006 by Everest Yayınları. Published by Amazon Crossing in 2013.
Published by Amazon Crossing
PO Box 400818
Las Vegas, NV 89140
ISBN-13: 9781477807613
ISBN-10: 1477807616
Library of Congress Control Number: 2013904883
CONTENTS
ANKARA 1941
Even though, when leaving that morning, Macit had warned Sabiha that he would be late coming home, his good manners made him uneasy when he realized it was already past eight o’clock. He excused himself from the meeting room, went to his office, and dialed home on the black telephone with its noisy dial.
“We’re having a meeting again this evening. Please don’t wait for me for dinner,” he said.
“Not again,” said his wife exasperatedly. “For nearly three weeks, we haven’t been able to have dinner together. Really, darling, hasn’t anyone there got a wife or children waiting at home?”
“For God’s sake, what are you going on about? The Bulgarian army is on our doorstep and you are talking about dinner!”
“How typical of women!” he said, putting the phone down.
His wife was just like his mother. The running of the house, the children’s eating and bedtime, the whole family gathering around for dinner—these things were top priority for organized housewives. Atatürk’s attempt to turn them into women of the world was in vain, Macit thought. Obviously, our women are only good at being mothers or housewives. And he was even beginning to have second thoughts about that. Hadn’t Sabiha abandoned her motherly duties
and left their daughter’s upbringing to a nanny? Deep down, Macit was certainly beginning to find his wife’s behavior odd.
At first he was angry, thinking maybe her distant attitude was a silent protest against his endless meetings that lasted into the early hours. What right did she have to get angry about his long hours? After all, was
he
responsible for the war? Was
he
to blame for these late nights? What if Turkey actually found itself fighting in the war? If that were to happen, which woman in their circle would even catch a glimpse of her husband’s face?
But Macit knew in his heart Sabiha’s attitude wasn’t due to selfishness alone. She seemed on the verge of a nervous breakdown. For some time this young woman who liked going on picnics, watching horse races when the weather was fine, and playing cards on rainy days didn’t seem to enjoy anything anymore. He often found his wife in bed, fast asleep, when he got home. If, when he got into bed, he put his arms around her, she would turn away. On the rare occasion they managed to go to bed at the same time, she always had an excuse to go to sleep immediately. It was obvious that she had a problem, but she had chosen the wrong time to have a nervous breakdown. How on earth could he find the time to care for her when he was inundated with work? Even if his meetings finished after midnight, Macit would still have to be back at the ministry by seven the next morning.
They were living in very unsettled times. Turkey had found herself between a rock and a hard place. On the one hand, there was Britain, who had only her own interests at heart, insisting that Turkey should be her ally; on the other, there was Germany’s threatening attitude. As if that weren’t enough, Russia extended an iron hand in a velvet glove to Turkey. Their interest in Kars, Ardahan, the Bosphorus, and the Dardanelles hung over them like the sword of Damocles. If Turkey chose the losing side, Russia would make her pay dearly where the Bosphorus and the Dardanelles were concerned. This nightmare had been ongoing for two years.
The First World War had taught President Inönü the cost of choosing the wrong side, and he had learned his lesson well. There was nothing he wouldn’t give to know which side would be victorious this time, but no fortune-teller could possibly predict the outcome. It was up to the foreign ministry and general staff to make this prediction. Every possible contingency had been discussed, considered, and recorded during those endless meetings that dragged on into the night.
Macit was proud to be a member of the general staff. At the same time, ever since the Italians had attacked Greece, the ring of fire had been tightening, and government employees and their families were getting nervous.
The capital, Ankara, was preparing for a hot summer again. In Turkey the winters were extremely cold and snowy, and the summers were unbearably hot. It was already obvious that the approaching summer months would be hotter than hell.
About a week before, the German ambassador, Franz von Papen, had brought a personal message from Hitler to the prime minister, and the officials had waited with bated breath for the meeting to end. Macit guessed correctly the contents of Hitler’s message: on the surface the letter was full of good wishes and intentions. It offered Turkey every kind of armament and help strengthening control of the Bosphorus and Dardanelles, and it promised not to put German soldiers on Turkish soil. However, if read between the lines, the letter implied that now was the time for Turkey to make up her mind, and if she didn’t side with Germany she would have to suffer the consequences when the war was over and decisions were made about her waterways.
After the long meeting, Inönü said, “The Germans are telling us not to try their patience, and at any time, they could make a deal with Russia behind our backs.” He went on to say, “Britain is fighting in Greece, and they’ve had a disaster in Libya; she is in no
position to come to our aid. This is why we shouldn’t risk angering the Germans. Gentlemen, we must find a way to hedge our bets.”
What they were looking for was a way to play for time without saying yes or no to either side—a way of stroking their backs without aggravating them.
The morning after that long night, the prime minister invited the British ambassador to the ministry to explain Turkey’s predicament. She was heading toward the most fearful days she had encountered during this Second World War. The war was like a forest fire, spreading in all directions, and both sides had expectations of Turkey.
In his office, Macit lit a cigarette, took two puffs, and stubbed it out in the crystal ashtray before returning to the meeting room. The foreign minister and the secretary general were no longer there. His assistant said, “Macit, the president has asked to see today’s assessments. I have prepared the reports for you. He is waiting in his office.”
Macit hurried back to his office, in the section allocated to the foreign ministry of the presidential mansion. For some months now, they had been working there so that they could instantly report to and receive instructions from Inönü. Macit took files of notes that he had updated a few hours ago from his drawer, glanced through them, and dashed off.
Inönü was sitting in a club chair behind a huge table. He looked naive—smaller and more irritated than usual—leafing through the papers his private secretary took from Macit. Looking at the pages, it was as if he were listening to the voices of foxes in his mind, but he didn’t say anything. The other men sitting around the table were silent too.
Suddenly, he asked, “Have you listened to the radio today?”
“Yes, sir. Our colleagues have been listening to all the European stations. I gave our report to the secretary general a short while ago.
They haven’t had a moment’s rest, sir, yet they continue to listen to Bulgaria and are preparing reports every half hour.”
“Our agents in Bulgaria are keeping us informed on a daily basis. However, it’s still unknown if Hitler is going to move south, or move north to attack the Russians, sir,” another young official said.
The young men left the room, and Macit stayed behind.
“Thanks to you,” the foreign minister said, “we have been able to take every precaution to make sure the fire doesn’t spread to us. Rest assured you can now go to Yalova with a clear conscience. We’ll keep you informed of developments every minute.”
Macit heard Inönü mutter, “I wish I knew what direction the Germans will go. Ah! If only I knew.”
The Germans had reached an agreement with Bulgaria, so the Germans had become Turkey’s neighbors. Inönü was terrified, not knowing Hitler’s next move. Hitler’s modern armaments and powerful army were just across the border. He might want to move in on Egypt through Turkey. Or he could move toward the Caucasus. No one, not even his immediate staff, knew what the next target was, so Turkey had to be prepared for every eventuality. The worst scenario would be for the Germans to reach an agreement with Russia. That would spell disaster for Turkey.
Macit waited for the men to finish reading the reports and then returned to the meeting room with the secretary general. There was another long meeting, with more reports to be read, assessed, and put together before they could be presented to Inönü. Hours later, as he was walking home alone, Macit worried. The government was paying a high price in order to avoid this fire spreading throughout the world.