Birds Without Wings (52 page)

It was a place where the land constantly changes. By the sea there are steep and stony cliffs covered with spiky shrubs, and in places there is
beautiful soft farmland, and there are woods of small pine trees, full of yellow singing birds, and in places there are the deep gullies and ravines that I just mentioned, and there are hills which are rocky and also covered in spiky shrubs. There were no roads, and so we marched everywhere across country, making the tracks as we went, and everything had to be carried by animals and men, and not in carts, and sometimes the horses were so hungry that they were trying to eat the paint off the buildings. At that time of year it was spring, and it was very beautiful, with flowers growing everywhere as if they did not know there was a war. The shepherds’ dogs had rounded ears and spiked collars. There were tortoises clattering about in the stones of the forts, and little lizards that lived beneath the rims of the wells. There were beetles with tan backs, and big beetles that walked backwards dragging leaves, and tiny turquoise damselflies, and big brown whirring dragonflies. There were black ants that made their own little roads, and very big ants that carried away caterpillars. There were big snakes with golden-brown heads. Out on the jetties there were cormorants hanging out their wings to dry, and in the skies there were magpies and ravens. These are the things that a soldier notices, because he lives close to the earth, and these are his companions, and he becomes interested in them because there is often very little to do, and they make him think about what it is to live, and about the many types of life. He remembers these things long after the details of the battles have faded away. Of course, as the seasons changed, we realised more and more that the place was not for long the paradise that it was in the spring.

Mustafa Kemal thought that the attack would come from the south, but the Frankish German general thought it would come at Bolayir, and so we were marching from one place to another, staging mock attacks and practising movement at night and by day, and we learned how to use the bayonet, because at close quarters a bayonet is less dangerous to your own comrades than a bullet, since a bullet can go straight through an enemy and strike a friend. We learned for ourselves, however, after the battles had begun, that it was best not to bayonet someone in the ribs, because the ribs are like springs, and they clamp down on the bayonet, and you can’t get it out unless you pull it out with your foot on the man’s chest, and this is not a good thing to have to do, since it is very cruel to a dying man, and he clutches at the bayonet with his hands, and you have to look in his face, and you remember this face for a long time, and his eyes, and the blood that he coughs up, and this comes up in your dreams, and so it is difficult to sleep, even when you are exhausted. Also, if a bayonet is stuck between
someone’s ribs, you might be bayoneted yourself whilst trying to pull it out. The other thing is that sometimes you can fight an entire battle with bayonets, without firing a single shot. It happened when we had no ammunition, and sometimes even when we did. I often thought we would have been better off with swords, because, if you think about it, a rifle with a bayonet is just like a dagger on a stick, or maybe a short spear that you can’t throw, or like a stabbing sword, as opposed to a sabre. In my opinion we all should have had swords, and not just the officers. This opinion is made stronger by the fact that the Franks had some little men called Gurkhas. These Gurkhas were the fiercest and bravest of the soldiers, and they had heavy knives that were bent in shape, and the bottom half had a big bulge, and with these they could cut off your head or your arm with one stroke, and they were very effective in the trenches. I have one of these knives that I took from a dead Gurkha, and I keep it on the wall of my house.

We in Mustafa Kemal’s division considered that we were the best troops of all after the month was over, and we also thought we had the best commander, because he was always going from one place to another, examining everything through his binoculars, and thinking seriously. He had blond hair and blue eyes, which made him strangely fascinating to us, who were not like him at all, and these blue eyes shone with light and cleverness, and when he stopped to talk to you, you felt as honoured as if it were the Sultan Padishah himself. He had a doctor with him who gave him injections from time to time, but I don’t know why, and the doctor’s name was Hussein Bey.

When the Frankish landing happened, it was the day after we had finished all our preparations. The fields of fire were cleared, the big guns were ranged and the sights of our rifles were zeroed. It was like when a wedding is arranged, and the guests arrive just as you are putting out the food.

CHAPTER 60

Mustafa Kemal (13)

Mustafa Kemal develops a curious relationship with the German commander, Otto Liman von Sanders. Von Sanders is an intelligent and determined officer who seldom makes mistakes, and has placed Germans rather than Turks in positions of command in most of the crucial places, causing much animosity among Ottoman officers. Unlike Sir Ian Hamilton, the British commander, von Sanders is always willing to sack incompetent officers. Kemal is openly anti-German, and tells the general to his face that he thinks that Germany will lose the war. Kemal is irritatingly convinced of the correctness of his own opinions in all things strategic and tactical, and he disagrees with the general about the probable site of the Allied landings. In time, von Sanders will overcome his annoyance with the obstreperous and opinionated Kemal, and will entrust him with more and more responsibility. Kemal turns out to be right about the landings, but the general has organised his divisions so that only a small number of soldiers are distributed around the coast, and the remainder are concentrated so as to be able to be deployed as soon as Allied intentions become clear, and their diversions only fool him for one day.

Kemal is given the command of the reserves, and on the morning of the invasion, he is awakened by the distant sound of naval bombardment. He sends a cavalry squadron to reconnoitre, and is informed that a small enemy force is heading for high ground that would give them complete dominance of the peninsula. Accordingly, he takes matters into his own hands, acts without authority—something which he does very often, and always gets away with—and departs with the entire 57th Regiment and a mountain battery. By serendipitous coincidence the 57th Regiment is kitted up and ready to go, on account of exercises that have already been scheduled. Fortunately for Kemal and the Ottoman Empire, he has read the Allied intentions correctly. If he had not, he would have led
the reserves to the wrong place and the campaign would have been lost immediately.

Kemal leaves his regiment to recover from the rapid march, and goes forward through the scrubland. He sees the enemy ships scattered about the ocean. Ottoman troops are fleeing towards him, and Kemal asks, “Why are you running?” and they reply “They’re coming! They’re coming!”

“Who is?” demands Kemal.

“The enemy, sir.”

“Where?”

“Over there!”

Sure enough, a line of Australian troops is advancing towards Çonk Bayiri, the crucial high ground that is destined to be the objective with which the Allied commanders will become most obsessed.

“You must not retreat,” Kemal tells them.

“But we have no ammunition left!”

Kemal realises that the Australians are a lot closer to him than his own troops are. He needs to buy time, and is nudged by a providential inspiration. “Fix bayonets and lie down,” he commands. They do as he says, and the Australians think they are about to be fired upon, and they too lie down, and prepare for a firefight. An officer is dispatched to fetch the 57th Regiment.

Kemal reminds the regiment that they have the disgraceful losses of the Balkan Wars to redeem. He issues the famous statement: “I am not ordering you to attack, I am ordering you to die. By the time that we are dead, other units and other commanders will arrive to take our place.” Kemal personally helps to shoulder the batteries into position, and controls the battle from the skyline. Miraculously, he is not hit. Inspired by Kemal, inspired by jihad, the 57th Regiment manages to hold the Australian advance, and is almost completely wiped out. Within a short time, even the imam and the water boy will be dead, and the 57th Regiment will enter into Turkish myth for ever. On the following day, however, the Arab 77th Regiment flees in panic, deepening the general contempt for Arab soldiers that is increasingly taking hold in the Ottoman army, but within five days the position is stabilised, and after a catastrophic counteroffensive by the 5 th Division, the lines at Anzac are more or less permanently entrenched. Mustafa Kemal is awarded the Ottoman Order of Imtiyaz, and his divisional headquarters acquires the nickname “Kemalyeri.” Liman von Sanders sends a German officer to be Kemal’s chief of staff, and Kemal pointedly sends him away and retains the faithful Major Izzettin.

One day Mustafa Kemal stops and speaks briefly with Karatavuk. He takes Karatavuk’s rifle and inspects it, easing the bolt and peering down the barrel, and then commends Karatavuk for his attention to it. Karatavuk will remember this proudly for the rest of his life, but will be unable to recall precisely what was said.

CHAPTER 61

I Am Philothei (10)

When I was about thirteen two very funny things happened. The first was that somebody thought up the idea that I should wear a veil, because my prettiness was upsetting the men in the town. It was when Ali the Snow-bringer was following me around gaping at me when he was supposed to be collecting ice. He used to appear in front of me at all times of day, rather like Ibrahim did, and he would be practically salivating. I sort of liked it but it also made me feel annoyed. It was like being persecuted. When he did it, I was annoyed, and when he didn’t do it, I was also put out a bit, and I would think, “Oh, maybe I’m not so pretty any more,” so when he reappeared I felt relieved as well as annoyed, because at least it showed that I hadn’t lost my looks.

Don’t tell anyone, because I’d die, and I’ve never told this to anyone else, so it’s a secret and you really must keep it to yourself, but sometimes I would guess where Ali the Snowbringer was likely to be, and that’s where I’d go, and I did it just to tease him. I hope you don’t think I’m too awful, I know I’m bad without you having to tell me.

What happened after a while was that all the other women started to veil themselves to show how pretty they were. It didn’t last long, though.

The other thing that happened was that the bleeding came upon me quite suddenly, and I hadn’t expected it, and didn’t even know what it was, so I was very frightened and thought I must be dying of something. Fortunately I was at the aga’s konak at the time, and Leyla Hanim had been brushing my hair after I’d done hers, and Drosoula was brushing the cat Pamuk, and Pamuk was biting her because of the ecstasy.

Anyway, I had to go to the little room outside to relieve myself, and that was when I realised that I was bleeding, and I came running back in and I was weeping and throwing myself around and wailing and acting as if the world was about to end, and finally Leyla Hanim took hold of my arms to
keep me still, and then she managed to force it out of me, and I said, “Leyla Hanim, I’m bleeding,” and at first she says, “Where? Where? Have you cut yourself?” and then finally she twigged, and she put her hand to her mouth and laughed. She had a nice laugh, it was silvery, like this …

Anyway, she called Drosoula over, who was also bleeding but on her hands because of the cat, and she asked her if she had started a woman’s bleeding yet, and Drosoula just looked puzzled, so that way Leyla Hanim knew that she hadn’t started yet.

Leyla said, “When blood comes out from between your legs it just means that you’re old enough to have babies. It lasts a few days every month, and you’ve just got to put up with it, because there isn’t any choice, so there’s no point in complaining.” She said, “I suppose you both want babies?” and Drosoula and I both said yes, it would be a good thing, and Leyla said, “I have been sad because of not having babies,” and her eyes started to shine a bit. She showed us how to fold a cloth to keep us from leaving drips on the floor, which was how she put it, which wasn’t very nice really.