by Ahmet Altan
As she thought about leaving, she wondered how she was going to get back to the mansion, she was on the outskirts of the city where it was impossible to find a carriage; she looked around anxiously and saw that there was a carriage waiting behind her, as if she were in a fairy tale in which a pumpkin had turned into a carriage, it took her quite some time to realize it was the carriage in which she’d come, it had been following her the whole way.
When she got into the carriage and slumped exhausted in the seat, she was still wracked with trembling and contractions, all that was left of the terrifying dream was the fearsome weariness and the trembling. As they made their way toward the house she felt that she didn’t in fact want to return to the mansion and to Constantine, but she also realized that there was nowhere else she wanted to go, that there was no place where she could be happy; she didn’t even want to be with Rukiye, and she suddenly doubted the source of her terrifying fears about her daughter’s well-being. Was she anxious that something bad had happened to someone she loved or had she felt all these fears because she felt she had to be sad for someone it was her duty to love?
At that moment of exhaustion, she was no longer certain about the feelings she had for anyone, did she love her children, her paramour, her first husband, her second husband, had she ever loved them, could she love anyone, she didn’t know if she carried feelings for anyone at all. It seemed to her as if she was nothing but a body, and that in order for this body not to be a zombie she had to spend her life filling it with false feelings. She couldn’t decide if her doubts about her feelings had emerged because of the catharsis and exhaustion that occurs after a great convulsion or whether the truth had appeared behind the false feelings that had been shaken by a tragic anxiety. She had lost her sense of her own authenticity just as she’d lost all sense of the authenticity of the world around her, from now on everything would be vague and doubtful, she feared it would always be like this.
The only feeling that was real for her was fear, she didn’t know the real reason for this great fear, she was afraid of loneliness, of desolation, of being unable to discover the feelings that would allow her to be among people and live with them, of the uncertainty that enveloped her.
She feared she would not be able to reach the people everyone needed in order to be able to relate to themselves, that they needed to use as a mirror to see their own reflections, their feelings and thoughts, and that she would lose her relationship to herself, she felt this not with intelligible words but with a confusion of vague feelings, she wasn’t just frightened that she would lose her lover and her children, but also that she herself would slip through her own fingers.
She went all the way to the mansion with known fears and doubts and unknown fears and doubts that wore out her already weary body. When she arrived home there was nothing left in her but exhaustion and a desire to sleep, her head was getting heavier and her eyes were closing.
She never told anyone, not even Osman, what she felt in the carriage that day, in any event Mehpare Hanım was the most reticent of Osman’s dead, hers was not the usual reticence of someone who wanted to hide an incident and their feelings, hers was the unshakeable reticence of someone who suspected that her body carried no soul.
The only thing she said about this to Osman was, “If it’s true that nothing is real, then shouldn’t we choose the fake?” Osman understood neither the question nor the reason for it and put it down to Mehpare Hanım’s oddness. It didn’t occur to him that this was the only serious question Mehpare Hanım had ever asked, but even if this possibility had occurred to him, he would have been certain to remember that Mehpare Hanım was clever enough not to ask this question often.
After Mehpare Hanım arrived home and Sula helped her to bed and she plunged into a sleep that was as dark and sticky as mud, Cevat Bey left the train from Berlin at Salonika Station and immediately rushed to the Committee headquarters, where messengers were coming and going constantly, telegrams were brought from the military telegraph office, officers and civilians held one meeting after another, plans were being made, orders were being issued, and representatives were being sent to the four corners of the Empire. He was welcomed at the center with false anger and concealed joy. There was an air of decisiveness and a satisfaction with this decisiveness in the groups that gathered at the bottom of the stairs, in the corridors, and in front of doors.
Cevat Bey greeted old friends as he made his way to Talat Bey’s office, he met Major Necip Bey, with whom he’d joined the organization in Istanbul; after the two comrades embraced, he asked the question he’d wanted to ask someone since he got off the train.
“What’s going on?”
“What do you think, the mullahs stirred the soldiers up and got them to mutiny.”
“What’s the situation in Istanbul?”
“The mutineers are in control.”
“What is the Sultan doing?”
“He’s acting as if he’s not involved, but he’s the one behind this wickedness. This time we’ll finish him.”
“What have you decided to do?”
“We’ve put together a force consisting of twenty battalions from the Third Army, the Second Army, and those units of the First Army that were stationed outside Istanbul, there are also ten cavalry units and nine cannon batteries. For now, Hüsnü Pasha, commander of the Salonika Reserve Division, has been placed in command of this army and Mustafa Kemal Bey has been appointed chief of general staff. We’re also registering civilian volunteers, that is, it won’t just be military units, there’ll be a people’s army made up of civilians. For now this is between the two of us, but when the army arrives in Istanbul we’ll put Mahmut Şevket Pasha in command, he’s more severe, we thought he’d do a better job of putting down the mutiny, but we don’t want the Sultan to get wind of our intentions . . . ”
Cevat Bey was pleased by how quickly and decisively the organization was acting.
“To tell the truth, you’ve pulled everything together quite quickly, good for you . . . I was a bit worried on the way here but now I feel at ease. Have you been in contact with Enver Bey?”
“Of course. Talat Bey is exchanging frequent telegrams with him. In fact he’s already on his way, but he probably won’t catch up to the army until it reaches Istanbul. Everything is ready now, headquarters foresaw what was going to happen and made arrangements in advance.”
Cevat Bey asked a question as if he already knew the answer.
“What did Enver Bey say about Mustafa Kemal Bey being appointed chief of general staff?”
Like all of the Committee members who knew that Enver Bey was secretly jealous of Mustafa Kemal Bey, Necip Bey answered with a mocking smile.
“He didn’t say anything but he’ll come up with a plan when the time comes.”
Cevat Bey became serious again.
“Anyway, I’ll go see Talat Bey, meanwhile sign me up for the army, I’ll go with them too. And what do you call this army, you’ve gathered units and volunteers from all over the place, is it called the people’s army?”
“No, Mustafa Kemal Bey came up with a good name, he dubbed it the Movement Army.”
“That is a good name . . .”
“Come see me after you’ve seen Talat Bey, I’m in that office there, don’t make promises to anyone for this evening, you’ll be staying with us.”
Before he left, Cevat Bey asked the question he’d been distressed about and had wanted to ask from the beginning, trying not to seem too worried about his brother at a time when everyone’s life was in danger.
“Have you heard anything from Ragıp?”
Necip Bey slapped his forehead.
“Sorry, I forgot what I wanted to say first and started talking about army business. Ragıp managed to get out of Istanbul, a friend brought news yesterday that he’d reached Çatalca, he’s waiting for the army there.”
Cevat Bey took a dee
p breath and said, “Thanks, I’ll see you soon.”
Talat Bey’s office was crowded, everyone was coming in to ask him questions, they expected him to solve every problem and he was doing his best to do so. Even though he was buried in work, he stood when he saw Cevat Bey and embraced him and kissed him on both cheeks in his usual unpretentious and indeed almost rakish manner. Even though he regarded the Committee’s military members with a sneaking suspicion, especially those like Cevat Bey who were close to Enver Bey, he was careful to maintain good relations with them, he always protected the party’s balance.
“Welcome, how are you? How was your trip?”
“Thank you, the trip was fine. More importantly, how are you? We’ve lost Istanbul to the reactionaries.”
Talat Bey slapped Cevat Bey on the shoulder and smiled.
“Every cloud has a silver lining, Cevat Bey. Soon they’ll all regret what they’ve done. God willing, we’ll finish what we weren’t able to finish last time.”
He gave a note on his desk that he’d just written to an officer who came in.
“I wrote a telegram to the Sultan, but I want Mahmut Şevket Pasha to look it over and make any changes he wants before sending it to Yıldız in his name, let’s let the Sultan know about our preparations and that the army is almost ready to get moving.”
Cevat Bey looked at Talat Bey carefully to see whether or not he was serious.
“You’re informing the Sultan that the army is getting ready to move?”
Talat Bey pretended he didn’t understand Cevat Bey’s confusion, he was accustomed to officers being childishly inept at politics, their inflexibility in valuing bravery over intelligence, someone like Cevat Bey, who was one of the most brilliant and intelligent of the organization’s military members, couldn’t grasp the move’s significance, he explained what he wanted to do slowly and clearly like an understanding teacher.
“The Sultan will learn that the army has started moving anyway, he may already know, if we don’t inform him about it he’ll think we’re moving to dethrone him, then he’ll use all his power, money, and pashas to support the mutineers openly, and this would make it difficult if not impossible to take Istanbul back. But if he hears from us that the army has set out he’ll believe we can come to terms, to protect his throne he won’t support the mutineers, at least not openly, the government will try to remain neutral.”
“O.K., so we’re not going to dethrone him?”
“Of course we are, but we’re not obliged to tell him now. In war, isn’t it essential to surprise the enemy and catch him off guard?”
Cevat Bey realized that Talat Bey was right and felt like a fool, but even though he was ashamed of what he was going to do he objected.
“In the army it’s also essential not to keep the enemy informed.”
Talat Bey ignored this objection, he sensed that Cevat Bey understood the situation.
“This information will destroy the enemy, Cevat Bey . . . I’ll give him information that he’ll use to destroy his future. Of course, he’s not stupid, he’ll be suspicious, but suspicion will make him indecisive, we’ll be in Istanbul before he makes that decision.”
Then he changed the subject.
“What are you planning to do?”
“I’ll go to Istanbul with the army.”
“Good . . . Your being in Istanbul will be good. It’s time for you to learn a few things about politics, and Istanbul is the best place for that.”
After he left Talat Bey, he told Necip Bey he would return in the late afternoon and left headquarters to join the excited crowds in the streets; it seemed as if all of Salonika had mobilized, the city had abandoned itself to the enthusiasm of a common struggle, just as it had when constitutional monarchy was declared.
Perhaps for the first time, Cevat Bey looked down on and even slightly pitied crowds that were supporting his own struggle, trying to find hope in anything that happened, enjoying being heroes, even minor heroes, in a great event; none of them knew the truth or ever would, they would make the mistake of thinking that decisions others had made without their knowledge were expressions of their own free will, and they would reap a small share of joy from this pathetic delusion.
With this latest incident, Cevat Bey felt he was in the same position as the people he pitied; now he guessed there were realities he hadn’t been told about, that each move had been planned well in advance. As he worried that things might turn ugly, his closest friends, with whom he thought he was sharing a great struggle, might be mocking him behind his back.
He sat in a beer hall on the waterfront and ordered a beer, was it possible that they would conceal the truth from him, why would they do this, it couldn’t be because they feared he might betray them, he was certain about that, then what, why did he feel imprisoned behind a wall of secrets? It could be that they thought he might object, but there was no reason for them to think this. Many times they’d seen Cevat Bey support every move, every initiative, for the success of the struggle he believed was sacred; then what was the secret that everyone but him knew, why had they excluded him and thrown him out among the crowds that moved past him unaware of what was going on? After finishing his beer he decided to talk about this with Necip Bey that evening.
He spent the rest of the afternoon strolling idly through the streets. He didn’t want to go to the headquarters of the organization he loved so much, of which he saw himself to be an inseparable part. He wandered down unfamiliar streets, went into shops he’d never entered, sat in coffeehouses he didn’t know, he saw another side of Salonika, he felt its millennia of secrets in the eyes of the women walking down the streets, in the gestures of shopkeepers’ customers in little shops, in the way wealthy businessmen walked, in the Jewishness that was stamped on the city.
It was if the city too had become alien to him, as if it had been taken over by another life he didn’t know; he realized he had never known this city, that was the day he understood that even if they recaptured Istanbul they would lose Salonika one day; later he told Osman, “I suddenly saw that we’d never really known the city in which we felt most secure, if we’d raised our heads and looked around a bit, if we’d known Salonika, if we’d mingled with these people instead of saving them, perhaps the empire wouldn’t have collapsed the way it did.”
In the late afternoon he went to headquarters to pick Necip Bey up. He couldn’t wait until they got to the house and brought the subject up while they were on their way.
“When did you find out that something was going on in Istanbul?”
Necip thought about this.
“If I’m not mistaken, the first news came from İsmail Canbolat Bey, I think we heard about two hours after the soldiers mutinied.”
“Then how could everything be made ready so quickly, how were decisions made about which units would be taken from which armies, where the soldiers would stop and put up for the night, when were the supply depots for a campaign like this set up?”
Necip Bey spread his hands.
“How should I know, brother, I never thought about it, everything happened so quickly, it was as if everything was ready.”
Necip Bey suddenly stopped in the middle of the street, he’d only just understood what Cevat Bey was asking.
“What do you mean?”
“I’m not saying anything, I’m just curious . . . How could our unwieldy army shake itself off like a colt and move so quickly?”
They walked along without speaking for a while. Necip Bey started to speak in a low voice.
“Maybe they received intelligence from Istanbul in advance and started to get ready.”
“Who?
“The Committee headquarters, of course . . . ”
“Weren’t you at headquarters, didn’t you hear anything?”
“I was at headquarters, there were some rumors, of course, but there was no solid infor
mation.”
“O.K. then, who made these preparations without you knowing about them?”
Necip Bey sighed.
“Probably Enver Bey and Talat Bey. Maybe they knew. They might also have let Mahmut Şevket Pasha in on it.”
“I was with Enver Bey two days ago, he didn’t say anything to me.”
“Cevat Bey, you know that secrecy is essential in these matters . . . Isn’t this the way we’ve been living for years?”
Cevat Bey shook his head.
“Secret from us? Don’t they trust us anymore?”
Necip Bey tried to put Cevat Bey at ease.
“This isn’t an issue of trust, of course they trust you, why wouldn’t they, aren’t we all in this together, don’t we do everything together? Perhaps they didn’t trust the information that was coming from their own soldiers, they didn’t want it to spread, they didn’t want everyone getting worked up over nothing.”
“Enver Bey wasn’t concerned when I told him that the soldiers in Istanbul were getting restless, he wasn’t concerned when he heard that Hasan Fehmi had been killed. What’s going on, Necip Bey, who’s managing us? If they don’t trust us, who do they trust?”
The evening was unpleasant, they were eaten by the suspicion that the people they trusted most no longer trusted them, that they were doing things without informing them, but in fact neither of them was prepared to accept the weight of such a suspicion, that the struggle that gave their lives meaning, that had almost become the reason for their existence, was treating them like strangers. As they tried to assuage each other by telling each other not to exaggerate, they were in fact trying to assuage themselves in order to gain time to build up the strength to carry the suspicion they knew was going to remain with them.