Last Train to Istanbul

by Ayşe Kulin

  Tarık often wondered if he would have had the courage to visit the camps and police stations had it not been for the support of such a superior.

  Within a week of Behiç Erkin renting a suitable building for an embassy, the Germans had settled in the building next door and were using it as their headquarters. The German officers were continuously watching those who came and left the embassy, making them feel uneasy. Eventually, to put a stop to this, Ambassador Erkin employed a huge Frenchman who used to work in the fish market. He gave him a uniform and made him stand in front of the gate as a security guard. His job was to escort the visitors leaving the embassy to the end of the road, thus dissuading the German soldiers from harassing them. Behiç had also given instructions to his staff to issue passports immediately to everyone who had ties with Turkey, no matter how tenuous the connection. If through the years they had forgotten Turkish, or never learned it because they were born in France, it was enough for them to prove their connection simply by learning sentences like “I am Turkish” or “I have relatives in Turkey.” The ambassador was convinced that as long as they could compose a couple of sentences, they should be offered the chance to save themselves from the fury of the Germans or the pro-German French.

  After notifying his superiors, Tarık had called Selva back.

  “Rest assured that our ambassadors have set the wheels in motion. Please go to bed now and try to get some sleep.” Not being able to calm her down, he decided, for the sake of Sabiha’s sister, that he would spend the night at the consulate. He felt it would reassure her to know that he was at the end of a phone. This way, he would also be able to telephone her as soon as there was any news of Rafael.

  Tarık spent two hours making calls all over the place, trying desperately to find some news, when the security guard came in and stood before him.

  “There’s someone at the door who wants to see you. Says he’s a friend of yours.”

  “What’s his name?”

  “Ferit…Ferit Say—”

  “Saylan?”

  “That’s it, Saylan.”

  “Let him in. He’s my friend.”

  Tarık felt anxious when he saw Ferit looking so pale.

  “What’s up, my friend? What happened?” he asked.

  “Actually, I was worried about you,” said Ferit. “I popped in to see you at home and Muhlis told me you had rushed over to the consulate in a state. What’s the matter, what is it? Is there anything I can do?”

  “Thanks, but I don’t think so. The Gestapo have rounded up a number of Jews, including the husband of a friend of mine. Apparently they are transporting them to Paris. I’ve informed our embassies in Berlin and Vichy, so now I am sitting and waiting, as you can see. They will let me know if there are any developments.”

  “Would you like me to keep you company?”

  “Thanks for the offer, Ferit, but there’s no point in you sitting here getting miserable too. Besides, Evelyn must be waiting for you at home.”

  “Evelyn isn’t at home. She went to visit a friend who’s just had a baby. She’s spending the night there.”

  “Fine, stay, then. What can I offer you? Would you like some tea?”

  “At this time of the night?”

  “I could ask the guard to get us a bottle of wine, but you never know, it might leave a smell in the room and that wouldn’t be appropriate in the consulate.”

  “Anyone else would, but not you. You’re such a stickler for the rules. That’s why I like you so much.”

  Tarık felt embarrassed by his friend’s compliment.

  “Tell you what, if I receive good news, we can go to the Prolope and have something to eat,” he replied.

  “OK. Ask for a tea for me, and we can sit and have a chat here. I need to talk to you about something very important. We wouldn’t be able to talk freely in the café…”

  “What’s up? Are you in trouble?”

  Ferit didn’t answer. Tarık walked out of his office and called out to the guard, “Hasan Efendi. Will you get us two glasses of strong tea, please?”

  “Glasses? What glasses?” the guard said. “There aren’t proper tea glasses here. We have to drink out of bowls as if we are having soup.”

  The beautiful, ornate tea glasses brought from Turkey had all been broken; all they had left were huge French china cups. The consul had promised to have someone bring six thin-waisted tea glasses from Turkey. Thank God, he was a man of his word and they’d soon be drinking tea out of proper Turkish glasses—that was, if there were someone mad enough to visit this hell.

  Of course, in those days, no one but the persecuted Jews and Hasan Efendi, who was homesick and never went out, believed that Paris was hell. Paris had been declared an open city and was very much alive. Cabarets, cafés, theaters, bars, restaurants, and dance halls were all open until the early hours of the morning. Oddly, Paris had become a city of entertainment.

  “Come on then, what’s the matter?” Tarık asked. “Are you in trouble, Ferit?”

  “I’m not in any trouble, but you know I’m concerned about those who are.”

  “Yes, I know you’re treading on dangerous ground.”

  “So are you.”

  “But I have the support of the Turkish government and our embassy. You’re dealing with an illegal underground organization. And you’re not even French. Who’ll save you if you get into trouble?”

  “You, I hope!”

  “Ferit, I couldn’t. How could I help someone involved with the ranks of the Communist Party and who’s a member of the Resistance? You’re a member of an organization we don’t officially recognize. I’ll support you with all my heart, but that won’t be enough to get you out of trouble.”

  “I’ll settle for that.”

  “You’re being silly. I might not be so against you poking your nose into dangerous situations and acting as a courier if Evelyn wasn’t pregnant.”

  “That’s exactly what I wanted to talk to you about, Tarık. If I get into trouble, I’d like you to take care of Evelyn for me, look after her, protect her.”

  Tarık was shocked.

  Ferit continued, “Can you do that for me, my friend?”

  “What do you expect me to do?”

  “Make sure my wife gets to Istanbul unharmed.”

  “Doesn’t Evelyn have relatives here?”

  “Not in Paris, and anyway, we want our child to be born in Turkey. We want my mother to see her grandchild.”

  “What about Evelyn’s parents?”

  “They’re both dead. She’s only got one brother and he’s pinning his hopes on going to America. He’ll be gone by the time the baby’s born.”

  “Ferit, wouldn’t it be better if you washed your hands of all this and concentrated on taking your wife to Turkey yourself?”

  “I’ve got one more mission to accomplish, Tarık, just one last mission. I’m far too involved to back out now. Once it’s over, with God’s will, I’ll get onto this train and go back to Istanbul.”

  “Train? What train?”

  “The one you mentioned…”

  “I don’t remember mentioning any train.”

  “But isn’t there a train?”

  “Has Muhlis been talking?”

  “Does it matter where I heard it? Just tell me, when’s that train going?”

  “You want to get on that train, do you?”

  “Isn’t it possible?”

  “Of course. That is, if it happens at all. We’ve been trying to work out a way to get the Turkish Jews out of Paris and back to Turkey. We’re still working on it. We’re trying to figure out how much it would cost to hire a carriage, the safest route, and when…There are still many questions to be answered. We’re in the process of discussing it with the countries en route. So yes, we are considering it, but nothing is certain. If you want to get on that train, I’m sure I can fix it for you and your wife.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Of course I’m sure. But for God’s sake, don’
t talk about it all over the place. The Germans would certainly put a stop to it if they heard word of it. We’re trying to sort things out very quietly. Muhlis shouldn’t have mentioned it at all.”

  “Please believe me, Muhlis hasn’t said a word.”

  “Then how do you know about it? There are only three of us in the know, apart from the ambassador: Hikmet Özdoğan, Muhlis, and me. You don’t know Hikmet, so that leaves Muhlis and me. It must have been Muhlis who let the cat out of the bag.”

  “I swear on my honor that it wasn’t Muhlis. Besides, he doesn’t know about my involvement with the Organization.”

  “So how do you know then?”

  “I can’t tell you.”

  “It’s imperative that I know.”

  “A couple of friends of mine on the committee want their close relatives to get on the train.”

  “How on earth do they know about this?”

  “Walls have ears. I do work for an underground organization.”

  “Frankly, my friend, I don’t like this at all. How can such confidential matters leak out?”

  “Don’t worry, Tarık. Those in the know wouldn’t want to jeopardize your plan. They just want to take advantage of it…”

  When the guard walked in carrying a tray, they stopped talking. He put the bowls of tea on Tarık’s desk and left the room. Just after they had had a couple of sips of tea, the telephone rang. It was the embassy. The ambassador was informing Tarık that the Marseilles consul, Nazım Kender, and those with him had been released.

  “Thanks for the good news, sir,” said Tarık. “…What?…Oh! The train…Of course, sir, I’ll see to it tomorrow…You’re right, sir, yes, before these poor people are caught up again. I’m sure the immigration people will be more helpful after tonight’s debacle…Pardon?”

  Tarık tried to cut his conversation short because he didn’t want to say more in front of Ferit, making do with simple answers like “Yes, sir,” and “No, sir.” Finally he put the phone down and turned to his friend.

  “Hooray! The Gestapo released the people being transported from Marseilles to Paris. We’ve done it again, my friend!” he said in excitement.

  “Don’t get too carried away, Tarık. They may have released them this time, but I’ll bet they’ll round them up again pretty soon.”

  “Maybe…But if you’ll excuse me, I must call my friend in Marseilles who’s waiting to hear from me. I’ll give her the good news, and then we can go out together.”

  Selva picked up the receiver the moment the phone rang. It was obvious that she was sitting next to it.

  “Good news, Selva Hanım. Apparently your husband and all the others have been released in Arles. I presume with so many people looking for transport, they’ll have difficulty at this time of night, but I’m sure they’ll be home by morning.”

  There was no sound from the other end of the line.

  “Selva Hanım…Selva?”

  “I heard you,” replied Selva weakly. “You were right, Tarık, we do need to go back…at the earliest opportunity.”

  “There’s the possibility of a train leaving for Edirne. You’ve got to get yourselves here in case it happens. I’m sure you understand that it can’t wait for you to come from Marseilles. You must get to Paris.”

  “Yes, of course I understand, but where could we stay? If there’s no fixed time for the train, it may be a long wait, and as you know we have a child too.”

  “If push comes to shove, you can always stay with me. You must get ready immediately. You should be here within the next two weeks.”

  After putting the phone down, Tarık hesitated for a moment. What the hell have I done? he thought. How could he put up three people in his apartment? What would Muhlis have to say about it? He turned to Ferit.

  “I might need somewhere to stay,” he said. “Would you be able to find me a place? I wonder if there’s a little hotel near my apartment.”

  “For you or for your friends?”

  “There are three of them. I’m sure it will be easier to find a place for me; they can stay in my place.”

  “Till the train departs?”

  “Yes.”

  “Are you telling me there’s definitely a train leaving then?”

  “Ferit, if that train goes, you’re planning to be on it with your wife, right?”

  “That may be so.”

  “In that case, you must promise not to put me in a difficult position. We haven’t had this conversation and you have no knowledge of this train! You know absolutely nothing. Is that clear?”

  “Didn’t I tell you that walls have ears? I would have heard about it even if you hadn’t mentioned it. Let me see what I can do about finding somewhere for your friends. What about my place?”

  “Your place?”

  “Yes, why not? We have a large spare room we hardly use. A friend of mine used to stay there before, but when Evelyn and I got married, he left. Why should you leave your home? They’ll be perfectly comfortable staying with us.”

  “Thank you, Ferit. It goes without saying that whoever stays with you will pay rent.”

  “That’s not important at all. We’ll think of something,” Ferit said.

  Tarık felt like a rat caught in a trap. Ferit might not be asking for rent, but just what would he ask for next?

  ANKARA 1943

  When it started to snow heavily outside, the bridge party at Dr. Celal’s home ended abruptly. The other guests were getting ready to leave, and Dr. Celal’s wife, Leyla, tried to persuade Sabiha to stay.

  “I really don’t want you to go home on your own, Sabiha,” she said. “Macit’s out of town anyway.”

  “Thank you, darling. I’d rather go. Hülya is at home, and she’ll worry if I stay out,” replied Sabiha.

  “We could phone.”

  “It’s very kind of you, but I’d rather go home, thank you.”

  “Macit’s doing the right thing, that’s for sure,” said Dr. Celal, laughing. “He’s probably sunbathing in Cairo while we’re here freezing in the middle of a snowstorm.”

  “Give him credit. I’ll bet that he’s taking quite a roasting, what with Churchill on one side, Roosevelt on the other, and Inönü sitting across the table. Speaking for myself, I wouldn’t want to be in his shoes for all the tea in China; I’d rather be here in the snowstorm,” said Adnan, one of the guests.

  “Inönü’s probably getting the roasting, not Macit,” said Leyla. “Who knows how Churchill and Roosevelt are cornering him?”

  “Actually, it’s the Russians who are giving Inönü the headache,” said Adnan. “Russia is adamant that Turkey should join the war, at whatever cost.”

  “Why’s that?” asked Dr. Sahir.

  “Because when the Germans attack Turkey, the Russians want to send their forces to help us.”

  “Neither one nor the other, thank you,” said Dr. Celal. “I don’t want any favors from anybody, thank you very much.”

  “The old fox Inönü won’t be taken in that easily,” Ahmet, another of the guests, said. “Who knows what tricks he’s got up his sleeve?”

  “One has to keep the old devil on his toes,” said Ahmet’s wife, who was from one of the Aegean provinces and therefore disliked Inönü.

  “These good-bye chats at the door can go on forever,” said Adnan. “We’ll bid you a fond farewell.”

  “And who did you come with, Sabiha?” asked Dr. Celal.

  “The weather was perfectly fine earlier, so I walked here alone,” she replied.

  “We’ll worry about you going back on your own in the snow.”

  “I’ll accompany the lady,” said Dr. Sahir.

  “There’s no need, thank you,” Sabiha responded.

  “Please allow me the honor,” Dr. Sahir insisted.

  Everyone left together, walking toward the square at the top of the road before setting off in various directions. Sabiha and Sahir continued walking in the direction of Kızılay. What had started out as sleet had turned into large
snowflakes and was now a full-blown blizzard. Sabiha slipped and Dr. Sahir caught her by the arm.

  “Here, hold onto my arm, Sabiha Hanım,” he said.

  “How could one have guessed that it would snow?” she said, taking his arm. “It was sunny this morning. I wouldn’t have left home had I known this.” They continued walking arm in arm against the blizzard. Sabiha, who wasn’t too shy to reveal her hidden, innermost feelings in Dr. Sahir’s consulting room, was now silent; she was even too embarrassed to make eye contact with him. She had been rather shaken seeing him at Dr. Celal’s house. He was the one she thought of through the dark nights, the man she longed to see, who made her count the days, hours, and minutes between their appointments. The same man whose voice she missed if she hadn’t heard it for a few days. Sabiha had been surprised to see him, even though Leyla had mentioned the possibility of his replacing Macit. For some unknown reason, she hadn’t imagined that he would be there. When she saw him in Leyla’s sitting room, she was taken aback to see this man who knew her inside out. She felt naked—everything she shared with him, her conversations, her confessions, her tears, even feelings she wouldn’t admit to herself outside the dimly lit consulting room. Somehow being together in this place wasn’t right. She had hoped to God they wouldn’t be sitting at the same table.

  As they approached Kızılay, Dr. Sahir suggested having something warm to drink.

  “It’s so cold; you’ll feel better with something warm inside you. How about some hot chocolate?”

  “That’s fine by me.”

  As soon as she agreed, Sabiha regretted it. They walked into an empty café and sat opposite each other at a small round table by the window. Sabiha removed her gloves and the shawl from around her head. Dr. Sahir called out to the waiter standing behind the glass display counter.

  “Two hot chocolates, please.”

  Sabiha’s hands had turned blue with the cold. Dr. Sahir took them in his and started rubbing them. Sabiha blushed, but didn’t withdraw them.

  “Do you know, I feel strange sitting here with you instead of in your consulting room,” she said quietly, so as not to be heard by the waiter.

  “Why do you feel strange?”