Last Train to Istanbul

by Ayşe Kulin

  Macit had come to Cairo with the foreign minister about a month ago. They had had endless talks to lay the foundations for this political chess game. That had been a tiring trip, but it was nothing compared to this one. Now they were finally reaching the crucial point of the past four days of these intense talks.

  Britain was not only forcing Turkey to invade the Aegean Islands without offering support (they were attempting to turn their defeat in the Islands into a triumphant victory), but they also expected to be allowed to have bases in the southern provinces of Turkey. Behind the scenes, Russia was also pulling strings with all her might. She desperately wanted Turkey to declare that she was joining the war and closing the Bosphorus to all German ships, both military and commercial. Russia also insisted that all airports should be used by the Allied Forces immediately; believing that if Turkey took such action, the Germans would invade and Russia would be let off the hook.

  This latter condition worried Inönü most. He thought if Germany was to invade Turkey, the Russians, on the pretext of giving support, would be able to send in their troops. Inönü, wearing old patent-leather shoes, was waltzing dangerously on a very slippery floor with three great prima donnas. While Britain put her arms around his waist, trying to make him turn toward her, Germany grabbed his hands, trying to make him sway her way, and Russia was stepping on his toes in her huge combat boots.

  Macit had kept a record of the British and Turkish foreign ministers’ meeting in Cairo on the fifth of November. Numan Menemencioğlu, the foreign minister, attended the emergency meeting in a well-prepared state, because just before he had left for Cairo, the German ambassador, Von Papen, had visited and warned him that he knew what the British and Russians would be asking.

  “Your Excellency, the British are under pressure from the Russians and will be asking you to join the war immediately. That’s their sole reason for inviting you to the Cairo summit.”

  “How can you be so sure, Ambassador?” Menemencioğlu asked. “I haven’t even been there yet.”

  Von Papen laughed; he hadn’t told him that a spy called Cicero, who worked in the British embassy, had photographed a coded message from London and sold it to them.

  “You don’t have to be clairvoyant to know this,” Von Papen said. “It will be to your advantage to make sure you refuse the Allies’ requests. My government expects you to answer them accordingly,” he added, without a smile.

  Numan Menemencioğlu had kept that in mind at the Cairo meeting with the British foreign minister, Anthony Eden.

  We’re caught between a rock and a hard place! thought Macit outside the conference room. After everyone entered the room and took their places, Macit watched this verbal duel between the Turkish and British foreign ministers with undisguised admiration. It was like watching a brilliant tennis match. He couldn’t help admiring Numan Menemencioğlu’s ability to return every volley no matter the speed of delivery.

  From the start, Mr. Eden didn’t mince his words.

  “Your joining the war before the year is out would be a tremendous help to Russia. They are obsessed with the idea that this war should end as soon as possible. Your participation would pave the way to friendly ties with Russia, and that will be to your advantage.”

  “But wouldn’t that mean Russia could invade the Balkans?” Menemencioğlu asked.

  “If the Russians had designs on the Balkans, they wouldn’t want Turkey to join the war,” Eden replied unconvincingly.

  “But couldn’t you argue that they want Turkey to join the war to wear herself out? That would mean that we would leave ourselves open to a German invasion. We’d have to fight, leading to a second war of liberation. Surely that wouldn’t be a wise move.”

  “It isn’t possible any longer for the Germans to invade Turkey. They are left with only fifty bombers. They can’t cope with the British fighter planes. They’re in no position to deal with yet another front.”

  “If the Germans are so depleted, why doesn’t Britain consider an operation in that area, then?”

  “That’s a matter concerning our military operations. I’m afraid I can’t comment,” the British foreign minister replied.

  “I fully understand, Your Excellency, but you must try to understand our position. It isn’t possible for Turkey to join the war without knowing your plans for the Balkans.”

  With this, Mr. Eden changed his tune.

  “My dear colleague, Turkey could be of help without even joining the war.”

  “How is that?”

  “By allowing Britain to use the airfields in the southern provinces.”

  “But surely you are aware that if Turkey allowed that, it would be an open invitation for the Germans to attack us.”

  “I’m afraid I don’t agree. When the air bases were used in the Azores, the Germans didn’t attack Portugal. Furthermore, during our operations in the Aegean Islands, they turned a blind eye to the facilities you offered us—like storage in your depots and food supplies, not to mention the withdrawal of our troops through Turkey. You know that.”

  “Of course I do, Your Excellency, but you must know, if you should use our air bases against the Islands, the Germans would instantly attack us.”

  “Your Excellency, I’m under the impression that you don’t want us to use your airfields because you are scared of the Russians and don’t want to join the war.”

  “There is no need to interpret it that way, Your Excellency. We can certainly discuss the subject of Turkey joining the war, but only after having established the guarantees you’re willing to give.”

  “Let’s look at it this way. If Turkey joins the war today, it will have a great effect; if she joins in three months’ time, that effect will be reduced, and if she should join in six months’ time, there will be no effect. And there’s another thing to consider. If you don’t accept our request—which would be a great help to us—our relationship will change.”

  “In what way?”

  “In a negative one, I am afraid.”

  “Sir, we’re the first country you have approached. You have made no such demands on Russia, America, or even Yugoslavia. Are you telling me that if we refuse, our relationship might reach a breaking point?”

  “I’d better clarify: if Turkey doesn’t cooperate with the three Allies, our relationship will suffer now and after the war.”

  Numan Menemencioğlu’s face turned gray. Mr. Eden was making threats about their relationship even after the war.

  “As I understand it,” the Turkish foreign minister said, “the decision made in Moscow was for us to join the war.”

  “Yes, that’s right. The three Allies have come to the conclusion that Turkey’s participation in the war will shorten it. The airfield request is a different issue.”

  “Minister, I am authorized to deal with your request for airfields, and it is with that authority that I am refusing your request right here and now. As for Turkey joining the war, I shall relay that to my government. This decision can only be made by the Assembly in Ankara.”

  Numan Menemencioğlu finished his sentence, got up, shook Mr. Eden’s hand, and left the room.

  The Turkish diplomats held countless meetings in their rooms during the following two days. Coded messages were sent back and forth between Cairo and Ankara, cigarettes were chain-smoked, and many cups of coffee were drunk. Various details were scrutinized and evaluated. Three days later, Eden and Menemencioğlu met again.

  The Turks were tense. They suspected the British might have been pressured by Russia to stop providing supplies.

  “This time I might not be able to abide by diplomatic courtesies, although that could actually be a useful tactic,” Numan said to Macit before going in for the meeting.

  Even later, thinking about that meeting, Macit’s palms couldn’t stop sweating.

  Eden gave an ultimatum, saying, “You have to join the war!”

  Numan replied softly but with hard words. “Honorable colleague, you have tried to influence us twic
e so far, and had we acted hastily on either of those occasions, we would have both stood to lose.”

  “For instance?” Eden asked mockingly, with a wry smile.

  “Let me remind you,” replied Menemencioğlu, “when Italy declared war back in 1940, you asked us to join then. What would have happened to us if we had listened to you? Furthermore, you did the same thing in 1941 in respect to Yugoslavia.”

  “No, I’m sorry, sir, we didn’t ask you to join the war,” the British ambassador, Hugessen, interjected.

  “So what did you do?”

  “We asked you to bluff, in order to encourage the Yugoslav government to resist.”

  Numan started to laugh. “My dear friend, thank you for confirming what I just said. How else could that bluff be interpreted, with Germany at her strongest and already moving south?”

  Mr. Eden couldn’t help laughing too. Numan had started laughing, but he ended harshly.

  “You tried to get the Germans to attack Turkey before they attacked Russia, without realizing how dearly it would cost you.”

  Macit and the general secretary looked at each other. Both had a glimmer of pride and anxiety in their eyes. Numan continued on the attack.

  “If that wasn’t enough, you’re about to make the same mistake again today, when you’ve got the upper hand. Your request is nothing short of sacrificing Turkey. What’s more, you’re doing it to please the Russians.”

  Macit watched as the British listened to the Turkish foreign minister with expressionless faces, carefully avoiding eye contact. Numan was like a tenor walking on stage with a croak in his voice, but gradually overcoming it.

  “Who on earth can see reason in inducing the Germans to attack us when you know full well our army is in no state to defend ourselves? What good would it do you if the Germans had control of the areas along the Bosphorus? Would we just sit it out and wait for final victory and our liberation? Are we supposed to sit there, hoping the Russians come and defeat the Germans and save Istanbul? Are you telling me the Russians will save Istanbul for our sake?”

  Numan stopped and took a deep breath. Eden appeared to want to butt in, but Numan continued.

  “All this is so clear; don’t you see that threatening to stop supplying aid is pushing us into a vicious situation? If you don’t supply us with the necessary equipment, we can’t join the war. We can’t fight without supplies. Where’s the sense in all that?” he asked.

  Mr. Eden sat with a blank face, as if wearing a mask. He seemed neither to agree nor disagree. He merely said, “Will you please relate the wishes of the three great powers, Britain, Russia, and America, to your government, Your Excellency?”

  After the delegation returned to Turkey, this matter was discussed for a very long time at the ministers’ assembly. The final decision was a yes to joining the war, with certain reservations, and no to granting permission to use the airfields.

  There had been so much to be discussed during the month between the meetings. Macit was so busy juggling all his duties at the ministry, he simply had no opportunity to spend time at home and deal with Sabiha and Hülya. Husband and wife were drifting farther and farther apart. They hadn’t made love for months; for more than a month, they hadn’t even exchanged more than a few words. Macit kept postponing dealing with his problems at home. Once this meeting is over…Once we sign this agreement…Once this summit meeting is over…

  Now, finally, the five-day marathon in Cairo was over. They would be flying back to Adana in Churchill’s plane. His father-in-law would be waiting impatiently for his return; he was sure Fazıl Reşat Paşa would stay up, waiting by the window, no matter how late it was. Once a government official, always a government official. That’s the way it was, even if one was over eighty and retired. Having been a minister in the last Ottoman Assembly, he wouldn’t be able to sleep without first welcoming his son-in-law back. Macit was sure the paşa would be there in his burgundy dressing gown, his glasses halfway down his nose. He sighed deeply. At least someone would be waiting for his return, even if it was his old father-in-law. Knowing he was the old man’s only link with the outside world, Macit started to think about what to tell him.

  If he told him that the British foreign minister had fibbed, trying to put Turkey in the firing line, acting on behalf of the Russians and not the Americans, he knew the old man would regale him with stories from history illustrating how untrustworthy the Russians were. He could tell Fazıl Paşa how, when Inönü pointed out that Turkey needed more time before she could join the war and the American president had been supportive, the British foreign minister had said, “Mr. President, you’re forgetting our promise to the Russians,” so loudly that everyone could hear. Then Fazıl Reşat Paşa would go into a tirade about how it had been the British who stirred up the Kurds and Arabs against Turkey.

  After going through the various stages of the meeting in his mind, Macit decided that Fazıl Paşa would really appreciate hearing about Numan’s firm response to the insolent Eden. Negotiating the extension of Britain’s military supplies, Numan had said, “This aid that you are offering is sufficient for the defense of the British air bases, not the defense of Turkey.”

  “The aid is for the defense of the British bases in Istanbul, Izmir, and Zonguldak,” Eden responded.

  Numan replied, “You don’t think the Turks are expecting the British to defend their whole country, Your Excellency. What we want is, if necessary, for the Turks to defend our country with your help.”

  Knowing how happy it would make his father-in-law, Macit would tell him how, at the end of the very tough meeting, the American president had insisted he and Inönü should spend a little more time together before saying good-bye. He particularly wanted to tell the paşa about the warm conversation between the two leaders.

  Macit was rather surprised at himself for feeling so affectionate toward his father-in-law. He wondered if he had begun to look upon the paşa as a surrogate father.

  If I miss my father’s affection that much, maybe I’m desperately lonely, thought Macit.

  So as not to be late for the Churchill-Inönü meeting in Churchill’s villa early the next morning, Macit had packed his suitcase the night before. All that was left for him to do was to pack his pajamas and toiletries, don his jacket, and gather his files.

  After the meeting, they flew back to Adana on Churchill’s plane and transferred to a train for Ankara. As soon as Macit was in his compartment, he lay down to rest. He was completely exhausted, but a knock on the door caused him to jump up.

  “I’m sorry, sir, the president would like to see you for one last assessment,” one of Inönü’s staff said, popping his head around the door.

  “I’ll be right with you,” Macit said, yawning. He got up, muttering to himself, and washed his face. What sort of man was this Inönü? Didn’t he ever get tired? Didn’t he sleep? He promised himself he would sleep the whole weekend as soon as he got home.

  But Macit didn’t get home when he expected. Heavy snow blocked the line, and they had to wait for hours for it to be cleared. When at last they reached Ankara, they had to go directly to the ministry to show the prime minister the finished version of the report he had to submit to the Assembly the following day. Macit telephoned home to find out how everyone was, and after talking briefly, urged them not to wait up for him. His conversation with Fazıl Reşat Paşa about his Cairo adventure would have to wait.

  By the time he got home, Macit was shattered. His eyes were burning, his mouth was dry, and his joints were aching. He paid the fare to the taxi driver, picked up his small suitcase, and walked to the gate. He opened the door with his key and finally entered his dark, silent home. His first thought was for a bath, but he immediately changed his mind. He thought of sleeping on the sofa so as not to waken Sabiha, but then he realized that he would be awakened by the early risers in the morning. The best thing to do was to undress in the sitting room, creep into bed, and collapse. He left his suitcase in a corner, undressed, and in h
is stocking feet, opened the bedroom door as quietly as possible. He made his way carefully to the bed, slipped between the warm sheets, and lay on his back. His body was numb. Just as he was dropping off to sleep, he was suddenly startled by Sabiha moving near him. Oh no, he thought, I’ve woken her up. He first felt her slippery silk nightdress on his skin and then suddenly the touch of her warm body. Sabiha pushed her body next to her husband’s and put her arms tightly around his neck.

  “Welcome back,” she said. “I missed you so much, so very much.”

  PARIS

  Ferit walked up the stairs carrying on his back a mattress he’d taken off an old truck.

  The truck driver tried to unload another mattress, then shouted after him, “Hey, my friend, you might be as strong as a mule, but I ain’t. You’d better find someone to give me a hand down here.”

  “Wait until I’ve taken this one up,” he answered breathlessly. He deposited the first mattress upstairs, then ran down for the next one.

  “Is there a dormitory up there?” asked the driver.

  “Something like that.”

  “Jesus! What the hell are you going to do with all these mattresses? Are you opening a hotel or what?”

  “A brothel,” said Ferit. “Why don’t you pop in sometime?”

  “Wow, are the girls beautiful?”

  My God! thought Ferit, the idiot believed me. What if he gets drunk one night and comes knocking on the door!

  “No, it was a joke. My whole family is coming to stay with me.”

  “Where from?”

  “Come on, be a sport, give me a hand with this one,” Ferit answered. He immediately started whistling a popular French tune.

  The man decided to call it a day after carrying just one mattress. Ferit paid him, and lifted another mattress that he had rested by the door.

  “Come on, man,” he said to himself, “if old porters back home can carry three times the weight of these without batting an eyelid, surely you can do it.” When he got to the top of the stairs, he nearly collapsed, but hearing the sound of the telephone ring inside, he pulled himself together.