Istanbul Day Five

 This morning was, as we all expected, cold. My alarm went off and I was immediately filled with dread that I would need to move out from my blankets. I listened for footsteps, indications that anyone else had decided to rise at the prescribed wake up time. Blissfully, we all agreed without speaking that we would remain in bed just a while longer. After taking my clothes under the covers to warm them, I got dressed and went downstairs. 

Pack out and hit the road. Out fist stop that was a marble quarry, this particular site specialized in columns. The marble from here went as far east as Nazareth and as far west as Portugal. At the site, you could see a chunk cut in the rock face and four massive columns in various states of finish, resting on the earth. Destined for projects that they never saw.

Near the quarry site

On our way to our next site, I experienced a road trip probably closer to the way road trips were in the US before the interstates were built. The US Interstate highway system is an incredible infrastructure project. That being said, we made a bad choice by going all in on it and we are still paying the price. Before the interstates, car travel would take you through the centers of towns and past countless farms. Today you slice through and above anything of human interest and have no reason to stop. The little stops are the best. Breakfast came from three separate places. One for simit, one for cheese, and one for chocolate. Along the way a field of cabbages caught Rashad’s eye and he stopped to roll down his window and talk to the farmer about them. The farmer smiled and tossed one over the fence to him at no charge. For so many reasons that would not happen in the US, what a treat to see. Kivilcim told Jake and I about a related Turkish custom If you see something you like and it will not cause harm to take it, you can take it. This is typically applied to taking an olive from a private tree or picking a flower from a bed. If it it in the public eye, you can enjoy it.

After a brief visit to Troy and a ferry ride, we went to the Canakkale Martyr’s Memorial. In the US, our history is pretty far removed from the First World War. We sent troops and built memorials but the battlefields are thousands of miles away and hard to relate to. At Canakkale the history rests under your feet and in the air. The Gallipoli peninsula abuts the Dardanelle strait. The Dardenelle is the gateway to Istanbul, the Bosporus, and The Black Sea. Defending it was of vital importance for the survival of The Ottoman Empire. Capturing it was seen as a key part of victory for the Triple Entente. The fight for Gallipoli was long and bloody for all parties involved. Against all odds, the Ottomans managed to hold their position but at a great cost. Both sides suffered around a quarter million casualties over the ten month campaign. For the Ottomans, this was with a deployed fighting force about half the size of the Entente. Bloody.

Every nation has its creation myths. These can be true, legend, or a mix of the two. Gallipoli is full of these across all sides. A particularly famous story from Turkey is the tale of Seyit Cabuk. He was an Ottoman gunner stationed at a large fort on the Dardanelle strait. When the crane to move shells was hit and his fellow gunners became injured there was no easy way to load his gun. By himself, he lifted three 600 bound shells to the gun. After the war he was asked to repeat the act for a photo. When he was unable to do so he gave the chilling quote, “If war breaks out, I’ll lift it again.” An old guard soldier.

Cabuk’s Post

From this battlefield three nations were forged. General Mustafa Kemal, to become Mustafa Kemal Attaturk did some of his most well-known soldiering here. The reputation he earned from this victory gave him the cachet to forge the modern Turkish state. Without Gallipoli there is no Turkish Republic. The triple entente’s British component was not just from the UK. With their empire still ticking along at the time, troops came from all over the world. Notably, Australia and New Zealand. At this place, the Aussies and Kiwis began to forge their own national identities distinct from the British Empire. Without Gallipoli there is no Australia or New Zealand.

The memorial is as grand as it is solemn and paid tribute to all the soldiers who served in the campaign on both sides. The Great War was the last where traditional soldiering and mutual respect persevered. Attaturk clearly came out of this tradition and you can see that in the memorial. It is emphasized that this is a place of extreme suffering and that we must be respectful. Not far there are acres of marked nameless graves, the dead being far too numerous to identify. The memorial has the names of all those who gave their lives in the campaign for the Ottoman Empire and acknowledges the soldiering of the enemy, especially the Australians and New Zealanders who are given special prominent placement on the memorial’s breathtaking bas relief.

Respect for the dead