Dying is Easier than Loving, page 27
In the dream he had during the short time he slept, Dilara Hanım was leaning over him, her face wasn’t visible and he could only see her hair, Dilara Hanım was saying “Ragıp” as if she wanted to wake him, he felt pleased to hear her voice but somehow he couldn’t wake up, he couldn’t open his eyes, he couldn’t answer her.
Suddenly the stable was shaken by a terrifying roar, Ragıp Bey’s bed was knocked over, he leapt to his feet, a Bulgarian field cannon shell had hit the hayloft in the rear, the hay had caught fire immediately, it didn’t take long for the wooden partition to catch fire, by the time Ragıp Bey pulled himself together the flames had started to spread into the stable, he immediately rushed outside, the rain had subsided a bit.
Soldiers had come running and were watching the stable burn, Ragıp Bey suddenly realized he’d left his jacket inside, the sergeant tried to stop him as he ran towards the stable but he quickly knocked the sergeant to the ground and dove into the flames, he grabbed the jacket, which had started burning at the edges, and ran outside, then he beat the jacket against the ground to put out the flames. Immediately he put his hand in the pocket, the letters were there.
“Commander, you could have died,” said the sergeant.
“I left my jacket inside, you idiot, should I have let it burn?”
The sergeant didn’t understand this answer at all, so he chose to curse the Bulgarian artilleryman.
“He’s a pimp who sells the wife he bought at the market, is he drunk, what’s the point of firing your cannon you whoremaster, are you going to win the war with one cannot shot?”
With a cheerful laugh that surprised the sergeant even more, Ragıp Bey said, “Our headquarters has burned down, sergeant, what are we going to do now?”
“I don’t know,” said the sergeant in distress, “we can settle in one of the emplacements, it’s not so great, but until we find another headquarters . . .”
Until the stable burned and collapsed it had been raining lightly, but the rain suddenly became violent again, what was left of the stable turned into pitch black smoke, the smell of wood spread across the entire front.
“Come on, let’s go check on the sentries,” said Ragıp Bey.
He felt a joy within him, it was as if he’d really seen Dilara Hanım, the honor of that day’s victory didn’t attempt to silence this joy, he allowed it to wander freely through his mind so that it could play with the images in the darkness of his memory.
Meanwhile Monsieur Lausanne was telling Dilara Hanım the latest developments, in any event he came to the mansion every evening now, they ate dinner together and he told her everything he’d learned, including what he hadn’t been able to send to his newspaper. “You’re my best reader,” he would say, “I don’t think anyone in France follows what I write as carefully as you do.”
The war had turned into a passion for Dilara Hanım, it seemed to her as if it would be very unlucky if she missed even the smallest detail, as if Ragıp Bey would be shot and killed, what the letters were for Ragıp Bey, news about the war was for Dilara Hanım, “it’s difficult to find a love that was rejected so violently and dragged along so stubbornly,” Dilara Hanım told to Osman, then with that mocking smile she added, “I don’t know if you can call this love, but to tell the truth I can’t find another name for it.”
She asked Monsieur Lausanne about everything, she wanted to learn every last detail, which units of the Bulgarian army attacked, which units advanced, what did the Ottoman army do, where were the artillerymen, what was the situation in the emplacements at Çatalca . . . Once Monsieur Lausanne said,
“If you’d been a spy you would have been very successful, you get all of the information I have out of me bit by bit.”
“It doesn’t seem as if you would be very guarded about giving information to lady spies, mon cher,” said Dilara Hanım.
It was difficult to describe the relationship between them, perhaps it could have been described as a tense friendship into which some very delicate sexual jokes had been mixed, Monsieur Lausanne didn’t express his feelings openly, but he didn’t go to any lengths to conceal them either. It was clear that Dilara Hanım was pleased by Monsieur Lausanne’s company, but even Dilara Hanım couldn’t figure out where the limits were. The love she felt for Ragıp Bey and the feelings she had for Lausanne had become inextricably intertwined, the day she stopped loving Ragıp Bey would be the day she stopped seeing Lausanne, she was certain of this. If the love she felt for Ragıp Bey was compared to a tower, what she felt for Lausanne was that tower’s shadow, as the tower grew, the shadow lengthened.
Monsieur Lausanne told her first about his conversation with the Foreign Minister.
“The minister looked devastated,” he said, “I think he no longer has any hope left, he believes the Bulgarians are going to enter Istanbul.”
“Do you think they can?”
“I don’t know, Dilara Hanım, but during the fighting today they encountered a resistance they hadn’t anticipated, indeed I can say that even the Ottomans were surprised by this . . . According to the news coming from the front, the Bulgarians suffered heavy losses.”
“How did it happen like this, when even the foreign minister had lost hope . . . How did this miracle occur?”
“I suppose the Bulgarians overestimated their strength and had too much self-confidence, and they underestimated the Ottoman army . . . Look, for days I’ve been reading what my colleagues at the Bulgarian front have been writing for the French newspapers, the Bulgarian generals told these correspondents almost every detail of their planned attack. All that Ottoman intelligence had to do to learn the Bulgarian General Staff’s plans was to read the French newspapers . . . And on top of that they attacked in exactly the way they said they would.”
However it was that she’d learned, Dilara Hanım knew that Ragıp Bey was serving in Muhtar Pasha’s corps, for this reason her attention was focused especially on Muhtar Pasha.
“What did Muhtar Pasha’s corps do?”
Even though Monsieur Lausanne didn’t know the reason, he’d realized for quite some time that Dilara Hanım was deeply interested in Muhtar Pasha, indeed he’d even had suspicions about whether there was a relationship between Dilara Hanım and the pasha.
“Your hero Muhtar Pasha . . . Since the beginning of the war the most intense fighting has been between his corps and the Bulgarians.”
At this point there was a tone of pride Monsieur Lausanne’s voice that he couldn’t conceal.
“Muhtar Pasha was trained in France and has a high degree of military knowledge, he’s also a very courageous man. He’s been very successful in the use of artillery. He can always stop the Bulgarians. They say the Bulgarians lost thousands of men in today’s fighting.”
Dilara Hanim was being careful not to allow her voice to change, she wasn’t aware that she was squeezing her napkin.
“Did the Ottomans suffer losses?”
“Very few compared to the Bulgarians . . . I stopped by the General Staff Headquarters on my way here, a colonel there told me that Muhtar Pasha’s artillery positions were hit by nearly two thousand artillery shells, but because the men were in the old emplacements they only lost two men.”
“Two men?”
“Yes, only two privates.”
Dilara Hanım couldn’t prevent herself from taking a deep breath.
“This means that the Bulgarians are not going to win this war, isn’t that so?”
“To tell the truth I’ve begun to think that, but the foreign ambassadors don’t.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know, but they’re preparing to land troops.”
Dilara Hanım asked in amazement, as if she didn’t believe what she’d heard,
“Where are they going to land them?”
“In Istanbul . . . To protect their embassies and their staff.”
“What does the government say about this?”
“It seems they agreed, tonight all of the diplomats met at the Austrian Embassy, they’re discussing how and when to bring the troops.”
“But you said our army stopped the Bulgarians and that they suffered heavy casualties . . .”
“Yes, but it seems that the embassies still want to be certain.”
“But the situation at the front is good . . . Isn’t that so?”
“The situation is good, commander,” said Lausanne with a laugh.
Then, trying to conceal his anguish behind a mocking smile, he said,
“I don’t want this war to end at all.”
“Why?”
“Because I feel that when the war ends I will no longer have any value or importance in your eyes . . .”
Dilara Hanım gave Monsieur Lausanne a light slap on his hand.
“You’ll always be a very valued friend for me, conditions won’t change that, neither the war dragging on nor the war ending . . .”
Lausanne’s sensitive ears separated the word “friend” and set it apart from all the other words, he felt a slight tension within, but he grasped that he wasn’t going to get more than this that night, that any further insistence might create a situation that was embarrassing for both of them.
“Still, if the war lasted a little longer it would be good,” he said, “it’s a selfish thought but unfortunately that’s how I feel.”
Dilara Hanım didn’t answer, she couldn’t figure out how to answer, instead, with a feminine smile that suited her very well, she changed the subject.
She didn’t want to lose Lausanne, but she didn’t want to carry the relationship beyond what it was now; the reason she didn’t want to lose him wasn’t that she saw him solely as a source of information, he was valuable to her because she could learn what was happening at the front, but Monsieur Lausanne had entered her life as “the man who brought news from the front,” but had slowly gained an importance of his own, his company was an important consolation for Dilara Hanım, his conversation and his jokes masked her desperation and her loneliness, he helped Dilara Hanım not to see the realities she didn’t want to see.
Towards morning on that night when the entire city was curious about what was going to happen, Muhtar Pasha went to inspect the front before day had even broken, when he came to Ragıp Bey’s unit he asked, “What’s your situation, Ragıp?” “Thank you commander.” “Do you have any casualties?” “No, commander,” “How is your store of ammunition?” “Towards evening we were running low, but we spent all night restocking it,” “You’re prepared, you mean?” “Yes commander” “They’re going to attack in the morning.” “We’re ready, commander,” “I don’t want them to advance a single step.” “They won’t advance, commander.” “God be with you Ragıp.” “Thank you, commander.”
Half an hour after Muhtar Pasha left, when a faint light was appearing behind the hills, a messenger arrived.
“Muhtar Pasha commands that a squadron of men join him immediately,” he said.
Ragıp Bey immediately set out with a squadron and made his way behind the trenches to where the other battalion’s positions were and joined Muhtar Pasha. The Pasha was very annoyed. The battalion commander was standing at attention in front of him with his head bowed and his face bright red.
“How could you not be aware,” Muhtar Pasha was saying, “The Bulgarians took three positions in the night, the men retreated without you being aware of it . . . Are you a commander, are you an officer, or are you a scarecrow, what the hell are you? And we entrust you with a battalion.”
The battalion commander stood there without saying anything, he knew that he deserved this reprimand.
“I’m taking over command of the battalion, we’re not going to wait at all, we’re going to get into action right away . . . Are you here, Ragıp?”
“Yes, commander.”
“We’re going to take those positions back before the day gets warm. You keep our left flank secure.”
“Yes, sir.”
They began an operation that had rarely been seen in war before, a corps commander took personal command of a battalion and went on the offensive against two positions between the ravines.
Machine gun fire began to come from the positions the Bulgarians had taken, Muhtar Pasha was leading on horseback when he was shot and fell off his horse, “Keep going!” he shouted, “Keep going, don’t stop, take those positions!” It was as if the pasha being shot had sharpened the officers and the men, they advanced, returning fire against a hail of machinegun bullets.
The Bulgarian unit was surprised by the Ottoman soldiers’ sudden assault, they knew that no one was going to come to support them, they fired as they retreated, within twenty minutes they’d retaken the two positions.
Muhtar Pasha was immediately carried to the rear of the front, he wasn’t badly wounded. Ragıp Bey returned to his own unit.
Just as he was entering the emplacement, the Bulgarian artillery began firing.
They bombarded each other with artillery fire until noon like two maddened street fighters, after noon the firing slowed down and towards evening it stopped, the Bulgarians really hadn’t been able to advance a single step, on the contrary the resistance they’d encountered had sapped their courage and their confidence.
As for the Ottoman ranks, there was a sense of holiday joy.
“We lost out bravest pasha, but we won the battle,” they were saying.
The following day French newspapers printed a speech by Third Army Chief of Staff Colonel Rostov.
“Dysentery is ravaging the army . . . Our numbers are steadily decreasing . . . However within a few days we will once again go on the offensive.”
This was the last statement about the Bulgarian “offensive,” they didn’t attack again. Their strength had been consumed.
The men’s courage and confidence had been refreshed, they’d managed to stop the enemy twenty miles from Istanbul. The capital of over three hundred years had escaped occupation.
Now at the front they would have to contend with a much more dangerous and deadly enemy.
20
Rasim Bey hadn’t even begun his breakfast when he was informed that Abdülhamid “requested his presence,” he hurriedly finished his tea and went at once to the large hall overlooking the Bosphorus.
Abdülhamid was pacing in the hall with his hands clasped behind his back, his head bent and his chin touching his chest, he was murmuring something to himself. When he saw Rasim Bey he asked almost angrily,
“What’s going on, Rasim Bey?”
Rasim Bey looked at the Bosphorus flowing outside the window, launches were approaching the ships, bringing soldiers to the shore, then returning to pick up more soldiers, the sea was full of launches, the large European warships were sending each other flag signals.
“They’re landing troops, sir.”
“Who’s landing troops?”
“The Europeans.”
In an admonishing tone, as if Rasim Bey was responsible for this, he asked,
“They’re landing foreign troops in my capital?”
Then, feeling that he had to amend what he’d said, he repeated the same question in a different way.
“Are they landing foreign troops in the Ottoman capital?”
Abdülhamid, who was generally very careful about what he said, he was particularly careful not to say anything that might give the impression he was thinking about returning to power or that he was still angry at those who had overthrown him, had not been able to control his anger.
“Was it for this that they overthrew me? What does it mean for foreign troops to land in the Ottoman capital, this is the Caliph’s city, foreign soldiers shouldn’t even step foot here . . . I wonder what my brother has to say about this.”
“They can’t land troops without the permission of his highness the sultan and the government, I’m sure that you can appreciate this as well, sir . . .”
“For what purpose are they landing troops?”
“To protect the embassies . . .”
“Who are they going to protect them from?”
“The Bulgarians, presumably, they fear a Bulgarian occupation.”
“I heard that we stopped the Bulgarians at Çatalca.”
Rasim Bey couldn’t quite figure out where Abdülhamid got his news, there were still sounds of cannon fire coming from Çatalca, even though it had lessened, but the former sultan had even learned that the Bulgarians had been stopped . . .
“They say we stopped them, sir, but the foreigners still wanted to take precautions.”
“Good God,” said Abdülhamid, “Good God . . . What a bitter day for a caliph, they’re landing troops in the capital. And on the eve of the blessed Feast of the Sacrifice. I suppose they’re going to sacrifice the Ottoman Empire. What kind of holiday is this going to be? How could they allow this, I can’t comprehend it, they should have stood against this to the end, no foreign troops have set foot in this city since the time of Mehmet the Conqueror . . . The army is fighting at Çatalca, but foreign troops are landing in Tophane . . . Oh, Rasim Bey, what is this government doing, Kamil Pasha is an experienced man, how could he agree to this, I don’t understand, a state can’t allow something like this. It’s not as if this is an ordinary state, look at the condition the great Ottoman Empire has been reduced to . . .”
Rasim Bey realized that Abdülhamid was truly saddened and angered, he was as angry as if someone had entered his harem, he’d been dethroned, but he still saw himself as the ruler of an empire.
As they were talking, they heard the sounds of a military band playing on the French warship Gambetta.
“What’s this now?”
Rasim Bey listed to what the band was paying and said, “The French national anthem.”
