A PKK memory

Actually, I was not going to write about this memory.

But after hearing the story of a friend of mine who personally participated in medical operations during the trench operations—an event within our own borders where we suffered more martyrs than in the Cyprus Peace Operation, which could be considered an overseas operation—I decided to write it down.

Some of our soldiers were shot in the back.

By the brothers-in-arms they thought were friends.

I mean, the brothers-in-arms who were part of the July 15 process.

It was 2014. It was 10 days before the trench incidents.

I was sent to Şırnak on duty on behalf of the university where I worked at the time. As the head of a 6-person inspection team.

We flew from Ankara to Şırnak by plane. We landed at the airport in Cizre.

The situation was terrible.

It resembled Vietnam movies.

Like in Saigon, one helicopter was landing while another was taking off. The soldiers were constantly on the move.

Even though I thought to myself, why did we come here, can there even be an exam here, I cleared my mind immediately out of a sense of duty.

The driver from Şırnak University who came to pick us up said that the drive between Cizre and Şırnak would take about an hour.

I said, let the police escort arrive, and then we will move.

Because in all the exams I had been assigned to for 20 years, we had always moved with a police escort.

My university had not made any arrangements for a police escort.

It seems that was part of the plan.

We didn't understand it at the time, of course.

Anyway, we said, they must know something.

Saying 'Bismillah' (In the name of God), we set off for Şırnak.

The air was hazy, stressful, and smelled of gunpowder.

There were not many problems during my one-week exam duty.

The late rector and his team, who passed away later, were extremely friendly.

They had provided a sense of security. They tried hard to make us feel at home.

We ate, drank, and chatted.

The surroundings of the schools we visited during the exam duty were full of barricades and gas canisters. Cables were also hanging from between the cobblestones.

We later understood that these were IEDs. That is, improvised explosive devices.

In fact, most of our martyrs were caused by IED-related explosions.

On the way back from our duty, we said goodbye to the rector and his team.

We set off for Cizre.

The police stopped us at the entrance to Cizre.

It was for security purposes, they said.

We passed the security point as a convoy.

Just as we were heading from the city center toward the airport junction, a terrorist blocked the road.

The star on the double magazine of his Kalashnikov caught my eye.

The star was approaching us.

Then, out of the whole convoy, they took only us out of the vehicle and led us toward the tunnels.

The others dispersed freely.

The story of the event is deeper, but we can look at that part later.

Almost everyone on the team that sent us to the exam was dismissed from public service. Except for one, who they say is number one.

Apparently, he became a confessor.

Some of those who were dismissed are still in prison.

Probably some of those who sold us out to the PKK are also still in prison.

Oh, and

We were released after 4 hours of captivity.

How, you ask?

The late rector had mobilized the entire region.

He insisted, saying, 'My professors are guests, let them go, there is no place for this in our traditions.'

May God have mercy on our professor from Idlib, and grant long life to those he left behind. I would also like to thank our driver again. For not abandoning us and running away to save his own life.