2001-Hakkari
The little girl was making fun of Murathan's name as "Murat-tan" as usual and making Murathan angry. "Murat-tan, Murat-tan,Murat-tan," Murathan said, giving the little girl who was circling around him his most exasperated look. He was truly a pain in the neck. In fact, the biggest pain in his nine years in this world.
"My name isn't Murat-tan," he said harshly. "Murathan!"
The little girl stopped circling Murathan and just stared at him with her sky-blue eyes. "Okay," she said. "Murat-at, Murat-at, Murat-at, Murat-at!" she shouted, and began circling Murathan again.
"Gökçen!" Murathan cried, chasing after the little girl. Gökçen ran off, screaming with joy. As if that weren't enough, she turned around and stuck out her tongue. Murathan was going to beat the living hell out of her when he caught her. There was no way this girl was six years old. She was a complete witch. Gökçen, her jet-black hair, at least as long as her own tiny height, tossed around and ran away from Murathan.
They circled the military housing complex.
It was their usual routine. Their families were close friends, so they were always right next to each other. They lived in apartments across from each other in the housing complex. This little girl, who talked and acted outrageously, was tearing Murathan's hair out. The two of them were constantly fighting. It was impossible for them to get along.
"Come here, Pamuk!" Murathan shouted.
"Haaaa!" Gökçen said knowingly. "Let me come and beat you again, right, Kepcük? You can't fool me." She shouted with joy again as she ran. "Murat-at, Murat-at, Murat-at, Murat-at"
The chase continued. "I'll tear your hair out if I catch you!" Murathan said angrily. "How many times have I told you not to say things you don't understand, witch! Come here!"
Gökçen, ignoring him, continued to run happily when suddenly her foot tripped over something. She found herself stuck on the gravel-paved path, and a painful wail escaped her lips. "MOMMY!" she cried with all her might.
Murathan put aside his anger and hurried toward her. "Pamuk," he said fearfully. "Are you okay?" He gently picked up the little girl, who had fallen to the ground. Gökçen's wide blue eyes were filled with tears. She looked at Murathan, her mouth and nose snot-covered from crying.
"My knee, Murathan!" she cried bitterly. She raised her arm and quickly wiped the snot from her nose with her arm. Her left knee was cut by the impact of the fall, and her palms were slightly dislocated.
Murathan looked at her situation with despair. "You look like a monkey when you cry, Pamuk. Can you please be quiet?"
"You- You- You're Mo- Mo- Mo- Monkey Kepcük!" Gökçen said, still sobbing with all her might.
"Am I your military buddy, Pamuk? How many years older am I?" Murathan asked, carefully examining the girl's injured knee. "Stop calling me 'Kepcük."
Gökçen held her chin up, despite crying with all her might. "Then don't call me 'Pamuk."
Murathan pulled the sleeve of his sweater closer to his hand and began gently wiping the blood from the little girl's knee. His amber eyes, beneath his long, curled lashes, focused entirely on the wounds. His eyebrows were furrowed as usual.
"What can I say?" he grumbled gruffly. "Look at you. Your whole knee is completely bruised from one fall." He touched the areas on the little girl's knee that were immediately starting to bruise, trying not to hurt her. That's why he called her Cotton. She was always bruised. The slightest blow would bruise her skin. That's why Murathan couldn't bring himself to beat her. This situation bothered him greatly. Because she was the kind of kid who deserved to be beaten.
"Then you are Kepcük too.," Gökçen said, wiping her snotty nose on her sleeve. She reached out and pulled Murathan's left ear hard. "You are Kepcük, Kepcük. that's what you are, Kepcük. Big ears! Kepcük!"
"Ahhhh!" Murathan groaned in pain. "Gökçen, let go of my ear."
Gökçen had no intention of letting go. Just as Murathan was about to grab her hair, a woman's scream suddenly rose from the back of the barracks.
A agonizing cry.
A single name.
"AHMETT!"
Both stopped fighting and turned in that direction. This cry meant only one thing in the military barracks. Everyone knew this cry very well now. Six-year-old Gökçen, nine-year-old Murathan. Military families knew it very well.
This scream meant death.
This scream meant martyrdom.
This scream meant a woman left without a husband.
This scream meant a child left without a father.
Murathan quickly turned to the big-eyed girl with frightened glances in front of him. "Get up, Pamuk," he said, and lifted her from the ground by putting his arms around her. He wiped the dust off her dusty blue capri pants. He quickly cleaned the stones digging into his palms.
"Whose father died, Murathan?" Gökçen asked in a low voice. Murathan couldn't answer. He had no answer. It could have been his father. Or Gökçen's. Or another one of their friends. What difference did it make? What kind of answer could be given to this question? He didn't know.
They quickly started moving towards where the sound came from. When Gökçen whined, "My leg hurts...", Murathan immediately knelt down in front of her.
"Get on my back. Quickly."
Without hesitation, Gökçen immediately jumped onto Murathan's back. She tightly wrapped her arms around his neck. Murathan also put his arms behind him and secured them on Gökçen's back. She was tiny and light, but the problem she had caused Murathan for years was enormous. She didn't understand anything about stopping or being quiet. If their parents hadn't been close friends, this little girl wouldn't have been a torment. But she must have been frightened by the screams they were hearing, because she was clinging tightly to Murathan's collar, looking around with her big blue eyes.
As they turned the corner of the apartment building at the far end of the complex, a familiar sight came into their view. An ambulance, a Colonel, and a few soldiers...
"Osman's father..." Murathan murmured.
"Uncle Adem?" Gökçen asked.
Murathan slowly nodded. Osman was their friend. He was the same age as Murathan. They were in the same class. Everyone was hugging him, crying. They were carrying his mother, Aunt Kezban, on a stretcher to the ambulance.
The soldiers' children knew this sight very well. Tomorrow, a Turkish flag would be hung from the 3rd floor of that apartment building. Everyone would hug Osman and cry, "Oh, my poor child!" The newspapers would have only one headline:
"Sergeant Adem EROĞLU was martyred in a clash with terrorists in Hakkari. The martyr's body will be sent to his hometown for burial after the ceremony. We pray to God for mercy on our martyr and offer our condolences to his grieving family and loved ones."
That was it.
There would only be one word left to say to everyone.
"May the homeland be safe."
"Will our father be like this too?" Gökçen asked softly. She was young, but she knew death now. Death was a place from which there was no return.
"No," Murathan said sharply. "Don't talk like that."
Gökçen fell silent. She wrapped her arms more tightly around Murathan's neck. Holding each other tightly, they watched the scene before them. Those crying, those shouting...
"Do only soldier fathers die, Kepçük?" Gökçen murmured.
"No, Pamuk. Other children's fathers can die too."
Gökçen was silent for a short time. "When I grow up, I will become a doctor to heal all children's fathers," she said in a low voice. "Then no father will ever die."
Murathan never took his eyes off the scene in front of him. "I will become a soldier too," he murmured. "I will become a soldier like our fathers to protect everyone..."
"What if you die then?" Gökçen asked.
"A soldier doesn't die, he becomes a martyr," Murathan said sharply. His father always said that.
He had learned it from his father.
"Okay," Gökçen said in a low voice. "Then what if you become a martyr too?"
Murathan was silent for a short time. "What, Pamuk?" he said with a half-smile. "Would you be sad if I became a martyr?"
"No," Gökçen said immediately. "I'll take all your Legos."
Murathan's half-smile lingered on his lips. This girl wasn't normal. "You really don't have a heart, Gökçen," he muttered sharply. "You're ugly, grumpy, and heartless."
Gökçen immediately frowned. "You're the ugly one!" she said, and in one swift move, she sank her teeth into Murathan's left ear. Murathan winced in pain. Just as he was about to throw her off his back and beat her, another painful cry rose from the crowd opposite, making them realize where they were and putting the fight aside. They became serious again.
Gökçen pulled her teeth out of Murathan's ear. With her tiny hands, she wiped the saliva from Kepçük's large ear and left a small kiss to ease the pain. Murathan also gave up on putting Gökçen down from his back. They held each other tightly again. Both of them etched this image in the deepest corners of their minds, without knowing that they would soon be inside that very image