TURKEY - CHAPTER 6

 

One day I was working a day shift and at lunch time I drove over to the chow hall. I didn't understand the Turkish speed signs and I was driving too fast. The speed sign was in kilometers and had the number 30 on it and until that time I just assumed that it was 30 miles per hour. Thirty kilometers is about 19 miles per hour. In my rear view mirror I could see a blue compact station wagon closing in on me with small Turkish flags flying from the hood, a Turkish NCO was driving, and blue lights were flashing in the grill. I pulled over and a distinguished looking Turkish officer in a flight suit got out of the back seat and walked up to me. In a very polite but firm voice the officer told me in perfect English that I was speeding. I told him that I hadn't been in country long and didn't understand the road signs yet and I apologized for speeding. He told me to be careful and walked back to his car. Thinking that I had gotten off with just a warning, I drove to the chow hall. I was in the middle of my meal when our detachment commander walked into the chow hall and asked if Sgt Segroves was in the chow hall. Our commander had a perpetual smile on his face all the time but when I raised my hand the smile quickly transformed into a scowl and he curtly told me to report to his office.

 

 After I reported he gave me a royal butt chewing. The Turkish officer that had stopped me was not only the base commander but was a general. Our colonel was more upset that I failed to show the proper military courtesy and rightfully so. I should have stepped out of the vehicle, saluted, and remained at attention until told to stand at ease. I didn't know who he was but I should have treated any officer with the same respect. It was one of the hard lessons that I have learned in life. The general was an accomplished fighter pilot and many times he would fly down to Incirlik and borrow an F-4 Phantom. It always seemed to be on those days that we had worked a midnight shift and were in a sound sleep. He would nearly take the roof off as he made a low pass over our barracks showing off in his F-4 and we would nearly jump out of our bunks. 

  It wasn't long after I arrived in Turkey that I learned about the compounds. Prostitution was illegal in Turkey, as it is in Nevada but brothels run by the government were legal. These brothels were run by the state through the prison system and they were referred to as the compound. I never visited one but a large percentage of our men did, both single and married men. The closest that I ever got to one was on a trip to Diyarbakir when I was driving and the men wanted to stop at the Malatya compound. I parked in a dark and smelly alley while everyone else went inside. It was scary sitting there by myself but I never saw anyone. Supposedly doctors checked these women on a regular basis but one of our guys kept getting the clap or gonorrhea on a regular basis. The following is a personal account of an Airman's visit to a compound in the late 1960's. It is from a blog called (Mighty MacBuddha's McBlog)  

The Compound was pretty dark. The entry was a gate between two buildings, with a couple of guards manning the entry. Mostly they chased off kids, and turned back any women that might have wandered up. But mostly kids, who are pretty much kids, no matter where they are in the world.

Our group was pretty obviously all men, and we didn’t even get much of a cursory glance as we passed through the entryway.

The gate opened onto a one block street, walled over at the other end. There were a couple of low powered dim street lights casting a murky glow over the street. The three story apartments lining both sides of the street had light shining from all the curtainless windows, as well as through the open entry doors, so even though it was murky and dim, you could still see. Sort of like a carnival at night.

There were no automobiles parked along the street, but there were a couple of street vendors selling cashews and kebab. But that wasn’t why all these men were here, crowding the street. All the men were here because of what else was in all these rooms looking out on the street.

The windows had women looking out, and quite often, calling down to the throng. I’m pretty sure that I saw some boobies! Unfortunately/fortunately, I was a young, still idealistic kid, and these woman were “not beautiful.” Perhaps one or two out of the whole throng MAY have been noticeable, but that’s about it. No Turkish Delights here!.

But, what could I expect? This was a Turkish Women’s Prison/State Run Brothel. According to the old timers accompanying us, this was a program for some of the women prisoners to “work off” some time on their sentence! I actually saw an old fashioned shiny brass cash register right inside one of the entry halls!

I know that prostitution was illegal in Turkey, so I easily believed that the state might want to work out a deal with these prisoners. The way this was all set up, I really have to believe that participation in this “business” was voluntary, and probably made up of mostly arrested prostitutes.

Of course, there were many stories about the place, and more than likely, a couple of urban legends. I won’t go into them, some could be quite unsettling. However, according to “facts,” a prison doctor inspected the girls twice weekly.

  The above airman goes on to say that he changed his mind and didn't partake. While I was in Turkey we had a Turkish strip show that came to our Detachment. In the days before it arrived posters were all over the walls of the rec hall of beautiful nude Turkish women. By the time the show arrived our young hormones were raging and I went to the first one out of curiosity more than anything because I had never seen to a strip show. Our pool tables were transformed into a stage and two plump middle aged women in mini-skirts danced seductively. After a while it became obvious that no clothes were coming off of these ladies and they looked nothing like the women in the pictures. The men began booing and hissing but they continued to dance anyway as the boos grew louder and louder. Finally, a Turkish man brought out a girl that looked no older than thirteen or fourteen years old. I felt very uncomfortable and it wasn't long before she was totally nude. The men were laughing at her because she was flat chested and had no boobs. She might have been even younger than I thought but I was so disgusted at what was happening to this girl that I got up and walked back to my room. There would be three more of these shows before I left Turkey but that would be the last one I ever went to.

  We would go into Malatya as often as we could but it was at least a thirty minute drive into town. There were many items that were popular with G.I.'s such as tapestries, camel saddles, puzzle rings, rugs, water pipes, etc. I bought a lot of tapestries and a few other things but I regret that I didn't buy more. Malatya was an ancient city dating back thousands of years and the Assyrians called the city Meliddu. I enjoyed sightseeing and walking through the many shops. Whenever you walked into a shop the owner would run up to greet you and hospitality was part of the sale. Immediately they would offer you a chair and Turkish Chai or a Coke. Chai is Turkish hot tea and it is delicious. They served it in a small glass on a saucer with a spoon, sugar cubes and there were two flavors. Regular or cinnamon flavor. Every night the Turkish Airmen were regularly served chai and they would always offer it to us. 

 Turks love to barter and you never pay the price marked on the item. The Turkish currency was called Lira and I don't know the exchange value of Lira to American currency today but our money was highly valued then. It was illegal but I could buy pretty much anything I wanted with a ten dollar bill. There was a large Mosque in downtown Malatya and although Turkey was the most secular of Muslim countries the Islamic religion was very visible. You regularly heard the call to prayer and if it was prayer time Muslims would bow down to pray in the fields or anywhere they were at. Our Turkish barber in the detachment would pull out his prayer rug and pray right there beside the barber chair as I was getting a haircut during prayer time.