TURKEY - CHAPTER 7

I had a friend from New York who was an American of Italian descent named Joseph Corleone, I believe but I am not sure about the last name. We met a Turkish Air Force officer who offered to give us a tour of Malatya. After walking around the city he took us to a ice cream parlor. I am using the term loosely when I call it an ice cream parlor because it wasn't very big and the ice cream was made out of goats milk and it tasted horrible. While we were eating I got up to take a picture of Joseph and the officer. There was a man sitting with a woman at a table next to us and I was not pointing the camera at them but just as soon as I snapped the picture the man jumped up in a rage. He was screaming Turkish in my face and I thought that he was going to hit me. Just then the officer jumped between us and said something to him in Turkish which changed the mans whole demeanor and he meekly walked back to his table and sat down. The military was respected and feared by the Turkish people and there had recently been a coup. Soldiers could be seen walking in pairs all over town carrying rifles and sub-machine guns. I can only imagine what could have happened if this officer hadn't been with us. We were warned to be careful when taking pictures, especially of women. I always asked permission before I took pictures of individual Turks and most seemed to enjoy having their picture taken but a few would tell me no.

 While I was at Erhac I met a Turkish MSgt by the name of Hussein Guldur. He was a jet mechanic that worked on the F-100 fighters. Hussein would come by our barracks and we would talk about many things like the Turkish culture and traditions. Hussein asked me about life in the United States and about my family. I gave him Debbie's address because he wanted to write her, which he did on several occasions. Over time I visited his home in Malatya at least three times while I was in Turkey. On one occasion I took a friend from South Carolina who played the guitar while I sang. My friend also played the guitar while Hussein played the lute, which is a popular instrument in Turkey. I still have a cassette tape of that day I spent with Hussein. He had a great family which consisted of his wife and three children who were two boys and a girl. The Guldur's were very hospitable and fed us authentic Turkish food. One oddity of Turkish life was the toilets. Their toilet was a round ceramic hole in the floor with a foot pedals for your feet on either side. After planting your feet you would squat down over the hole and do your business. There was a sink and no toilet paper because I was told that the Turks wiped with their left hand and washed their hands in the sink. This was why we were told never to shake hands with a Turk. Hussein had one of these toilets and we called them bomb sights.

I had a friend named Garland (Chet) Atkins and his nickname was Chet because he was a fantastic guitar player. One night just before dusk we set off for Hussein's house and there was only one road into Malatya. It was narrow and curvy and along the way was a small Kurdish village. As we approached the village we noticed two Turkish men in civilian clothes standing in the middle of the road. They were waving for us to stop and one of the men had a rifle slung over his shoulder. Beyond the men the road inclined up and over a ridge. We didn't know who these men were and we weren't about to find out. Since we were not in a combat zone we were not allowed to be armed while off duty. I was driving and floored it as I swerved to the shoulder of the road in order to get around them. Just as we passed I could see the inside of the vehicle suddenly illuminated and hear the sound of a gunshot. I slowed down a little when I looked over and saw Chet slumped over in the seat. Thinking that he might have been shot I slowed almost to a stop and asked if he was okay. He looked over at me and said "Get the hell out of here". We were usually allowed to take the most ragged vehicles to town, the ones that nobody else wanted to drive. I was driving an old International Scout and although I had the pedal to the medal it was struggling to get up and over that hill. We didn't say anything to Hussein about what had happened on the way to his house. It was Chet's turn to drive when we left to return to the base and he drove it as fast as it would go but this time we did it without any trouble.

 About a month after I arrived at the Detachment my good friend Eric Erickson from Kingsley Field arrived. Eric was from South Dakota and was quite but he had a dry sense of humor. Then there was Gaylon E. Allen III from Memphis and altogether we had 9 men at one time from Memphis. As far as I know I was the only Airman from Nashville. My friend Garland (Chet) Atkins came to Erhac in the summer of 1970 and we immediately became friends because as I said earlier he was an amazing guitar player. I have always been a singer but I was too shy to sing in public. There were several guitar players in the Detachment but none of them held a candle to Chet. We spent hours jamming and singing and over time we put together a list of songs that we practiced continuously. The Detachment made plans to have a Christmas Eve show that would consist of music and a beauty pageant. Unfortunately the beauty pageant was a bunch of guys dressed in like women but they would fit right in todays society.

 I was going to sing for the country portion of the show and there would be a singer for the rock portion. We practiced songs like Wanted Man by Johnny Cash, Crystal Chandeliers by Charlie Pride, and sing Me Back Home by Merle Haggard. As usual we made a stage out of our pool tables and the show was opened with the beauty pageant, which was pretty funny. MSgt Brown, or (Bubbles Brown) as he was aptly called, won the pageant. By the time we got to the music portion of the show a good portion of the Detachment was pretty smashed. I opened the show singing Wanted Man with Chet playing lead guitar and during the middle of Sing Me Back Home, a fight broke out. Beer cans were flying but we kept on singing. It reminded me of the old westerns where the piano player keeps on playing while cowboys are fighting all around him. Our winter was short but cold and we even had a few snows. The deepest was maybe a couple of inches.

 Many times when GI's are stationed overseas the locals will hire themselves out to take care of the barracks or your living areas. Vietnam veterans would talk about their mama-sans that took care of their hooches or living areas. Being in an Islamic country only men performed these duties and we paid them to keep our rooms clean along with the common areas of the barracks and the latrines. For a fee they would also spit shine your boots. The fee wasn't very much and it was well worth the money. My houseboy was a kid that took care of me and many of the other men in the barracks. They ranged in age from teenagers to older middle aged men.