While at Syracuse University, I contacted my Tennessee State Senator, Estes Kefauver, and asked to be considered for appointment to the USAF Academy.  By the time he received the request, I was already at Samsun.  In early 1959, the Detachment received a Special Order for me to travel to Weisbaden AB, Germany, for tests for the Academy.  I left TDY and travelled from Samsun by boat, to Istanbul, to Germany.  The testing team had already "done their thing" for all overseas applicants.  When I came in late, the entire team had to be re-assembled again, JUST FOR ME!.  Bad news to start with!  They ran me through all the phases of the physical training, one after another, with no breaks!  To say the least, by the time I had completed them all, I was physically inoperable.  Since I hadn't heard from the Senator or the Academy, I wrote another letter to the Senator, and his staff replied that no test results for me had EVER been received from Germany!  Guess those pissed-off dudes at Weisbaden had conveniently lost the test results.

After volunteering for a second year's tour at Samsun, and receiving my third strip (A1C - E-4), I left Samsun in November 1959 for special training at Goodfellow AFB, TX.  Departed and left Samsun by boat, again (notice, no C-130).  (When I left Samsun in October 1960, it was also by boat.)  Shortly after I returned from the TDY, I left my "position" in the Ops Room and was assigned to the Ops Commander, Major Joseph Garvey (see above).  I was his typist, file clerk, and general gofer.  The Major worked Mon-Fri, and I was lucky that I had every weekend off too, which allowed me to participate in the goings-on in Samsun with the civilians I knew.  Made it easier to hob-nob with them.

(I should mention here a couple of things about my relationship with Major Garvey.  I don't know exactly how to say this without bragging, but the Major had asked the NCOs on the floor to recommend someone to be his "assistant".  He asked for someone who was very intelligent, who could type a hundred words a minute, and someone who could organize anything.  Well, I couldn't type quite a 100 WPM (90 something, actually, even on typewriters, before computer keyboards), but I did meet the other requirements.  He chose me and for almost a year I worked in Major Garvey's office.  We got along great.  I assumed some of his "admin" paper-work chores and took some load off his back.  After settling in for a while, I asked him if I could, occasionally, have a "day off, or two", in conjunction with a week-end, without having to take leave.  The Major agreed to that and thereafter I could go on a 3- or 4-day weekend trip to nearby places in Turkey.  (Against all USAF regulations, but it worked for us.)  I was then able to take trips to Cappadocia and other historical sites in Turkey.

Then, too, there was the event where another Airmen and I had a fight.  There was a "Mutt and Jeff" pair at the base who would pick fights.  Mutt, a little squirt of a fellow, would come up to someone at the bar, either on the base, or downtown, at the "Civilian Club", and piss off someone.  Then, "Jeff" would step in and fight the selected individual.  This went on for a long time and no one on the base intervened.  Those two had picked on me for a long time.  Finally, one night at the Enlisted Club, they picked on me again.  I ignored them.  But, since "Mutt and Jeff" both lived in the same building as I did, they followed me there.  The show finally came down to "Jeff" and me going out between the cloths lines of our side of the barracks and having it out.  I kicked "Jeff's" ass and beat up his face rather severely.  The next morning (I guess the word had spread), I went to the Mess Hall for breakfast, and upon entering, Major Garvey motioned me over.  He said, "Let me see your hands."  I held out my hands and he said, "Good, you can still type."  (No broken fingers.)  Whomever the person I fought (I absolutely don't remember his name) put out the word later that "no one" had EVER marked his face.  He vowed revenge.  I spent the rest of my time at Det 3-2 without any problems with "Jeff".  The SOB knew better than to test me again.  I'm only posting this in hopes that someone from Samsun, from that time, knows the name of the Asshole, "Jeff".  (If anyone reading this knows about that pair of assholes, please email me.  I'm still not over their antics, and would love to meet up with "Jeff" again just to kick his ass again.)

TO ANKARA BY TAXI!

During my first year at Samsun, on our long breaks, four or five of us would rent a taxi in Samsun and sleep most of the way to Ankara.  I don't remember how much it cost, including the driver staying over in Ankara to take us back, but it wasn't much, considering the rate of money exchange and the per-diem we were drawing.  Seems like it totaled around $25 round-trip (split 4 or 5 ways), which earned the driver a fortune.

During that first year, we worked different schedules, the first was this:

3 Days, 8:00 AM to 4:00 PM;
3 Swings (starting next day), 4:00 PM to 12:00 Midnight;
3 Mids (starting next night), 12:00 Midnight to 8:00am.
Then, 3 days off.

That was early on.  We could have gone to Ankara during those 3 days off and returned in time for duty, but that was really pushing it.

But, then, starting in the last few months of my first year there, we did the same thing, but with SIX consecutive tours of Days, Swings, and Mids.  That gave us SIX days off!  That allowed us to go anywhere!  Then we could take a taxi to Ankara and not have to worry about getting back on time.  God, the Pavyons in Ankara were unbelievable compared to the ones we had in Samsun!

Once we had those six days off, some of us had our favorite taxi driver take us to Cappadocia, about 500 kilometers SSW of Samsun.  We stayed in Göreme and had our taxi driver take us all over over the area.  Greatest tourist trip I ever took.  We also used the taxi to go to Amasya, which was about 150 kilometers SSW of Samsun.  One of the great historical sites in Turkey.

I don't remember any of my comrades who arrived in 1958 that extended their tours of duty, but I volunteered for a 2nd year and was promoted to A1C (E-4), as explained above.  With the per-diem we drew before the site opened, and with the very favorable rate-of-exchange, i.e., Dollars to Liras on the black market, we had all saved up some dough.  (I'll comment on the "black market" rate of exchange later.  To put it bluntly, we were "rich".)

I don't know -- maybe I'm beating a dead horse - but I read all the stuff about Karamursel, Samsun, Trabzon, and Sinop, and just feel like I've lived a different life than those "later" people lived.

I guess you'd have to have been there, at that time, to appreciate what we went through.  (As mentioned, when we came to Karamursel in 1958, on our way to Samsun or Trabzon.  We lived in squalor in Quonset Huts,  and our drinking water was from "blister bags" hung outside the huts.  ("Blister bags" were canvas bags filled with water with a spigot at the bottom for drawing water.  In hot climates they were used to cool the water.  They were semi-porous and the water seeping through the material would evaporate, drawing off heat and cooling the entire bag and its contents.  Simple physics.) 

MORE OF THE STORY:

I've seen several posts on this website about different USAF experiences in Samsun, Turkey, which differ from my own experiences.

	Click the two aerial photos to view aerials of the old base in Samsun as it is today.  It's really sad to see that there are no more radar domes, no "Bucky Ball" structures.  Knowing that the 6932nd RSM no longer exists takes away part of my life.  I spent two years there, and they were two of the better years of my military life.  Great comrades, good times, enjoyable episodes with the locals, and, most important, a sense of contributing to the overall effort of NSA & the USAFSS.  The left photo is the "raw" aerial photo and the one at right has the old base in Samsun outlined.  From the SouthWest corner of the map, I lived in the 2nd "H-Shaped" building with the red roof, in the south-east portion of the barracks (in other words the lower section of the right leg of the building).  (The map coordinates for the center of the my old barracks area are:  Decimal Degrees-41.308417,36.326367; GPS-N 41 18.505, E 36 19.582.)

Click Photo to Enlarge

Gulan, the bear (at left) came up to the hill and was kept in a cage made of steel bars.  Yes, "Gulan" did eat a dog that got too near his cage.  Let's face it, a bear, of whatever species, would love to eat a dog!

Shortly after the base/station was finally opened, and we had moved personnel from the town of Samsun to the base/station, for some reason we decided to “play a trick” on a newly-arrived airman (who was from a "big city, up north", and had never seen an animal except a rat) - and don't ask me why we would have been so cruel.  We laid in wait until the unfortunate Airman was asleep, on the top bunk of a double-bunk bed, went down to Gulan's cage, put a leash onto his nose ring, led him back to the barracks, had him stand up at the Airman's bed, and awoke the airman!  When the airman woke, he was looking straight into the face of Gulan.  I won't try to explain what happened next, but there must have been chocolate stains in the Airman's shorts and all over his sheets!  He, somehow, levitated over the head of Gulan and the rest of us, sped through the door out of his room and exited the building.  He never forgave us for that!

After we had moved to the base, the 6932nd became the owner of the bear.  Gulan was kept in a steel cage once the base was finished and it was a pathetic sight to see him pace the confines of the cage.  He was just not used to being confined and it eventually made him sometimes act mean.  In all the time he was with his musician handler, he was a most docile bear, never threatening anyone.  But, captivity does strange things to those confined.  I believe Gulan was a young bear, and that when his innate nature emerged as he matured, he just got meaner, even to the point of dragging the small dog into his cage, killing it, and eating it.

Yes, we sometimes leashed up Gulan and took him in a 6X truck to the local beach with us, but I don't remember the episode where he was surprised and ripped out the ring in his nose.  Of course, my friends and I weren't the only ones who took him to the beach.

PARADISE

As others have stated, during our early duty at Det 3-2, we lowly Airmen were financially in Paradise.  The legal exchange rate averaged around 8.5 Lira per Dollar in 1958-1960.  As if that wasn't good enough, any taxi driver would give us 10-12 Lira per Dollar, and would give us $12-$15 worth of Lira per carton of cigarettes, which cost us around $1.50 per carton in the BX.  So, guess what?  Yup, most of us didn't bother with the legal money exchange, we changed our Dollars locally (illegally) for a lot more, and sold the cigarettes for 10 times what we paid for them.  AND, if you were in Istanbul, had a carton of cigarettes, you could sell it to any taxi driver for enough Turkish Lira to live like a king in the Istanbul Hilton Hotel for several nights!  (I loved to stay in the Hilton because it cost about $3-$4 (25-40 Turkish Lira) per night at that time and one could go to the club in the top floor and hob-nob with the rich and famous.)

(A "selfie" of me in the barracks.)
I have many, many tales to tell about Samsun.  Hope I'm not boring you too much.  I just thought someone should know how things really were there, at that time.  All the good and all the bad.  We had a good time - we lived it up - we took taxis to Ankara and tourist spots on our long breaks - we engaged in the Black Market - we had a fellow airman who exchanged our dollars for around 20:1 in Ankara at one of the Soviet-Bloc Embassies and give us 15-16:1 (double the normal rate).  (He left Turkey with a footlocker full of money; just loaded all the money in a footlocker and had it shipped back to the States as hold baggage; he never got caught).  You see, every payday, he would make the rounds to our houses, take orders for how much money we wanted to exchange, to pay for rent, maids, food, bar-hopping, etc.  He did this not only for the enlisted personnel, but for all the officers as well.  Yes it was absolutely illegal and unpatriotic, but we "did" take advantage of the situation and doubled our money.  (I just mentioned "maids" and it set off another thought.  Some of the GIs, when we still lived in town, had TWO maids!  They had a "real" maid that did the cooking and housekeeping, AND a pretty young "maid" that took care of their "other" needs.)  (My picture on the left was taken in 1959 in the barracks with the automatic timer on my camera.  One of the few times when I just had nothing to do.



Some of us "lived the life" while in Turkey.  That is, a "few" of us took advantage.  Most of the Airmen at Samsun and other bases spent their time-off in their rooms, in the Enlisted Club, or wherever, constantly bitching about what lousy duty it was, and waiting to return to the "land of the big BX".

The tour of duty for a "remote" site such as Samsun was one year at the time.  (Later, after I had left, when Samsun and Trabzon had bowling alleys, basketball gymnasiums, etc., the tour was extended to 15 months, since now those places weren't so "remote".)  I extended my tour for a second year, for which I was promoted to A1C (E-4) and got to come back to the US for a special course at Goodfellow AFB, TX, and have 30 days leave at home!  (Somehow, records got screwed up and I was never charged for those 30 days of leave!  Money for me when I was discharged!)

NEW SITE

Some comments on the "New Site":

After the base was finished, a barbershop was installed, with a local Turkish barber.  Once, after Commander's Call, I went to get a haircut.  The barber asked me what I had been doing and I told him I had just come from "Commander's Call".  (I had become a little proficient in the Turkish language by then (see below), so was able to converse with him mostly in Turkish.)  He asked who got "beat up".  I said, "What?  What do you mean?"  He said, "Well, at Turkish Commander's Calls in the Turkish Army, someone is always brought up for some infraction and beaten in front of all the rest to reinforce discipline."  Whee!  After that I certainly appreciated our American way of military justice and discipline.

I've seen some stories of people stationed at Samsun during 1958-1960 and seen comments about the Mess Hall.  Some of those people raved about the good food at the Mess Hall.  Well, they weren't there in 1958-1959!  When the Mess Hall opened, we ate re-hydrated eggs (smelled like sulfur) in the form of scrambled eggs -- UGH!  Nothing good about that.  And, of course, powdered milk!  Then, for some reason the USAF provisioning apparatus saw fit to send many, many cases of good old American peanut butter.  (Why?)  Our Mess Hall "chef" did his best to use the peanut butter for anything imaginable, cookies, cake, etc., but he hit his peak with "Peanut Butter Soup"!  You have NEVER had "haute cuisine" unless you've eaten Peanut Butter Soup in the Samsun Mess Hall!  I will have to say that in 1959-1960 the food did improve, and was actually great.  If you want to see some great photos from Samsun, go to Terry Lee Frock's page on this website.

NOTES FROM SAMSUN

Softball Games:  Det 3-2 had a softball team.  We travelled along the northern shores of the Black Sea, playing games at Trabzon and Sinop., and if we had won the Black Sea division, we would have gone to Karamursel, Ankara, etc., for playoffs.  (We never won the division.)  It was a custom that the travelling team always brought along their best "whiskey drinker" and their best "beer chugger".  I was "officially" listed on the roster as Center Fielder, because no one could chug a beer quicker than I could, and I usually got to play at least one inning of a game.  We had and "old guy" called "Pops" (probably no more than 35) who could drink anyone under the table.  (With the exception of a "Lady" from Karamursel.  More about later.)  I don't even remember what position Pop was supposed to play.  Anyway, after the games we would all gather in the Enlisted Club and have our drinking contests.  Pop could sit and drink shot after shot of whiskey and stay in his chair when his opponent had fallen to the floor.  I could drain a 12 ounce beer in 2-3 seconds!  Don't believe that?  Take a beer can (back before pull-tabs), use an opener to open the top, hold your thumb over the hole, turn the can upside down, open a hole in the bottom, put the can to your lips and remove your thumb from the first hole; let the liquid flow from gravity.  The secret was to condition yourself to open your throat wide open without swallowing, just let the beer flow unimpeded.  Seriously, once the secret was learned, you could drain a can of beer in 2-3 seconds.

At Trabzon, built on top of the highest hill/mount, Boztepe, there was very little level ground.  Therefore, the softball field was built on the "most level ground" left over once the base buildings had been built, which meant that the field was on a slope.  Downhill to 1st base, downhill to 2nd, uphill to 3rd, and a hard trip uphill to Home Plate.  If the hitter was powerful enough, the ball went over the side of the hill down into downtown Trabzon and was never seen again!  I'll bet a lot of young Turkish boys had one or more American softballs.

I must say something here about the road from Samsun to Trabzon.  It started out as a two-lane paved road, but soon deteriorated into a dirt track.  There were places in the mountainous parts of the road where two vehicles couldn't pass - one had to back up and let the other pass by.  Now, the same road is a divided 4-lane highway all the way!  Progress!  Progress!

PLAYBOY MAGAZINE

Sometime in 1959 or 1960, Karamursel (Mainsite) got a new Commander.  Of course he brought his wife along, since Mainsite wasn't a "remote" site.  For some reason the Commander's wife got a bug up her ass and decided that if the troops at the "remote sites" received "pornographic" magazines such as Playboy, it would sexually excite them and they would become homosexuals!  Well, number one, we were NOT at a remote site!  We were on the "Riviera" of the Black Sea Coast.  Number two, we had plenty of female companionship.  In any case, the pussy Commander ordered the Mail Room at Karamursel to stop forwarding Playboy Magazine to the sites.  That lasted about 2 months until someone notified HQ USAF, or wrote his Congressman, that the Commander was interfering with official U.S. mail.  Subscribers to Playboy got their magazines from then on.

THE BLACK MARKET

The Turkish cops were always trying to nail American GIs for dealing in the Black Market.  One story might be of interest.  An Airman named Thomas Crowley (our RDF operator) had also made friends with Şerif (Sherif) Kütükçu (see below) and had given a few things to Şerif from the BX.  Nothing big, but, for some reason the local Turkish authorities zeroed in on Thomas and Şerif.  Thomas met with Şerif one day in Samsun and the Gendarmes immediately arrested them both.  There was no evidence of any wrong-doing except for the fact that in Şerif's pocket were a pair of socks made in America, socks that the authorities "assumed" came from the BX.  That was enough to charge Thomas with black-marketeering.  Fortunately, the Detachment Commander at the time had some sense, and he arranged for Thomas to "escape" Turkey before he was brought to court.  Thomas was placed in a mail bag and transported off the hill to either the White Boat or Black Boat (don't remember which) and "shipped" to Istanbul, from which he departed Turkey and went back to the States.  For some reason, Şerif wasn't charged, probably because of his father's influence in Samsun.

SOMETIMES YOU MEET THE GREATEST PEOPLE

(From Hans Christian Andersen, 25 Apr 1841, after his visit to Istanbul.  This is the same Hans Christian Andersen who wrote children's Fairy Tales!)

"I Offered the Oarsmen* a Silver Coin, the value of which I was not really as yet clear about.  He shook his head, took from his pocket quite a small coin, showed it to me and assured me that he could not take any higher payment.  So honest are the Turks!  And every day during my stay here I had more and more proof of this.  The Turks are the most good-hearted and honorable people."
Hans Christian Andersen, April 25, 1841.

*In Turkish "Kayikci".  The person who used to carry passangers between the two shores of the Golden Horn, that is, between Galata and Scutari or Calcedon.

I was lucky to have enjoyed the hospitality of the Turkish people and their adherence to "good manners" and "social protocol".  For instance, I became friends with a local man in Samsun during my tour there.  Shortly after my arrival in Samsun, I was still living in the hotel before making arrangements for a house.  I had been there just a few days when one evening I was sitting in the hotel restaurant having dinner, when the waiter approached me and said that the gentleman seated at the next table asked if he could join me.  (Of course the waiter conveyed this to me in his halting English, since I had only a half dozen words of Turkish at that time.)  I didn't know what to do since I didn't know if the guy was sizing me up for a robbery, or whatever.  But I looked him over and saw that he was very, very well-dressed in a suit and tie - looked to be in his early thirties, which, as it turned out later, was correct.  Anyway, I said, "Yes," and welcomed him to my table.  (Would one do that today in a foreign country?)

The man's name was Şerif (Sherif) Kütükçu (Kutukcu), whose father owned a shoe factory, as well as most of the shoe stores in Samsun and nearby towns.  Somehow we were able to communicate, with my and his few words of French, his few words of English, and my few words of Turkish.  With the help of the waiter I found out he was interested in becoming friends with Americans and he wondered if I would go with him to meet a friend of his, who was a French expatriate, but had lived in Turkey for decades, and spoke both fluent Turkish and English.  Remember, we were among the first Americans GIs in Samsun in 1958 and the "socially-aware" were out in front in making friends with Americans, whether they were officers or just enlisted troops.  Anyway, perhaps foolishly, after finishing dinner, we took a cab to Şerif's friend's house.  It turned out that the friend was indeed a French expatriate who worked for the Gary Tobacco Company, a subsidiary of the Liggett-Myers Tobacco Company in North Carolina.  His name was Louis Vighier and through him I met many more American, French, Russian, and other expatriates, who were then living and working in Turkey.  Şerif was on the up-and-up.  (I hooked up again with Louis and the rest of the Gary Tobacco Company people in Izmir when I returned to Turkey in 1962.  They had also all been transferred to Izmir!)

LOUIS VIGHIER

I must add in here some of my reflections on Louis Vigher, who was an employee of the Gary Tobacco Company.  He came with his family to the Mediterranean area before WW II.  They were from an elite French family and eventually possessed property in Turkey and on some of the Greek islands.  Louis' brother, Raymond, had property on Rhodes Island off the southern shores of Turkey.  After WW II started, Louis and his family were "taken into custody" and removed to a village in the interior of Turkey until the war ended.  I suppose that was because France was occupied by Germany, the "Vichy French" government took over, and ALL people of French extraction were then seen as potential "enemies" of Turkey, just as were all Germans.

In any case, Louis and his family were exonerated after the end of WW II and were free to carry on with their normal lives.

To say that Louis was "fastidious" would be an understatement.  He was fairly wealthy and used his money to satisfy his whims and desires.  He had several expensive watches which accepted different bands.  The jewels on a band always matched the jewels in his tie tack/tie bar and his cuff links.  If the jewels in his tie tack and cuff links were Sapphire, the watch band also contained Sapphires.

In his bathroom, the color of everything matched.  The color would change weekly, but you can be assured that everything in the bathroom matched color-wise, always.

His table, even in informal settings, was always in the best of taste.  He had the best crystal, the best china, the best cutlery.  When he gave a formal dinner, the plate-ware was gold-plated, as was the cutlery.  The table linen was terribly expensive, with real gold threads running though it; the napkins were the same.  Hell, what more can I say?  He had no wife and no children, and used his money to satisfy himself; why not?

This was at a time when no one in Turkey could buy Coca Cola products.  But Louis found a way around that.  He had found a source of Coca Cola syrup!  (Who knows where he bought it!)  You just poured some of the syrup into your glass, spurted in some carbonated water from a seltzer bottle, added ice, and then you had "Coca Cola"!  (You must surely remember that you bought those little CO2 capsules, put them into the seltzer bottle, added water to the bottle, pushed the lever and had carbonated water!?)

To say that I was thoroughly impressed by Louis would be an understatement.  For some reason, he took a liking to Dick Curnow (another 203-Russian Linguist) and me, and invited us to most of the dinners he was giving, no matter how distinguished the guests.  It might be just a dinner for his fellow employees at the Gary Tobacco Company, or it might be a dinner for the Base Commander and his senior officers, and local dignitaries, including the Mayor of Samsun, Governor of Samsun Province, etc.  Dick and I were not the only enlisted types invited, but we two were most always invited if we weren't on duty.

Occasionally, Louis would invite me to play Bridge with some of his "expatriate" friends, Russians, Greeks, French, whomever.  I don't remember any of their names, if I ever knew them.  I do remember that Louis would chew out my butt, for not "following the rules" - "You CAN'T finesse in the third seat (even if it works)!"

[Editor:  Note here from Jim Carver (no web page, just his email address), from emails from him in May 2014:]

"I grew up in Izmir; my father, Jim, Sr., was General Manager of Gary Tobacco Company there, and it was for him that Louis Vighier and his brother, Raymond, worked.  I knew the Vighiers (pronounced "Vee-gay") all my life in Izmir, leaving there in 1965 after graduating from the American Military Dependents' School.  You described Louis perfectly in "Merhaba-US Military.com".  Dad started his work with Gary in Turkey in Samsun--I spent the first three years of my life there.  We moved to Izmir in 1950 where we stayed until 1966 when my father died, returning to North Carolina.

"If you attended any of Louis' parties for Gary employees in Izmir in the early '60s, I'm sure you met my parents as we all loved the Vighiers and socialized often with them.  Louis had an apartment just off the waterfront in Alsancak (pronounced Alsanjak), while Raymond and his wife, Berthe (pronounced "Bert") lived in an apartment a few blocks back.  I think Berthe was my mother's best friend there.  They all treated my sister and me like family--I will always remember them fondly.

"You told me something I hadn't known about the Vighiers before reading your writeup, that they had owned a lot of land in Turkey before WWII.  Of course, I was a kid at the time and knew nothing about the personal affairs of any of Dad's employees, only from a social aspect as "the bosses kid".  If you were in Izmir in '62, I was a sophomore in the spring and a junior in the fall at the Dependents' School.

"Your memories of Samsun are entertaining.  I returned to Turkey in the army from '69 to '71, stationed at JUSMMAT in Ankara.  Wish I had gone back to Samsun then, just to see the town and remember it (I certainly don't remember much from a place I was in until I was 3 years old), but didn't.

"If you have any further recollections of Louis or anyone else from Gary Tobacco, I would love to hear them.  Thanks for the entertainment, reminiscences and education.  All the best."

Jim Carver

[Throwing in something here:  A recent correspondent, who was also stationed at Samsun, asked why he had never heard anything about me, Dick Curnow, Şerif Kütükçu, or Louis Vighier.  Well, as explained above, it was a stroke of luck that I met Şerif, and, through him, Louis Vighier, and eventually Dick CURNOW, and eventually, after that, Zia Makarnaci (pronounced "Makarnaji") (Makarnaci=Pasta Maker), and the other folks at the Gary Tobacco Company.  No other Americans from the site that I know of, except Dick CURNOW and me, were ever included on the "membership list".  Yes, sometimes, some of the officers from the site were invited to Zia's "dinner parties", especially the Commander and other ranking officers, but for normal get-togethers, it was just Dick and me.  It wasn't really an "exclusive club", but the membership was certainly held to a minimum.  [God, doesn't that sound like Egalitarianism?  I don't mean for it to seem that way, but those people had criteria that I never understood.  Maybe Dick and I "looked like" the sort of Americans that "fit in".  ?????]

Zia's Makarna Fabrikasi (Pasta Factory) in Samsun.  (Click to enlarge.)
The factory is just to the right and down from the center of the picture.
It is the "L" shaped building with several windows on the long side, and
a two-story part on the left side.

Some miscellaneous graphics files dealing with Samsun.

CLICK PHOTOS TO ENLARGE:
Samsun Today- Dec 2009.		Samsun Male Warriors- 1907		Samsun Female Warriors -1908.		Treasures Found in Samsun.

Samsun-Çarşamba Airport

(The "female warriors" don't look like what we think of as the "Amazons" from Sinop.  Looks like a "staged tourist" photo, even back in 1908.  You can read about the "Amazon Warriors of Sinop" here and here.)

STILL MORE REGRESSIONS:

VISITING A TURKISH VILLAGE IN THE "INTERIOR":

After we had moved from town up the base, we could check out trucks or jeeps from the Motor Pool and go anywhere we wanted.  For instance we could take a truck or jeep and go to one of the local beaches.  We often checked out a 6X and took Gulan for a dip.  Once I thought it would be a great excursion to take a pickup truck and travel back into the hinterlands of Turkey and see what went on there.  So, during a long break, a friend and I checked out a pickup truck and went East along the main road out of Samsun.  We travelled for a lot of miles until we saw a road to the right (South) that went up over the mountains and decided that, "This is the road we want to travel".  (No particular reason we took that road, just "felt right".)

The road was of, course, just a dirt road, but it looked like it had quite a bit of traffic and might lead us somewhere.  We turned right and went mile after mile, turn after turn.  We didn't know where we were going, just that somewhere at the end we would find something exciting.

We went through many crossroads and it's good that my friend had a good memory, or we could have never found our way back to Samsun, or back to the village again.  Eventually, we crested a hill, many, many miles from the coastal road out of Samsun, and saw, to our left on a hill, men cutting down trees.  When we crested that hill, the men held up their axes in a kind of a salute (we hoped it was a "salute" and not a dire warning), and motioned for us to approach.  (Were they going to scalp us, or were they welcoming us?)  It turned out that they were welcoming us!  We stopped and spoke with the "foresters" and told them who we were.  They were ecstatic!  They had never met an American and wanted to take us to their village to introduce us to the other members of their clan.  The only ones in their village that had ever ventured more than a few miles away were a couple of men who once or twice a year walked to Samsun to purchase necessities such as sugar, salt, tea, coffee, etc.  Anyway, they all piled into the back of the pickup truck and guided us to the village.  We first went up over the hill, where there didn't seem to be a road or track, then down what I would call a dry "wadi" (a dry creek bed, or gully), until, at the end of the dry creek bed, there was a track off to the left.  We turned there and went over a couple of more rises, up and down, through what I would call nothing, until we crested the last hill and saw a little collection of houses below, arranged on a slope with a little creek flowing past.

We had arrived at a Turkish village in the interior, that, as far as I was ever able to ascertain, had no name.  (Actually, I don't remember ever asking if the village had a name.)  It was just a village where all the people of one clan (extended family) resided.  There were about 12-15 houses.

As we came into the area, the axe-men in the back started shouting.  When we stopped underneath a large tree in the center of the enclave, they jumped out and started telling everyone who we were.  I was told to wait, that the "Hetman" (yes, they used the term, "Hetman" - old, old, indeed) of the village would have to be notified and that he would have to officially welcome us.  (Hetman was, centuries ago, a term for a Ukrainian Cossack chief, but, for some reason the rural Turks in that part of Turkey still used it for the title of their village head.  This shows that the original ancestors of this village were probably from The Ukraine or SW Russia.  In any case, from beyond the Caucasus Mountains.  They were not Arabs!)  After a little while, from the house farthest up the hill, a man emerged, fully decked out in what I'm sure was his very best clothing.  He came down and welcomed us.  After all the amenities, where we, both sides, told who we were, he ordered someone to go to the spring and bring back some "Yourt" (Turkish version of Yogurt").  It seemed that one of the hospitalities in that region was to offer visitors "Yourt" from the stores in one's spring.

We took photos of the villagers and promised that we would come back again and give them the pictures.  We did return later and give them the photos.  On the return trip we also brought American sodas for the children, who were amazed at the "fizz".  We also brought American cigarettes for the men.  As it happened, it was during the wheat harvest season and we got to see how they did the harvesting.  They went into the fields and cut the wheat stalks with hooked knives, tied up the stalks into bundles and brought them back to the village's harvest floor (Harman).  The bundles were untied and spread out over the floor.  In the middle of the floor was a pole set in the ground, with a long boom stretching outward.  At the end of that boom was a rope attached to the harness of an ox.  The ox went round and round, pulling a kind of sled, which traveled over the wheat stalks, causing the wheat kernels to be separated from the stalks.  This went on and on for a long while.  Then, the men would go in and remove all the stalks with something like pitchforks.  They would wait for a good wind and, using implements something like shovels, toss up what remained and allow the wind to blow away the chaff (winnowing), leaving only the wheat kernels on the ground.  The kernels would be gathered up and taken to a high place and again "winnowed", getting rid of any remaining chaff.  Yes, the wheat was dirty, undoubtedly had residue of the ox's poop, but that's the way they did it!  On the second trip, we were lodged in one of the families' houses and slept on pallets on the floor.  (I've looked on Google and MapQuest maps and have been unable to find that village.)

GARY TOBACCO COMPANY:

While stationed in Samsun, as mentioned before, I met Şerif Kütükçu and Louis Vighier.  Louis worked for the Gary Tobacco Company, which was a subsidiary of the Liggett-Myers Tobacco Company in North Carolina.  The Assistant General Manager of the Gary Tobacco Company in Samsun was Richard "Dick" Brooking.  It soon developed that I spent a lot of time at the homes of Louis, Dick, and other employees of the tobacco company.  (Yeah, I know, I spread myself thin. )  Dick Curnow and I spent a lot of time with Zia, Şerif, Louis Vighier, Dick Brooking, etc., and we weren't sitting on our asses in the barracks, bitching about what an awful country Turkey was.  If I wasn't bar-hopping, I was at the home of one of my extremely good friends in Samsun.  I never had a dull moment!  I don't ever remember a weekend when I wasn't on duty, when I wasn't in Samsun hob-knobbing with someone.

A Sunday tradition was established that after Church on Sunday, Dick, other company employees and friends, and I (if I wasn't on duty) would go on "gentlemen hunts" into the countryside, dressed in suit and tie.  We would all load into Dick's company car with our shotguns and go out looking for game.  (I had bought a Browning shotgun through the BX.)  Of course we ALWAYS prepared ourselves with liberal libations of alcohol after Church and took plenty with us.  One Sunday, as we were driving down a country road looking for game, somehow my finger got entangled with the trigger of my shotgun and I shot a hole through the roof of Dick's company car!  Talk about embarrassing!  But, Dick said not to mind, the company would pay for repair of the damages.  Good old Dick!

[Jim Carver sent this (no web page, just his email address), re the hole in the roof of the car:  "I seem to remember Dad (General Manager of the Gary Tobacco Company in Turkey) telling a story about Dick's coming from Samsun to Izmir with a hole in the roof of the company car -- that really pissed him off.  It's fun to learn all these years later how that hole got there."]

[Yeah, Jim it was me!  I never lived that one down.]

Sometimes on my long days off, when they coincided with the weekend, Dick and company (including his Turkish managers) and I would go up into the mountains to hunt wild boar and the Turkish version of pheasants.  We usually brought home game which Dick would have cooked up for a feast for all of us.  Wherever we went, there were plenty of guides, young Turkish boys, who would direct us to the best places for game in return for the empty shotgun shells which they would sell for others to reload.

The American civilians in Samsun (those that worked for independent companies) had a tough time getting American goods, especially tobacco and alcohol, without paying exorbitant prices.  I broke the rules and kept them supplied with cigarettes and booze.  The first time I visited Dick's home, he asked me what I wanted to drink.  When I told him, he mixed the drink, then told me that was the last drink he would ever make for me.  When I wanted a refill, I would have to make it myself.  When I came on later visits, I had to mix my own drinks.  He said no one could ever say that he had made a guest drunk.  If I got drunk, it was my own damned fault.

DICK BROOKING AND HIS TURKISH WIFE

Richard "Dick" Brooking, as mentioned, was the Assistant General Manager of the Gary Tobacco Company in Turkey, and the Manager of the Samsun Division.  The Samsun Division was later consolidated into the main headquarters in Izmir.  Dick had originally been married to an American wife, but in his early days in Turkey the wife just didn't like the country.  She had been brought up "rich" in Kentucky, and, even though Dick had plenty of "servants" to cater to her, she wasn't happy with the primitive culture in Turkey.  She went back to the States and divorced Dick.

After that, Dick met a beautiful young Turkish woman named "Mualla" (I never knew her last name), at a "social event" in Ankara.  Anyway, she was the adopted daughter (a niece, as I remember) of the, then, Prime Minister of Turkey, Adnan Menderes.  Adnan was the first democratically-elected Prime Minister and one of the three original political leaders of the Turkish Republic (along with Atatürk and Turgut Özal, who were later Prime Ministers and Presidents of Turkey).

I was into my second year tour at Samsun when the Turkish military pulled off a coup d'état and arrested Adnan.  He wasn't hanged until almost a year after I had left Turkey in October of 1960, but the junta "kangaroo court" convicted him of all sorts of crimes, including violation of the constitution.  The 37 "young officers" who led the coup (Young Turks) had no case.  (Of course, we shouldn't be so naive as to think 37 "young officers" COULD pull off a coup since they had to have had the backing of very senior officers in the Turkish Army.)  They were just officers who were pissed off at Adnan for personal/political reasons.

In any case, in 1990, Adnan was officially posthumously pardoned by the Turkish government for any crimes he was accused of committing.  In 2006 it was finally admitted by the Turkish government that Adnan had been "railroaded" by the "Young Turks" - he had done nothing wrong.

Be that as it may, Dick certainly married "high up" in Turkish circles.  I remember Mualla as a very beautiful young wife, full of life, even in the time when her adopted father had been arrested.  Both in Samsun and in Izmir, she was a gracious hostess, always welcoming American GIs into their home and "mothering" us.

When Dick and Mualla's first child was due, she was shipped off to Greece for the birth.  Dick told me that if the child had been born in Turkey, and was a male, upon reaching the age of 18 he would been conscripted to do two years' mandatory service in the Turkish Army.  (Not anything enviable for a Turk, let alone a child of an American.)  Even though the child would have been an American citizen by virtue of his father being an American citizen, if he were born in Turkey, he would also have been a Turkish citizen, and would have still have had dual-citizenship and be subject to the "draft".  As it turned out, Dick's first child WAS a boy, but he would never be subscripted into the Turkish Army, because he wasn't born in Turkey!  Dick knew what he was doing!

RUSSIAN BELUGA CAVIAR

The Gary Tobacco Company bought Turkish tobacco, which was then, and still is, incorporated in all American cigarettes.  The company toured the tobacco farms in the Black Sea region during the season for many miles around Samsun.  Some tobacco they would buy, some they would not.  The farmers used the old "bakshish" (baksheesh) system of doing business.  That is, they offered bribes.  "Buy my tobacco and I'll give you something in return."  In the case of the Samsun tobacco growers, it was Russian Beluga Caviar, smuggled in from across the Black Sea.

True Beluga "Black" Caviar comes ONLY from Sturgeon fish from the Caspian Sea, and from near the Caspian's outlet into the Black Sea.  There are Sturgeon fish in most of the other rivers of Russia leading into the Caspian Sea, e.g., Volga, Luna, etc., which are of a slightly different species, and their eggs are not black; fishermen from these other rivers catch the female Sturgeon fish, slit them open, and dye the eggs black, to make people think the eggs came from Caspian Sturgeons.  Folks, again, if you've never had the opportunity to eat Caspian Beluga Caviar, don't even try to imagine.  We were very lucky indeed.

Now, I know you will not believe this, but the tobacco farmers in the Samsun area would give employees of the tobacco company 4-liter cans of caviar!  Cans that held over a gallon of caviar!  Today, ONE OUNCE of Beluga Caviar sells for $200-$300!  Can you imagine?!  That was more of my "hog heaven" in Samsun.  When Dick had a get-together, which was usually every Saturday, he always had gobs of Beluga Caviar on the bar.  If you have never smeared Caviar on a cracker or piece of toast and eaten it with a good swig of Russian Vodka, or a gulp of premier white wine, you have never lived "The Good Life"!

Once Dick complained that he had sporadic radio reception for Voice of America, which he really liked to listen to.  I suggested to him that he needed a "good antenna" on his roof.  Without giving away too many secrets, I installed a "Sloping V" antenna on his roof, pointed to where VOA was broadcast from.  From then on, he had 5-by reception.

A NOTE ABOUT "PAVYONS"
which started in Ankara, Turkey:

Pavyons were "Night Clubs" in Turkey.  They mostly functioned as "adult entertainment clubs", similar to "Hostess Clubs" of Japan, with live music, usually two-story, a stage, and a lounge with tables lined up at the main floor, and "private" rooms at the upper floor, looking out over the lower dance floor.  The first Pavyons opened in Ankara about 1942 with the arrival of English workers who worked on the Adana-Ulukisla road that was funded by the British Government to convince Turkey to form a front at the World War II.  (All the Pavyons I ever frequented were usually as described, live music, a "chanteuse" (usually French), often "belly dancers", two-story, a stage, and "private booths" upstairs.)

"Pavyons" were nothing more than bars/nightclubs where men could go, dance with the "hostesses", buy them "bowls" (more about "bowls" later), and occasionally take them to the upper balcony to the "Konsumasyon" booths.  (Konsumasyon was the Turkish word for "consummation", which means a simple repast, a little something to eat or drink.)  The "Konsumasyon" booths were just private enough for a little intimacy or hanky-panky, but not enough for "in flagrante delicto".  (Do you think it odd that such "clubs" would exist for Turkish men to frequent?  Then, you don't know the difference between Islam in the rest of the Mid-East and Islam in Turkey.  The Turks were/are Sunni Muslins, mostly far from any fanatical fringes.  They are far more modern in their thinking than are Shia Muslins.  Do a Google search and find out the difference.)

About the time that America started establishing listening posts in Turkey, in Karamursel, Samsun, Trabzon, Sinop, etc., mysteriously there appeared "Pavyons" in all those towns, staffed not only by Turkish bar-girls, but by young women from Spain, Greece, France, Italy, Russia, etc., all really pretty.  I've read some stories about the Pavyons where the writers describe the bar-girls as older, ugly, etc., but that wasn't my experience.  Why would any business owner hire old, ugly women when the better part of their business involved getting very young American GIs to spend their money on pretty women?

I'm sure that either some intelligence-gathering organization, or more likely, some astute entrepreneur, had already sized up the situation and decided there was a fortune to be made, either of "intelligence" or of money, in opening "Pavyons" in the places where American GIs were soon to arrive.  (Actually, I never heard of even one single case where the "bar-girls" tried to get classified information from a GI.)

The short of it was that there were many beautiful young women in those "Pavyons", who would try to clean out an Airman's wallet.  The Pavyons in Samsun, Trabzon, Ankara, Istanbul, Adana, etc., were, IMHO, very reputable in not trying to rip off American GIs too much.  They were established in Samsun, Trabzon, etc., in anticipation of the American troops' arrival there.  "Bar-Girls" from just about every country in Europe were imported to use their wiles in getting U.S. GIs to spend their money.

When the base at Samsun was finally completed, and when we all moved up the hill, most of the bar-girls we had known disappeared from the Pavyons, and many of the Pavyons closed.  I would like to think they all went on to "greener pasture", but I know it wasn't so.  They were "owned" by a cartel and had no way of just quitting.  They were trapped into a lifestyle that didn't allow them alternatives – they just had to continue on until they were too old to be "bar-girls", and then I don't know what their options would have been.  Not good, that's for certain.

BOWLING IN TURKEY:

When one went to a Pavyon, and allowed a bar-girl to sit at his table, he was expected to buy her a "bowl".  It came in a container that looked like a cut-glass bowl, but was, more often than not, just plastic.  As I recall, in Samsun the cost of a bowl was about 3 Lira, or around 25-30¢.  A really thirsty bar-girl could drink up to 6-8 bowls during a night!  (Wow!  $2 a night for us GIs.)  The liquid in the bowls was supposed to contain alcohol, but it was about 95% fruit juices and soda, with just a little wine, vermouth, or champagne added.  The bar-girls received a "chit" every time they consumed a bowl, and they turned the chits in at the end of the night for "wages".  I never figured out how those girls could consume so much liquid and go to the WC so few times.  Their bladders must have held gallons.

UNIFORMS OF THE TURKISH ARMY:

The troops of the Turkish Army were issued two uniforms.  Both were woolen and were worn summer and winter.  Winter was OK, but in the summer they sweltered.

THE QUEEN OF TUMPANE IN SAMSUN:

As stated above, some of us AF GIs frequented the "Civilian Club" in downtown Samsun, both before the base was built, and afterward.  The TUMPANE men and their wives (if they were married) used the Civilian Club as their hangout.  There was one TUMPANE wife in particular who was a holy terror.  She constantly berated the Turkish employees of the Club, criticizing them for every fault and every imagined "insult" to her.  (She was one of the original "Ugly Americans".)  Once when I was there enjoying dinner with some civilian and military friends, she went into a rampage because she did not have a napkin, calling the Turkish waiter an idiot, etc.  I was inebriated and I had had enough!  I shouted down the table to her that she should go to the WC and get some toilet paper.  I told her that one was used to wipe one's mouth and the other was used to wipe one's ass, but that, in her case, it didn't make any difference, since her mouth was no different from her ass, because of the crap that came out of both.  She shut up!  I did go into a little more detail, telling her how she was an "Ugly American" for constantly putting down the Turks, and how everyone was tired of her tirades.  From then on, at least at the Civilian Club, she behaved herself.  (Interestingly enough, several TUMPANE employees actually clapped, and all of them smiled!  They, too, had had enough of her "Queenly" behavior.)  This "Queen" was young, married to an older TUMPANE employee.  All the while I was there, she was having an affair with a SSgt from the base.  Some said her husband knew about it, but didn't object since he couldn't satisfy her.  In any case, she was one of the original "Bitches from Hell".

ON TO OTHER EXPLOITS:

As seen elsewhere in my "Story", eventually during the latter part of my first year at Samsun, we worked 6 Day Shifts, 6 Swing Shifts, and 6 Mid Shifts, then had 6 days off. I used those 6 days-off to travel to most of the historical sites in Turkey.  (Later, when stationed in Izmir, I also travelled to Greece, Italy, and Spain, taking a few days of leave.)  I don't think there are many major historical sites in Turkey that I didn't visit at least once, and, like an idiot, I ALMOST NEVER took a camera.  I usually didn't travel to those sites with fellow GIs, but with Turkish friends (with the exception of the trip to Spain for the "Running of the Bulls", when some of my more foolhardy fellow GIs went with me.  As stated below, in Pamplona, we "ran with the bulls" until the first alley, where we ducked in and let the bulls go on; no one ever said we were stupid).  I "lived" my time in Turkey!  I took advantage of my assignments.  Later, when I returned several times on TDY (Temporary Dudy), I didn't have the opportunities to do much "touring"; I was just there, doing a different job, and it wasn't the same.

WRAPPING IT UP

I finished my two years at Samsun in Oct 1960.  Returned Stateside and married in June 1961.  Fooled around for a while and re-enlisted in Feb 1962.  Went to NSA at Ft. Meade, MD; then back to Karamursel, Turkey.

Was at Karamursel for about 6 months until I was transferred to Cigli AS outside Izmir, Turkey.  During my short stay at Karamursel I had several interesting encounters.  At Karamursel, there were also TUMPANE employees.  One very beautiful wife of one of those employees preferred the Enlisted Club over the Officer's Club and hung out there just about every night.  Now, she was some dame, able to drink ANY man under the table ANY night, and she was absolutely beautiful!  I remember her favorite expression:  "Horses sweat, men perspire, and ladies gently glow.  Damn I'm sweating!"  She would sit there any night and match any man at Karamursel drink-for-drink, and win the bout!

One morning a group of the officers' wives were "touring" the Karamursel base - checking up on how things looked, when they observed some Airmen reeling out of the Enlisted Club early in the morning.  Again, the commander's wife influenced her husband.  She convinced the commander that it was a disgrace to see the enlisted personnel coming out of the Enlisted Club, obviously inebriated, so early in the day.  She didn't realize that those troops had worked a "Mid" shift and that they were on their way to the barracks for sleep.  Anyway, the pussy commander ordered that the Enlisted Club would be closed at midnight and wouldn't open again until noon.  If you think that officers were full of crap, you don't know the half of it if you don't realize that their wives were ten times worse!  They were bitches on wheels!  The members of the Officer's Wives Club even conducted their tours a couple times a week just to see if the white-painted stones around the flag pole, and other areas, needed replacing or re-painting.  Hell has no need for demons to cast afflictions upon mortal beings as long as there are "Officers' Wives".

One more note about Karamursel:  Somehow, I became friends with the Turkish translator for the base fire department.  His name was Ergan.  Just before I left Karamursel, Egan invited me to accompany him to his family's compound in Istanbul.  Yes, almost all of his extended family lived in a walled compound in Istanbul, and I was privileged to visit with the family for a weekend, all several scores of them.  We had a great time and all the mamas and grand-mamas doted on me as an American.  Even though they knew I had a wife in the States, they, nevertheless, kept introducing me to their daughters and granddaughters.  Had one of my most memorable weekends in Istanbul.  (Again, lots of booze, music, and dancing.  As I have stated elsewhere, Turkish Moslems [for the most part] enjoyed drinking, music, and dancing.)

While at Karamursel, the plan was for my new wife to join me there.  Of course, we all had to go through the "Base Housing Unit" (BHU) to sign up for housing in Yalova, or nearby.  I was put on a waiting list that would have taken six months or longer in order for me to get housing anywhere nearby.  Therefore, I went into Yalova and found an apartment myself, which was not on the BHU's list of acceptable apartments.  (In fact, I found apartments/houses for several lower ranking Airmen in Yalova and other villages/towns near Karamursel.)

I rented the apartment in Yalova.  It was in a building owned by the person who owned the butcher shop down on the first floor.  My apartment was on the second floor, and the owner and his family lived on the third floor.  By the time I was expecting my wife to arrive in Turkey it had turned cold.  Heat was not only at a premium, it was nonexistent-no central heating, no stove.  I decided to use an old Turkish method for producing heat – burning charcoal in a brazier.  Well, I bought a brazier and some charcoal.  It had been so cold that I had taken everything I owned and piled it on the bed just to stay warm at night, and that included rugs, mats, curtains, anything that would provide some insulation from the cold.  So, I dumped the charcoal into the brazier and lit it.  Sometime toward morning, I awoke with the mother of all headaches.  I got up and tried to get to the bathroom and fell down several times.  Finally realizing that I was suffering from carbon-monoxide poisoning, I opened a window.  I never figured out how the Turks were able to use charcoal in a brazier for heat, but I never tried it again!

Hot water in that apartment was provided via a copper water heater.  Charcoal or wood was inserted at the bottom, lit, and one waited until the water was hot (warm).  Want to take a quick bath?  Forget it!  Light the fire, keep putting in fuel, and, maybe, after two hours, you could have "hot" water!  In any case, the powers-that-be decided I should go to Izmir, and shipped me out and that's where I went.

While I was stationed in Karamursel, and living in Yalova, next door to the building where my Yalova apartment was located, on the bottom floor, was a barbershop.  I stopped in there once in a while and one evening after returning from Mainsite, I stopped in to get a haircut.  The barber told me that he would like to give me a haircut and a shave every evening, for free!  Now that's really weird, but I suppose it was a result of my speaking Turkish, the fact that I offered American cigarettes whenever I came in, and the fact that he just wanted to be friendly, and be able to say he had an "American friend".  Thereafter, just about every evening when I arrived home from Mainsite, I would get a haircut and a shave, at no charge.  Of course, I kept the barber and his friends (who were always sitting around the room) supplied with American cigarettes!  (I dont' remember the barber's name.  His picture is on the left; taken 18 May 1951 when he was in the Turkish Army [according to the inscription on the back of the photo]; he gave me the photo sometime in Oct 1962.)








As stated, the owner of the building in which my apartment was located also had a butcher shop on the ground floor.  The carcasses of sheep and beef hung in an unrefrigerated window display in front, with flies buzzing all around them.  I did buy beef from the proprietor, but only "tenderloin", that is, "filet mignon".  I used that meat to make beef stew when I "ate in".

We were told never to eat any meat or vegetables from the local markets because of the dangers of hepatitis, but I never had any problems.  Also, the reason my apartment had not been "approved" by the veterinarians at the BHU, was because the sinks in the apartment were porous and could house hepatitis bacteria.  Therefore, NO to renting such an apartment.

A word about Ulvi Eroğlu, the son of the proprietor.  Ulvi was getting ready to go to Istanbul to enter the University.  He loved to hobnob with Americans.  Just about every night after I had had my haircut and shave, he would show up at my apartment.  We would sit and talk, tell jokes, and just enjoy the moment.  One evening when I came home, I had brought some foodstuffs from the Commissary, and among the things I brought were some cans of Vienna Sausages.  Of course, there was Ulvi shortly after I got home.  He wanted to see what I had bought at the Commissary.  He saw a can of Vienna Sausages and asked if they tasted good.  I said, "Of course.  Would you like to try it?"  He said "Yes", and I opened the can and gave him some.  He exclaimed about how good it was, then asked me what was in it.  I, like a fool, started reading off the ingredients from the label.  When I got to "pork" ("domuz"), his face turned green, he started gagging, and I thought he might just die.  I quickly shouted that I was just kidding, that there was no pork in the sausages.  (I figured a lie was better than seeing him suffer so.)  He quickly recovered but said he would never forgive me for such a cruel joke.  I don't know whatever happened to Ulvi.  He was a sharp kid and is probably a big-shot attorney in Istanbul now.  I'm also certain that he has never thought that he actually ate pork and didn't die.  (Ulvi's picture on the left.  Given to me 15 Oct 1962.)

RAKI, HASHISH,. AND LOSS OF SECURITY CLEARANCE

Raki (spelled in Turkish with the letter "i" with no dot over the "ı", pronounced "Rakuh", not "Rakee".)

Raki was the favorite drink of most of the Turkish men I knew.  It was a clear liquid, which turned milky-white when mixed with water.

It tasted like liquorice, and that's because it was infused with extracts from the anise plant.  It was an "apéritif", and in other countries was called pastis, ouzo, sambuca, arak, pernod, anisette, and absinthe, etc.

But, not all of those fine liqueurs were made with the "special" ingredient that Turkey, Greece, and France put into their liquorice drink.

The drink was made thusly:

After squeezing all the liquid out of grapes to make wine, the left-over "mast" (skins, pulp, seeds, & stems - AKA pomace) had wormwood added to it, and the concoction was fermented and distilled.  Now, some of the premium brands of Raki are often made from raisens; some brands are made from olive pomace.

Wormwood is an hallucinogen, which causes "trips", and, sometimes, an addiction.  Of course, there was so little Wormwood in Raki that it normally only gave a "buzz", and didn't cause many addiction problems.  Turkish men drank it in moderation,; but GIs, being GIs, would go to a Pavyon and drink it all night long, night after night.  That was a problem.  Drinking the liquor in such quantities COULD cause addiction.

In America, Absinthe was outlawed until just recently, when one can now buy the "liquorice drink" because it no longer contain the hallucinogen from Wormwood.

I only mention this because if one consumed enough of Raki, he would do things he would not ordinarily do.  It DID cause "trips" for some imbibers.

If one drank enough of it in one sitting, he might find himself in a different town, days later, and not know where he was, or how he got there!

Case in point.  In Izmir, I became a friend of an Airman named Charlie McCarthy (yes, that was his name).  I invited him to accompany me on a night-out in Izmir.  This was after I had rented an apartment in Izmir for me and my soon-arriving wife.  One weekend, we went to several nightclubs (Pavyons), and, after becoming totally inebriated after drinking Raki all night, we went to a local restaurant that stayed open all night.  Charlie was supposed to pay for what we ate, because I had no more money in my wallet.  What Charlie forgot to tell me was that he had no more money in his wallet either!  When the bill came due, we found out we were in serious trouble.

This was during one of the military coups and there were Turkish soldiers stationed in every place where people came together.  When we couldn't pay the bill, we knew we'd end up arrested by the Turkish military.  So, we devised an escape plan.  We would go to the WC, one at a time, climb out the window, across the rooftops, and "escape".  Which we did.  We went over rooftops, down drainpipes, until we reached the streets below.  On the way down, Charlie cut his hand (a very bad cut) and we went to Louis Vighier's house and woke him.  Louis had his maid dress the wound and Charlie and I went on to my apartment.  By this time, it was early morning.

After arriving at the apartment, Charlie went out to the balcony, looked down and saw a pretty teen-age girl in the courtyard.  For some reason, I had a rope in the apartment (I have no idea why) and Charlie made a noose and lowered it to the courtyard, trying to lasso the girl.  Of course, he wasn't successful.  On the Monday after this fiasco, Charlie, when we met, told me that he never wanted to see me again, or to speak to me again.  He said I had corrupted him and caused him to do things he would never have done otherwise.  I told him that "I" had nothing to do with it - HE drank the Raki - it was HIS failings - the Raki did it!.

Some time later, after the fiasco above, I went back to the same restaurant.  The waiter recognized me as one who had escaped without paying the bill.  Dang!  Military Law was still in effect and I knew I was, once again, in jeopardy.  I quickly exited the restaurant, went down the stairs, and RAN.  I tucked into the first place where I could get off the street.  Guess what?  Down the steps I came to the entrance to the USAF Communications Center in Izmir.!  Talk about "Out of the frying pan, into the fire!"

I still don't know how I escaped.  I took a left turn down in the underground and was able to get out into an alley, making my way back to the apartment;  I never went back to that restaurant again!

There were a couple of airmen at Samsun who experimented with smoking "Hashish", and when found out, they lost their security clearances. 

MORE FROM IZMIR:

CLICK PHOTOS TO ENLARGE:
Me in Restaurant in Izmir.	Airmen's Club at Ciğli AB-1963	Airmen's Club at Ciğli AB-1963

I was sent to Izmir to Cigli Air Base shortly after the "Cuban Missile Crisis".  President Kennedy agreed, in an "arms deal" with Khruschchev, to remove all the Jupiter missiles in Europe, if the Soviet Union would remove the nuclear missiles from Cuba, and would not land any more materials in support of nuclear weapons.  Cigli was one of the European bases that had a deployment of Jupiter missiles.  It was known that Soviet "observers" (spies) would be in Izmir, watching what the US did; thus, the need for a Russian-speaking person to be on-site to interpret any radio transmissions in Russian out of Turkey.  (While at Karamursel, when the "Cuban Missile Crises" hit, we were all called together and told that in the case of a crisis, there would be buses to remove all personnel from Karamursel (to somewhere, we weren't told where), beginning with all "operation" military personnel, followed by women and children.  Of course, the "crisis" never occurred.)

Can't post more on that subject, other than that I was there, but a couple of interesting anecdotes:

(Anecdotal)  During the dismantling of the missiles (the site was guarded by Turkish Army personnel), one night a shot was heard from the missile site.  In the morning, it was discovered that there was a bullet hole in one of the missiles.  The Turkish commander of the security detail lined up all the guards as they came off duty, went from man to man and sniffed their rifles.  He sniffed for the odor for a recently-fired weapon, and when he came to the one who fired the shot (turned out to be a case of "nerves"), the commander took the rifle from the guard and beat him senseless there on the spot.  Again, so much for discipline in the Turkish Army.

One of my friends in Izmir, stationed "downtown", was a Captain who was assigned to the Medical Corps.  (Again, I met him through Louis Vighier!)  He was former enlisted and went to OCS to obtain his officer's commission.  Once, when I was in town and walking with the Captain and his wife, an inebriated enlisted person saw us on the street and came up to us.  He addressed the Captain as "Sarge".  The wife, who had become the typical military wife (feeling her husband's rank, and being another Devil's Disciple), asked the husband, "Why do you let that person call you "Sarge".  You're an officer and should be addressed properly."  The Captain said, "Well, I was once a Sergeant, he knew me as a Sergeant, so there's no problem."  The wife obviously didn't like that, but did shut her mouth.  (In case you've discerned my dislike of military officers' wives, especially those wives of officers who were former enlisted, you are correct.  As stated before, the Devil has no disciples as offensive as officers' wives.)

EPHESUS - The Odeon (Little Theater) built in the 2nd Century A. D., with a seating capacity of 1400.  The columns on the left side of the picture represent the Gallery built by Emporer Augustus.

While in Izmir, I travelled to Ephesus, Turkey, and visited the house that is credited to be the place where Mary, the mother of Jesus, lived (after Jesus' death) and died.  Somewhere, I have a picture of the house before it was surrounded by the present structure.  (One of the few times I had a camera when visiting historical sites.)  (So far, I can't seem to find that picture, which I took about 1963.)  The Turks knew what a tourist attraction such a place would be and enclosed the little house.  (If you travel there, you'll see a lot of tourism crap, but you'll never see the actual house.)  Now, you can't even find a picture of the original house anywhere on the Internet.

Agora (market place) in the Namazgah District of "Old Izmir".  The historical remains of this place belong to the Roman Period (II
Century B. C.).

NATO Headquaters as it appeared in 1963 in Izmir, Turkey.

(Just as an aside, I was trying to maybe get a lead on the location of old friends in Izmir, when I came across a page that gave the current population of Izmir as 5 million people!!!!!  Hells Bells!  When I was there, you could drive from one side of Izmir to the other in less than 20 minutes, and that included the suburbs.  I don't know what the population was in 1963, but it was certainly far less than a million people.)

While at Izmir, friends and I went to Athens, Greece, a couple of times, and once to Pamplona, Spain, where some of us inebriated insane airmen actually "ran with the bulls".  (No one was injured and, actually, none of us ran more than a couple of blocks before "opting out".  We were foolhardy when drunk, but we were not idiots.  We ducked into the nearest alley at the first opportunity.)

We went to Majorca and other Greek and Italian islands.  I don't remember, off-hand, other places we went to, but we didn't sit on our asses in the barracks and complain about what an awful place we were in!  We "lived the life".

Moving on to other happenings at Cigli, while there I got to see a performance in the NCO Club by "Johnny Cash".  What a treat!

Once, soon after I had arrived at Cigli, someone had gone on a wild-boar hunt, and had the luck of bagging a "Domuz".  He took the pig to the mess hall and one of the (American) cooks there barbecued it for him.  He brought the ribs back to the barracks and shared it with the rest of us in the barracks.  (This was before I rented the apartment in Izmir and moved off-base.)

A note:  While in Izmir, I renewed acquaintenances with Ralph Johnson, another Gary Tobacco Company manager.  He was married to a Turkish wife and had a small daughter.  He loved Jim Beam bourban whiskey, which I purchased for him at the "Class 6" as often as possible.  I mention him because of the awesome bathroom in his house.  All the porcelain fixtures, commode, sink, and tub, were black.  The plumbing fixtures were all gold-colored.  It was an awesome sight.  Isn't it weird how such trivia remains in our memories?

A WORD ABOUT TURKISH LAWS AND PRISONS:

In Turkey, when someone was convicted of a crime and sentenced to jail or prison, the "State" didn't feed the prisoner.  It was up to his relatives and/or friends to see that food was taken to him each day.  The Security Policemen I knew in Izmir (and elsewhere) hated the duty of taking food to arrested American GIs.

Any female convicted of a crime and sentenced to a term, had no place to go except the "Kampanya/Kerhane", because there were no women's prisons.  We knew it as the "Compound".).  That place was nothing more than a brothel, where men could go and pay a small fee for sex.  Mostly, they were frequented by local Turkish Army personnel, who had two free "passes" a month to the "Kampanyas".  As I recall, the "admission price" for non-Turkish-Army men was 3 Turkish Lira, about 29 cents at the time.

(Anecdotal)  While I was in Izmir, a USAF Sergeant and his wife had been out to a dinner at a friend's house.  (Military personnel in Izmir at that time could have autos.)  There was a lot of drinking involved and when the couple left, the wife drove the car because the Sergeant was a little "under the weather".  On the drive home, the wife, who also had a little too much to drink, hit a pedestrian and killed him.  The Sergeant did have enough sense to get behind the wheel of the auto before the police arrived, and he took the blame for the accident.  He knew what would have happened to his wife were she convicted.  I never knew what happened to the Sergeant, but his wife should be forever thankful that he had made the sacrifice for her.

STILL MORE FROM IZMIR

I was into model-airplane building and flying at Cigli, but couldn't do any remote-control flying because of the Turkish laws regulating radio transmissions.  If one wanted to use a radio-control transmitter for model airplanes, one had to APPLY FOR A RADIO TRANSMISSION LICENSE!!!!!  Needless to say, I wasn't about to pay the exorbitant fee involved.  I just stuck to control-line flying.  (Turkish citizens had to PAY a fee just to have a radio!)

You may have noticed that, after re-enlisting in 1962, I was shuttled all over Turkey.  That's the way it was.  One went wherever one was "needed".

Hell, later I ended up at the USAF Survival School at Fairchild AFB, Spokane, Washington, as a lecturer on Soviet and Russian History.  Taught Russian and Soviet History, Theory of Communism, Interrogation Techniques, Indoctrination Fundamentals, etc.  Was always TDY (Temporary Duty) all over the world.  Went to all the Army, Navy, and Air Force Survival Schools to monitor their Survival, Evasion Resistance, and Escape (SERE) training.  Went to the Navy Survival School in California and was asked if I would like to go through the "complete" training.  I had already heard about the "water-board" interrogation technique at the school and said, "No Thanks!".  Yes the Navy, even back in the 70's were using the "water board" and let me tell you that NO ONE could resist that "technique".  I saw high-ranking Naval officers spill their guts in the mock PW Compound.  I don't care what the liberal pussies have said about that being "torture", it worked!  It's not nice, but it gets results.  At one of the Army Survival Schools, a similar technique was used.  A hood was placed over the head of the person being interrogated and tobacco smoke was piped into the hood.  It didn't take long for the person being "interrogated" to spill his guts either.

Evasion & Escape Conference

George Now

For some reason, I became the "point" for Evasion and Escape tactics, for the Air Training Command (ATC).  I edited USAFE Manual 205-1, Evasion and Escape Manual, in an update, to reflect the, then, current USAF/USAFE policies.  Somehow, my efforts were made known to the Joint Services Command (now Central Command) at MacDill AFB, near Tampa, FL, which was holding a SERE (Survival, Evasion, Resistance, and Escape) Conference.  I was sent TDY to MacDill to represent the ATC.  Upon arrival, and checking in to the conference, I introduced myself.  I was asked, "Where is your officer?"  Well, I went alone and had no officer!  There were Majors there getting coffee for the main participants, who were Colonels and Generals.  The participants there couldn't believe a MSgt in the USAF was representing the USAF ATC!  But there I was, a lowly MSgt, representing ATC!  In any case, my "re-write" did become the new version of USAFE Manual 205-1.

[Note on the photo, Evasion & Escape Conference:  Me before leaving base quarters at Fairchild AFB with USAFE Manuel 205-1 in the briefcase.  Really had fun at airports when the officials insisted on looking in the briefcase.”  Of course, I had "papers" designating me as a "Courier" and the briefcase could not be opened.]

A "Dining-In" photo when I was an A1C (Sgt).

I was there!  I saw it, I lived it, and I know it was so!

Sarge

JUST A LITTLE MORE

After my second permanent-duty tour in Turkey, I went back several times on TDY, but was never able to recapture the ambience of my earlier tours.  I suppose it was because I was in unfamiliar places for very short period of time, and never had the time to establish any kind of rapport with the local Turkish people.

I do feel that I fully immersed myself in Turkish culture during my two years at Samsun and later in other places.  Unfortunately, when I returned sometime later it was a different story.  I made friends in the "trade" and sometimes visited their families when I could; but it wasn't the same.  On the TDY assignments it was all business.

I'm only writing these posts because I did, and do, so love Turkey and its people.  I should have done what my friend did and gone back to Turkey as a civilian.  I would have been happy there for the rest of my life.  I certainly had the opportunity, and I will forever regret that I let it slip by.  In fact, my friend, Louis Vighier, made contact with the tobacco company in North Carolina and secured a position for me with the Gary Tobacco Company in Turkey.  I turned down the offer and that was probably the biggest mistake I've ever made in my life.

TODAY
(I live in Knoxville, TN.)

I found this photo on the Internet, taken outside the Blue Mosque in Istanbul.  I'm posting it here because it shows a person who looks a lot like me!  Glasses, beard, ears, and all.  Gotta be an umpteenth cousin.  I just thought I'd throw it in for fun.  It may not be a picture of me, but it's certainly a picture of my father.


And, found this photo of Ali Bas from Sinop.  Dang, yet another person in Turkey that has a striking resemblence to people in my family.  Another cousin?

(During my stint in the USAF, I went "Bootstrap" (Eastern Washington State University, Cheney, WA) to get a BA in Russian Language, with minors in Russian Area Studies and Russian Political Science.  After retirement, I attended the University of Tennessee, Knoxville, to study for a BS in Animal Science, with minors in Math and Physics.)

So, I turned 80 in October 2018, still wanting to return to the "Greatest County I've Ever Been In".  But, I'm afraid that I would be disappointed.  The Turkey that I knew has changed.  I look at photos of Samsun, and instead of seeing a quaint small town, I see 6-lane highways, skyscrapers, and businesses and factories that I would never have dreamed of when I was there.  I've looked at photos of Izmir, Trabzon, and Istanbul, and read stories of those cities, and they are now alien to me.  There's an old saying, that I suppose is very true:  "You can never go back."  I will just have to live in Turkey in my memories.  That way it will always be "The Greatest Country".

I enjoyed every day of my 22 year USAF career.  I would not take back a day of it.  In my family upbringing, I learned discipline, loyalty, respect, obedience, reverence, dedication, and love of country; my time in the USAF only re-enforced those disciplines.  I found that the Turkish people also have those same disciplines.

I fear for our country today – it seems to me that most Americans now have never learned those disciplines – our society is a Me-Me society. Lord, let me "Go Back"!

A GREAT STORY

After assuming management of the Merhaba-USMilitary.com website (formerly MerhabaTurkey.com), and having read in detail the many, many great stories about the various TUSLOG Detachments in Turkey, while editing them for formatting errors, bad links, bad email addresses, etc., I realize that my "Greatest Country" Story pales when compared with others' stories, especially with Wayne Bohannon's fantastic story, "Trabzon:  Heaven on Earth".  Wayne, thank you for your wonderful story.