Thomas McKenzie's Sinop Photo Page Mirhaba Everybody,
I had no idea when I was assigned to Sinop TUSLOG 4 that I would find myself revisiting this site. All I remember is that I did not want to be here and that I spent a year longing to return to the U.S.A. I had no hint that after I was discharged, that Sinop would be a pivotal location, impacting my life, not once but twice. Initially, my life in service was spent in preparation for the assignment in Turkey. I was unimpressed by its importance.
Now the significance of that assignment is becoming apparent. Only by chance, while surfing the web, did I come upon Sinop. I did not dream that such a site would even exist; but here it is - multiple sites with memories of the past, descriptions of its growth, and, more important, the unspoken, unwritten, but subtly implied predictions of its potential.
Finding Sinop on the net has awakened old memories of a dreamy past and brought them into focus. Because of the timing (after 11 September 2001) finding Sinop has prompted me to consider some definite actions which I’ll talk about later - But first, let’s look at a couple of things that I can add to the preponderance of web contributions by the many visitors to Sinop.
The base at Sinop was totally unfamiliar to me before I arrived and until now, had no idea what it had developed into over the years. But I did, from time to time, reminisce about the era when I was there and now can view the stories from others and get a good idea about the history and lives of the Americans at Sinop, TUSLOG 4, Turkey.
My experience with TUSLOG Detachment 4 was from 19 March 1958 to 19 March 1959. When we arrived, we were shown our quarters – a Jamesway hut with one occupant. Wayne Dalton and Steve Cooper, who were traveling with me were also assigned to this Jamesway. The first guy left and I think it was my buddy John James from Fort Leonard Wood and Fort Devens who moved in with us.
We had some "permanent" buildings from the start. Operations, PX, Church (which was also the movie theater), Library, Showers, and of course, those 4-seater outhouses. Everyone had his own roll of toilet paper. What I remember most distinctly about those out buildings is that they were swabbed daily (by Turkish workers) and in the winter, the water would freeze on the seats. One did not spend much time in there. This inspired the shortest poem I ever wrote, "Sit, shit and git."
We filled our free hours with treks down the hill to either of the two swimming spots or into town. One swimming spot was deep, surrounded by rock and home to an occasional jelly fish. The other spot, a little further away was a sandy beach. Guys from the post swam and picnicked there. At certain regular times, the town’s people went there to bathe. (They left their clothes on.)
Visits to Sinop left me with some vivid memories. Restaurant proprietors would take us into the kitchen to brag about their daily specials. I remember one place where the cook had to wave off a scad of flies in order to show us the lamb stew. Real shish kabob was cooking on a charcoal rack in the customer dining room. That seemed a little safer.
At one place we asked about horseback riding and the restaurant proprietor became an agent who arranged for a couple of saddled horses for us. Actually, they were pulling a cart only an hour earlier in the day. The owner was happy to rent them out for a couple of hours so he could get paid for letting us ride.
There were stories about real Turkish baths but Americans, when I was there, did not frequent them for some reason. The story also said that the baths were constructed in ancient times by the Romans and were still in use today. The more I think about it, the more I wish I had tried the baths there. It would have been neat to use the same facilities that the Romans did.
Some of the construction in town is made from stone "quarried" from the ancient Roman walls which once surrounded the town. Some of the walls still remain.
In town, the bakeries displayed trays full of syrupy cakes in the store window. At the chi house (an open sided shop that served tea) Turkish men would sit for a morning or an afternoon, sipping tea and playing with brass dominos. On the verge of winning, the Turk would slam his final piece against the table with a loud bang and a burst of laughter. They would then send a runner who returned with a shot glass of Yeni Raki (a purported opium-laced liqueur) and portagal (an orange). It was customary to eat an orange wedge with a shot of raki. (Yeni Raki means "new dreams") They would then light up a Yeni Harem cigarette (brand name that means "New Blend") It smelled like burning camel dung and the odor would cling to ones clothing. They held their cigarettes the same way I later saw Americans holding marijuana joints.
I got to know a couple of guys at the Sinop Newspaper. After one of them saw a photo of my sister, he asked if he could write to her. His name was Basri. Basri and my sister corresponded for a time but my sister’s enthusiasm waned after a while. (I think it
was when he proposed to her) A post script to this story comes 25 years later when one of my sister’s sons married a Turkish girl and they are now living in Ankara.
Drinking in town was something most of us did not do most of the time. But on one occasion, I had two shots of Yeni Raki and it was good night nurse. Ordinarily we would hike back up the hill to the post after being in town but this time I couldn’t walk across the street. To negotiate a 3/4 mile uphill climb would have been impossible. Somebody loaded me into the back of an "Ici Bucuk"*(2&1/2 truck) that was making a routine run. All I can remember about the ride is that the visiting chaplain was also on it, I threw up and I am still embarrassed about it to this day.
The Turkish military were very poor compared to us. They had a post somewhere near by and were quite visible in and around town. Their uniforms were clean but faded and well worn. They were heavy wool and the same all year round. (The climate in Sinop was like Detroit Michigan, to give you an idea) They were probably too hot in the summer and not warm enough in the winter.
It was shocking at first for us to see two Turkish soldiers walking hand in hand. We later learned that this affection that they had for each other probably contributed to the ferocity of their battlefield fighting. One story about their battlefield tact was that during the night they would crawl silently to a North Korean fox hole where two soldiers were sleeping, decapitate one and leave the other to go crazy in the morning when he found his buddy without a head. We were warned to never allow a Turkish soldier close enough to reach your wrist watch or it would be gone. In retrospect, I wonder what was their impression of the American soldiers? *By the way,"Ici Bucuk" is also a term they used for a 2&1/2 Lira note.
The clothing that Turks wore is worth mentioning. Most of the men, like the military, had wool suits which they wore all year long. –In the winter for warmth and in the summer it was a matter of pride. Men’s white shirts were usually ivory colored. Neckties were also the practice.
Women, in compliance with a "modernization" directive by the founder of the Turkish Republic, Kamel Ataturk, had to leave their facial veils at home and have their faces uncovered. But, in order to comply with their Moslem religious beliefs, they wear shawls which can conveniently be pulled across the face. We were told not to photograph them because they believed that photography would steal part of their soul.
I see by pictures that the "outpost" where I was stationed quickly grew into a regular base. (post, camp, or whatever it is called now a days). It was evolving even while I was there in 1958-59. When we arrived, we were assigned to a Jamesway hut, but by the time we left, we were quartered in real wooden barracks. New photos show that the pure mud what we wallowed in daily is now landscaped and framed by paved roads. I can only imagine that our freedom to go down and explore whatever side of the hill we would choose is now restricted by high fences and guarded gates.
One observation must be made about those of us who were stationed on "the hill." We had to be in good physical shape. Think about it. You walked just about everywhere. If you left the top of the hill, you climbed down (it was pretty steep) and later climbed back up. Even if you took the road (most of us didn’t) it was a long uphill walk. We did not need PE training; the terrain did it for us.
Those Turkish workers provided some interesting insights. For example, they would never sit on our toilets – We would find their footprints on each side of the seat.
One worker, who shined shoes, had flattened finger tips. When I asked what happened, he said he was sent to Sinop because it was a prison town and because he was a convicted thief. His finger tips were smashed with a hammer so he would be marked for life. If he were caught stealing again, he would loose his hands. Ouch!
MUSIC: We were always about ten months behind when it came to popular music. While I was there, the Purple People Eater song came out and I never heard it. By the time I got back to the States, its phenomenal popularity had waned and nobody was playing it. Instead of hearing the song, I heard about it.
I do remember one really popular number though. It was called "Tin, Tin, Tinny Minnie Hannan." It was a very popular throughout the middle east. Unusual rhythm, 16 note music scale, lots of sharps and flats, scratchy voices, very catchy. I couldn’t understand a note of it and I’m not sure about the spelling of the title. All I know is that Tinny Minnie Hannan was a dancing girl who was built like a snake. (I asked a local and that is what he told me.)
Then there was the EM CLUB. (enlisted men’s club) Most of the time we did not go to town or swimming (weekend activities). But we would go the EM CLUB after supper and have a couple brews. Some of the guys there had their own private stock but I wasn’t into that. On payday, and for a couple days after, there was some serious gambling at the EM CLUB. Every month, I would spend my allotted $20 designated for gambling and then go back to just drinking 20 cent brews.
One payday, a Friday, after I had exhausted my $20 gaming fund, I was just sitting at the bar drinking, when a sergeant came up to me and said, " I’m an N.C.O. and I don’t belong here in the enlisted men’s club. So would you do me a favor? "
I asked him, "What?" and he explained, "Take this $50 and gamble it for me on the craps tables. If you loose, it’s okey. If you win, you keep half and I get half."
So I took the money. I had nothing to loose. But you know, I didn’t loose. The $50 soon became $200 and by the end of the night, I was $150 richer and so was the sergeant. On Saturday, I took my winnings back to the tables and won about $3000 before they shut down the tables. I was "unconscious" as they said. No one dared to challenge me on the craps tables. On Sunday, I sent part of my money home, and spent some at the PX for a camera. With the remainder, about $1,500, I went back to the club but there was no one there to shoot craps with me. However, there was a Blackjack game going on and I got into it. Before long, I won the deal and proceeded to loose big time. I one especially bad hand, I lost over a thousand bucks. I excused myself to go to dinner over at the mess hall but my opponents wouldn't hear of it. "You got my money last night," one guy said, "now I have a chance to get it back. You stay!" Well, I lost my last $300 in time to get to dinner and that was the end of my extremely lucky (and never again to be repeated) weekend.
The EM CLUB was quite the spot. Once I took a challenge to drink a shot of beer per minute for an hour. I won the bet but lost my cookies.
Another time, this guy, Theriot from New Orleans, said we could get a lot of attention by simply breaking two beer bottles. We had to time it just right. I said, "What do you mean?" and he said, "Just grab the bottle by the neck and break it and I’ll show you."
So I did it. I broke my bottle and the place quieted down a little and then resumed with the usual talking until Theriot broke his bottle. Then you could have heard a pin drop. We stood there, looking at each other, each holding a broken bottle. It was very tense and dramatic for a minute until the bartender came over. Theriot and I started laughing. We got tossed out for the night.
I wasn’t such a great photographer. I failed to take shots of everyday things that one wants to remember later on, when they are no longer available. These Sinop web sights are doing a great job of filling in where I missed. I hope to see even more pictures show up. Meanwhile, I do have a few of my own to add to the Sinop Chronicles – a lot of faces from 58 & 59. Most have last names. If you see anyone there you recognize, or yourself, e-mail me.
I was disappointed in being ordered to Turkey. When I enlisted, the recruiter promised me Germany. This disappointment turned to genuine anger when I looked around and found myself on a mud hill, located in an obscure corner of the world, and where women are hidden from view. As time went along, the anger subsided and depression set in. – and then suddenly, it was all over. I was on my way home. The time I spent there was unhappy, but in retrospect, I must admit that it was a worthwhile experience that I would not trade away even if I could.
During the last several weeks before I left Sinop, I noticed a change of character in some of the newer people. They seemed very concerned about their personal IQs. They discussed "intellectual things" and then had the nerve to condemn certain other guys in their group as being "pseudo-intellectual." Recently, I saw the Winchester character on the MASH TV reruns and figured that he would have fit in perfectly with that new group.
Of course, this is all my perspective. I am sure that Camp Diogenes, being a living, growing entity continued to change; those changes being evident every few months. The newest pictures show that it has grown up into a military base of significance.
Five weeks before I was to rotate out of Sinop, the mess hall had a slight crises. One of the cooks went back stateside and they asked for anyone to volunteer to fill in. Having had some experience working in a bakery shop, I responded. (A change of pace was a welcome event for me.) I got the knack of it pretty quickly. Before long I was cooking breakfast eggs to order, in 500 different styles. Although the other cooks had most of the know-how, I did add one thing to the kitchen. Donuts. I remembered the recipe from pre-army days and began making donuts. Now there was a place for a fresh donut and coffee break for anyone interested. I don't know if that practice continued after I left, but I'd like to think that it did. Oh, I just remembered. When the new cook came in, his name was Kukla and he was from Wisconsin. [I think.]
Of course, we can’t go back and relive our times there. But we can, thanks to Internet technology, revisit that time of our lives. Sinop, TUSLOG Det 4 is here, frozen in time, waiting for us. It is as real and active and alive as we are willing to make it. For me, it is like visiting a museum We are the curators, the visitors and the displays. And when we are finished with our visit, we leave the museum a better place for future visitors and (at least in my case) leave the doors open into our own real world.
I can’t help but to believe that, although the ASA no longer officially exists, that we who are the living remnants of that organization, could not somehow do something to help the American effort to remove terrorism from the planet. I truely believe that even though we are retired and rusty, we could not revive ourselves enough to accumulate our collective knowledge and apply it against terrorism that may be in the plans against the United States. And I can’t help but believe that this Internet will be the means by which we could communicate and join our forces. I also cannot help but to believe that anyone who was in the ASA in the past would be anything less than a solid, loyal, patriotic American now.
I also believe that anyone who has spent tine in the middle east would have a slightly better understanding of the current problem than others.
Well, that’s enough musing for now. Take a look at my pictures and if you have any comments for me, drop an e-mail to <vallier15@hotmail.com> .
Allaha ishmarladik, Everybody
Tom
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Ashak Sinop bull Farm #1 Farm #2 Farm #3 Farm #4 Farm #5 Farm #7 Farm #8 Farm #9 Farm #10 Farm #11 Farm #12 Farm #13 Farm #14
Copyright © Thomas McKenzie, 2001. All Rights Reserved.
