Hadji 1974

Hadji 1974

Chapter 12

Nearly everyone in the jail gathered in the courtyard for the volleyball match after lunch. The lines previously just drawn in the dirt were now amplified with white lime. A small step ladder was in place next to the net, and a referee stood atop it. A couple of line judges, recruited from other teams, were in place to make out of bounds calls on the side and back lines. It was decided that the match would be decided in a best of five format, instead of a single game, and a coin flip was used to see which side of the net each team would begin from. The teams would switch sides after one reached thirteen points, so that each would be subject to the same sun and wind conditions. In addition to the normal guards patrolling the catwalks, the warden and several of his aides were watching from his balcony. The referee climbed onto his perch, motioned the ready sign to each team, and brought his arm forward while blowing his whistle, to start the match. After a short volley to win serve, Joe racked off ten straight points with a variety of spinning serves, strategically placed near the out-of-bounds lines. It was the beginning of a volleyball clinic that we put on for them, including crisp passes to set up our big men for thunderous dunks and well-placed dinks. When it was my turn to serve, I sent the ball a mile in the air and watched as the Turks fought with each other for the return. On the front line, I would time my leap to intercept the ball as it crossed the net and slam it to the ground on the other side for a quick turnover. With the games well in hand, we allowed the Turks to get into double digits in all three games. We practiced plays and went for the spectacular slam or diving save to the roars of the crowd. The referee was experienced and very animated with his calls and play by play descriptions. With five points remaining in the third game, Joe unleashed his jump serve and ended the match without another return serve. We crossed the net and hugged and shook hands with our opponents, thanking them for a good game. As we headed back to retrieve our towels and other belongings, you could see money and goods exchange hands in traditional Turkish custom, for the end of a sporting event. The volleyball games became a fixture of the morning routine at the jail. Being gracious winners, we allowed the Turks to pick and choose from other teams to form super teams to “Beat the Americans”.

A few days later we received the radio the warden had promised. We searched the air waves in vain, looking for an English-speaking station. Emir saw our dilemma and came over to help. “Can I try?”, he asked.

“Sure!”, Mac exclaimed as he handed him the radio.

With a few twists of the dial Emir tuned in a Radio Free Europe station broadcasting from Germany that included English programming.

“They usually have a three-hour program in the morning that is repeated in the evening. It includes news from around the world and plays music from Western countries.”, he explained.

The station was currently broadcasting in German, so we took turns looking for other stations and listening to local stations for news. A few days later we stumbled onto a news station that was carrying a story about foreigners facing drug charges in Turkey, and the news was disheartening. In a recent case a 14-year-old boy from England was sentenced to 15 years in prison for less than an ounce of cannabis, and even though three Americans had their death sentences thrown out, they were still given life in prison. The message Turkey was sending to the world, and the United States was that they were going to be very hard on drug traffickers and users. The radio did allow us to enjoy glimpses of life back in America, and even European programming.

Joe and I spent a lot of time timing the changing of the guards, and their breaks. The overnight shift was the hardest to track, but we managed to get a good grasp of their schedule by questioning other inmates without arousing too much suspicion. The overnight shift had half the number of guards as the day and evening shifts, and it was apparent that the worst guards were put on graveyards as punishment for their inefficiency more than anything else. We concluded that it was too noticeable to attempt anything after midnight and concentrated on weak areas and opportunities during the day or evening shifts. We were going to need to need a diversion, and Joe came up with a good idea. We could arrange for a fight to break out in the courtyard and try to escape in the confusion. There had been very little violence since our arrival at Erdemli, mostly arguments that were settled quickly and a few wrestling matches. We knew that tensions were high between Greek Cypriots and Turkish Cypriots, and their friends. All we needed to do was instigate a physical confrontation and make sure that it escalated into something that required the guards’ full attention. This was going to require the assistance of our roommates, especially Emir and Effendi. I volunteered to talk with them, while Joe and Daniel agreed to let the rest of the Americans in on our plans.

Warden Polat and his entourage had enjoyed the afternoon volleyball games from the comfort of his veranda and were impressed with the job the prisoners had done with the court and how the matches were played. The addition of the volleyball court proved to be an excellent morale booster and the timing could not have been better as the newly appointed government official assigned to the jail had enjoyed the matches and had made very good comments on the condition of the jail and the efficiency of the staff. The warden was confident his reports to the Foreign Office would be favorable. He closed his office and left early but did not go home. He had scheduled an afternoon meeting with his mistress, and he was eager to see her expression after presenting her with his latest gift. He would have at least two hours to enjoy her company before heading home and he increased his speed to add more time for the rendezvous. Things were proceeding nicely on all fronts, and he thanked Allah for blessing him with the opportunity to show his abilities to his superiors. With a smile on his face, he arrived at his destination and use his key to open the door to his little piece of paradise.

We had two weeks before our next court date and as we sat in the courtyard one afternoon, the discussion came up about what might happen on that date. We all believed that the US government would find a way to have us released on bail but there had not been any notification from our legal team that the possibility existed. We had agreed to tell the rest of the team about our escape plans and though they were understanding, they also feared that an escape or even an attempt to his escape would influence their court cases. I had spoken with Emir and Effendi about the process of going to prison from jail, and they assured me it was a lengthy process and that there would be plenty of time to try an escape before our transfers came through. Suddenly a commotion started on the far side of the courtyard that attracted the attention of the prisoners and guards.

Two inmates were arguing and as we ran towards them, the two began trading blows. The crowd in front of us made it impossible to get too close but I could see that one of the fighters was the Greek-Cypriot volleyball player. He had an advantage over his opponent and was getting the best of him. We surged closer to the action just as the Turkish-Cypriot reached into an inside pocket on his blouse and attacked the other man with a vengeance, with whatever he had concealed in his hand. Everywhere he struck, left a deep gash and trail of blood. The volleyball player attempted to ward off the blows with raised fists, but an unblocked strike hit him near the right eye, temporarily blinded him. He dove towards the other’s legs, tripping him up and driving him backwards. The man hit his head on the hard-packed dirt, the impact causing him to lose his weapon. Simultaneously, the prison siren began to blare, a squad of armed guards entered the compound, and a warning shot was fired from one of the towers. Prisoners ran inside the building or dove to the ground, depending on the directives given them, as the guard detail made their way to the combatants. The guards surrounded the men and clubbed them into submission before dragging them out of the courtyard and into the building. The whole episode lasted fifteen minutes and everything returned to normalcy. It was as if the Warden knew of our plans and had staged this little demonstration as a warning to us.

That evening we met in the room, with Effendi’s permission and Emir stationed outside the door.

“Does anyone think what happened today was a coincidence?”, Joe started. “We have a leak somewhere that goes directly to the Warden, and we need to find it fast”

“I agree”, Mac said. “The best way to find the leak is to feed it false information. We need to identify possible suspects and test our theory on them one at a time.”

“We can also plant red herrings or misinformation on possible escape plans that will keep them looking for solutions.”, Joe added. “In the meanwhile, we will continue to devise real plans that we will discuss with no one outside of this room.”

The meeting ended and we returned to our normal activities, but alert to any signs of surveillance or added attention. I went to sleep wondering if anyone in the room was the informant and that included my fellow airmen. I had no reason to distrust any of them, but I was not ready to put my life squarely in any of their hands either.

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Warden Polat sat in front of his staff and glared at them as they prepared for the meeting. The staged fight had been a disaster. The injuries to the Greek-Cypriot were so extensive that he had to be transported to the local hospital by ambulance. The presence of the ambulance and the siren and warning shot did not go unnoticed and there would be difficult questions to answer in the morning. He went around the table searching for answers that he knew they were unable to provide. It had all begun with information the staff had received that suggested that one or more of the Americans was planning an escape and that the plan included a staged fight in the courtyard. The informant Mustafa

was recruited to pick a fight with one of the Greek-Cypriots and he had chosen to use the opportunity to renew a long-standing conflict. Somehow, he had managed to introduce an unknown weapon into the fracas, which had allowed him to inflict many deep cuts on his opponent. Worse yet the weapon was not recovered, and Mustafa had immediately been turned over to the police. The plan was to have an armed response team ready to intervene before the fight could meet out of control, but his Chief of Staff had not informed the person in charge of the alarms nor the guards on duty in the towers. It was assumed the fight would be over before either were necessary. A knock on the door interrupted the meeting, a secretary came in and handed him a small envelope with the word “weapon”, scribbled on it. He tore open the envelope and let the contents fall on the table. It was a bloody P38 from one of the American C-ration boxes. It was going to be a long night.

The next morning the entire jail was called to the courtyard and informed that as a result of the fight, all P38’s in the compound were to be confiscated immediately and were to be removed from all the remaining C-ration kits. The Greek-Cypriot was in a hospital in Adana and Mustafa was in a cell in Adana, both were awaiting extradition to Cyprus by the end of the week. All game activities were suspended until further notice and limits would be set on the number of prisoners allowed in the courtyard at one time. We were dismissed from the courtyard and ordered to return to our sleeping areas. We remained on lock down for two days. Bread was distributed by the jail staff and prisoners were escorted by guards for morning and afternoon breaks in the courtyard. Effendi and the other jail leaders, controlled access to their assigned areas, and they were not restricted in their movements. At the end of the two days the lockdown ended, and restrictions were lifted. The only people allowed to continue using a P38 were jail personnel, the area jail leadership and the eight American airmen.

It is April 12, 1974, today we received notice that our bail request was denied with the explanation that despite many statements from others interrogated and released, the refusal of USAF sergeants to corroborate that coercion was used. Our next trial date is April 30th and so far, the weeks seem like months. I have let my hair and beard grow long and I purchased native trousers, shirts and rubber sandals (made from old tires) from the Storekeeper and that is how I dressed most days. I was immersing myself into the Turkish culture as quickly as I could. My mind now envisions a life behind bars in a country that I never even had the opportunity to explore. One of the guys received a letter from a hometown friend and the postage stamp was treated with liquid LSD. Tonight, he and I are going to cut the stamp into quarters, and each take a hit, along with two others. They have all experienced trips before and promise to take care of me. I see it as an opportunity to try something that I might not get to do and if things go bad, I might get moved to a hospital. We are gathered in the room while the others are out, we each place a corner of the stamp in our mouths and per their instructions I let the paper dissolve completely under my tongue before swallowing. I taste metal under my tongue, and it reminds me of holding nails in my mouth while pounding them into sheets of plasterboard, alongside my dad. Then the trip began.