The Red Republic, the Guardians of Atatürk

[Jay]

Down below, in the recessed courtyard, two unmarked Mercedes sedans idled under the muted hum of sodium lights. The drivers, both warrant officers, did not meet each other’s gaze. Brigadier Levent Bozkurt stepped from the rear seat of the second vehicle, his boots crunching softly on the gravel. His overcoat, an austere black wool with a muted general’s insignia pinned at the collar, swept behind him as he ascended the shallow marble steps. No salutes exchanged. No staff to greet him. The building had been placed, officially, on “command staff rotation,” a thin euphemism masking the purge underway across the officer corps.

The corridors of the Defense Security Command building were dimly lit, stripped of their usual bustle. Only a skeleton staff remained, the others had been dispatched under the pretext of a weekend readiness exercise. Outside, the November air hung cold and still over Ankara, the low hum of armored vehicles occasionally breaking the silence as units discreetly repositioned across the capital.

Inside the conference chamber on the third floor, General Arda Yılmaz sat alone, sifting through a dossier thick with personnel assessments. His expression was sharp, but unhurried looking at the lists of dismissals and detentions. Across from him, Major General Erdem Alpaslan, commander of the 1st Army’s Western Zone, nursed a glass of çay, his fingertips resting lightly on the rim as if steadying himself against the unspoken.

Bozkurt entered without ceremony. He removed his coat and placed his sidearm on the lacquered walnut table. Neither of the other men reacted. They had all taken similar precautions.

Bozkurt broke the silence first. "General Yılmaz, General Alpaslan," he said, voice low, "thank you for coming. I assume you've seen the latest orders."

General Arda Yılmaz, Commander of the Northern Regional Forces, gave a curt nod. His uniform bore no insignia save the crescent-star badge over his heart, a quiet protest against the new loyalty oaths being circulated by the Ministry. "The Revolutionary Guard has begun assuming control of two corps-level units near İzmit," Yılmaz said, his voice clipped. "Three more brigades in the east have been disarmed and 'restructured' under their supervision."

General Veysel Kurt, commander of an Armored Division outside Istanbul, leaned back slightly, fingers drumming once on the chair’s arm. "It is no longer a purge," Kurt said. "It is a reformation."

A thin, brittle silence followed. Outside, a Kirpi's engine revved, distant but distinct. Bozkurt adjusted his seating. "Our intelligence suggests the National Security Council will issue a decree within four months, formally transferring military policing powers to the People's Revolutionary Guard Corps. The General Staff is being hollowed from the inside."

Yılmaz’s expression hardened, the tendons along his jaw tightening. "We have lost our momentum," Bozkurt said. "The regime is now stripping the Armed Forces of its autonomy, neutering the senior officer corps, and reshaping the Republic's institutions in their image. If we wait, they will succeed."

Kurt’s eyes narrowed. "And if we move prematurely, we risk a civil fracture," he said. "The 1st Army in Istanbul remains...uncertain. So does the Air Force. Naval Command may lean neutral, but the Coastal Security Units have already received new directives from the Interior Ministry."

Bozkurt leaned forward, his hands folded. “Which is precisely why we are here. The Komünist are no longer content with purging their political opponents. They have widened the aperture. Anyone senior, anyone critical to operational command and control, Army, Navy, even portions of the Jandarma, is now under suspicion. You saw the decree last night?”

Kurt nodded once. “Extension of Revolutionary Oversight to theater commands. Yes.”

Yılmaz’s gaze hardened. “They intend to gut the high command and reconstitute under political loyalists. The president wants a guard force, not a general staff.”

Bozkurt closed the dossier. “I take it, then, that you have spoken to the General Staff Chief?”

Yılmaz exhaled evenly. “He is sympathetic. But not committed. His leverage vanished when Arslan arrested eight of his deputies and dismissed his staff officers. He will not move unless presented with a fait accompli.”

Bozkurt interjected, voice now weighted with tempered conviction. “Halit… do not mistake me. I have no appetite for juntas or martial proclamations. But there are times when the Army must safeguard the state when civil institutions collapse under ideological capture. I will not see the republic inherited by paramilitaries who wear red bands and call it constitutionalism.”

Kurt leaned forward, elbows resting on the polished wood. "We have a window," he said. "It is narrow. We have loyal elements within the 2nd Army, portions of the Gendarmerie, and key airbases around Konya and Malatya. If we coordinate correctly, we can seize the communication hubs, isolate the People's Guard leadership, and stabilize the political center before a counter-response is organized."

Yılmaz nodded once. "Order, not chaos," he said, echoing a principle that previous military officials have expressed when looking at the state of their republic. Finally, Yılmaz rose to his feet. "We must wait for the people to take to the streets. We need the people to call for us so we can arrive as their saviors and live up to the name Guardians of Atatürk. They must call so we can answer.”

Bozkurt closed the folder in front of him, the soft click of paper against wood sounding louder than it should have. "And if the people don’t rise up?" He asked.

Yılmaz’s gaze was flint. “Then we don’t move. Without the will of the people, we don’t have a revolution, we have a mutiny. And mutinies fail. What all successful coups have in common are five key elements: control of the media, control of the economy, and the capture of administrative targets. To achieve that, you need the fourth element, the loyalty of the military. Now, if this were some third-rate country, this can be accomplished with a handful of battalions. But here we would need to secure Parliament, the bureaucracy, the Ministry of Defense, and the Cabinet Office. The Prime Minister and President would be arrested, of course, along with other politicians who remained loyal. We’d have to shut down the airports, air traffic control, and train stations. Curfews would be put in place. Martial law declared.

And I haven’t even mentioned the police. It would take tens of thousands of unquestionably loyal servicemen. Which brings me to the fifth element: legitimacy. Our governments have drawm their strength from long-established institutions, and a commitment to Kemalism. In democracies that legitimacy comes from the courts, the body of common law, the Constitution. For any action against the state to succeed, you’d have to overthrow these as well. The communists have made it easier for us by undermining and tainting those core elements of legitimacy. There is no respect for courts, the laws, or the constitution. Only for mob violence and rule. Patience is our ally.” He took a step forward. “We must exploit our advantage, the power of time.”

Kurt looked at him. “And when we lose that advantage…when the masses rally to the regime and see it as their saviour, not us…what will your pacifism say then?”

Yılmaz’s gaze lowered to Kurt. “Who said anything about pacifism?”

 

[Jay]

A teapot steamed faintly beside a stack of folders that were laid out unorganized on the table. Outside, the fall winds shook the pines of Çankaya Hill in serene thuds. But inside, the air was rather tense.

The officers had gathered again, this time in the private salon of General Arda Yılmaz. Arda put on is uniform, remembering his graduating class, a relic of an earlier generation of officers who still held the silent belief that uniforms were a sacred thing, never to be stained by ambition or frenzy. The dark-paneled room smelled faintly of tobacco and argan oil, as bookshelves sagged under the weight of old doctrine and bound copies of Harp Akademileri Dergisi and other military books.

“Let us speak plainly,” Yılmaz said, his voice soft. “How many men do we actually have between us?”

There was a pause as each officer thought for a second.

Major General Alpaslan was the first to respond. “Under my command are the 3rd Armored Division near Çerkezköy and the 54th Mechanized Infantry in Edirne. Both are ready to move. We can be in Istanbul within forty-eight hours — sooner, if the gendarmerie stands down. But I won’t lie, it isn’t airtight.

The First Army’s capital defense elements, those closest to the capital, remain under Major General Kılıç, who will stick with the ‘constitutional order’ to his own detriment. Will he stop us? Possibly. Will he help? Doubtful. His 23rd Mechanized and Korkut’s 2nd Armored are on twenty-four-hour standby. And their forward units? Two hours.

As for General Sivri, he dislikes the communists in Ankara, but I don’t think he is onboard because he thinks this is a plot being hatched by junior general staff officers. General Yılmaz, if he hears it from you, perhaps then he’ll see some merit in this.”

Arda nodded. “As for Sivri… yes, he’s a proud man. However, he is probably hedging his bets on whether we can actually materialize something. I’ve spoken with the General Staff of the Land Forces and they are onboard but won’t act first. Likely hoping to avoid being executed if this gets botched. I will speak with Sivri, if he can convince Kılıç and Korkut to stand down, or even better, join us, that will be immensely helpful.” Arda then looked at the rest of the group.

“Thirty-six hours, in practice,” murmured Kurt. “If you push. I can have early elements take control of Izmir and Isparta within five hours, but they won’t be able to hold onto those cities if the civilians rise up.”

Alpaslan nodded, but did not bristle. “Assuming no sabotage or rail interference.”

“And your side?” Yılmaz turned to Bozkurt, who leaned back in the leather armchair, arms folded, eyes on the fire.

“The 6th Corps,” Kurt said, referring to the divisions stationed near the Syrian border. “In theory, I could call on over thirty thousand men. But theory is a dangerous thing. The men are capable, yes. But their officers? Uneven. Some are loyal to the Constitution. Others are loyal to their careers. I can count on the 82nd Air Assault and 23rd "Halime Sultana" Mechanized Brigade Combat Team to take Ankara and Gaziantep within twenty-four hours. Like Kurt, the early elements would be able to take the cities within five hours, but especially with Ankara, where the Revolutionary Guard controls, they won’t be able to hold the city.”

Eken entered quietly with a folder and handed it to Yılmaz, before adding, “In the south-east, morale is contingent on clarity. If they sense ambiguity, they will wait. And waiting, in this climate, is fatal.”

Yılmaz flipped the folder open, skimming reports. He looked up with a face carved of reserve.

“Let us not delude ourselves with the grandeur of formations and insignias. What matters is readiness and will. The latter is in short supply.”

There was a pause.

Bozkurt’s voice came low. “You know what we’ve become, don’t you? A military with no one to rescue, only memories to avenge.”

Yılmaz said nothing, but the words hung between them.

It was Alpaslan who gently changed course. “We haven’t spoken of the civilians.”

Kurt scoffed faintly. “The Turkish people are asleep, it seems. Only pockets of protests exist, even in Istanbul, at most there are under tens of thousands. What we need is a galvanizing event.”

“No,” Yılmaz said sharply. “That’s the language of tyranny. We are not tyrants. Nor are we saviors.”

He stood and crossed to the window, gazing out at his garden.

“The truth is… civil society is threadbare. Not absent, but skeletal. The unions are infiltrated. The universities are neutered. The press… a whisper of its former self. We are asking a shattered public to rise for an ideal that’s been buried in fear.”

Bozkurt leaned against the wall. “It’s not that they lack conviction. It’s that they lack space. There is no air left in the room for dissent. Surveillance, prosecutions, informants, it crushes the soil under which resistance grows.”

Kurt, ever the realist, shifted in his chair. “So we act alone?”

“No,” Bozkurt said. “The General Staff’s Intelligence Directorate has been in contact with several civil society members and politicians. Nothing overt. But the lines are open. An update is coming within the week.”

“That’s not enough,” Kurt muttered.

“It never is,” Yılmaz said, without looking back.

They fell into a rare silence. Finally, Alpaslan cleared his throat and placed a briefing document on the table.

“The President departs for Madrid next Thursday. Bilateral economic talks, something about Spanish investment. She’ll be gone for three days.”

Yılmaz turned slowly. “Three days. Long enough to act?”

“Some believe so,” Bozkurt replied. “It would minimize political interference. The Prime Minister is a loose cannon. She’ll make the situation worse which we are counting on.’

“But it would be rushed,” Kurt said flatly. “Imprecise. And worse, vulnerable to misinterpretation. We would look like opportunists.”

Alpaslan nodded. “Too soon, and we lose the moral frame. Too late... and the window closes forever.”

Yılmaz lowered himself back into his chair with a weary grace.

“It is not a question of capacity,” he said at last. “It is a question of dignity. If we strike before the Republic understands why we must, then we will be remembered not as stewards, but as traitors.”

“And yet,” Bozkurt said gently, “if we wait for permission, we will die waiting.”

Another silence.

Then Yılmaz, in a tone of resignation more than certainty, said: “Let’s wait. Yildrim is messing things up to our favor. If we act prematurely, we could be exposed. I’d like to speak with General Sivas before we act, at least. Before we can even consider moving, we’ll need to speak with the Air Force so we can lock down the airspace. Kurt, your wife’s brother, Commander Halil Sözer, do you think you can reach out to him?”

Kurt nodded.

“Then let’s get to work gentleman.”

 

[Bossza007]

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Republic Thai Embassy in Ankara​

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The Republic Thai Embassy in Ankara has learnt of a concerning development regarding Türkiye’s post-revolutionary trajectory following the official visit of Foreign Minister Surakiart Sathirathai. During his private dialogue with Turkish Prime Minister Eda Yildiz, the country’s Head of Government informed that an ongoing threat of a potential military coup d'état exists. We are deeply concerned about such a possibility and condemn in the strongest terms any attempt toward illegitimate seizure of state power not originating from the working class. While the Socialist Republic of Thailand does not privately hold any knowledge to verify such a claim, it is a plausible predicament in any post-revolutionary society.

The Red Service has long been a military partner to the Turkish armed forces, and Thailand recognizes the need to establish a new, worker-centric security apparatus loyal to the revolution and the proletariat. We are committed to protecting the achievements of the Turkish breakup with the bourgeois nation-state and remind relevant parties that it is not afraid to utilize an extensive military presence in Türkiye to support the revolution. An attack on the revolutionary transitional Turkish state will be considered a legitimate and direct act of war and counter-revolution against the Socialist Republic of Thailand. It is our firm commitment that the Turkish workers are exercising their rights to self-determination. Long live the people’s revolution in Türkiye.​

Ms. Supitcha Chaiyasak
Thai Ambassador to Türkiye​

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Official Statement of the Republic Thai Embassy in Ankara​

Jay

 

[Jay]

The conference room in the Presidential Complex was laced with polished stone floors and a long obsidian table. The Late afternoon light slanted across the room as General Levent Ergün, Commander of the 2nd Army, entered briskly. President Arslan and three of her closest advisors were already seated as the General and his two aides entered.

Ergün closed the distance to the table with measured steps as his uniform and medals gleamed in the reflection of the light. He laid a dossier before the President.

General Ergün looked at the President reading the report. Waiting patiently at attention until she looked up to him, “Madam President, twelve Turkish nationals have been slain inside Syrian territory, victims of a coordinated YPG attack. Our border units heard the shooting, and a drone was dispatched to monitor the situation. A few survivors made it to the safety of the border and were treated for bullet wounds and dehydration. We can confirm the bodies are there, some two kilometers from the border town of Çölova.

President Arslan’s gaze remained cool. One advisor, Minister of Interior Rojhat Baran, a former PKK fighter, leaned forward, speaking calmly. “General, with respect, our intelligence indicates these supposed 'Turkish nationals' were in fact ultra-nationalist Grey Wolves infiltrators who crossed into Kurdish‐controlled zones and initiated hostilities. Local councils confirm it was just Kurds defending their villages.

Ergün’s fists clenched as he turned to the Kurdish man. “You mean to tell me our own citizens were massacred by these terrorists, yet you excuse it as self-defense against vigilantes? The Grey Wolves don’t operate in Syria to pick wildflowers.

Another advisor, Zirav Dengîn, spoke up. “We must be certain, General. The fog of war in Idlib is dense. Syrian rebel factions, pro-Assad militias, Kurdish units… even the IRGL have been spotted before in the region. Before we commit our air force or cross the frontier with armored brigades, we ask Damascus through diplomatic channels for confirmation.

Ergün’s eyes nearly rolled at the mention of negotiating with Damascus. He turned to the President. “Confirmation? By the time we wait for the IRGL couriers, your “confirmation” will be useless. The YPG have carved out an armed statelet on our border, training, arming, and sending terrorists back across. If we sit on our hands, next time it will be dozens slain, not a dozen. I am asking for authorization for targeted air strikes on their mortar pits and orders to clear their forward positions.”

President Arslan lifted a hand and spoke calmly. “General, we have at least two conflicting reports. Our own border posts intercepted radio traffic suggesting a firefight between local Arab rebels and Kurdish units. And our liaison in Qamishli insists those “victims” were provocateurs, affiliated with ultra-nationalist Grey Wolves, who crossed the border to attack Kurdish civilians.

Ergün stood in disbelief as Arslan called the YPG terrorists liaison officers. “With all due respect, Madam, those 'liaisons' are unreliable, and frankly, I find it impossible that our nationals would cross over the border and pick a fight with the YPG. Perhaps if their nation's military actually protected them, then people wouldn’t need to defend themselves from terrorist thieves. It is murder. Plain and simple.

Minister Baran leaned forward, fingers steepled. “And yet every local activist we’ve spoken to in Kobane insists it was a Kurdish village under fire from outsiders. We must consider that narrative before we unleash our air force.”

Ergün’s face burned up as Dengîn tapped a pen against the table.

“Madam, perhaps should at least dispatch a team to investigate the site, asking local Kurdish officials to assist us in finding out what happened. If they confirm YPG fighters killed unarmed Turks, I am sure the elders will see reason and assist us in apprehending those responsible. However, immediate kinetic action without that, however self-justified, will play badly on the global stage and fuel PKK propaganda.

Ergün shook his head, frustration barely contained.

President Arslan sensed the tension in the room. “General, I appreciate the urgency. But the People’s Republic demands that we exhaust all non-kinetic channels first. I will instruct our representatives in Damascus to deliver a formal protest today. We will ask for a joint inquiry, supported by the UN observer mission. If Damascus refuses or delays beyond forty-eight hours, we can reconvene.”

Ergün shook his head again. “You think The Hague or Washington cares when Turkish children are slaughtered? The YPG was warned not to push across the border. They did it anyway. We gave them every opportunity to stand down. We need to act now, before it becomes war on their terms by default.”

“General, your duty is to protect the nation, yes, but also to uphold its laws. We cannot act on unverified reports.” Aysa said rather concerned with what Ergün was insinuating. “I will dispatch an inquiry team, including military observers, to the crossing. We will formally request clarification from the Syrian government. If evidence is conclusive, then we will consider reaching out to local elders to take action against the YPG.”

Ergün’s uniformed shoulders stiffened. “Madam, with respect, that inquiry will be a charade. The Syrian regime, which is a handful of militias anyway, is negotiating with the YPG; they have no incentive to pursue the truth. Meanwhile, our men stand at readiness, our artillery positioned, our pilots scrambled. Every hour we delay, we embolden the terrorists.

Minister Baran exchanged a look with Dengîn. “President, General Ergün’s concerns should be noted, but we cannot prosecute a war based on hearsay. We must maintain our revolutionary principle, solidarity with all oppressed peoples, including the Kurds. The YPG is not our enemy, they are fellow revolutionaries against imperialism and Syrian oppression.

Ergün raised his voice, which screamed out into the hallway, causing those nearby to stop what they were doing to listen. “Revolution? The only revolution I see is one that kills Turks with impunity. Are my soldiers to be yesterday’s martyrs for today’s ideology?”

President Arslan raised her hand. “The Republic… the lives of all citizens… these are my highest priorities. I will not allow premature escalation to ignite a broader conflict that we cannot afford, economically or diplomatically. We don’t fight wars like this anymor…” Ergün motioned to his aides to get the car ready.

“Then I pray you remember this moment when the bodies of your countrymen are carted home. Your hesitation today will cost us tomorrow.” He turned away when Baran retorted. “Several of your colleagues have been detained on counter-revolutionary charges. General you are standing close to joining them. Ergün turned back to Baran, his eyes straightened, fury and fear warring in his eyes.

Ergün replied his face stone cold. “The last time a civilian government threatened the army, it was the army that prevailed, and it was them who were found themselves dangling from lamp-posts. I see no merit in repeating history here today.”

Without waiting for reply, he swept out of the room. His boots clicked sharply against the marble as President Arslan sank back into her chair, troubled. Her advisors exchanged uneasy glances as the light dimmed, leaving the chamber in shadow and uncertainty.

 

[Jay]

The windows had long since blackened, Ankara’s brittle nightfall pressing against the reinforced glass. In the conference chamber, the low amber glow of desk lamps cast sharp shadows across the dark oak table. Folders lay open, maps of Şırnak, Hakkâri, and Mardin.

General Veysel Kurt stood by the window, one hand tucked beneath the opposite elbow, the knuckles of his free hand absently rapping against the glass.

Bozkurt adjusted the papers in front of him. "AİAB confirms the intercepts?" he asked quietly.

General Arda Yılmaz inclined his head once. His tone bore no flourish. "SIGINT and HUMINT both corroborate. YPG units from al-Hasakah have begun repositioning elements into the Qamishli corridor. Coordination with the Hawks in Mardin is ongoing. Our assessment is a cross-border raid within ten days, targeting the mechanized battalion outside Silopi."

Alpaslan exhaled sharply through his nose, setting his cup down with deliberate precision. "And yet the People's Revolutionary Guard has moved two paramilitary brigades into Şırnak under the pretext of internal security." His lips tightened, disdain evident. "Our regular forces have been relegated to observation posts."

Bozkurt’s jaw set. "The General Staff authorized this?"

Yılmaz's reply was flat. "On paper, yes. In practice, under duress. The Revolutionary Guard cited intelligence of ‘domestic separatist agitation’ and invoked emergency powers under the National Stability Directive."

Kurt turned from the window. "They are baiting us. They seek to show the public that the People's Guard, not the Army, secures the homeland."

Bozkurt folded his hands, the fingers interlacing slowly. His tone was dense. "Gentlemen, we face a decision more acute than before. If the YPG attack proceeds, and the People's Guard takes casualties, it will galvanize public sentiment behind their expansion. They will be martyrs. The Ministry will use the incident to justify full transfer of counterinsurgency authority, effectively sidelining our forces in the Southeast."

Alpaslan’s brow furrowed, his voice low. "And if we intervene, deploy assets preemptively, we risk open breach of command authority. It would be painted as insubordination… or worse."

Silence lingered heavily, interrupted only by the faint tick of the wall clock. Finally, Kurt spoke.

"Or we do neither." His gaze hardened. "We allow the attack to unfold. We withdraw intelligence support discreetly. Let the People’s Guard suffer its reverses. Public confidence in them will collapse."

Bozkurt met Kurt’s gaze. "We would be gambling with blood."

"And with history," Kurt said. "The Guard is a political force, not a military one. We’ve seen what happens when politics wears a uniform."

Yılmaz’s shoulders stiffened. "You are suggesting we permit that this sacred Turkish soil be breached and the sacred blood of our Turkish brothers and sisters to be spilled?"

Kurt did not flinch. "I am suggesting that, strategically, a controlled failure may preserve the Republic more surely than a thousand protests by the General Staff."

Bozkurt spoke, voice even. "Fear will reorder loyalties more decisively than rhetoric."

Alpaslan’s eyes locked on him. "But the precedent we set, of calculated inaction in the face of known threats, I fear, will set a dangerous precedent even for our institution. The AİAB’s projection includes civilian fatalities. If the People's Guard collapses under fire, we may see chaos, reprisals, panic, and crossfire in population centers."

Kurt nodded grimly. "I am aware. That is not abstract to me. But neither is the alternative. If we intervene now, we violate the chain of command, and we’ve all heard the whispers that happened with the 2nd Army's Leadership."

Yılmaz’s face darkened. "General Ergün?"

Kurt’s voice dropped, grave. "He authorized a limited strike inside Syria last week after a YPG border attack killed several Turkish civilians. No official record. They are saying he has been relieved of his command and that he is in a communist facility outside Kayseri…undergoing 'debriefing.'"

A silence settled, heavier than before.

Bozkurt finally spoke. "Our hands are tied, gentlemen. We do not control the narrative anymore. But we may yet control its conclusion."

Alpaslan exhaled through his teeth, jaw clenched. "So we monitor. We contain. We let them take the blow, and step in only when collapse is undeniable."

Yılmaz sat straighter, fingers tapping once against the table before going still. His tone was controlled, but cold. "The communists believe they can censor information to serve their narrative. I say we need to expose it...I will make a few phone calls."

Kurt inclined his head, "I pray that the people wake up and see what is going on around them." He said with a sigh of defeat, feeling that their cause was becoming more and more desperate by the day.