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.

 

[Jay]

The farmhouse was quiet except for the distant hum of crickets and the low, comforting clatter of forks against porcelain. Somewhere beyond the curtained windows, the Ankara countryside rolled in mist and the occasional bleat of a sheep.

Inside, under the muted yellow glow of a hanging bulb, General Yaşar Güler and Mustafa Koç sat across from one another at a simple wooden table. Dinner was braised lamb, bulgur, roasted peppers, and smaller side dishes. Neither had said much, not until the meal was nearly finished.

Güler wiped his hands on a cloth napkin before looking up at Mustafa.

“I didn’t know Fatima was your Aunt,” he said at last, his voice gravelly. “She says you used to spend summers near Polatlı. I was raised there myself and I still take my daughters up there every summer. I suppose that makes you practically kin.”

Koç allowed a thin smile. “Yes, she spoke highly about you…She mentioned you'd appreciate the discretion.”

“I appreciate silence even more,” Güler said, looking at Mustafa before another pause as he reached for a peeled clove of garlic, placed it on his bread, and bit it.

Koç leaned in. “General… I didn’t ask for this meeting to reminisce. You know what I came to ask.”

“I do,” Güler said calmly. “It seems to be the only thing disgruntled people have to ask the army these days.”

Koç exhaled. “Then let me be plain. The regime is gliding us towards complete chaos. We have a government that is filled with ideologues, not experts. The printing presses haven’t stopped since March. Hafize’s warnings are ignored. Daron’s reports are buried. State-backed pundits are on state television, warning about market vampires and ‘bourgeois discipline.’ This isn’t policy. It’s a fever dream.”

“I know the symptoms,” Güler said quietly. “But I’m not sure your cure is medicine. It may be the disease.”

He reached for his glass of water, but didn’t drink. “You think the military is the scalpel, Mustafa. What you forget is that it is a hammer.”

“You’re remembering 1980,” Koç said. “Or maybe ’60. I understand that. But what we’re watching now is the reason you have the authority. The reserve you've shown is commendable. But it’s time. Atatürk entrusted you with the guardianship of the Republic for exactly moments like this.”

Güler’s head dropped slightly. He chewed for a moment, swallowed, then looked up. “No,” he said. “Atatürk never gave us that power.”

Koç blinked. “Come on, Yaşar Paşa, he built the republic with the army. He was the army.”

“And then he left it. On purpose.” Güler said, looking at the civil servant.

“The courts once decided they needed the power of constitutional review for democracy to work,” Güler continued. “And we, some of us, decided the same applied to the military. That we needed to watch over democracy to keep it safe. But in time, watching became intervening. Intervening became ruling. And then democracy became a ritual, not a reality.”

Koç’s voice was tight now. “So you’ll do nothing? Watch as the Beştepe becomes a second-rate Havana? Let Ayşa and her little Politburo redefine reality while the lira burns and the cities empty of hope?”

“I didn’t say I’d do nothing,” Güler replied, measured as his tongue cleaned his teeth. “But let us say that the army did move in. There would be no second chances. No walking back. Once the boots hit the street, there is no neutral ground left in the country. There is no half-loyalty. Everyone must choose.”

Koç looked down at his plate, the lamb growing cold. A slow breath escaped him. “There are rumors,” he said softly. “That your most junior officers are ready to move and all they are waiting for is a nod from you.”

Güler didn’t answer right away. He reached for a slice of cucumber and placed it neatly on his bread.

“I am asking because the advisors at the Central Bank have come to the conclusion that we can not solve this anymore,” Koç said in defeat. “What we see around us is the complete disregard for rationale and conventional wisdom, instead a preference for the ideology of revolution.”

Güler met his eyes. “I see a country spinning. I see ambition cloaked in revolution. And I see fear, building like pressure in a sealed pipe. The question is whether breaking it open saves usm or just sprays shrapnel in every direction.”

Koç nodded once, pressing his hand towards his face. “Then let me say this plainly, I’ll stand with you. In whatever way I can. I won’t run. Not to London. Not to Berlin. Not into the pages of some memoir. If the Republic is to be saved, then we save it.”

The general studied him for a moment looking at Mustafa. “Careful. You're not the first civilian to come to the military whispering salvation. Most forget the cost when the boots hit asphalt.”

Mustafa shook his head. “The asphalt is already cracking, General. It does not take a genuine to recognize the signs around us as the Republic slips into death.

Güler shook his head. “And you want me to be a gravedigger or the harbinger?” He asked directly.

Mustafa looked at the general and said boldly. “I want you to remember your oath to the Republic. Not to Ayşa, not to the Beştepe, not to whatever revolutionary committee drafted this last absurd revolutionary memo. This time is different.”

“Every plotter says that. Every colonel with a manifesto thinks he's saving the nation.” Güler said with a laugh as he leaned forward. “Tell me, Mustafa, if we move, who governs on day two? Who calms the markets? Who holds the streets when the youth rise in protest and the unions go on strike?

Mustafa nearly gave a sigh as he felt they had gone back in a circle. “I’m not asking for tanks on bridges. I’m asking if there’s still a spine left in the chain of command. Because the institutions are bleeding out, and if you wait too long, all that’s left is obedience to madness.”

Güler smiled. “Thank you for dinner, Mustafa.” He said getting up and shaking his hand. “I hope you are true to your word.” He said leaving to his private car outside. As the general left, Mustafa wondered what Güler was going to do.

 

[Jay]

The house belonged to General Halit Özer’s grandfather. Whitewashed stone walls, a red tile roof half-shielded by pine, and no more than an old village home to the prying eyes of the GMT. Miles from the coast, high in the mountains, and removed from any hint of civilization beyond a goat path and a well-worn gravel road.

The first vehicle arrived without headlights. A matte-black Mercedes G-Class rolled up the gravel incline, tires crunching faintly in the still night. It stopped just beyond the cypress trees, where its dark outline merged into the shadows. A figure stepped out, tall, square-shouldered.

Lieutenant General Cem Karaca adjusted his collar and walked the last forty meters on foot. He knocked once, hard, and then twice in rapid succession.

The door opened to a faint golden glow. General Özer stepped aside without a word, a glass of cold tea in hand.

"You're early," he muttered.

"I figured it’d be helpful if we didn’t all arrive at the same time and raise suspicions," Karaca replied, brushing pine needles off his shoes as he entered.

The interior was sparse but comfortable with wooden floors, a smoldering stove, and maps pinned across one wall, each marked in pencil and string. A paper copy of the Turkish military ORBAT lay open beside an encrypted satphone, powered off and battery removed.

Within the next hour, several more officers arrived. General Veysel Kurt, General Arda Yılmaz, General Levent Ergün, Major General Erdem Alpaslan, Major General Ertan Kılıç, Brigadier Levent Bozkurt. Each came by a separate route, in unmarked vehicles, switching plates en route.

Major General Ertan Kılıç, commander of the 82nd Air Assault Division, entered with his cap tucked in his armpit, eyes scanning the corners out of habit. He didn’t speak until the door closed behind him.

General Yılmaz poured glasses of tea for everyone as they took seats across the table. “Gentlemen,” he began, “we do not have the luxury of time in planning this. We are now beyond the point of no return. We must act or risk being caught before we can move.”

He paused, “yesterday, I spoke with the Chief of the Land Forces, and he asked me directly if we are proceeding. I told him yes. He responded with his support, conditional on our action. He also confirmed that the other Chiefs of the Defense Staff are in agreement that action must be taken. That gives us significant institutional backing. With that, we will have the credibility and command presence to bring the troops in line behind us.”

General Levent Ergün spoke next, rising slightly as the group took their seats around the map-covered table.

“I’m glad to hear the Defense Staff is aligned,” he said. “I understand we’ve all been asked here to ensure coordination across multi-theater and intra-service capabilities, and above all, present the strongest chance to overthrow this government. But beyond strategy, I also know we no longer have a choice in making this decision.”

He looked around the room, each man holding his eyes up. “The fate of the republic… of Kemalism… and of our national identity is at stake. This regime shields thieves and appeases terrorists, while Turkish men and women suffer. Just as judges correct the state through law, we must correct it through action.”

He paused, “I take no comfort in what others may call treason if we fail. But there is no higher duty to this republic. We all swore an oath when we became officers.”

Ergün’s tone hardened as he recited, from memory:

“We swear that any hand that reaches out for the secular and democratic republic’s independence, the indivisible integrity of the country, the honor and dignity of the great Turkish nation, and a single inch of soil of our beloved homeland, will find us standing before them. And our swords will always be sharp and ready.
We are the children of the Turkish future.
We were born with our honor.
We will live with our honor.
And we will die with our honor.

He looked back to the others. “We must live up to that oath today.”

The men around them nodded as Ergün took his seat and General Veysel Kurt began to explain the plan as he turned to the troop dispositions.
He turned toward the map tacked on the wall, with the country divided into sectors, units overlaid by brigade and division insignia, red arrows charting paths of advancement

General Veysel Kurt stood beside the table, his tone shifting from orders to doctrine, as if delivering a lecture at a war college rather than conspiring to reshape a nation.

"Success in a coup d'état," he began, "is not determined by firepower or sheer numbers. It is determined by control of perception, of momentum, of legitimacy. To succeed, our operation must rest on six basic pillars."

He took a breath, then continued. "First, we must prevent any counter-mobilization. The regime cannot be allowed to breathe in that sense. Capturing the key levers of government is critical. The President, Prime Minister, Parliament, and the key portfolio ministers: foreign affairs, defense, interior, and the PKK members. What we must control is the illusion of continuity and quickly decapitate the political command and suppress the military nerve centers within the first ninety minutes." He said, looking around the room.

“With the Chiefs of the Defense Staff supporting us, it’ll give us the legitimacy that will keep neutral officers from coming to the defense of the regime. Moreover, it’ll give the appearance that the military is aligned and make coordinated action difficult for the regime.”

"Second, we must subdue the population before narratives take shape. In any political rupture, there is a vacuum. Whoever fills that vacuum first controls the future. Martial law, curfews, and a strong visible presence in the streets will create an atmosphere of inevitability before the public can be swayed by rumor, ideology, or foreign broadcasts. That is why our original plan is based on speed and decapitation strikes before the following elements can arrive and take up security positions and maintain control."

"Third, the coup must appear total, professional, and uncontested. If it looks like a fractured rebellion, it will fail. But if it looks like a completed transition, people will accept it as reality. In many ways this bleeds into the first point. If we give the idea that we have totality dominated the regime then it will make counter-mobilization highly costly."

"Fourth, we must control national communication and broadcast infrastructure without exception. Fifth, we must prevent provincial or regional resistance from forming. Ankara and Istanbul are the hearts, but the limbs must also be immobilized. Izmir, Diyarbakır, Adana, and Gaziantep, these cities are both strategic and symbolic. If one of them rises, the illusion of control is broken. We must deny geography to the opposition. Especially in the Southeast, where the PKK has had strong support."

He paused, looking around the room.

"And finally, we must project unified, nationwide dominance from the outset. The key to any successful transition of power is to leave no space for negotiation, no doubt about who is in command.

"The Turkish people must wake up to a fait accompli, not a question mark. That is how we win, not by enduring a civil conflict, but by eliminating its possibility altogether."

He turned back to the map.

“We strike simultaneously, within the same hour, across every major region. Delay or hesitation in one will compromise the whole. That is why each unit has a clear mission, and each theater has a clear commander.”

He gestured to the central portion of the map. Titled Ankara.

He turned to face them. “We have ninety minutes, gentlemen. From the time operations start, that is the window. If Ankara isn’t under our complete control by then, we risk losing momentum.’

He tapped the table with his index finger. “The 23rd Motorized Infantry Division will take ground positions, sealing the highways, securing Parliament, and locking down the roads surrounding Beştepe. The 82nd Air Assault Division, under Major General Kılıç, will insert the strike teams. They go in by helicopter and take the Presidential Complex hard and fast. Major General, your goal is perhaps the most important. It is to capture the ruling elite and secure them until the 23rd arrives.”

He paused to let the image settle of several high-ranking officials.

“The President, the Prime Minister, and the Interior Minister must all be detained within the first wave. They can not be allowed to get onto the airwaves to rally the public. The palace is guarded by loyalist forces, but I believe a significant show of force will dissuade them from resisting. Still, we must be fully prepared to fight if they do.

A few nods around the table. “We hit Parliament at the same time,” Kurt said, pointing to the distance between parliament and the government complexes.

He moved to the next section of the map, circling it with a pencil. “The GMT headquarters will likely be the second most dangerous target. If the security services and revolutionary guard corps survive, then they will rally their forces and counter-mobilize against us. We will hit them with speed and simultaneity. The Army’s AİAB has been conducting asymmetrical attacks over the past two months targeting their leadership, information systems, and morale. The Army’s cyber units will launch cyber attacks in the morning of the attacks giving you a chance to hit them quickly. As for the 82nd, they will need to hold out until the 23rd can arrive to secure the capital to cut off any counter-attacks by the loyalists.”

Kurt looked back up, scanning the room. “And then there’s TRT. The state broadcaster. We are going to be launching the coup at 3:52 am. As the public wakes up they will look for a signal. If that signal is ours, then we can shape the mood and also the perception that we have taken total control. We have a prepared statement to be read out and declare that we have assumed control in light of the circumstances facing this country.

“Finally, the General Staff HQ. We’ve been informed by the General Staff that they will have officers who support us on duty for the day of the coup, allowing us to seize the headquarters and use it to coordinate our operations officials. A list of pro-Communist officers has been circulated for immediate detention. Those who resist on the day of are to be detained as well. Those who are neutral are given a single chance to stand down.” He stopped again at the head of the table, resting both hands on its edge.

“Ankara is a power switch,” he said. “If we can flip it, and the country goes dark for the old regime, then we will be on the right track. If we do this right, by the time the rest of the nation realizes what’s happened, we will have already taken power.”

No one spoke. There was only the sharp sound of a log cracking in the fire.

Kurt looked at Major General Kılıç. “Major General, that is a significant task for your boys in the 82nd. However, I am confident in your capabilities, and the 23rd will move quickly to support you.

While Ankara remains the main target, we must capture Istanbul.” He glanced toward Major General Erdem Alpaslan, who gave a short nod. “Alpaslan has command of the 3rd Armored Division, stationed near Çerkezköy, and the 54th Mechanized Infantry, positioned in Edirne. Capturing the city will be important.”

Kurt continued. “The 23rd Mechanized Infantry Division and the 2nd Armored Division, whose commanders, Kılıç and Korkut, have remained silent on their support, but with the General Staffs’ support, we can expect they will hold their positions. They will not move against us. That will give the 3rd and 54th divisions the ability to move rapidly to deploy to Istanbul.

He moved a marker to the heart of the map. “The Bosphorus bridges, the First and Second, are the arteries of the city. They must be taken within minutes of the opening maneuver. If we hold the bridges, we cut the city in half, and we cut off the movement of any loyalist forces trapped west of the strait.”

“Next,” he said, pointing to the marked terminal. “Istanbul International Airport. Our air control teams will secure the tower, the runways, and all incoming flight paths. Nothing flies in or out without our clearance.

He swept his hand across a band of symbols covering the western half of the city. “All major television and radio stations, NTV, CNN Türk, state channels, are to be seized intact. We want them operational, under our control.

“This part is critical,” he said. “We secure the telecommunications centers, mobile providers, fiber exchanges, and data nodes. The loyalists and party supporters will try to coordinate online. We shut them down or filter them through our firewalls. Either way, we control the narrative.”

He then turned to the remainder of the targets. The 19th Infantry Division will take Izmir. The city is a hub and major place of support for us, so having it secured will be crucial to demonstrate we control the whole country. The 19th will secure the 4th Army’s command headquarters, along with Adnan Menderes Airport, and prevent widespread rioting in the city.

The 2nd Army’s 7th Corps and 6th Corps under General Ergün’s control will secure the southeastern provinces and ensure that no mobilization of PKK insurgents, their supporters, or their sympathizers occurs. General Ergün will also secure regional highways, oil infrastructure, military airbases, and supply lines extending from Gaziantep to Şırnak.”

The officers in the room nodded as some grumbled amongst themselves. It was going to be a difficult operation. So many moving pieces. Yet, an elephant remained in the room. What to do about the Thai presence, which have become far more invested in the regime’s survivability as of late. As they spoke, thousands of Thai communists poured into the country on a Maoist-style educators' tour while over 40,000 Thai soldiers remained stationed in the country. Then General Ergün stood up and said. “I need a smoke.” He said as he went outside, before General Yılmaz joked, “This isn’t a government office, Levent, you can smoke inside.” The others laughed as Levent stood up and gestured, “you’re all free to join me.” Kılıç and Bozkurt joined him outside.

Ergün looked at Ertan and Brigadier Bozkurt, passing them a cigarette as he lit them one by one. “What do you guys think?”

Ergün looked at Ertan who shrugged as he left out a puff from his cigarette. “It is going to be challenging.” He admitted. “We don’t know how many regime loyalists are in Ankara and if we’re going to be fighting on the streets of our own country.” He let out another puff. “I can convince the men to go there, but I don’t know if I can convince them to turn their weapons on their own countrymen.

Ergün nodded. “I don’t like it either.” He acknowledged. “But I’ve been on the southern front and I can tell you that the communists do not care what goes on there nor for our safety and lives.” He left out a puff from his cigarette, as he looked out into the forests beneath them. “I don’t think we have any other choices. Either we try our hardest or we get swept aside and turn into the Iranian army, irrelevant and neglected, while the IRGC does all the work.” He looked at Brigadier Ertan before asking,”

“What are your thoughts Levent, what happens the day after?” He asked, given the brigadier was a part of the original group of coup plotters. “What do you mean sir?” He asked.

“Are you Veysel and Arda going to rule?” He said bluntly as he let out a puff of smoke.

“Temporarily, we’re going to follow General Kenan Evren’s policy of forming a national security council, and include senior naval, gendarmerie, and air force personnel.” He said honestly “But, we’ve talked with the pro-democracy movement and we will transition to democratic elections as soon as possible.”

Ergün prodded further, “you will really give up power?” he asked, letting out another puff, “what if the islamists, or nationalists, or god forbid the communists win the election?”

The Brigadier shrugged, “We can not choose for the Turkish people, that is simply replacing autocracy for autocracy.

General Ergün shook his head, “Isn't that why we are here about substance?” He said looking around. “If we take this dramatic action, risk fracturing the country, and at the end just give the reins back to the people who got us in this mess, what will it be worth?”

Brigadier Levent looked at the General, nodding for a second, before saying, “There are those who think the experiment of democracy is about producing the highest quality outcome.” He said, shaking his head. “Democracy is about maintaining the highest quality process. No country is free unless it is democratic. What we are fighting for is the rightful process of this country, not whether the prime minister follows redistributive or libertarian politics.” He said tossing the now finished cigarette to the ground. “Every man can follow his own conscience, provided it does not interfere with sane reason or bid him against the liberty of his fellow-men. That is what Ataturk asked us to guard.”

The General looked at the Brigadier and laughed. “Is what we have sane reason?” tossing his cigarette.

“No Sir,” Brigadier Levent acknowledged, “But we can not replace the insanity of communist dictatorship with a military one.” He said getting up to walk back to the cabin. “I understand that many will not believe us, but I care not for those voices. We are the children of the Turkish future. We were born with our honor. We will live with our honor. And we will die with our honor.” He said repeating the oath that the General repeated earlier. “By that honor we will restore this country’s democratic process and by that honor I will fight those who oppose it.”

Ertan nodded as he followed Brigadier Levent back inside the cabin as General Levent lit another cigarette. He took several puffs before seeing a vehicle come from the distance, he quickly crouched as he reached for his side arm…realizing he didn’t have it. “Crap” he said as he ducked behind a few bushes watching as the vehicle pulled up to the cabin. It was alone, out stepped a man in a navy uniform, along with two men.

He followed up behind them, before seeing Generals Kurt and Yılmaz stepping out to extend their hand as the naval officer saluted him along with the two men that came with him.

General Ergün walked up behind them causing the officers to turn around and salute them.

“General Ergün” General Kurt said introducing him, “This is Vice Admiral Mustafa Zeki Uğurlz” General Kurt said introducing the Vice Admiral.

“I didn’t know we were expecting more.” Ergün said rather coldly.

“Apologize for the intrusion,” the Vice Admiral said. “This is Chief of Naval Intelligence for the Northern Fleet, Captain Aysel Özakın,and Commander Ahmet Aşeni, Naval Liaison Officer with the Air Force General Staff.

The other two officers saluted the generals before they joined the others inside. Vice Admiral Uğurlz followed. His presence was of confusion to General Ergün, the navy men didn’t normally involve themselves in land affairs. Even in the previous coups, it had often been the Army overseeing things. Still…Ergün was curious to hear what the Vice Admiral would be seeing.

General Veysel Kurt went around the room introducing Major Generals Erdem Alpaslan and Ertan Kılıç, and then Brigadier Levent Bozkurt, before the Admiral introduced his subordinates.




Inside the room, General Kurt provided a mock-up of a military base and a naval base.

“I know that many of you have been concerned about the Thai military presence and rightfully so.” General Yılmaz said as he pointed to the two main Thai military outposts.

He reached for a smaller set of red blocks, marking the 91st and 3rd Commando Brigades. “The current plan is for a rapid involvement using air and ground assets to secure their facilities. Special Forces will deploy via rotary wing. Blackhawks, Chinooks, T129 ATAK, and Ka-52 Blacksharks. They land directly onto Thai facilities at Mus and surrounding outposts. Secure the barracks, lock the weapons depots, and jam local comms. Hard and fast. We are planning the operation for 0:400, eight minutes after we launch the operation to take Ankara.”

“Our intelligence offices tell us that the Thais have 30,000 men stationed at their bases in the area but lack heavy anti-air capabilities or armored fighting vehicles. It is pretty much a bunch of soldiers and MRAPs. As such, the 91st and 3rd will air assault into the base, force its surrender, with F-16s ready to provide air support if the Thais resist the strike.

General Ergün raised an eyebrow. “How many birds are we risking?”

“Twenty-five Blackhawks, twelve Apaches. Insert the 3rd Commando by 4:15. The 91st follows on a staggered schedule. We'll rotate from Batman Air Base in two waves, with the two waves consisting of twenty-five black hawks, six Chinooks, and twenty T129s, five Ka-52s.”

The Naval Intelligence Officer raised his/her hand, “Our intelligence says otherwise.”

Admiral Uğurlz exhaled through his nose, leaning over the map of Iskenderun. His finger landed on the port. “Mus will be easy. This is the problem.”

A hush fell amongst the officers.

“The Thai Navy has 7,960 men preparing to be stationed at Iskenderun,” he continued. “They’re better trained, better armed, and equipped with aerial support. A Helicopter carrier, fifteen light frigates, two replenishment ships, eleven ISTAR drones, and eleven armed rotary-wing assets. If they choose to resist...”

“We can’t let it get that far,” Kurt said. “We need to control the first move. We must seize the initiative.”

Commander Aşeni stepped forward. “Our view,” He said, looking at the Vice Admiral and Intelligence Officer, “Is that we need to detain the sailors on land first.”

“How?” asked Ergün, skepticism curling his voice.

Captain Özakın answered. “Our idea was to invite the fleet to celebrate the Liberation Day of İzmir with us on-base or to bring them to Izmir where the Black Sea and Aegean Fleet together would have the capacity to overwhelm them.”

“If the Thais refuse?” Asked Kurt.

“Then, our operating plan is that we insert the Navy’s Special Forces, SAT Commandos, via fast-roping from naval helicopters onto the Thai light aircraft carrier. They board the Anatolia and secure the bridge before the alarm sounds.”

“And the rest of the port?”

“The 23rd ‘Hürrem Sultana’ MBCT takes it,” [name] said, pointing to their marker on the map. “They’re mechanized, armored, and will be able to overwhelm the sailors who are still asleep. By the time the naval officers wake up, they’ll be under curfew.”

General Yılmaz frowned. “If even one ship gets out, sails into international waters, and signals Bangkok…”

“They won’t,” Admiral said coldly. “The nearest fleet would be the French off the coast of Syria, which we understand to be a few ships. The nearest Thai fleet is outside of the Mediterranean, and the Egyptians are unlikely to let them through in time.”

“And if the Thai Navy does make it out of base and begins to mobilize itself to respond?” Kurt asked, looking up from the maps.

“Our Fleet at Akzas consists of two destroyers, three frigates, five fast attack craft,and one corvette. They’d need over nine hours to reach Iskenderun, but the Navy is launching exercises that week that will justify them leaving port. We’ll have them make the journey towards Cyprus but…” He said, looking at the Vice Admiral.

“I can’t bring the Black Sea Fleet out…moreover…we are concerned the Russians will intervene on the side of the Thais, if we leave the entire northern coast free for the picking.” The very fate that befell revolutionary France during a series of wide-ranging conflicts on its borders.

“We don’t engage them directly,” General Ergün said. “We don’t need to. If the Thai Navy maneuvers towards the Aegean then they will have to deal with the fleet out of Foca and Golguk, combining the Aegean and Black Sea fleets. This is about control, not combat. If we control the country quickly enough then the Thais will have to realize they can’t save their puppets.”

“Buy time,” Yilzas said, nodding. “If we can at least delay their ability to react, then the fleet will be useless in stopping what's happening on the ground. If we do our job right, by the time they consider a response, the coup will look complete.”

Admiral shook his head “If we are following the doctrine of paralysis that is to seize the nerve centers, Ankara, Istanbul, Iskenderun, but leave the Thai fleet they will be able to help reorganize the defenders and at the very least be a sign of resistance. Neutralizing it shows that there is no possible escape.”

“Vice Admiral, with all due respect, if we strike their fleet that will not look good on us and will only embolden Thailand to retaliate.” General Ergün said as he looked at the map. “If we can detain their fleet that is the best, but even if they manage to escape the port they are stuck. They can’t make it back home in time. Their nearest ally is at least a day away in terms of sizable fleet forces, and they will need to leave through the Straits of Gibraltar where they will have to spend over a week returning home. By that time, if Thailand refuses to accept the results, we will have control of the country, the armed forces, and can coordinate a response.”

Ergün leaned over the Mus region map. “For me the biggest issue is the 30,000 Thai soldiers already here. And the thousands of ideologues pouring into the country. We’re going to need to secure them and I don’t think a Commando regiment of 5,000 men can really do that.”

“Captain Özakın, you think there are more than just MRAPs?” Ergün asked the naval intelligence officer.

“According to intelligence we gathered from the General Staff Headquarters, yes, we think they could have heavy armored vehicles and other heavy equipment.“ She said.

“We’re going to need a lot more than helicopters and special forces then.” General Kurt conceded.

“Look, I think we need to recognize we don’t have all the assets we need. We are hodgepoding the resources available to us and hoping that everyone falls in line or gets out of our way.” General Yılmaz responded with a rather angry tone.

“I see that Vice Admiral Fırat isn’t here…any clue where she stands on this?” Ergün asked,

“The Vice Admiral has not been approached yet.” The Vice Admiral conceded.

“So…the Akhzas and Foca Fleets could join the communists…” Ergün said, before muttering unbelievable under his breath

“I’d watch your tone, General. I doubt you have full control over your Army, much less the other divisions across the country.” Vice Admiral shot back.

Before Ergün could respond, Özer interjected. “Gentlemen, let’s not bicker amongst ourselves. The Vice Admiral was showing prudence just as we have. We have the pieces in play and as the Vice Admiral explained the ship officers he has spoken with are in agreement on the need ot act.

“It doesn’t need to fight,” Karaca said. “Just deter them from acting.”

Kurt nodded, looking around the room and recognizing it was getting late. “Very well. As we’ve discussed, the 23rd Motorized Infantry Division will reinforce Ankara with the 82nd Air Assault Division. At the same time, the 23rd Mechanized Infantry Division and the 2nd Armored Division will take Istanbul. The 54th Mechanized Infantry Division will seize Eastern Thrace. The 2nd Army will secure Southeastern Turkiye while the 19th Infantry Division will secure Izmir. The Black Sea Fleet will secure the Dardanelles while the Aegean Fleet will secure Iskenderum with the 23rd MCBT.”

Everyone nodded as wind rustled through olive trees outside.

“Zero Day is set for September 9th, this time we need to get it right.”

The night had deepened, cold settling like a second skin over the hills. One by one, the officers filtered out into the dark, boots crunching over gravel, soft murmurs exchanged beneath breath. Their vehicles disappeared down the winding road, headlights off, leaving only the faintest echo of engines swallowed by pine and distance.

Inside the house, the stove crackled low. A single lamp cast long shadows across the table, where maps lay scattered like the aftermath of some ancient war council. Cigarette smoke coiled toward the rafters. Only two figures remained—General Veysel Kurt, standing with arms folded beside the window, and General Levent Ergün, seated across the table, elbows resting on the wood, his fingers steepled in thought.

For a time, neither spoke.

The silence was not awkward. It was familiar. Worn like a well-used uniform. It belonged to old friends who no longer needed words to recognize the weight of what had just passed.

Then, Ergün exhaled slowly, his eyes fixed on the empty doorway.

“It’s now or never,” he said.

Kurt didn’t move. His gaze remained fixed on the tree line outside, the darkness between the pines. “Yes,” he said, after a pause. “But there’s no road back once we begin.”

He turned away from the window, the lamp catching the weathered lines of his face. “We are not correcting a system anymore, Levent. We are dismantling it. If we fail, we will be remembered as traitors. If we succeed… it still may not be enough.”

Ergün leaned back, nodding faintly. “You think I don’t know that?” His voice was low, flat. “You think I haven’t lain awake every night this month wondering whether we’re about to light the whole country on fire.”

“But,” Ergün continued, “when I go down south to the border and see our men huddled in outposts with sandbags instead of armor, while the Thai parade around our country like they own the place, when I speak to officers who whisper their discontent like heresy, afraid that one word too loud will get them purged, I think…This is not what we swore to defend.”

He looked up, his eyes sharp now.

“If we don’t act, then we are just as guilty as the ones who gave this country away.”

Kurt rubbed a hand over his chin, then crossed to the table and sat opposite him.

“You’re right,” he said. “But you know as well as I do, once we start this, there’s no such thing as clean hands.”

He tapped the table lightly with two fingers. “There will be blood. And it won’t just be the communists’.”

Ergün gave a faint, humorless smile. “We’re soldiers, Veysel. If we wanted clean hands, we should’ve become diplomats.”

Kurt chuckled dryly. “I’ve seen what diplomats call honor. It fits in a briefcase.”

Another silence passed between them. Outside, an owl called once in the darkness.

Then Kurt spoke again, more quietly this time.

“I keep thinking about 1980,” he said. “My father was a junior officer then. Said he felt like he was holding the future in his hands. That the country could be remade better, purer. But what came after…”

He trailed off.

Ergün finished the thought. “It turned into something else.”

Kurt nodded.

“I don’t want that again,” he said. “Whatever we build after this, it has to be temporary. A bridge, not a throne.”

Ergün looked at him for a long moment. Then he rose.

Kurt stood too, straightening his jacket. “If we’re lucky, history will forget our names. That would be the best outcome.”

“And if it doesn’t,” Ergün replied, stepping toward the door, “then let it remember that we tried.”