Perhaps on a moonless night, perhaps at the brightest moment of the night. At a very different time.
Where was each of you, in which position, on watch at what hour, during which action, at which doorway, in which rescue? In the breath of what success, of which successes, were you? The feeling of resistance, faith and vengeance—everything was intertwined.
This feeling was historical. Yes, it was not something very new, nor had it suddenly taken shape in the hearts and minds of the souls of the mountains. How many Zilans, Dersims and Maraşes had the children of this people seen? And there, in the guerrilla war, was the struggle of a historical war; from after 2015 until 2025, in almost every area, there was war with mountain hearts and mountain souls. I stand face to face with the bodies of this war, a war that carried its costs as surely as it was historical and that claimed many lives. There is tremendous nobility in every body. They say that martyrs do not die among the guerrilla. Yes, you would think that each body was in a deep sleep.
Do dead bodies not frighten people? I sensed no such thing in anyone’s eyes or heart. Quite the opposite: they prepared and straightened the resting place of their comrade in deep sleep, receiving them in the most beautiful way… The gentlest, most sensitive approach to bodies that were the very embodiment of nobility. Despite the scorching sun, days without sleep and exhaustion, serving the martyrs was the greatest duty in the eyes of every guerrilla. At that moment, it was for their comrade that they shed that sweat.
It was the effort to ensure that they would not remain unclaimed and without a place. Perhaps they had very little, but these heroes had to have a place, a grave.
I saw many guerrillas, came to know them and talked with them; I witnessed their duties and the moments of their actions. In the eyes of every guerrilla, I witnessed their attachment to life, their determination to succeed no matter what and their resolve. This is war; no one knows when, where or what will happen. Sometimes, in our conversations, the same sentence would fall from the lips of every guerrilla: “If one day I attain martyrdom, even if I have no grave, I want a part of me to be beside my martyred comrades” …
Only among the guerrilla, and nowhere else, can a person learn within themselves the heart capable of bearing these moments and these testimonies.