My Blond, Blue Eyed Martyr Brother, Air Pilot First Lieutenant Cemil KAYA

Like all martyrs, Cemil Kaya has a heartbreaking story. He lived 26 years, a very short life. Now I see that it has been 31 years since Cemil was martyred, a longer time than he lived. What would he be doing now if he had lived? What kind of life would he have had?

In 1988, we graduated from the Air Force Academy together. Cemil, my classmate, had a remarkable profile with his childlike demeanor behind his serious stance, and his emotionality that he carried so differently. The majority of our class, 99 of them in total, had come to Yeşilyurt from Kuleli Military High School, from a rare place like Çengelköy. Most of them were now considered Istanbul kids. About 60 people were from civilian high schools. There were also about 20 of us, like Cemil, who had joined us from the green Bursa, from Işıklar Military High School. These cadets, who came from three different sources, totaled 180 people in total, would study together for four years and graduate as Lieutenants in 1988. We were all together in the 1st Battalion. Cemil was a tall, blond-haired, blue-eyed young man. I can say that he was the most handsome of our classmates. But what stood out even more about him was that he had a very disciplined personality. Like us, our commanders at the time immediately saw this in him, and in the first grade he was made senior to our neighboring company. At that time, cadets who received such assignments were given the privilege of carrying the rank of cadet on the left arm to distinguish them from their fellow cadets and to motivate them a bit. Captain Cemil had now become a Company Senior like Kaya. Cemil was an Air Cadet who attracted attention with his hard work as well as his discipline. As he was both hardworking and disciplined, in our last year at school, he served as the Deputy Regiment Commander in the school's cadet (administration) organization for a year. Apart from us, he was known by all the cadets, officers, non-commissioned officers and civil servants in the school. He was an exemplary officer candidate that everyone pointed to.

On August 30th, when we pinned our stars on our shoulders, Cemil had become a very good lieutenant. Born on February 1, 1966 in Bandırma, Cemil completed his primary and secondary education here and entered military high school with the dream of becoming an officer. Now, 8 years later, he was saying goodbye to the Air Force Academy with the peace of realizing his dream and wearing his star on his shoulder. 

He had completed his pilot training medical examinations without any problems. He continued his pilot training in Çiğli. After completing a challenging training period in T-34, T-37 and T-38 training aircrafts, the world was Cemil's when he pinned his pilot's badge on his left breast on a hot day in Izmir in August 1989. Afterwards, he completed combat readiness training on F-5 aircraft in Konya and qualified as a fighter pilot. He drew lots. He was lucky enough to get an F-104. He had already wished to receive combat readiness training in the F-104 and to be close to his hometown of Bandırma and his family. This desire was realized.

In February 1990, he came to Balıkesir and started training with some of his circuit mates to become an F-104 fighter at the 193rd Falcon Squadron Command. One of our circuit mates tells the story: 

"Sometimes on Friday evenings we would meet at my bachelor house, Cemil was one of the regulars. On the days we would get together, he would slowly approach me at the squadron's casino and take my arm. Then Cemil would say, one by one:

- I'll grab a couple of beers and come over to your house tonight, if you don't mind. Let's turn up the cassette player. Ahmet Kaya will sing. Let's all say cheers together and raise the bottles, okay?

Yes, brother, of course, I'd be happy to. I'll tell the other guys, they'll be here soon. You bring some beers. They never come empty-handed. They'll bring snacks. I'll get some appetizers, if not, I'll prepare them. I would say let's make it an evening, let's have a lot of fun, let's get high.

When we met in the evening, we would start chatting. We would tell each other about who had what kind of funny incident with which teacher that week. We would open the door to the hangar, and we would laugh a lot. We were very happy to be together, to tease each other, to make small talk. Our evenings always ended beautifully but sadly. Because these evenings had an end. Our training was about to end. Some of us were going to go to Diyarbakır. No one wanted to leave. No one wanted to leave this beautiful environment. When this subject came up, for some reason we would feel a bit sad. Towards the end of the night, we would go into deep thoughts. At those moments, no one would make a sound, as if in agreement. Then, after a while, one of us would suddenly break the silence. And usually it would be Cemil:

- Don't worry so much, friends, it's not like death is at the end. Whoever draws the lot will go to Diyarbakır. It has always been like this, and it will be like this for us too. Let's enjoy ourselves.

he would say. Most of us would ignore our out-of-tune voices and stubbornly sing along to whatever was playing on the cassette player at the time. Cemil didn't have a very good voice either, but when he got a little tipsy, he couldn't help singing something sing-songy. He always sang from the heart. We used to sing along wholeheartedly with him on our nights when we wanted it to never end..."

In September 1990, F-104 training was completed. The day of the draw came. When it was Cemil's turn, he put his hand in the draw bag. It was either Diyarbakır or Balıkesir. In fact, the number of Balıkesir was higher in the bag. But he said, "This is luck, there is no death in the end," and drew Diyarbakır. Those who drew Balıkesir were happy. Those who were going to Diyarbakır had a slight bitterness on their faces. I was also in the hall where the draw was made. We were in the next training group. I remember thinking to myself that I wished Cemil had stayed in Balıkesir, that he could have served closer to Bandırma for a while, that it would have been better for him and his family.

Cemil had drawn Diyarbakır in the lottery, but thankfully, he didn't react as much as we had feared, he didn't really care about Diyarbakır. "It's okay. It doesn't matter. I'll go now, and while you all go to Diyarbakır, I'll come back having completed my term of office," he said that evening, as we met for the last time and sang our songs together. As a true Starfighter, we saw Cemil and a few of our fellow Airmen off from Balıkesir to Diyarbakır on the morning of October 3, 1990. 

Cemil KAYA started to serve at the 182nd Hawk Squadron Command at the 8th Main Jet Base Command Diyarbakır. As part of the fight against PKK terrorism, he started to participate in frequent internal security/cross-border operation missions. He was very eager to fly these operational missions. 

On the evening of June 30, a new mission came. The mission was to take place in four columns in the early morning hours. The maps to be flown were prepared in the evening. It was decided which cargo would be loaded on the planes. On July 1, 1992, Cemil got up around 05.00 in the morning. He ran to the squadron. He would run to every cross-border operation mission with a different excitement. He did the same that day. They took off in four columns. They started dropping bombs on their assigned targets in northern Iraq. Cemil took turns dropping his bombs behind the leader in the firing pattern established by the leader of the foursome on the target. The weather was good. Cemil made his penultimate dive. He released his bomb, but then, for whatever reason, Cemil's plane did not show any exit movement. No one saw him jump out of the plane, but he could have done so. The plane hit the ground but the pilot was not seen. 

"On July 1, 1992, during the cross-border operation against the terrorist organization, a CF-104A aircraft with the tail number 62-716 crashed while dropping bombs from the air to the ground for unknown reasons in Durji, Iraq (north of Iraq) and contact with Cemil was lost." Did he jump? Why didn't anyone see him jump? I wish he had jumped, I wish our Cemil had survived." We, his circuit mates, waited for days in hope. The searches continued uninterruptedly. He jumped, hid somewhere. When we saw the team that was going to rescue him, we waited for him to come out. When our hopes were all but gone, on July 17th, we received the news that Cemil had been found. We were overjoyed, but unfortunately it was only Cemil's lifeless body. That was something. At least he would have a grave in the martyrdom. His beloved body would not be eaten by the wolves. We met in Bandırma for our last duty, and with many of our circuit mates who were able to attend the funeral, we saw Cemil off to his last journey with tears in our eyes. 

A friend of mine told me a memory about Cemil yesterday: 

"One day in Balıkesir, Cemil and I stopped by a gas station. The pump attendant, who was filling the tank of our car, saw the blond, blue-eyed Cemil and asked him, 'Are you American? Cemil didn't bother him and gave him a dollar tip. The man then realized the situation. Cemil stayed in his mind. Whenever I stopped at that gas station in Balıkesir, he kept asking me about Cemil. I could never tell him that he became an angel and flew away to heaven..." 

The name of our brother, who was martyred as an Air Pilot First Lieutenant, is kept alive in a school in Bandırma today. At the Martyr Pilot First Lieutenant Cemil Kaya Secondary School in Kayacık Neighborhood Toki Houses area, our young people, new Cemil's and Cemile's are growing up to take the place of Cemil, who was martyred for this homeland.

O Cemil. If you can hear us, know that we always remember you when we meet somewhere. The Martyr Air Pilot First Lieutenant Cemil Kaya Square, located right in front of the Edincik Municipality building in your hometown of Bandırma, was recently paved with granite stones, and it became a sparkling square like you, my brother. I wanted you to know that today is the anniversary of your martyrdom. We have not forgotten, we do not forget... May your soul rest in peace.