A brave son of Türkiye

I was taking a language course at the Air Training Command that day. It was an ordinary day, with classes coming and going as usual. No one told me what had happened. As I sat in the garden, I saw smoke rising over Çiğli. A wave of dread went through me. I hoped no one had been hurt. I immediately called one of the Çiğli squadrons on the internal line. A lieutenant answered. He was reluctant to tell me anything, but when I pressed him, he said, “Sir, an F-16 from Diyarbakır has gone off the end of the runway.” I called the tower at once and learned the terrible news from them.

My classmate had died in the line of duty. I could not stay in class and took a taxi to Çiğli. By the time I arrived, they had brought his body to headquarters. When I told them I was from his graduating class, they let me go in and spend some time with him. In the silence of those last moments, every second of our friendship passed before my eyes like a film. He had been our company senior, a wonderfully warm man with a pure heart. Tall, handsome, and full of affection, he was a brave Turkish officer whom I loved dearly.

He had carried out his duty in this world with honor. I wish it had never happened, but the risk has always been part of our profession. What a high honor it is to give one's life in service. I wish it had never come to that, but some things happen and you have to live through them.

The prosecutor arrived and asked whether I wanted to identify him. I was the last of our class to see Oğuz. It felt as though I had been entrusted with accompanying him on his final journey. We lifted the cover. I saluted. When a pilot's aircraft goes down, often every trace of us is scattered into the earth. I was grateful that his body was intact. He still wore his flight suit, and there was no blood. His eyes were closed and there were faint marks on his face. He looked as though he might get up at any moment.

Thanks to these heroes, we can sleep peacefully in our homes. An elementary school bears his name. I think of you every May 15, my dear Oğuz. May you rest in peace, as may all those we have lost in service. With a salute and my deepest respect.

I signed the papers, saluted him, and covered him again to send him on his final journey. May the wait be peaceful. Rest in peace.

The formalities were completed quickly, and he was taken to the military cemetery for burial. Airmen who die in service are buried in coffins even when their bodies are intact. In some coffins, a keepsake is all that remains. That is how aviators become part of the earth. When they perform this sacred duty, their thoughts are with their country.

İzmir Military Cemetery

When I watched the flight recorder video, I could not help saying, “Oh, Oğuz!” He had tried to land three times. He waited because young lieutenants were flying solo, and he tried to land safely an aircraft worth one hundred million dollars, paid for with public money. They faced a failure they had never seen before, with little time and at a base that did not operate the F-16. Everyone did what they could, but it was not enough. Oğuz did more than anyone. He had one chance. Even though the throttle lever moved back, the aircraft's digital controls did not reduce thrust. He intended to stop at the arresting net at the end of the runway and save the aircraft. Even with an ejection seat, our brave pilots always thought of saving the aircraft first. So did he.

A hero

May God have mercy on you and raise your soul. I will never forget you, my dear brother. A month before the accident, we met in Antalya and embraced. Only those who knew him could appreciate how endearing a conversation with him was, with his difficulty pronouncing his Rs. He was married and had a daughter. May God grant his wife and daughter long and healthy lives.

May he rest in peace