THE BATTLE IS to take place in Ctesiphon, which lies on the left bank of the Tigris River in the barren Mesopotamian desert, about sixteen miles southeast of Baghdad. Nurredin Pasha, whose hatred for the Greeks and Armenians, any Christians really, will prove to be useful in battle, now commands two other divisions, but they consist mostly of Arabs. Together his men number over eighteen thousand strong. The Arab soldiers are more seasoned. They eye Kemal and the other conscripts with a palpable contempt. Commander Nurredin speaks to the Arabs in their own tongue, which impresses Kemal. He will never reconcile the man’s intelligence with his brutality. It is the first time Kemal has ever seen those qualities contained within a single man.
Kemal follows every order, listens much, and speaks little. He scans faces and landscapes, taking notes and measuring the frailty of friend and foe alike. His eyes, which once only searched for beauty, can now see a target from miles away. The men take to calling him Eagle Eye. When Nurredin Pasha hears of this, he calls Kemal to a private meeting and hands him a Mauser. Unlike the standard issue Turkish rifle and bayonet, it incorporates the clip and magazine into a single detachable mechanism, and although it is unsuited for rapid-fire warfare, the fitted optical sight piece makes it ideal for sniping. It is the only one of its kind in the division, and Kemal promises the pasha he will put it to good use. Secretly, he says a prayer of gratitude, relieved that his hands at least will not be stained with a stranger’s blood. He will not have to hear a man groan or meet his last gaze.
In Ctesiphon, the 130-degree heat of the Mesopotamian desert gives way to the torrential rains of the fall season. Soldiers who for months prayed for water and shade now strive to keep everything from washing away. The men dig from dusk until dawn, creating a continuous embankment along the trenches of the riverbank. Sand bags are piled twelve feet high and moats are dug around each and every tent in camp.
Kemal is stationed three miles south of the main line in an ancient fortress, with a giant arch at its center. Rumored to be the remains of a Parthian capital, it now serves as an observation post. He spends hours, days, and weeks patiently looking through his scope. He imagines a line, smooth and obedient, stretching from his eye to the tip of the Mauser and eventually to the target.
Mehmet the Babe is given the task of positioning an old fez in multiple locations along where the enemy is expected. Kemal blinks, holds his breath, and only when he is sure the bullet is ready, and the line will be drawn perfectly, does he release both his breath and the bullet. Kemal discovers he can make a bullet do things others cannot. The fez is transformed into a mutilated red rag in a matter of minutes. Kemal is told to target the birds instead.
The first time he kills, Kemal weeps over the body of his victim, a yellow-breasted bulbul. He holds the bird in his palm, its one eye staring up at him.
“What in Allah’s name are you crying about?” Tekin asks. “What did you think you were conscripted for?”
Kemal turns away, suppressing his tears.
“What? Did you think you would be immune to tragedy in that big safe arch of yours?”
“He was innocent,” Kemal says, wiping his face.
“We are all innocent,” says Tekin. “Stand up.” His voice is more gentle than usual. “Put the bird down,” he says, placing his hands on Kemal’s shoulders.
“I’d give my left arm to be stationed in that throne of safety you call an observation post. You don’t have to smell and taste death, like the rest of us. But you’re still here to do the same job. Understand?”
Kemal says nothing.
“Do you believe the bit about the virgins?” Tekin asks.
“I’m not sure,” replies Kemal.
Tekin nods. “Well, what about your mother? You are eager to get back to her, am I right?”
Kemal thinks about this. He tries to recall an image of his mother, but she died so long ago. All he sees is his grandmother competing at the loom with Emineh.
“Never mind that. What about a woman? Have you got your eye on a woman?”
Kemal’s face flushes as he remembers Hüsnü’s detailed description of a woman’s body. He thinks of his own innocent sketches of Lucine, of all the parts of her he never knew. The thought makes his chest hurt and his eyes sting. He shrugs Tekin’s hands off his shoulders. “No. There’s no woman,” he says.
“Then why so angry all of a sudden?”
“I’m not angry,” says Kemal.
“The hell you’re not.”
“Fuck off, Tekin.”
Tekin laughs deeply, from his belly. “Fine, I’ll fuck off. You can forget the woman or not, it’s none of my business, but let me tell you something. Here, you are Eagle Eye. You have a job to do and that is to survive.”
I am Eagle Eye, Kemal tells himself, so that one day he can abandon the name and the scope and return to being Kemal again.
CHAPTER 23
Ctesiphon