Painting With Flames

Country First

After seven months of futility, the ANZACs concocted a plan to lay siege to the city of Çanakkale and force them to surrender.

However, the Ottomans' Sultan was infuriated by the violation of rules and assigned Commander Yiğit, his most trusted man, the job of defending the city.

Commander Yiğit was strapping his rifle to his belt when a loud knock shook his door.

"Come in," he called with an authoritative tone.

In stepped a messenger accompanied by a guard who saluted upon entering.

"He has brought an urgent message from the Sultan, Commander!" the guard informed.

The Commander moved closer to hear better. "What is it, messenger?"

"Our Sultan orders us to attack before the ANZACs lay the siege," the messenger parroted and without waiting for the news to sink in, left the Commander dumbfounded.

Without wasting a moment, the Commander gathered his belongings and dashed out the door. But in his hurry, he bumped into a little girl.

"Baba!" she squealed, immediately setting down the earthen jug and bowl in her hands to embrace her father.

Commander Yiğit hugged his daughter back, lifting her into the air. He looked at the utensils on the ground and kissed her hair fondly. "Have you brought me ayran?" he asked even though he knew the answer.

The girl nodded feverishly and her father set her onto the ground. He crouched down and watched his daughter fill the bowl up with the cold yoghurt beverage.

"Here," she handed it to him and started counting while her father gulped down all the contents in one go.

He wiped his moustache with the back of his hand and grinned at the girl's awed expression as she held up six fingers.

"Six seconds! That's the fastest one, Baba!" she clapped.

The Commander ruffled her hair lovingly, but stood up all of a sudden.

"Where are you going, Baba?" the little girl asked, losing her wide grin.

"I have to say goodbye to your mom and your little brother Ali," he smiled reassuringly but his eyes held a certain reluctance.

"Why are you going this early, Baba?" the girl repeated with the same monotonous tone, but this time her voice cracked a little.

"Our Sultan orders it, canim," he explained endearingly. And the girl-- with great trepidation-- finally let go of her father's hand, the half empty jug hanging loosely from her own.