ISTANBUL—A line has been crossed in Turkey. You had people who were standing up to the military, but once they stopped the soldiers, they didn’t stop themselves. They lost control. And now they feel they can do whatever they want.
This happened in Istanbul, not in Aleppo. In Aleppo, there is no law, there are no rules, there is anarchy. We’re still in Turkey here. You’re a democracy fighter, you have stopped the army, that’s fine. But once you stop the army, once the soldiers give up, you stop and you tell the world, look what we have done. And they didn’t.
I couldn’t sleep. I am preparing for anything. It’s not easy for me. This is my home. I shoot conflicts in other countries and then I come back home. But now I’m preparing for anything to happen in my home.
Friday evening I was shooting one of the two bridges across the Bosphorus because they had a light show for the Nice victims. They lit the bridge in the red, white and blue of the French flag.
As I was shooting, at one point I realized that the traffic on the bridge had stopped. This wasn’t normal because it wasn’t the regular rush hour. I got some calls from friends and colleagues that something was going on and then I called Ozan. He said something was going on, too. So I took the car with two fellow photographers and we headed to the bridge.
We drove toward the bridge and past a military school where apparently the coup had started. By this time we heard that the military had closed the bridge, so I was driving like a crazy person. A soldier flagged us down. I slowed the car down and shot pictures outside the window.
“Why are you driving like this,” he asked me.
“I should ask you why I am driving like this,” I answered.
“The military has taken over the government,” he said.
When he told me that, I crashed into the car in front of me. My foot must have slipped off the break and I forgot to press it again.
“Ok, thank you,” I said and drove off.
I drove even crazier to the bridge now. Along the way I saw people in uniform detaining some people. I took some shots. The people in uniform started to shout at me. “Ok, sorry!” I yelled back and kept on driving. When I got to the bridge and saw so many soldiers around, I called the office in Paris. It’s a coup, you have to send photographers before they close the airports, I told them.
Then I went home to take my flak jacket and helmet and more equipment because I was sure there’d be clashes. Turkey has a history of coups. I was six months old when the last bloody one happened, but I have read books, I’ve talked about it to my father. So I have an idea of what happens. And I was sure there’d be clashes. Then I headed back to the bridge.
When I got back to the bridge I saw some people starting to gather in front of the military. I was thinking about Egypt. In Egypt the people started to march and the soldiers shot at the people. It happened just like this. People started to march on the Bosphorus bridge and the soldiers started to shoot into the crowd. And when I saw this, I thought this is something serious.
I took cover. I was shocked—I didn’t expect so many people would be ready to die. I could see the soldiers shooting. But they, the people facing off in front of them, they didn’t stop.
I pulled back, sent some photos and went back. I saw a tank firing at the people. At the same time, you had jets flying low over the city, setting off sonic booms. I thought they would bomb the police station and made a mental note to stay away from it.
And then, I don’t know how it happened, but it became morning. It was like in a film—you go out for a normal day and suddenly it’s 24 hours later. That’s how I felt. I went out to shoot the bridge for the Nice commemorative service and then I realized that the sun was coming up.
And that’s how I spent my night, wandering from place to place. Around 3 or 4 a.m., I saw some people who were catching soldiers and taking them to the police. I saw about three or four soldiers like that.
In the early morning, I went to the office, took a helmet and flak jacket and went out again.