It is very fashionable these days to write and draw the period of "February 28". With the word football, which has been purified from reality for a long time, which cannot go beyond the image of artificial window decoration; The so-called democrats, who did not run for the ball with the fear of going offside, are coming to light one by one like mushrooms after the rain today. Those who, from the very beginning, continued their “decent cries” for democracy and justice without bowing to oppression, today look at the past with pride; “My cause is right, right will prevail,” he says.

The victims, who lived the period in its most striking form "in the house", see that the day is approaching when their wounds that have not healed for years are approaching, and look at the sky with a smile like butterflies fluttering to the light.

Who are these proud victims?

I am talking about the distinguished people raised by this country, from the uniforms they carried with great pride and honor for years, the guns of the principality that they did not keep apart from their sons, the barracks of the Prophet's hearth whose smell permeates every tree and stone, and the thousands of Mehmetçik sons who remember them with goodness and respect even after years.

Discharged as a "private" after more than twenty years of service, he was abandoned to poverty and social isolation, just because their belief in God is as unshakable as their belief in their homeland and nation; I'm talking about men like thousands of men.

I'm talking about my father, your fathers, your brothers and sisters.

What happened before and after February 28 is now in the light of day, in the presence of the public for a long time. People are now fearlessly speaking about what is said to be unspeakable. While taboos are being destroyed one by one, democracy and justice are starting to rise on solid foundations day by day. As those who are engaged in Political Science will know closely, shells are gradually becoming transparent, as in Franz Kafka's theory of state-judiciary-citizen. The "proud victims" of this nation, which has been mentally and physically oppressed for years under a psychological system of tyranny; now, like hundreds of thousands of flower seeds thrown under the ground, they find a way to grow and take their place in the gardens of democracy.

If you allow me, I would like to leave all these technical details aside and talk about the “Children of February 28”, who lived the gravity of the event with all its reality in their blood and veins, and bravely braved the storms that broke out in their small world for years.
***
What about kids?
Name: Son of the man expelled from the army.
Surname: What does it matter?
I remember "that day" as well as I photographed it and put it in the back of my brain. One morning in Kütahya. When I left the house to buy a bagel, I saw my father in front of me. I can't remember any other emotion that got me as excited as returning home after every mission. My father went to Diyarbakir on a mission and returned home safely. There was something strange this time, but what...? That same seriousness on his face again. Here is the black road bag; thick and mysterious. His glasses were also on point. I found it... He wasn't wearing a uniform. Instead of spending time with us even on weekends, this time he was not wearing his uniform, which he wore early in the morning and went to the barracks...

Something was strange, I sensed. As we approached the door of the house, the door opened before the bell had rung. Even though it is early in the morning, all the households are ready at the door. something strange

, I sensed. The same expression on everyone's face, confused, tearful, prepared, unprepared. My mother's lips trembled as she said welcome, her eyes flashing. My grandfather is restless, his hands clasped behind his back like a child hiding something behind him. My grandmother's eyes are on the ground, as if she would cry if she lifted her head. I feel like the world will collapse on me if I ask something, exploding in my brain. Everyone goes to the Hall, no one makes a sound. I can't stand it and ask my grandfather, what's going on?

Hush, don't make a sound my grandfather said, they threw your father away...

Then, when my father sees everyone together, he begins to speak, aggrieved but proud:

“We have never sacrificed for the sake of God for the sake of others. We will be patient in the face of this cruelty done to us, faith in destiny requires this. No individual in this house; WE WILL NOT curse neither the state nor the Turkish Armed Forces. I pray for them at all times of prayer, so do you; whatever happens, the army is our army.”

Look at that undisciplined man!

Nothing would ever be the same again, and it never did. We went through a lot of financial and moral difficulties, we fought a lot in our little hearts for years, but we never cursed.

We did not become traitors, we did not rebel and go to the mountains. We did not violate the rights of the people. We didn't knock, we didn't beat. We are neither sheep nor vagrants in return for the persecution done to us!

We worked harder, we persevered, we did not cut the bill for the whole nation, we believed in destiny.

Afterwards, I passed the Military High School exams with a degree, entered the top three in the sports auditions and qualified for the interview stage. I wish that those immoral questions asked by the Colonel, who saw my father in my file, would not be asked to him in the place of judgment.