SKYSISTERS

FREEMDFIGHTERS IN THUN

FREEDOM FIGHTERS in Thun

sample videos from installation .- view with quicktime

The worlds first female combat pilot
and her Turkish sisters in action

Sabhia Gökchen, adopted daughter of Atatürk celebrated the national day October 29th 1937 with aerobatics. That evening she attended the celebrations, dressed as usual in uniform, she walked up to the Supreme Commander:
“You know that my position in the military is a bit unclear. Atatürk has asked me to talk to you about putting through a legislation that would allow women to become soldiers...”
The Supreme Commander denied to do that.
Sabhia Gökchen became the first official female combat pilot in the world when graduating from the Military Aviation Academy in Eskeshir. I landed there 75 years later. It is a small training airfield.
The Turks approaching me and my vintage Piper were very firm. I had to change my route. The next stop, Konya, was a no go.
”No, no! You can’t land there, it is a military base.”
Two cups of tea and a phone call to the HQ later, my flight was approved. I knew I was used as a propaganda possibility, but flying with the approval of a three star General made things easier. And my mission was a complicated one to start with. I wanted to find some of the Turkish female fighter pilots. These modern followers of Sabhia Gökchen were based at the 4th Jet Regiment in Konya, central Turkey.

There is a small domestic non-military part of the airfield. Two daily flights, a sleepy floor cleaner pace and Mr Supervisor on his toes, walkie-talkie in hand, as I taxied up and parked in front of his diminutive terminal.
He barked me out, wanted to call the police and went about in a way, that couldn’t be stopped.
I tried to convince him I should taxi over to the military side as soon as they approved. He laughed.
Then a massive Mercedes with flags flanking the hood approached across the runway.
Flight line commander Colonel Baloban arrived to welcome and escort me to squadron 113. There in olive flight suits I met two female second lieutenants, Sania and Aylin. Young, smart, Turkish girls who never had been dreaming about flying.
Next evening at home they explained how all girls with good grades in the national test to university got a folder saying: “Have you ever considered becoming a fighter pilot”
“I planned to become a dentist”, Aylin explained and laughed her high pitch laughter, spooning up some more cake.
Her best friend Sania wanted to study medicine:
“But now I want to become a General”. Her face is firm.
I reply:
“So when you are very old and wise, you will...”
She cut me off:
“I don’t expect to become very old.”

Turkey probably got more women flying fighter jets than all the EU countries together.
I met many of them.
They all referred to Sabhia Gökchen. What she went through, as this country changed from veils and harems to a place with female fighter pilots in a decade, they all remarked. Propaganda or not. Today they where flying.
I told them about my mission. To fly through the Afghan war zone into Kabul and find a young girl named Farial.
Her wish was to fly, and maybe become a fighter pilot. I read about her in my morning paper back home, as she had just returned to school after the ousting of the Taleban. I wanted to give her the possibility of flying my aircraft over the ruins of Kabul. That would link her to the “Sisterhood of the skies” that I had met through my art projects.
The girls in Konya agreed and more important, through them, I had a link to the Turkish Air Force, wish controlled Kabul airport at this time.
Now the question was, could we do the performance I had planned, “Sky sisters in action”.
”What would that be?“ Sania wondered.
”I want to fly in formation with you.“ I replied and put up a smiling face.
The request was translated and officers started to laugh and shake their heads. I could see the point. Aylins F-5 land at 160 mph, my maximum speed would be 90 mph.
Besides of that, the wake of the jets could make me crash or burn to charcoal in a minute.
No formation flying, it was turned down firmly by the gentle bear like Commander Baloban.
He wanted to help, but rules are rules.
Aylin said she wouldn’t mind trying, but after all they are officers and orders are orders so, and so on.
The next day I tried with namedropping the approval of my three star General. It helped, yes, but, safety, safety first, and yes, I had to agree. Mutually but not totally. Art is art and rules are rules.
Then I got the idea, had Colonel Baloban ever trained his excellent pilots in intercepting a foreign aircraft? He had, of course, that is a standard exercise.

What about if some terrorists used a private, slow propeller plane loaded with explosives, had they ever trained to intercept such and aircraft?
His smile became broader as he dragged me into his office, passing the stiffened guardsmen in white helmets.
You could tell he liked the idea, when activity gained.
Could I be ready in two hours? Did I have fuel? The weather was excellent, skies clear and the orders sharp.
At 2.43 PM it was take off time for a planned interception exercise. Now the instructors got their orders. I met Aylin, helmet under her arm, as she came back from briefing. She had already been informed and smiled all over. Thumb’s up, let’s try. Suddenly the whole squadron jumped on my arts train.
Fifty minutes later steering a dead 360 degrees strict north over the arid Anatolian plains, I saw them coming to the right of me. Three times we performed the quickest formations flying you can make. But we did it.
Chances for women to change positions are in the loopholes of chaos and crises like in the turmoil following the fall of a strict government.
Maybe Farial could become the first girl in the air after Taleban after all. Maybe dreams could become true.
I flew on, towards Kabul.

Simone Kaern/ Magnus Bejmar

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