means much more than some 'poem':
At the moment I'm writing this, all the hospital corridors in Japan are filled with the wounded. Our own wounded boys are being sent to Japan from Korea by airplane... mostly to Japan's General and Apex hospitals.
When I came to Japan for a couple of days to mail my photos and (journalistic) reports, I got a telephone call in the early morning. The hospital's doctors asked me I needed to hop in a car and go to the hospital right away. In a situation like this, the word "request" has no meaning. Our boys in the hospital could not communicate with the doctors in the doctors' language. I happily rushed to the hospital.
Let me explain the courtesy and attitude of our boys in their own words. I asked one of the young men whose body was riddled with holes, carrying ten to fifteen wounds, "What's wrong?"
As much as he was capable of mustering, in a sweet tone, he replied, "I have nothing, efendim!"
This attitude from the Turkish soldiers so affected the American doctors, they were in tears.
"We never, ever saw any kind of wounded like these men. These men act as if their bullet, machine gun and bomb wounds are nonexistent. The wounded from any other nation, in similar shape, would be crying and shaking in their situation. Your boys never utter a word of complaint.
These American doctors, so moved by the uncomplaining attitude of the Turkish soldiers, attempted to go the extra mile to minimize their pain.
"Aci!.." This is the first Turkish word ("pain") that the American doctors in the Tokyo and Anex hospitals learn. Every time they encounter a wound, an aching chest, a throbbing back, when they feel with their fingers, they ask in Turkish:
"Aci?.."
In the Anex hospital, we stood in front of a bed. A Turkish soldier, so young, one would call him a kid. Wrapped totally in bandages. His name is Ahmet Cicek. (Chi-chek.) From "Cankir." Many parts of his body were injured from an exploding bomb.
What's wrong?" I asked.
"Nothing is wrong..."
(My darling boy!)
The doctor unwrapped the bandage from one of his hands. I could never have imagined a hand to be in such a mutilated shape.
Signaling one of the patient's fingers, the doctor told me in English:
"Tell him we need to amputate this finger from the root...today."
When the other doctors noticed my reluctance, they continued:
"What's the matter? This is very important."
Ahmet Cicek from Cankir first looked at me with foggy eyes... then at the men, dressed in white.
I protested. I added I had much experience, spending days and nights in hospitals, and mentioned by helping them I needed to be free in my actions:
"Please permit me, Doctor, don't make me give this boy such news."
The doctors replied, "However, he must know what is to happen to him. And we must begin the operation immediately."
When he noticed the ongoing argument, Ahmet Cicek from Cankir asked, "What are they saying, big brother?"
I finally revealed: "Ahmet. One of your fingers is no good anymore, my son. If it's not removed, your whole hand will be endangered. They now want to take you into the operating room."
At that moment, something happened I would have never expected. Ahmet Cicek began to laugh! Yes, he was laughing:
"Only one finger, big brother?"
"Yes... Only one finger!"
"Really, what is there to be sad about? I already realized that finger could rot my entire arm four days ago. I was going to cut it myself, but I didn't have enough strength in my other hand. I tried, but I couldn't. Let them cut it.... nine fingers are enough!"