ON
THE morning of the ninth of September,
1922, about eleven o’clock, frightened screams were heard. Stepping to the door
of my office, I found that a crowd of refugees, mostly women, were rushing in
terror upon the Consulate and trying to seek refuge within, and that they were
very properly being kept out by the two or three bluejackets assigned for the
defense of the consular property.
One
glance from the terrace which overlooked the quay made evident the cause of
their terror. The Turkish cavalry were filing along the quay, on their way to
their barracks at the Konak at the
other end of the city. They were sturdy-looking fellows passing by in perfect
order. They appeared to be well-fed and fresh. Many of them were of that
Mongolian type which one sees among the Mohammedans of Asia
Minor.
From
the fact that not all the troops of Mustapha Khemal were provided with the smart
uniforms of his picked troops, much has been made by Turkish apologists of
the difference between “regulars” and “irregulars”. Any one who saw
those mounted troops passing along the quay of Smyrna would testify, if he knew
anything at all of military matters, that they were not only soldiers, but very
good soldiers indeed, thoroughly trained and under perfect control of admirable
officers. And any one who knows anything of Turkish character will testify that
the Turk is essentially a soldier, extraordinarily amenable to the orders of his
superiors. The Turk massacres when he has orders from headquarters
and desists on the second when commanded by the same authority to stop. Mustapha
Khemal was worshipped by that army of “regulars” and “irregulars” and his word
was law.
As
the Turkish cavalry was entering Smyrna on the morning of the ninth, some fool
threw a bomb. The Turkish officer commanding the cavalry division received
bloody cuts about the head. All the testimony is to the effect that he rode
unconcernedly on. That is what a Turk would do, for of the courage of the race
there is no doubt. It has been stated that this bomb was thrown by an
Armenian, but I have seen no proof of the assertion, nor can the statement that
the throwing of this bomb precipitated the massacre of the Armenians, be
reconciled with the Turkish claim that their troops were so exasperated with the
atrocities of the Greek army that they could not be restrained when reaching
Smyrna. Armenians are not Greeks, and the fury of the Turks burst first upon
their usual victims.
On
the evening of the ninth, the looting and killing began. Shooting was heard in
various parts of the town all night, and the following morning native-born
Americans, both men and women, began to report seeing corpses lying about in the
streets in the interior of the town.
Nureddin Pasha, the Turkish commander-in-chief, issued a command that everybody
was to go peacefully about his business and that order should be preserved. This
caused a momentary feeling of security among a certain element of the
non-Mussulman population, so that a number of shops that had been closed were
reopened.
But
this confidence was not of long duration, for the looting spread and the
savagery increased. At first, civilian Turks, natives of the town, were
the chief offenders. I myself saw such civilians armed with shotguns watching
the windows of Christian houses ready to shoot at any head that might appear.
These had the air of hunters crouching and stalking their prey. But the thing
that made an unforgettable impression was the expression on their faces. It was
that of an ecstasy of hate and savagery. There was in it, too, a
religious exaltation, but it was not beautiful, it was the religion of the
Powers of Darkness. One saw, too, all the futility of missionary work and
efforts of conversion. Here was complete conviction, the absolute triumph of
error and the doctrine of murder and pitilessness. There was something
infinitely sad in those pale writhing faces on which seemed to shine the wan
light of hell. One could not help pitying those men even while they were
killing. One thought of lost souls and the torments of the damned. Those killers
were unhappy.
The
last Greek soldiers disappeared from Smyrna on the evening of the eighth and the
Turks rapidly took over the town. Mounted patrols and little squads of soldiers
began to appear on the streets, serving as police.
These
were well enough behaved. There were credibly reported instances of minor
Turkish officers interfering with the looters and evil-doers, and even of
instances of kindness being shown to non-Mussulman natives. I saw no such
kindness, however. If I had, I should be eager to report it, but I am willing to
accept the testimony of others. The panic among the native Christians was now
increasing to an alarming extent.
As
the looting spread and the killing increased the American institutions were
filled with frightened people. These institutions in Smyrna were the
Intercollegiate Institute, a seminary for young girls; the Y. W. C. A., housed
in a large building and surrounded by a garden and tennis court, and the Y. M.
C. A.
The
night of the tenth the shooting could still be heard in the Christian quarters
and frightened people were besieging the doors of these institutions and
screaming and begging in God’s name to be let in.
A number of bluejackets were stationed in both the girls’ school and the Y. W.
C. A., and if any of them chance to read these lines they will confirm the
statement that the conduct of the American women teachers connected with the
American institutions in and about Smyrna was without exception, above praise.
There was not one who showed the least indication of fear or nervousness under
the most trying circumstances; not one who flinched or wobbled for an instant
throughout a situation which had scarcely a parallel in the history of the world
for hideousness and danger. They endured fatigue almost beyond human endurance,
that they might do all in their power to save their charges and give comfort and
courage to the frightened hunted creatures who had thrown themselves on their
protection. Such women as these throw imperishable luster on the name of
American womanhood. Since none of them gave up or showed the white feather, we
may conclude that they were worthy representatives of a worthy
sisterhoood—the American Woman. For the men nothing need be said, for American
men are expected to come up to the mark. I was proud of my whole colony at
Smyrna.
Mention
should be made of Jacobs, director of the Y. M. C. A. He was and is still,
doubtless, famous for a genial smile which he himself calls the “Y. M. C. A. smile.” Proceeding along the
quay on an errand of mercy in connection with the refugees, he was stopped by
several Turkish soldiers, searched and robbed of a sum of money. Continuing his
route, he hailed a Turkish officer to whom he complained. The officer asked him;
“Did they take it all”, “Fortunately, no,” replied Jacobs.
“Well then,” said the officer, “hand over what you have left,”
which Jacobs was compelled to do. As he left he was shot at, but fortunately not
bit. This incident I did not see, but it was related to me by other
Americans.
The
Turks were now making a thorough and systematic job of killing Armenian men. The
squads of soldiers which had given the inhabitants a certain amount of comfort,
inspiring the belief that the regular army was beginning to function and would
protect the citizens, were chiefly engaged in hunting down and killing
Armenians. Some were dispatched on the spot while others were led out into the
country in squads and shot, the bodies being left in piles where they fell. The
Americans belonging to the various charitable institutions, whose duties took
them into the interior of the town, reported an increasing number of dead and
dying in the streets.
A
native-born American reported that he had seen a man beaten to death with clubs
by the Turks, “till there was not a whole bone left in his body.” The
unwillingness of all the eye-witnesses to say anything that might offend the
Turks and thus compromise their interests, shows how difficult it has been to
get the full extent of the hideous and shameful truth.
Another
native-born American, representative of a well-known tobacco firm, came white
and trembling into the Consulate and reported that he had seen a terrible sight,
“just around the corner.” A number of Turkish soldiers had stopped an old man
and commenced talking to him. The old man had thrown up his hands, the fingers
spread in an attitude of supplication, whereupon one of the soldiers had split
his hands with a sword, cut off his wrists and hewn him
down.
The
loot was now being driven out of the bazaars and the Armenian quarter by the
cartload, and cartloads of corpses, as of beef or sheep, were being sent into
the country.
The
following is found in my memoranda dated September 12, 1922: “A party of
Americans saw nine cartloads of dead bodies being carried off in the
neighborhood of the Konak (Turkish government house) and another party saw three
such cart-loads in the neighborhood of the Point
Station.”
Captain
Hepburn, one of the naval officers, counted thirty-five dead bodies on the road
leading to Paradise, a small village near Smyrna, where the American
International College is situated.
At
Boudja, another village, largely inhabited by English and other foreigners,
there was a well-known and wealthy Dutch family by the name of De Jong. It
was reported that Mr. and Mrs. De Jong had been murdered by Turkish
soldiers. Concerning this affair, the following details were furnished me
by Mr. Francis Blackler, one of the prominent members of the American community
at Smyrna, head of the well-known firm of Griffith and Company, that does an
extensive business with America. Mr. Blackler may be mentioned as neither he nor
his wife, a lady of exceptional culture and refinement, has any idea of
returning to Smyrna, at least under present conditions.
“I
believe I was the first,” he said, “to find and recognize the bodies of
the De Jongs. I was passing along the street after the Turkish cavalry had
passed through and I saw two bodies lying on the road. I stooped down and looked
and immediately exclaimed, ‘Why, that’s Mr. De Jong!’ Glancing at the other, I
saw that it was Mrs. De Jong, The bodies were perforated with bullet holes. I
notified the relatives and we took them away and buried
them.”
About
this time, Sir Harry Lamb, the distinguished and able British consul-general,
came to me and asked if I could send two automobiles to Bournabat to get Doctor
Murphy and the women of his family. Besides my own car, there were quite a
number of autos at my disposal, as the Americans of Smyrna owned many,
practically all of which they had put at the disposition of the Consulate and
the Relief Organization.
Doctor
Murphy was a retired army surgeon who had been in the British Indian service. He
was living with his two daughters on pension at Bournabat, an aged man
with a high record. Sir Harry related that Turks had entered the Murphy
home and told the doctor not to be frightened, as they meant harm to no one.
They had simply come to violate the women. His daughters,
fortunately, had hidden themselves in a room up-stairs, but the eyes of the
Turks fell upon a young and pretty servant. They attempted to seize her, when
she fell on her knees and threw her arms about the legs of the aged doctor and
begged him to save her. The old hero tried to protect the girl in so far
as his feeble strength would allow, but he was beaten over the head with
muskets, kicked, and the girl torn from him by the Turks. They then proceeded to
accomplish their foul purpose. Sir Harry added that the doctor was in a
desperate state and the women nearly dying from fright. The automobiles were
sent and the Murphys brought down. The doctor died of his
injuries.
The Archbishop Chrysostom came to
the Consulate but a short time before his death, together with the Armenian
Archbishop. Chrysostom was dressed in black. His face was pale. This is the last
time that I saw this venerable and eloquent man alive. He was a constant friend
of Americans and American institutions and used all his influence with the
clergy and the government in favor of the support of our schools, our Y. W. C.
A. and Y. M. C. A. It is doubtful if there is any member of our foreign
missionary, educational and philanthropic institutions who will dispute this
statement. He frequented them all and often addressed their
members.
As
he sat there in the consular office, the shadow of his approaching death lay
upon his features. Some who read these lines—some few, perhaps— will understand
what is meant. At least twice in my life I have seen that shadow upon a human
visage and have known that the person was soon to die.
Monseigneur Chrysostom
believed in the union of Christian churches, in a united effort in the cause of
Christ and the better education of the Eastern clergy. Neither he nor the
Armenian bishop spoke to me of their own danger, but they asked me if nothing
could be done to save the inhabitants of Smyrna.
The
tales vary as to the manner of Chrysostom’s death, but the evidence is
conclusive that he met his end at the hands of the Ottoman populace. A Turkish
officer and two soldiers went to the offices of the cathedral and took him to
Nureddin Pasha, the Turkish commander-in-chief, who is said to have adopted the
medieval plan of turning him over to the fanatical mob to work its will upon
him. There is not sufficient proof of the veracity of this statement, but it is
certain that he was killed by the mob. He was spit upon, his beard torn out by
the roots, beaten, stabbed to death and then dragged about the streets.
His
only sin was that he was a patriotic and eloquent Greek who believed in the
expansion of his race and worked to that end. He was offered a refuge in
the French Consulate and an escort by French Marines, but he refused, saying
that it was his duty to remain with his flock. He said to me: “I am a
shepherd and must stay with my flock.” He died a martyr and deserves the
highest honors in the bestowal of the Greek church and government. He merits the
respect of all men and women to whom courage in the face of horrible death makes
an appeal.
Polycarp, the patron saint of
Smyrna, was burned to death in the stadium overlooking the town. The Turk roams
over the land of the Seven Cities and there is none to say him nay, but the last
scene in the final extinction of Christianity was glorified by the heroic death
of the last Christian bishop.
Looking from the door of the
Consulate, I saw a number of miserable refugees with their children, bundles and
sick, being herded toward the quay by several Turkish soldiers. One gray-haired
old woman was stumbling along behind, so weak that she could not keep up, and a
Turkish soldier was prodding her in the back with the butt of his musket. At
last he struck her such a violent blow between the shoulder-blades that she fell
sprawling upon her face on the stony street.
Another old woman came
screaming to me, crazy with grief, crying, “My boy! My boy!” The front of her
dress was covered with blood. She did not say what had happened to her boy, but
the copious blood told its own story.
Mrs. Cass Arthur Reed, wife of the
dean of the American College at Paradise, near Smyrna, thus describes the
stripping and beating of her father, the venerable president, as also of
Sergeant Crocker, an American navy officer:
“On September 11, 1922, American
Marines who were on the lookout from the roof of the college notified their
chief that the American settlement house, belonging to the college, was being
looted by the Turkish soldiers. So the chief and father rode over to the
settlement house in the college car, carrying the American flag. They informed
the men that this was American property they were looting and asked why they
were doing it? Father explained it was a community house and served the Turks as
well as Christians in its work. They seized both men and stripped them of
their clothes, valuables and money, shoes and stockings, and beat them both with
a club five feet long and three inches in diameter. Sergeant Crocker was
the officer who was beaten. He took the club over to the college afterward.
Before he was stripped of his clothes he, of his own accord, took off his
revolver and showed the Turkish soldiers that he did not mean to hurt them. They
beat both men severely and separated them so they could not stand together. They
beat them with the butt end of their rifles and with this big club I have
mentioned. Then they demanded of Doctor MacLachlan that he hand over the Marines
guarding his college. He said he was not a military man and had no control over
the Marines, who had been sent by the American Government to protect the
American property and the refugees in it.”
“They hit him on the head,
limbs, crushed the big toe of his right foot, all the time lunging at him to
run, which he refused to do knowing they would put bullets in his back if he
did. What he considered saved his life was that he kept calm through the
whole procedure, saying they could kill him if they wished, but he wanted to
explain why he was there and why he wanted them to stop robbing the Armenian
property. One man lunged at him with a bayonet, and father put out his hand to
grasp it and cut his palm. When the soldier drew back to get another lunge at
him, the bayonet remained in father’s hand. He was naked all this time.
Then they lamed his left foot, breaking the tendons in the back of his
knee so that he fell to the ground. He endeavored throughout the whole
thing to keep his feet and he saved the blows on his head by putting up his
arms. Several times they stood him up a few yards away and threatened to blaze
at him.”
“During this time, one of the Turkish students, who had seen the thing
from the college, ran over. While the guns were pointed at father, he threw
him-self on the butt ends of the rifles and beseeched the men not to kill him,
that he was a good man. They then accused this student of being an infidel and
he swore that he was a true Moslem and he was wearing Khemal’s picture on his
arm and also wearing a fez. Sergeant Crocker had given the order to his men on
the roof of the college not to fire or use their machine guns. Two of the
Marines chased over to help when they saw what was going on. Sergeant Crocker
ordered them to retreat in order to save Doctor MacLachlan’s and his own life.
The Turks placed Doctor MacLachlan up against a wall and were about to
shoot him when, at the very moment, a young Turkish officer appeared on
horse-back and ordered them to desist.” They
obeyed immediately and went away, proving by their immediate obedience that they
were regular troops under good discipline.
The
following details concerning the attack on President MacLachlan and Sergeant
Crocker were furnished me by another eye-witness of the
scene:
“When
the bluejackets in the main building saw the predicament of their chief and that
he was in danger of being ill-treated, they ran to his rescue. Sergeant Crocker
spreading his arms motioned them backward, saying: ‘Retire! Retire! Don’t shoot!
Retire!’
“This
they did, and after they had covered some distance in this manner, he gave the
order: ‘Wheel and run!’
“They
obeyed, whereupon the Turkish soldiers opened up a lively fusillade on the
running Marines, and their rifle fire was so rapid and continual that it
reminded me of a machine gun. Fortunately none of the Americans was
hurt.”
The
following looting of American property occurred at Paradise, as described to me
by an American lady connected with the college:
“In
September, 1922, every American house at Paradise had an American flag, back and
front, and all have been broken into except two.
“Lately,
while the chief of the Turkish army, who had billeted himself at the president’s
house, was eating there with his band playing on the campus, the Turks looted
the dean’s house, right on the same campus.”
Meanwhile,
in the city of Smyrna itself, the hunting and killing of Armenian men, either by
hacking or clubbing or driving out in squads into the country and shooting,
caused an unimaginable panic.
There was no help anywhere in sight. The battle-ships of the Great Powers,
including America, could not interfere for various reasons and there were
instances of persons who had reached them being sent back to the
shore.
This
man-hunt was now being participated in by squads of the Turkish army. Armenians
soon disappeared from the streets, either through death or
concealment.
The proclamation had been issued that any one concealing an Armenian in his
house would be brought before the court-martial—a justly dreaded tribunal. One
instance will show what terror this edict inspired in the hearts of all—even
foreign subjects. A prominent Dutch subject related the following incident,
which he witnessed from the deck of his small private
yacht:
“Over
by Cordelio (a suburb of Smyrna), I saw a young couple wade out into the sea.
They were a respectable, attractive pair and the man was carrying in his arms a
small child. As they waded deeper and deeper into the water, till it came nearly
up to their shoulders, I suddenly realized that they were going to drown
themselves. I therefore pushed out to them in a boat and with the promise that I
would do what I could to save them, managed to get them to shore. They explained
that they were Armenians, and knowing that the man would certainly be killed and
the wife, who was young and pretty, either outraged or taken into a harem and
their baby left to die, they had determined to drown themselves together. I took
them to several places and tried to get them in, but without success. I finally
conducted them to a large school whose building and garden were full of people,
rang the bell, and, when a sister came to the door explained the situation to
her. When she heard that they were Armenians, she shut the door. I went away
leaving them sitting on the steps of the school.”
And
there we shall leave them with the hope that in some miraculous way they were
saved, which. Is not probable. This incident is not related to throw discredit
on the personnel of the foreign school. They thought that if they took in an,
Armenian couple, they might endanger the safety of the hundreds of people whom
they were protecting, most, if not all of whom were of their own religion and
therefore their especial charges.
As
the Armenians had all disappeared from the streets, it was supposed that the men
who had escaped had taken refuge in their own quarter, a well-built,
Europeanized section of the town, within well-defined limits. Before proceeding
to what happened next, it should be explained that the soldiers were helped in
picking out Armenians in the streets by native spies, who accompanied them and
pointed out victims. I could not recognize the nationality of those foul and
slimy reptiles, the spies. I was told by some that they were Jews, but I have no
proof to substantiate the statement. Of course many of the informers were Turks,
and it is possible that they were all of that race, as they would naturally aid
their own troops.
When
Armenian hunting became too poor in the streets of Smyrna, their precinct was
closed to all except Turks by soldiers stationed at the street entrances, after
which the sack and massacre were conducted methodically.
I did not myself attempt to enter the Armenian section, but I was repeatedly
informed by those with whom I was in contact that ingress was not permitted.
Americans who saw into the quarter from their windows, stated that there was not
a house that escaped, so far as could be seen. All were broken into, looted, the
furniture smashed and thrown into the streets. What happened to the
inhabitants can easily be left to the imagination it is easy to form a mental
picture of those families, cowering in their homes, with their wives, their
daughters and their babes, waiting for the crash of a rifle butt on their
doors.
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