IT WAS after this complete gutting of the
Armenian portion of the town that the Turkish soldiers applied the torch to
numerous houses simultaneously. As has already been mentioned, they
chose a moment when a strong wind was blowing directly away from the Mohammedan
settlement. They started the conflagration directly behind the
Intercollegiate Institute, one of the oldest and most thorough American schools
in Turkey, in such a way that the building would be sure to fall an early prey
to the flames. The pupils of that school have always been largely Armenian
girls, and its buildings were, at that time, crowded with refugees. Miss Minnie
Mills, its dean, a brave, competent and admirable lady, saw Turkish soldiers go
into various Armenian houses with petroleum tins and in each instance after they
came out, flames burst forth. In a conversation held with me on the thirtieth of
January, 1925, on the occasion of the Missionary Convention that took place in
the City of Washington, Miss Mills confirmed the above statements and added the
following details:
“I
could plainly see the Turks carrying the tins of petroleum into the houses, from
which, in each instance, fire burst forth immediately afterward. There was not
an Armenian in sight, the only persons visible being Turkish soldiers of the
regular army in smart uniforms.”
On
the same occasion Mrs. King Birge, wife of an American missionary to Turkey,
made the following statement:
“I
went up into the tower of the American College at Paradise, and, with a pair of
field-glasses, could plainly see Turkish soldiers setting fire to houses. I
could see Turks lurking in the fields, shooting at Christians. When I drove down
to Smyrna from Paradise to Athens, there were dead bodies all along the
road.”
During
the same conversation Miss Mills told me of a great throng of Christians crowded
into a street the head of which was guarded by Turkish soldiers. The flames were
approaching and the soldiers were forcing these people to go into the houses. An
American automobile passed and the poor wretches stretched out their hands,
crying: “Save us! The Turks are going to burn us
alive.” Nothing could be done, of course, and the car
passed on. Later two Catholic priests came up and said to the Turks, “This is
a fiendish thing you are doing,” and they allowed an old woman to come out
of one of the houses.
It will be seen that the
situation was such that only the Turks were in position to light the
flames. Now we have the testimony of eye-witnesses of the highest
credibility, who actually saw them commit the act. I remember on
various occasions in the past talking with Miss Mills concerning Turkish
atrocities, which were continually occurring and the missionary policy of
remaining silent for fear of endangering the lives of colleagues working in the
interior of Asia Minor. “I believe,” said she, “that the time for that
policy has passed and not even regard for the safety of our workers should
prevent us from telling the truth.” She was right, of course, for a
full understanding of what has been going on in Turkey by the civilized world
might have caused such a development of Christian sentiment as might have led to
the taking of measures to prevent the wholesale horrors that have been
perpetrated.
The
following extract from a letter written by a lady connected with the American
missions in Turkey has recently fallen into my hands. It is dated September 21,
1922, and was sent to a friend in the United States:
“Our
Murray house across the street was locked up and protected only by an American
flag hung from an upper window, but we had several Marines from the American
destroyers with us who behaved splendidly all through and were a great comfort
to us. Of course we had many trying things during the time we were there
together, from Saturday, September ninth, until Wednesday, thirteenth, when we
left, because the place was on fire. Most of the people who had fled to us for
refuge behaved wonderfully patiently under the lack of bread and many
difficulties. We had eighty small babies and one born there. We organized a
hospital, etc., and had gotten the commissariat running with the difficulty
overcome, as we supposed, of lack of bread.”
“All
ovens in the Christian quarters, where we were, at least, and probably
everywhere, had been ordered closed from Sunday until Wednesday, when the city
burned. It looks now to me like a definite attempt to starve the
population out.”
“The
Red Cross insisted on ovens being opened for them and the people were then
burned out.”
“The
looting and murder went on steadily under our eyes—a murdered man lay before our
Murray house door for days, under the American flag, his blood spattered over
our steps, etc. There were dead and dying every where. The silence of death
finally reigned over us and was broken during the last three days only by the
fierce Chetas breaking in doors of houses, shooting the poor cowering
inhabitants, looting, etc., and at night the howling of homeless dogs and
the feet of wandering horses clanging over the rough stones of the street.
After the third day of the occupation of Khemal’s army, fires began to
break out in the Christian quarter of the city. Miss Mills and some of our
teachers saw soldiers preparing fires. I myself saw a Cheta carrying a load of
firewood on his back up an alley, from which later on the fire that caught our
building came.”
“It
is quite clear in my mind that there was a definite plan to burn out the
Christian quarter after it had been looted. The time for starting the great fire
was when the wind was blowing away from the Turkish quarter. I remarked when the
fires began.”
“I
am sure the Turkish authorities will say one of two things, either that the
retreating Greek army set the city onfire, or the Armenians.”
“Exactly
this has been published in Italian and French papers. Do not believe a word of
it! We were in the Christian quarter where the fires began. Almost all Armenians
except those we were sheltering had been looted and killed a day or two—even
longer— before any fires began. The Greek soldiers had passed quietly through
the suburbs about three or four days before.”
“The
whole city had been completely under military control since Saturday afternoon
and the fires began on Wednesday, which finally destroyed the city. The Turks,
Chetas or regulars, or both, burned the city to dispose of the dead after having
carried away their loot.”
The
writer of this letter is neither Armenian nor Greek and is a person of the
highest repute. I do not agree with the reason stated in it for the burning of
Smyrna.
The
torch was applied to that ill-fated city and it was all systematically burned by
the soldiers of Mustapha Khemal in order to exterminate Christianity in Asia
Minor and to render it impossible for the Christians to
return.
By
the time the Turkish soldiers had set fire to Smyrna, September 13, 1922, I had
succeeded in getting hold of practically all of my colony (about three hundred
in number) most of them naturalized citizens.
These, together with their families and relatives were huddled in the Theatre de Smyrne, on the quay, owned by
a naturalized American citizen. Just across the road was the harbor where the
American cruiser, the Simpson, was
moored, ready to take them off. There was a guard of bluejackets with a
machine-gun inside the theater.
Soon
after the conflagration took on serious proportions, I went up on the terrace of
the Consulate to look. The spectacle was one of vast dark clouds of smoke,
arising from a wide area, for the fire had been started simultaneously in many
places.
As
it was evident that the time was fast approaching when it would be necessary to
evacuate the colony, I was kept very busy during those few remaining lurid hours
in signing passes for such as were entitled to American protection and
transportation to Piraeus.
The
flames consumed the Armenian quarter with such appalling rapidity as to make it
certain that the Turks were augmenting them with inflammable fluids. Bluejackets
sent to the scene reported that they saw Turkish soldiers throwing rags soaked
in petroleum into Armenian houses.
The
buildings of Smyrna were much more inflammable than they appeared at a casual
glance. The city had suffered in times past from earthquakes and the stone and
plaster walls contained a skeleton of wooden beams and timbers to prevent their
being easily shaken down. When a wall became very hot from a contiguous fire
these wooden timbers caught inside the plaster and the masonry crumbled. As the
conflagration spread and swept on down toward the quay where were the beautiful
and well-built offices and warehouses of the great foreign merchants and the
residences of the rich Levantines, Greeks and Armenians, the people poured in a
rapidly increasing flood to the waterfront, old, young, women, children, sick
and well. Those who were unable to walk were carried on stretchers, or on the
shoulders of relatives.
The
aged Doctor Arghyropolos, long a well-known figure on the streets of Smyrna,
being ill, was brought down on a stretcher to the quay where he
died.
The
last Miltonic touch was now added to a scene of vast, unparalleled horror and
human suffering.
These thousands were crowded on a narrow street between the burning city and the
deep waters of the bay.
The
question has been frequently asked, “What efforts were made to put out the fire
at Smyrna?” I did not see any such efforts. If the Turks did anything along this
line it was merely the sporadic attempt of some petty officer, who had not been
informed.
What measures they took for saving the American consular building have already
been described.
Great
clouds of smoke were by this time beginning to pour down upon the Consulate. The
crowd in the street before this building, as well as that upon the quay, was now
so dense that the commanding naval officer told me that in ten minutes more I
should not be able to get through. The hour had struck for me to evacuate my
colony, to find some refuge for it in a Christian country, and to find means for
its temporary sustenance.
I
was profoundly stirred by the plight of these people and was determined that
they should get the kindest, most generous and patient treatment possible. I
therefore loaded a few trunks into a waiting automobile, as well as a few
bundles of my fine collection of rugs, which fortunately were lying packed up,
waiting to be taken out of their casings for winter use, grabbed whatever was
dearest to me that happened to be in sight, and with my wife and a Greek servant
started for the quay and the waiting destroyer.
The
naval officers and men acted with the greatest efficiency and both myself and
wife were treated with extreme courtesy. In the somewhat difficult task of
getting us through the frantic crowds and on to the launch, the young
native-born Americans were also cool-headed and capable. There was great danger
of the launch being rushed and swamped by the desperate, terrified people
swarming the wharf. One frightened man who jumped into it, was thrown into the
sea by a young American. He was promptly fished out again and went away ashamed
and very wet. It was this incident, happening at a psychological moment, and the
determined guard kept by bluejackets and a few native-born Americans, which
enabled us to embark and get away.
The
last view of the ill-fated town by daylight was one of vast enveloping clouds
rolling up to heaven, a narrow water-front covered with a great throng of
people—an ever-increasing throng, with the fire behind and the sea before, and a
powerful fleet of inter-allied battle-ships, among which were two American
destroyers, moored a short distance from the quay and looking
on.
As
the destroyer moved away from the fearful scene and darkness descended, the
flames, raging now over a vast area, grew brighter and brighter, presenting a
scene of awful and sinister beauty. Historians and archeologists have
declared that they know of but one event in the annals of the world which can
equal in savagery, extent and all the elements of horror, cruelty and human
suffering, the destruction of Smyrna and its Christian population by the Turks,
and this was the demolition of Carthage by the
Romans.
Certainly
at Smyrna, nothing was lacking in the way of atrocity, lust, cruelty and all
that fury of human passion which, given their full play, degrade the human race
to a level lower than the vilest and cruelest of beasts. For during all this
diabolical drama the Turks robbed and raped. Even the raping can be understood
as an impulse of nature, irresistible perhaps, when passions are running wild
among a people of low mentality and less civilization, but the repeated robbing
of women and girls can be attributed neither to religious frenzy nor to animal
passions. One of the keenest impressions, which I brought away with me from
Smyrna was a feeling of shame that I belonged to the human
race.
At
the destruction of Smyrna there was one feature for which Carthage presents no
parallel. There was no fleet of Christian battle-ships at Carthage looking on at
a situation for which their governments were responsible. There were no American
cruisers at Carthage.
The
Turks were glutting freely their racial and religious lust for slaughter, rape
and plunder within a stone’s throw of the Allied and American battle-ships
because they had been systematically led to believe that they would not be
interfered with. A united order from the commanders or from any two of them—one
harmless shell thrown across the Turkish quarter—would have brought the Turks to
their senses.
And
this, the presence of those battle-ships in Smyrna harbor, in the year of our
Lord 1922, impotently watching the last great scene in the tragedy of the
Christians of Turkey, was the saddest and most significant feature of the whole
picture.
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