On May 8, three days after our arrival, the surgical hospital of
Mrs. Doughty-Wylie was moved from the little cottage and railroad
sheds, where such excellent emergency work had been done under such
adverse circumstances, to a large commodious house, which had been
generously offered for the work by its owner, Cosma Simeonides. In
the well-ventilated, spacious rooms of this building 60 patients were
comfortably housed, and sufficient space was left for an admirable
operating room, for accommodations for help, and for kitchen needs. To
care for the patients in these improved quarters, and to relieve the
work of the British marines, the necessity for whose withdrawal was
anticipated in the near future, a corps of 15 young Armenians and Greeks
were enrolled as hospital assistants. These volunteers were for the most
part students of St. Paul’s Institute, at Tarsus, and their knowledge of
English facilitated the work for the English speaking doctors and nurses.
Under these new conditions work which before was arduous and imperfect
became a constant source of satisfaction and pleasure. A large debt of
gratitude is due to the owners who so generously devoted their beautiful
home to this work.
The transfer of the surgical patients left the first emergency hospital
free for the accommodation of medical patients. It was soon filled and
overflowing, and within a week it was found necessary to accept an offer
of the use of the Greek School for the accommodation of patients. On
Saturday, May 15, this building was opened as a medical hospital with 50
patients, the most part cases of pneumonia, enteric fever, and dysentery.
These patients, too, were under the general care and oversight of Mrs.
Doughty-Wylie. In this building also were housed the four American
first-aid bluejackets who came up from the cruiser _North Carolina_ the
following week; and here, too, was instituted another pharmacy to supply
the needs of the hospitals under the care of the sailors who had had
training in pharmaceutical work.
_Work of Trained Nurses._
In connection with the improvement of the hospital work should be
mentioned the noble work of several trained nurses, whose services
were early volunteered. Miss Yerghanian, sent by the King’s Daughters
Society of Smyrna for this work, arrived on May 5. Miss La Fontaine, of
the British Seaman’s Hospital at Smyrna, came soon after. These two, in
conjunction with two Armenian nurses who came with the Constantinople
Armenian Relief Commission, undertook the nursing of the medical
hospital. Miss Davis, of the Jessie Taylor Memorial School, of Beirut,
furnished Mrs. Doughty-Wylie most acceptable and skillful assistance in
the work at the surgical hospital.
It has been said that perhaps the greatest need of the medical work for
the Adana refugees was the lack of sufficient supply of milk. Accordingly
the most encouraging day of our work was the day, ten days after our
arrival, when arrangements were made to secure huge quantities of goats’
milk from peasants at less than half the famine price of cows’ milk that
prevailed in the first days of the camp life. Distribution of the milk
and soup in the camps had been early assigned to the Misses Webb, of the
American Girls’ School in Adana. The work of these two ladies in their
constant, tireless devotion to the relief of discomfort, sickness, and
trouble incidental to the distressing conditions of the camp life, calls
for the warmest admiration. To the sufferers, whose constant appeals
to them were never slighted, these sisters were veritable ministering
angels of mercy. Another assistant in this relief work was Mrs. Kuhne, of
Mersine, who, while her health permitted, helped in the work of the upper
camp.
[Illustration: BUILDING TO BE ALTERED FOR MORE PERMANENT AMERICAN RED
CROSS HOSPITAL.]
On Monday, May 17, twelve days after we reached Adana, medical assistance
was arriving in such force that I felt justified in returning the three
medical students who were with me to Beirut, where their approaching
examinations necessitated their early return. On this day, in addition to
the helpers already enumerated, Dr. J. T. Miller, surgeon of the American
cruiser _North Carolina_, arrived with four first-aid bluejackets. Dr.
Gogel, of the British cruiser _Minerva_, arrived with four marines to
take the place of the _Swiftsure_ marines, who were leaving.
_International Feature of Relief Work._
I remained in Adana five days longer to make sure that the work was
all apportioned and running smoothly. When I left, on Saturday, May
22, the medical work was well in hand and fully manned. Dr. Miller was
in charge of the medical hospital, which it was agreed to call the
American Red Cross Hospital, and also in charge of the sick children
in the measles camp. Dr. Gogel was in charge of Mrs. Doughty-Wylie’s
surgical hospital, and a ward for sick babies that had been instituted
in an adjoining building, under the care of Miss Alltree. The patients
in the hospitals were improving and being discharged, but other patients
had been admitted, so that the original numbers were maintained. Some
wounded had come in from outside the city. The German hospital, under Dr.
Phanouriades, had not taken in new patients, and the number there had
diminished to 25. Responsibility for the German encampment was turned
over to the French clinic and pharmacy. On May 20 the French opened a
little hospital of 12 beds, for medical cases, near their pharmacy. In
the Yenemahalle camp rounds were being made by the Turkish and Armenian
doctors; the Armenian pharmacy was in full operation and two daily
clinics were being held.
[Illustration: THE ADANA RELIEF COMMITTEE IN SESSION. MR. CHAMBERS ON
LEFT AND MAJOR DOUGHTY-WYLIE ON RIGHT.]
The Turkish military doctors were continuing the clinic at their
pharmacy near the measles camp. There were thus in operation
four hospitals—English, American, German, and French; four
dispensaries—Turkish, Armenian, French, and American, and five daily
clinics—English, French, Turkish, and two Armenian. The staff of workers
included 25 doctors—English, American, French, Greek, Syrian, Turkish,
and Armenian; 11 trained nurses—English, German, and Armenians; 8
first-aid men from the English and American ships, and 12 Armenian
assistants. In all this work one of the pleasantest features was its
international character. No friction or international jealousies were
seen. Before the great need and common aim, distinctions of race or
nation fell away, and one helped another with a single desire for
service. While I have spoken of the surgical hospitals as English and
the medical hospital as American, the distinction is only in name, for
the English and Americans have worked together indiscriminately in both
hospitals.
The provision for the medical wants of the refugees was sufficient, and
it seemed only a question of time until the emergency relief work should
grade off into the permanent medical work required for 20,000 homeless
and penniless people. When the time for this change should come, it was
desired that some permanent good might remain as a memorial of the relief
work in Adana, and it was planned that the patients remaining from the
American Red Cross Hospital, together with whatever hospital equipment
might have been accumulated, should be left to the care of the American
Mission in a large building belonging to them, which is now being altered
for use as a hospital. There is no hospital in Adana, except one poorly
equipped and totally inadequate charity institution, and the field of
usefulness for a good hospital would be great. There could be no fitter
legacy of permanent help to the Adana sufferers than the founding among
them of such a permanent hospital.
The evacuation of the camps, forced by the government on all those who
had remaining houses or vineyards, while it worked hardship in some
cases, was a necessary precaution for the avoidance of epidemics, and at
this time the campers had been reduced by about one-half.
A share in the Adana relief work has been a privilege not alone as an
opportunity for service, but it has been a still greater privilege to
see the men and women there who, in sublime unconsciousness of self,
are daily giving themselves to fill the swarming needs of thousands of
destitute people. Especially is this true of Major Doughty-Wylie and Mr.
Nesbit Chambers. Credit for the high personal bravery shown by them at
the time of the massacres is surpassed by admiration for their devotion
now that, acting as directors of the Adana relief work, and showing
foresight, discretion, and economy, they have established themselves to
bear the burden through the hot days of the long summer. Honor may well
be given to those who couple courage in danger with humanity in time of
need.
(Signed) HARRY G. DORMAN, M. D.,
_Of the Adana Relief Delegation of the
American Red Cross Committee in Beirut._
THE SACK OF KESSAB
By STEPHEN VAN R. TROWBRIDGE.
Kessab was a thrifty Armenian town of about 8,000 inhabitants, situated
on the landward slope of Mount Cassius (Arabic, Jebel Akra), which
stands out prominently upon the Mediterranean seacoast, halfway between
Alexandretta and Latakia. Kessab is now a mass of blackened ruins, the
stark walls of the churches and houses rising up out of the ashes and
charred timbers heaped on every side. What must it mean to the 5,000
men and women and little children who have survived a painful flight to
the seacoast and have now returned to their mountain home, only to find
their houses sacked and burned! There were nine Christian villages which
clustered about Kessab in the valleys below. Several of these have been
completely destroyed by fire. All have been plundered and the helpless
people driven out or slain.
On Thursday, April 22, serious alarm reached the people of Kessab. It
was known that a massacre of the Armenians had taken place in Antioch,
36 miles to the north, and that attacks were being planned on the
Christian villages of the mountains. A parley was arranged with the
Mudir (magistrate) of Ordou, the nearest seat of government, and a
telegram asking for military protection was dispatched to the Governor
of Aleppo. The Mudir, whose name is Hassein Hassan Agha, met the Kessab
delegation halfway down the mountainside and assured them that he had
already scattered the mobs that had gathered with evil intention. But his
pledges soon proved to be idle tales, because that very Thursday evening
he permitted crowds of armed Moslems to come into Ordou from Jissr
Shoughr, Kusayr, Antioch, and even from Idlib, far to the east. Early the
next morning, after entertaining the raiders overnight, he sent them on
their way to the sack of Kessab. Moreover, the Mudir detained the eleven
gendarmes which were ordered by the Aleppo government to protect American
and Italian interests in Kessab. The Mudir instructed the gendarmes that
they should remain in Ordou.
[Illustration: STEPHEN VAN RENSSELAER TROWBRIDGE.]
Thursday evening the Kessab scouts brought word into the town that great
crowds of armed Turks and Arabs had gathered in the nearest Moslem
village. It was an anxious night. Before daylight, Friday morning, rifle
shots told of the enemy’s advance. By three separate mountain trails,
from the north, northeast, and east, thousands of armed Moslems came
pouring up the valley. Their Martini rifles sent the bullets whizzing
into the Kessab houses, while the shotguns of the 300 Christians who
were posted on the defense could not cover the long range. It was a
desperate struggle, and the Kessab men realized their straits. The plan
which they thereupon made is to their honor and credit. They resolved to
hold out as many hours as possible, so as to furnish time for the women
and children to escape into the clefts and caves of the mountains to the
south. For five hours the fusillade continued with fierce determination.
By midafternoon Turks from the Antioch villages had circled around Jebel
Akra on the north, so as to command a position above Kessab. The Arabs
had flanked the town on the southeast. Meanwhile the vanguard of the
Ordou Moslems had captured and burned the adjacent villages just below
Kessab, and had set fire to three of the houses at that end of the town.
Their cries and frantic threats could be heard distinctly. The women
and girls gathered up the little children on their backs and in their
arms, hastened along the west trail over the ridge toward Kaladouran,
and clambered up into the cliffs and crevices which overlook the sea at
an altitude of 5,000 feet. Some in small groups, others entirely alone,
hid themselves underneath the thorny underbrush or in the natural caves.
Toward evening the men had been compelled by the overwhelming odds to
give up the defense. They fell back without any panic or noise. And the
Turks and Arabs who rushed into the streets of the town were so seized
with the lust of plunder that they did not pursue the rear guard of the
Christians. Angry must have been the scenes as the plunderers fought with
one another over the stores of raw silk, the chief product of Kessab.
Cattle, mules, copper kettles, bedding, clothing, and rugs were carried
out by the Turks in feverish haste, as one after another the houses
were set on fire. Some of the aged Armenians, who had not the strength
to flee, were caught in their houses and barbarously put to death.
Others, who had delayed flight in order to gather up and rescue a few
valuables, were likewise put to the sword. Axes and knives finished up
what the rifles had spared. But the instinct to escape had been so strong
among the Christians, and the greed of plunder so absorbing among the
Mohammedans, that in all the day’s fray only 153 Armenians and a handful
of Turks were killed.
A Kessab girl named Feride, 20 years of age, had a remarkable escape.
She had gone over to the village of Ekizolook (Twin Hollows) to save
the little bridal trousseau of one of her friends. It was well on in
the afternoon when she had gathered up the garments into a bundle.
And when she hurried out into the street to join the fugitives she
found, to her dismay, that everyone had gone beyond sight and hearing.
A moment more and she saw a host of Arabs rush up through the street.
She dashed through several little gardens and reached the rocks and
underbrush above the village. On and on she made her way without being
discovered. In a deep cleft between the rocks she hid and listened.
She had dropped the precious bundle, but kept in her hand her New
Testament, which was more precious than anything else. As she listened
and watched many Arabs and Turks ranged past the entrance to the cleft.
Then came one who peered in closely. Their eyes met. He gave a cry to
his comrades, “There is a maiden here!” and sprang forward. She summoned
her whole strength and leaped up the side of a great rock which rises
up above the village. It was a feat which no athlete could commonly
have done. At first the Arab could not follow her. He cried again to
his companions. They replied by shouting to one another, “Surround her!
Surround her!” She was now standing on top of the rock in full sight
of fifteen or sixteen Arabs, all in her pursuit. They called fiercely
to her to come down. She answered in Arabic, “You may shoot me, but I
will never give myself up.” Then they ordered her to throw down to them
the purse she had in her hand. She told them it was not her purse, but
her Holy Gospel. And she held out her hands in prayer to God. Just then
the Arab who had first seen her made a spring up the side of the rock.
She leaped in the opposite direction down into some brushwood, but was
caught at the side of the rock by branches of briar. The Arab came on
over the top of the rock and had reached out his arm to seize her, when
a Christian young man, who had taken refuge in another part of the
brushwood, fired and shot him dead. He gave a long groan, threw up his
arms, and fell prostrate upon the rock. The other Moslems were startled
by the unexpected shot and retreated for a time. This gave Feride
time to escape into the caves farther up the mountainside, where she
remained entirely alone all night and part of the next day. When I was in
Ekizolook the Arab had not yet been buried. I took his headdress—a coil
of black wool and the “keifiyye” which goes with it—as a trophy. Feride
herself told me the story of her escape. Her eyes were bright and her
cheeks flushed as she recalled the dangers through which she had passed.
She said that after she was discovered in that cleft of the rocks all
fear left her. A strange courage came over her, and she felt sure that
God would save her from being captured.
One of the school teachers, named Mariam, was caught by the Arabs not far
from where Feride had hidden. The Arab who captured her ordered her to
become a Moslem. When she refused he threatened to kill two little boys
she was trying to protect. Then he raised the axe which he carried and
placed the edge against Mariam’s neck, threatening her three separate
times. Each time she said she would never become a Mohammedan, nor deny
her faith in Christ, nor surrender her honor. The Arab snatched the
money which she had with her and tore off the dress and shoes which she
was wearing. He told her he would make her his slave. Just then some
Turks from Ordou came up and recognized among the women the wife of Dr.
Apelian. The doctor had often served these Turks medically. A sharp
skirmish ensued, which ended in the defeat of the Arabs. The women were
that night taken in safe conduct by these Turks to a Greek house in
Ordou, where they were kindly cared for until the fighting was over and
they could return to Kessab.
One of the saddest experiences was that of Azniv Khanum, wife of the
preacher in Kaladouran. Ten days before the massacre she had given birth
to twin children, a boy and a girl. When the flight to the mountains took
place she had not the strength to climb with the others, so her husband
hid her and their four children among the rocks near the edge of the
village. The babies were wrapped in a little quilt and the other children
clung to their mother, while the father hid in a cave close by. Before
long Azniv Khanum and the children were discovered by the Turks. One of
the plunderers snatched up the quilt, despite the mother’s entreaties.
The two babies rolled out, one in one direction and one in another, over
the rough stones. Then the Turk rudely laid hold of the mother, and,
holding his revolver against her breast, ordered her to become a Moslem.
She bravely refused. “You are my slave,” he said, and beat her with the
flat of his sword. He commenced to drag her down in order to tie her on
his horse. Her foot tripped, she fell, and rolled over and over for about
eight yards. There she lay on the rocks, bruised and exhausted, in the
hot sun. The Turk seeing a chance to plunder, abandoned her. Afterwards
other Turks took her money and her dress and shoes and her little girl
about four years old. It is wonderful that she lived through it all. One
of the little babies lived a week, the other about ten days, after that.
When I was in Kaladouran we buried the little boy. It was a very touching
service out under the trees.
Now, to return to the narrative. Friday evening it occurred to Dr.
Apelian that if he could reach the seaport of Latakia, forty miles to
the south, he could telegraph for assistance by sea. With a trusty guide
he set out that same evening for the house of a Moslem chief in the
mountains. This Turk agreed to ride with him to Latakia, and thus give
him protection along the way. Without this escort the doctor could never
have made this trip. Even as it was he took his life in his hands. They
arrived in Latakia at 2 o’clock at night, called the British and French
consuls to Dr. Balph’s home, sent telegrams to Alexandretta and Aleppo,
and at dawn notified the Mutasarrif (Lieutenant-Governor) of the attack
on Kessab. Turkish soldiers were dispatched at once, and a Messageries
steamer started to the rescue from Alexandretta.
Meanwhile, all day Saturday the sacking and burning went on. The large
village of Kaladouran was devastated. The Moslems increased in numbers
as raiders from distant villages arrived. In the afternoon Selhan Agha,
captain of gendarmerie, arrived with forty cavalrymen. He joined in the
sack of the town, taking for himself and his company the most valuable
share of the booty, the raw silk found in the merchants’ shops. He and
the cavalrymen were afterward intercepted at Idlib, on their way to
Aleppo, and their saddlebags were found to be crammed full of plunder.
Selhan Agha, with the forty horsemen, had been dispatched from Jissr by
orders from Aleppo, Thursday afternoon, to go at once to protect Kessab
from any mob violence. He could have gone in eight hours, or even less,
from Jissr to Kessab. At that time the attack had not yet commenced.
Instead of going directly to Kessab he went to Sheikh Keoy and spent the
night there. The next day all the Moslems from that village were out
on the warpath, while Selhan Agha turned far out of his way and made a
sixty-mile detour to many other Mohammedan villages and to the city of
Antioch. Finally he reached Kessab, forty-eight hours after receiving his
orders, and when he arrived he did not stop the burning and looting, but
himself became a plunderer. This whole disgraceful affair has been probed
by the Aleppo Commission, and their findings substantiate all of the
above statements. I have most of the evidence, however, directly from one
of the gendarmes named Mehmet Ali.
[Illustration: BOYS’ GRAMMAR SCHOOL, KESSAB. BURNED APRIL 23-24.]
By Saturday night there was not much valuable plunder left. The iron bars
were wrenched out from the windows and the household pottery smashed to
pieces out of sheer vandalism. As the loot became exhausted the Moslems
commenced to range the mountainsides, exploring the caves, and firing
into the bushes in the effort to exterminate the Christians. One woman’s
husband was cut to pieces before her very eyes, and she herself was
severely wounded in the side. She escaped to the deep ravines near the
summit of Mount Cassius and lived on snow for twelve days. She is now in
the American hospital at Latakia.
All the tradesmen’s shops and merchants’ storehouses in Kessab are
burned. In fact, the whole market is in ashes. The Roman Catholic and
Protestant Churches are completely burned. The latter was a spacious
building, seating a congregation of 1,800. The American Mission
residence, occupied by Miss E. M. Chambers, was burned; so, also, the
Girls’ High School (American property), the Boys’ Grammar School, and
the Protestant parsonage; 530 houses, including the homes of all the
well-to-do families in Kessab, are also destroyed by fire. The 700 houses
which remain, plundered, but not burned, are small one-room or two-room
houses, belonging to laborers and other poor people. In Ekizolook 38
homes are burned; 22 remain. In Kaladouran 65 are gone; 135 are left. In
Duz Aghaj 24 are burned; 1 remains. In Keorkine 55 are burned; 45 remain.
On Saturday one of the Latin priests, Father Sabatine, made the journey
to Latakia, at considerable risk, in order to appeal for help. Whether it
was by the influence of his telegrams or the ones sent twenty-four hours
before by the Protestant physician, Dr. Apelian, I do not know, but at
all events on Sunday morning a Messageries Maritime steamer came down the
coast toward the cove at Kaladouran, at the foot of Mount Cassius. The
news was carried from mouth to mouth to all the hiding places among the
crags and ravines, so that within a few hours the fugitives began to pour
in streams down the Kaladouran gorge to the seashore. The painfulness of
that descent can scarcely be imagined. Most of the people had not had
anything to eat for two days. Many of them had become separated from
their families and were now plodding down toward the sea with a strange
blend of hope and despair. The suffering of many of the women was severe
indeed. Fourteen children were born during that flight, and the mothers
had no alternative but to press onward as best they could in the wake of
the multitude.
An 8-year-old little boy was captured by the Turks and carried off to
become a Moslem. He was given a Mohammedan name and made to wear a little
turban. He acted very demurely and kept quiet. But when a chance offered,
as he had permission to go to a nearby well, he ran for dear life and got
away. With an instinct as keen as that of a wild creature of the woods,
he made his way among the mountains and across the maritime plain forty
miles, to Latakia, where he found his mother.