THE TURKS ARRIVE
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 wabbled 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 sisterhood—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 hit. 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 cartloads 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.
[Illustration: Smyrna burning, with populace on quay.]
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 American 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 himself 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
horseback 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.