Rafael de Nogales

[bellthecat]

Rafael de Nogales

"Four Years Beneath the Crescent"

Published in London, 1926.

 

(Pages 55 - 65)

 

CHAPTER V (end of)

 

A few moments before dawn we crossed the Euphrates by a picturesque bridge, and traversed the spacious valley of the Kara-Su, in which I glimpsed from afar the ruins of numerous Christian chapels looming above the roofs of Armenian villages. We entered, in the early forenoon, the kasaba of Mush, situated at the foot of one of the spurs of the AntiTaurus, which extends majestically from east to west, a violet colossus crowned with the silver peaks of Darkosh and Sheitan-Dagh. Mush was tiny. Apart from its bazaars, insignificant and unkempt, it had little to interest the visitor. Upon my going to pay my respects to the Mutaserif or Governor of the District, he told me that the military chief of the place had been urgently summoned to Bitlis, the capital of the province. He remarked incidentally that there was a school for girls in Mush, presided over by German missionaries. Delighted at this latter piece of information, I went to visit the school. However, the mistresses were not Germans, but Danes, and they were at the head of an Armenian girls' orphan asylum. I learned from them some extremely alarming details regarding the Armenian situation, which made me comprehend perfectly their fully justified fear as to the future fate of their small protégés. In spite of the grave suspicions with which that urgent trip of Lieutenant-Colonel Weisel Bey to Bitlis had inspired me, I consoled them as best I could and even took charge of a letter which they gave me for the Sister Superior of their Mission at Van.

 

That afternoon I learned likewise from an Armenian of note (a deputy or senator of the Empire, if my memory is correct) that the situation in Van threatened every sort of complication because of the sanguinary character of the Governor-General of the province, Djevded Bey, brother-in-law of Enver *****. This person, not satisfied with having ordered the traitorous assassination of a group of prominent Christians in his vilayet, had tried to lay hands on the Bishop himself in order to hang or shoot him.

 

After a well-earned rest we left Mush and, skirting the whole southern border of the Valley of the Frat, we dismounted at sunset in the village of Kodneh, overhung by the extinct volcano of Namrod-Dagh, nine thousand feet in height and crowned by a crater, or rather a lake, eight kilometres in circumference; by virtue of which fact it is considered one of the five marvels of Armenia. Four or five kilometres beyond Kodneh we watered our horses in a rill which flowed from a spring beside the road, and which, to judge from the traces of ruins round about it, must have been covered once upon a time by a temple or kiosk of reddish stone. It was the famous source of the Kara-Su, which historians have sometimes confounded with that of the eastern Euphrates (the Murad-Su), which is situated upon the northern slope of the Alan-Dagh on the outskirts of Ararat. Toward the close of afternoon on the seventeenth, we finally reached the little town of Tetvan, perched in the southwestern angle of the lake of Van, which lies like a silver mirror at an altitude of 5,100 feet above sea-level, and is three hundred feet deep and one hundred twenty-five kilometres long by fifty in width. Its salt waters are rich in herring. Its outlet through the channel of the Tigris seems to have been closed thousands of years since by the lava-flows from Namrod-Dagh, then active. Nevertheless, the lake of Van still has communication with the Bitlis

river by subterranean channels, and with the eastern Euphrates by means of the lagoon of Nazuk.

 

Tetvan was not, at least at that epoch, anything more than an insignificant village, spread out at the foot of the stark promontory from which Xenophon and Tamerlane contemplated, centuries ago, the shimmering surface of that famous lake melting away on the south into the snowy ranges of Kar-Kar. Over those heights led the route which I had first intended to take. But seeing the masses of snow that covered if, I had fortunately elected to go by the northern route, which, though longer, was more passable. Seated that afternoon on the hare cliff of Tetvan, dreaming in solitude and contemplating the opal waters of Van, I was surrounded by gliding shadows; and the Sipan-Dagh, which loomed against the evening sky like a pyramid of smoke, enveloped itself gradually in a cloak of dark cloud, while Ararat flared in the distance like a smudge of brimstone. That landscape, with its deathly gleam and its infinitely mournful beauty, assured me at last that I had reached my destination, in the heart of ancient Armenia.

 

Skirting the foot of the Namrod-Dagh, we arrived on the nineteenth of April at the kasaba of El-Aghlat, near the northwest corner of the Lake of Van and not very distant from the ruins of ancient Aghlat, which Tamerlane once stormed to the sound of trumpets, and of tambours covered with the skins of its defenders. From the height of my room in this village, shaded by plane-trees, I caught sight of the military commander of the place dictating orders to his officers, while a group of kiatihs or secretaries deciphered an enormous heap of telegrams. That unaccustomed activity made me suspect that the storm was about to break. And I was not mistaken. Next morning, which was the twentieth of April, 1915, we stumbled, near El-Aghlat, upon mutilated Armenian corpses strewing the length of the road. One hour later we saw numerous gigantic columns of smoke surge up from the opposite shore of the lake, indicating the sites where the cities and hamlets of the provinces of Van were being devoured by flame.

Then I understood. The die was cast. The Armenian "revolution" had begun.

 

CHAPTER VI: THE BLOODY ROAD TO VAN

 

A LITTLE before nightfall we entered the ancient fortress of Adil Javus, surrounded by dusky olive groves within an arc of arid mountains. Tall poplars and silvery willows waved here and there among gardens and flat-roofed houses; and leafy plane-trees embowered the ruins of ancient mosques and beautiful tombs. Little boats moored near the shore rocked tranquilly upon the waters of the lake, and in the dark deserted bazaars there was nothing to attract the attention except the Armenian shops which had been sacked; or perhaps a splotch of coagulated blood indicating the spot where a victim had fallen under the iron of his assassins. Groups of Turks and Kurds armed to the teeth tramped the streets in every direction, while the echo of distant shots announced that the man-hunt was not yet ended.

 

The Kaimakam awaited me before the Seraglio, surrounded by the worthies of the senyak, and welcomed me in the name of the government. After a brief colloquy we entered the Hall of Sessions, which was adorned with rich rugs and with inscriptions reproducing texts from the Koran in letters of gold. Thereupon I learned from these gentlemen the gravity of the situation and the danger which threatened us from the Armenians, who, according to my informants, were in possession of the heights surrounding the village. It was the hour when the sun had just sunk below the horizon, tingeing the sky with the colour of blood; and on the east the city of Van, capital of Armenia, flamed and crumbled under the Turkish shells which shook that scarlet night with the thunder of their explosions.

 

April 21. At dawn I was awakened by the noise of shots and volleys. The Armenians had attacked the town. Immediately I mounted my horse and, followed by some armed men, went to see what was happening. Judge of my amazement to discover that the aggressors had not been the Armenians, after ail, but the civil authorities themselves! Supported by the Kurds and the rabble of the vicinity, they were attacking and sacking the Armenian quarter. Three or four Christian artisans were trying desperately to defend themselves against that mob of villains. But, breaking down doors and scaling walls, the assassins penetrated into the houses, and, after knifing the defenceless victims, obliged the wives, mothers, or daughters of those miserable creatures to drag their wounded out to the street by the feet or arms. There the rest of the scoundrels killed them, despoiled the corpses of clothing, and left them lying, at the mercy of vultures and jackals.

 

In spite of the lively firing that swept the streets, I succeeded at last, without serious accident, in approaching the Beledie reis of the town, who was directing the orgy; whereupon I ordered him to stop the massacre. He astounded me by replying that he was doing nothing more than carry out an unequivocal order emanating from the Governor-General of the province ...to exterminate all Armenian males of twelve years of age and over. I, as a soldier, could not prevent the execution of this decree, which was purely civil in character, however much I desired. So I ordered the gendarmes to retire, and waited until the hell was over.

 

At the end of an hour and a half of butchery there remained of the Armenians of Adil-Javus only seven survivors, whom I had succeeded in snatching from the executioners merely by the argument of pistol shots. Surrounded by those wretches, who were hanging to my horse's mane and tail as to an anchor of refuge, and followed by a mob of human beasts sated with blood and laden with booty, I rode toward the centre of the town, through a dense throng, formed mostly of Turkish and Kurdish women. These women, let me add, had witnessed the whole of the atrocious drama, unmoved as sphinxes, seated along the streets or upon the flat roofs.

 

When I dismounted in front of the Seraglio, the Kaimakam came out to meet me, and in the name of the government he thanked me effusively for saving saved the town from the tremendous Armenian attack. Stupefied before such barefaced effrontery, at first I was at a loss for a reply. When I recovered myself and asked for clemency for my prisoners, he promised me with his hand upon his heart and with a manner entirely serious, even to the point of austerity, to be answerable for their lives with his own head (bashim userinde). Nevertheless, he had them throttled that very night, and their corpses were pitched into the lake along with those of forty-three other Armenians who had hidden God knows where. Thus in the Orient do the civil authorities of the Sultan fulfil oaths and promises.

 

Meanwhile telegraphic communication had been re-established. After a time the gasoline launch placed at my disposal by the Vali of Bitlis arrived, enabling me to continue my journey. I embarked upon it. And after taking final leave of the authorities and inhabitants of the town of Adil-Javus, who had clustered on the shores of the lake to see me off, we set out for Van. Viewed from afar, the rapidly disappearing kasaba seemed the most tranquil spot in the world.

 

My crew was composed of the captain, an escort of gendarmes, and four Armenians who served as mechanics and sailors. As I felt rather tired, I fell asleep. When I woke it was five o 'clock in the evening, but we were still far from shore. And as I strolled about the deck, near the engine, I observed that of the four Armenians only two remained. What had become of the other two? It is the type of question that should not be asked in the Orient, unless one desires to be classed as a greenhorn. The civil authorities of the Sultan kill noiselessly and preferably by night, like vampires. Generally they choose as their victim's sepulchre deep lakes in which there are no indiscreet currents to bear the corpse to shore, or lonely mountain caves where dogs and jackals aid in erasing all traces of their crime.

 

As night was falling we passed the little island of Aghtamar, which seemed to possess no other edifice than an ancient and beautiful convent, where the Catholic Bishop of Van had lived. Its outer facades are adorned with allegorical pictures, which were hardy visible from the launch through the gathering dusk. Apart from the corpses of the Bishop and the monks, huddled on the threshold and atrium of the sanctuary, there seemed to be no human beings on the islet except the detachment of gendarmes which had slain the Christians. As they asked us urgently for some munitions, with which to seek out and kill God knows whom, we left them five thousand cartridges and continued the journey to the shore - which was outlined by the glare of burning villages that bathed the sky in scarlet. The violence of the flames called attention particularly to the little kasaba of Artamid, where the rich merchants of Van were accustomed to spend the summer. The church, blazing up like a torch, served as our beacon. Shortly before ten p. m. we leapt to shore amid the profoundest darkness and an almost sepulchral silence, briefly interrupted now and again by the sound of shots in the distance or by the dismal howl of jackals. Since I did not wish to wait there until dawn, we left the launch in charge of the gendarmes and set out, the captain and I, across fields and pastures, until the energetic "Quim var?" of a Turkish sentinel stopped us a half-hour later.

 

As we approached the first houses of the town, the military chef of Artamid came forth to meet us. He saluted me and congratulated me upon having got there alive, since the ground we had just covered was, according to him, infested with Armenian comitadchis. And if was true enough. A few moments after our arrival the rattle of several discharges off there behind us convinced us that we had escaped by the merest chance.

 

The village square in which we were conversing was fantastically illuminated by the flames, lifting themselves like gigantic fiery serpents from among the ruins of the blazing church. From the windows of the surrounding houses the rifles of our bashibazuks poked out in all directions. The bashibazuks were picturesque beings as a rule, laden with cartridge-belts and cartridge-boxes, using repeating rifles and with a broad knife or a Mauser pistol thrust into the belt. Among them I noticed some Kurds belonging to a group of several hundred which, on the following morning, was to help in killing off all the Armenians still in possession of some few positions and edifices around the town. Seeing that the enemy's fire was dwindling down, and unable to endure any longer the odor of scorched flesh from the Armenian corpses scattered among the smoking ruins of the church, we made our way cautiously among the flower-gardens until we finally stopped before the white facade of a handsome country-house in which I was to lodge that night. A few moments before retiring, it occurred to me to open one of the windows of my room in order to cast a final glance at the gorgeous panorama of flames surrounding us, when, as I peered out, I heard the whistle of shots, one of which passed through my coat-sleeve.

 

In spite of the intermittent firing which continued to disturb the peace of night, I slept very well until next morning, when I was awakened by a hellish clamor, followed by shots and muffled explosions. It was the Kurds, who were arriving and attacking the Armenians from the rear. The uproar continued for a quarter of an hour. As I breakfasted upon the balcony of my house in company with several Kurdish sheikhs who had come to welcome me, a series of pictures indescribably horrible unrolled like a film before our eyes. Pursued by Kurdish bullets, which felled them by the dozen, the Armenians ran hither and thither like frightened rabbits; and not a few of them sat upon the ground, stupefied, awaiting death like sheep bound to the sacrificial altar, without making the slightest attempt to save themselves. Only a small group of young men kept defending themselves desperately, their backs to a wall, until, overcome at last by sheer exhaustion, they fell one after another under the cutlasses and bullets of the Kurds, who used the sword whenever possible in order to keep from wasting cartridges. While this was going on among the flower-gardens, staining the roses a darker red, patrols of comitadchis came and went, examining the wells and houses of the Mussulmans in search of any Armenians that might have been overlooked. Whenever they found such a one, they split his head with a yataglan or left him stretched on the ground with his throat cut. I will be excused from attempting to picture my emotions at having to witness, with a smile upon my lips, that bacchanal of barbarity; with the bleeding bodies of the victims writhing and twisting in the convulsions of death, amid shrieks of unspeakable agony which I seem to hear again every time that the scene comes to my mind. Shortly before the consummation, the comitadchis led into my presence two youths of distinguished lineage, who on seeing me flung out their arms, imploring my protection. Desirous to save them at all cost, I had them slut up in a neighbouring building, with the explicit order that nobody touch them until I should determine their fate. But in the meantime some Kurds presented themselves and, feigning ignorance of my order, drew them out through the back door and pumped four shots into them. The sound of the shots and a prolonged scream of anguish informed me at once of what had taken place. However, I dissembled; since among Orientals it is even a failure in courtesy to show one's feelings or to protest against what cannot be helped.

[ThornyRose]

I am determined now more than ever to get that book. I wonder what else there is in it for the Venezuelan embassy here to support the publishing of a biography on him (a copy of which I happen to possess)...

 

http://network54.com/Realm/sproutcuk/Nogales.jpg

 

It is about time... It's been more than a year, man. Boy, am I lazy.