7 Nov 1922: Turkish Savagery, The Mercury

mercury 07111922

TURKISH SAVAGERY.
THE ATROCITIES IN ANATOLIA.
MANY THOUSAND GREEKS PERISH.

The Mercury (Hobart, Tasmania).
Nov 7, 1922, p.5.

A terrible story of Turkish atrocities
against the Greeks of Anatolia is related
by Miss Ethel Thompson of Boston, who
worked with the American relief organi-
sation in the interior of Anatolia from
August, 1921, to June of this year.
"We were supporting the Turkish or-
phanage," she writes, "and helping the
Turkish poor as well as supporting the
Armenian orphanages and aiding with
clothes and food, when we were allowed
to do so, the ghastly lines of gaunt,
starving Greek women and children who
staggered across Anatolia through the
city of Kharput, their glassy eyes fairly
protruding from their heads, their bones
merely covered with skin, skeleton
babies, tied to their backs, driven on
without food supplies or clothing until
they dropped dead, Turkish gendarmes
hurrying them with their guns. My
eyes still ache with the sights I have
seen, and I hope my brain will some-
time forget that open graveyard around
Kharput as it was last winter. People
ask if these reports are true! After a
year of these experiences, the very
question amazes me.
TERRIBLE SCENES.
"On June 30, 1921, I left Constan-
tinople for the interior of Anatolia. At
Samsoun I was held for two months
awaiting permission from the Kemalist
Government in Angora to continue the
journey to Kharput about 500 miles
across the interior of Anatolia. During
my stay in Samsoun, in the early part
of July, the Greek villages round about
were burned, and the inhabitants de-
ported, including the women and chil-
dren. In June, before our arrival, the
young Greek men were deported from
Samsoun, and soon after our arrival the
old men were notified and tramped away
in the night. We were kept awake at
night by the crying of the Greek women,
their wives and daughters. Night after
night, from the Armenian orphanage
where I spent most of my time, I watch-
ed the burning villages. In August word
came that the women were to follow the
old men. Our house was surrounded by
these poor women, hammering at our
doors, holding out their children, beg-
ging us to take the children, if we
could not save the women. They threw
their arms about our necks, and we
never felt so helpless in our lives.
About this time the Greek fleet threat-
ened to bombard the town, and this
saved for a time the women.
"Our permission arrived at the end of
August, and we were allowed to pro-
ceed. We crossed Anatolia under blaz-
ing sun, passing groups and groups of
the old men of Samsoun and the in-
habitants of other Black Sea ports walk-
ing on, God knows where, driven by
Turkish gendarmes. The dead bodies of
those who had dropped during the hard
tramp were lying by the roadside. Vul-
tures had eaten parts of the flesh, so
that in most cases merely skeletons re-
mained.
SOUP MADE FROM GRASS
"Upon arriving in Kharput, on Sep-
tember 3, we entered a city full of
starving, sick, wretched human wrecks
-Greek women, children and men.
These people were trying to make soup
of grass and considered themselves for-
tunate when they could secure a sheep's
ear to [???] it. When the poor things
heard of the killing of a sheep they
tried to secure the ear - the only part
of the animal thrown away in Anatolia.
I shall never forget the look of a black,
hairy sheep's ear floating in boiling
water, and these poor wretches trying
to obtain nourishment by eating it. The
Turks had given them no food on the
5OO-mile trip from Samsoun. Those
with money could bribe the guards for
food or buy a little on the way, until
they were robbed. Those without money
died by the wayside. In many places,
thirsty in the blistering sun and heat,
they were not allowed water unless they
could pay for it.
THE MARCH OF DEATH
"When a woman with a baby died,
the baby was taken from her dead arms
and handed to another woman, and the
horrible march proceeded. Old blind
men, led by little children, trudged
along the road. The whole thing was
like a march of corpses, a march of
death across Anatolia, which continued
during my entire summer.
"The heaviest winter weather, when
a howling blizzard was raging, during
a blinding snowfall, was the favourite
time chosen by the Turks to drive the
Greeks on. Thousands perished in the
snow. The road from Kharput to Bitlis
was lined with bodies. I saw women
with transparent lips who did not look
human. They were like gaunt shadows.
The roads over which women and child-
ren travelled were impassable for any
kind of travel excepting pack mule.
"On February 5, 1922, with another
American, I was riding horseback to
visit an outlying orphanage when we
came to an old watershed, five minutes
outside the city of Mezereh. We heard
a different kind of cry than the usual
moan of refugees, and riding nearer we
saw 300 small children who had been
driven together in a circle. Twenty
gendarmes, who had dismounted from
their horses, were cruelly beating the
children with their heavy swords. When
a mother rushed in to save her child
she was also beaten and driven out.
The children were cowering down or
holding up their little arms to ward
off the blow.
POLICY OF EXTERMINATION
"The attitude of the Turks toward
the Greeks who were deported from
the Black Sea coast has been one of
extermination. From statistics obtain-
ed from reliable American sources, we
have accounted for the whereabouts of
at least 30,000 who passed through
Sivas; 8,000 died on the way to Khar-
put, and 2,000 remained in Malatia up
to last winter. The best-looking girls
were taken into Moslem harems by the
Turks, who boasted openly of the num-
ber of women they had taken for this
purpose. They then sent them to us
for bread, stating they were refugees.
Some of the girls whom I knew in Sam-
soun disfigured their faces with dye to
hide their good looks, in the hope they
would not be taken. Three thousand of
those sent to Diarbakir died on the
road, and 1,000 after arriving there.
"In the vilayet of Kharput we were
allowed to employ any Greek. Some
Greeks with money bought the permis-
sion to work for a Turk. Money was
the only means of temporarily securing
safety. When we were preparing to
leave, the Turkish Governor sent for
us, and asked us to deny the reports
given by Mr Yowell and Dr. Ward when
we arrived at Beirut or Constantinople.
At that time we did not even know
what reports Mr. Yowell had given. The
Vali threatened that unless we promis-
ed he would not give us a permit to
leave. Finally, we obtained the permit
without giving any promise other than
to tell the truth as we saw it, and I
am herewith living up to my promise
to that Turkish Vali back in Kharput."