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AN ENCOUNTER WITH DJEMAL PASHA
October 14, 2014
By Missak Vassilian -
Translated by Jennifer Manoukian -
The following is the account of a 16-year-old Armenian boy's
unexpected encounter with Djemal Pasha, a member of the the Ittihadist
triumvirate of WWI, in December 1917. It was given to me by his son,
Asbed Vassilian, who sees in this brief exchange a larger story about
the resilience and perseverance of the Armenian people.
Djemal Pasha (on the back seat)
In 1915, the benevolent Turkish government, in its monstrous plan,
did not spare the faculty and students at the Kelegian orphanage in
Chork-Marzban (Dortyol), but instead deported them under the guise of a
brief excursion. I think a Turkish unit from Adana came specifically
to organize the deportation. A handful of students were reunited
with their parents, and some of the older students were sent to the
Dar-el-Eytem Turkish orphanage in Adana. According to the information
we received, barely a few months after arriving at the orphanage, those
boys were sent to the deserts of Meskine and Der-Zor. Finally, around
20 boys, including myself, were transferred to a German orphanage
in the village of Harni. After about two years of studying German,
Turkish, and other subjects, the German orphanage suffered a severe
financial crisis; they used to give us bread made with barley flour
that had not been sifted, and even this was difficult for them to
secure. During this period of financial crisis, a couple of German
officers came to the orphanage and met with the administration. A
few days after the officers left, around 20 students who had been
studying German for 2 years were assigned to work as translators at
the German military's station in Ayran. The purpose of that military
facility was to oversee the train traffic on the narrow rail lines
(around 60 centimeters wide) that ran from the station in Ayran to
a station called Incirlik, where two wider rail lines converged.
Kelekian orphange (Via AGBU Flickr)
Around this time, some friends and I went for a stroll around the
market dressed in our school uniforms. That day, two Turkish policemen
arrested us and brought us to their guardhouse. One of my friends fled
and informed the Germans of our arrest. A low-ranking officer and a
German soldier soon arrived at the guardhouse. The Turkish policemen
who had arrested us fled without saying a word. The officer then asked
us why we did not say that we worked for the German military. We said
that we had told them, but that they had ignored it and brought us
to the guardhouse anyway.
After this incident, they fitted us for German soldiers' uniforms
and turned us into military personnel, so that a similar event would
not happen again. After the wide rail lines between the Ayran and
Incirlik stations were joined, we moved with the entire military corps
to a station called Kelebek. There was work to be done to complete
the joining of the rail lines between Kelebek and Belemedik. At the
station in Kelebek, they housed us in a wooden room in what they
called the barracks. It was one of the nicer Turkish barracks.
Although it was still winter, that day at the end of 1917 was as
sunny as a spring day. Barely a few steps away from where we lived,
nearly all the Turkish officers at that station were lined up. Djemal
Pasha had come from Damascus to meet the officers on his way back
to Constantinople. Curious to see him, some friends and I sat down
in front of the barracks, swinging our feet as we waited. Barely 15
minutes had passed before they announced that he had arrived. He got
out of his special car, dressed in a short coat and flanked by two
bodyguards, and joined the officers a few steps away from us. After
the major met Djemal Pasha, he began to introduce the officers. He had
barely introduced the first officer when the pasha, pointing at us,
asked him who the kids were who were swinging their feet. The major
replied angrily:
"Paþa hazretleri, bunlar Alman askiar elbisesi giymiþ Ermeni
cocuklardýr. Almanlar bunlarý tohumluk saklýyorlar." ["Your Excellency,
those are Armenian kids dressed as German soldiers. The Germans are
keeping them as seeds for the future."]
The pasha immediately asked him to bring one of the boys over. Since
I was the closest, the major called me over. I approached the pasha
and greeted him. Thepasha asked if I was a soldier. I said that all of
us were, as if he could not have guessed from our uniforms. He asked
what kind of soldiers we were, and I said that we were German soldiers.
Then, he asked how we became soldiers. I said that we were transferred
to the German orphanage in Harni from the Kelegian orphanage in
Chork-Marzban (Dortyol), and that after studying Turkish and German
for two years, they assigned us to be translators for the German
military. After listening to what I had said, the pasha shook his
head slowly, and said:
"Acayip! Demek ki Dortyol Kelegian mektebinden surgun oldunuz. Ýki
sene Almanca oðrendiniz ve Alman ordusunda askiar tercumen oldunuz.
Hey Turkluk, bu milleti mahvedemezsiniz ve bu millet mahvolmaz. Yuru,
kuzum." [How strange! This means that you were all deported from
the Kelegian orphanage in Dortyol, studied German for two years and
became translators in the German army. Oh Turkish people, you cannot
destroy this nation and this nation will not be annihilated. Go on,
my son, go."]
And I went on my way.
http://www.horizonweekly.ca/news/details/50520
October 14, 2014
By Missak Vassilian -
Translated by Jennifer Manoukian -
The following is the account of a 16-year-old Armenian boy's
unexpected encounter with Djemal Pasha, a member of the the Ittihadist
triumvirate of WWI, in December 1917. It was given to me by his son,
Asbed Vassilian, who sees in this brief exchange a larger story about
the resilience and perseverance of the Armenian people.
Djemal Pasha (on the back seat)
In 1915, the benevolent Turkish government, in its monstrous plan,
did not spare the faculty and students at the Kelegian orphanage in
Chork-Marzban (Dortyol), but instead deported them under the guise of a
brief excursion. I think a Turkish unit from Adana came specifically
to organize the deportation. A handful of students were reunited
with their parents, and some of the older students were sent to the
Dar-el-Eytem Turkish orphanage in Adana. According to the information
we received, barely a few months after arriving at the orphanage, those
boys were sent to the deserts of Meskine and Der-Zor. Finally, around
20 boys, including myself, were transferred to a German orphanage
in the village of Harni. After about two years of studying German,
Turkish, and other subjects, the German orphanage suffered a severe
financial crisis; they used to give us bread made with barley flour
that had not been sifted, and even this was difficult for them to
secure. During this period of financial crisis, a couple of German
officers came to the orphanage and met with the administration. A
few days after the officers left, around 20 students who had been
studying German for 2 years were assigned to work as translators at
the German military's station in Ayran. The purpose of that military
facility was to oversee the train traffic on the narrow rail lines
(around 60 centimeters wide) that ran from the station in Ayran to
a station called Incirlik, where two wider rail lines converged.
Kelekian orphange (Via AGBU Flickr)
Around this time, some friends and I went for a stroll around the
market dressed in our school uniforms. That day, two Turkish policemen
arrested us and brought us to their guardhouse. One of my friends fled
and informed the Germans of our arrest. A low-ranking officer and a
German soldier soon arrived at the guardhouse. The Turkish policemen
who had arrested us fled without saying a word. The officer then asked
us why we did not say that we worked for the German military. We said
that we had told them, but that they had ignored it and brought us
to the guardhouse anyway.
After this incident, they fitted us for German soldiers' uniforms
and turned us into military personnel, so that a similar event would
not happen again. After the wide rail lines between the Ayran and
Incirlik stations were joined, we moved with the entire military corps
to a station called Kelebek. There was work to be done to complete
the joining of the rail lines between Kelebek and Belemedik. At the
station in Kelebek, they housed us in a wooden room in what they
called the barracks. It was one of the nicer Turkish barracks.
Although it was still winter, that day at the end of 1917 was as
sunny as a spring day. Barely a few steps away from where we lived,
nearly all the Turkish officers at that station were lined up. Djemal
Pasha had come from Damascus to meet the officers on his way back
to Constantinople. Curious to see him, some friends and I sat down
in front of the barracks, swinging our feet as we waited. Barely 15
minutes had passed before they announced that he had arrived. He got
out of his special car, dressed in a short coat and flanked by two
bodyguards, and joined the officers a few steps away from us. After
the major met Djemal Pasha, he began to introduce the officers. He had
barely introduced the first officer when the pasha, pointing at us,
asked him who the kids were who were swinging their feet. The major
replied angrily:
"Paþa hazretleri, bunlar Alman askiar elbisesi giymiþ Ermeni
cocuklardýr. Almanlar bunlarý tohumluk saklýyorlar." ["Your Excellency,
those are Armenian kids dressed as German soldiers. The Germans are
keeping them as seeds for the future."]
The pasha immediately asked him to bring one of the boys over. Since
I was the closest, the major called me over. I approached the pasha
and greeted him. Thepasha asked if I was a soldier. I said that all of
us were, as if he could not have guessed from our uniforms. He asked
what kind of soldiers we were, and I said that we were German soldiers.
Then, he asked how we became soldiers. I said that we were transferred
to the German orphanage in Harni from the Kelegian orphanage in
Chork-Marzban (Dortyol), and that after studying Turkish and German
for two years, they assigned us to be translators for the German
military. After listening to what I had said, the pasha shook his
head slowly, and said:
"Acayip! Demek ki Dortyol Kelegian mektebinden surgun oldunuz. Ýki
sene Almanca oðrendiniz ve Alman ordusunda askiar tercumen oldunuz.
Hey Turkluk, bu milleti mahvedemezsiniz ve bu millet mahvolmaz. Yuru,
kuzum." [How strange! This means that you were all deported from
the Kelegian orphanage in Dortyol, studied German for two years and
became translators in the German army. Oh Turkish people, you cannot
destroy this nation and this nation will not be annihilated. Go on,
my son, go."]
And I went on my way.
http://www.horizonweekly.ca/news/details/50520