Armenian Freedom Fighters: The Memoirs of Rouben Der Minasian

Citation preview

Sih

ARMENIAN FREEDOM FIGHTERS MEMOIRS DER MINASIAN JAMES

G.

MAN DA L IA N

TRANSLATOR

AND

EDITOR

ARMENIAN FREEDOM FIGHTERS THE MEMOIRS OF ROUBEN DER MINASIAN

TRANSLATED AND EDITED

BY

JAMES

G.

M A N D A LIA N

Hairenik Association, 212 Stuart Street

Boston 16, Massachusetts

1963

D E D I C A T 1 O N

With a sense of profound attachment and affection I dedicate this work to the Armenian Youth Federa­ tion of America whom I served as their first Executive Secretary and who, as the successors of those im­ mortal Armenian Freedom Fighters depicted herein, are called upon to carry on the prosecution of the Armenian Cause when the senior generation has disappeared from the Armenian scene.

For, albeit we are but a small patch, and exceedingly limited in numbers, and weak in might, and oft conquered by other kingdoms, yet many deeds of valor are to be found in our land of Armenia. MOSES OF KHOREN

£3/74 Tdl?> ARMENIAN FREEDOM FIGHTERS THE MEMOIRS OF ROUBEN DER MINASIAN

Copyright 1963 by the Hairenik Association 212 Stuart Street, Boston 16, Mass. All rights reserved 1 ype set at the Hairenik Press, Boston Printed in the United States of America

It is not the critic who counts; nor the man who points out how the strong man stumbled, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs and comes short again and again; who knows the great enthusiasms, the great devotions; who spends himself on a worthy cause; who, at best, knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who, at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those timid- souls who know neither victory nor defeat. THEODORE ROOSEVELT

CONTENTS

PHOTOGRAPHS AND MAPS FACING PAGE 128

69

VI. TheFedayee “He Who Fought” FRONTISPIECE: ROUBEN DER MINASIAN

I . Preface IL Introduction

70

VII. Of Warriors And Battle The Battle Of Deli Baba

79

9

Russian Perfidy

90

11

The Monastery Of Thaddeus

98

Vardan Vardabed 108

III. The Revolutionary Crucible 22 Rouben Proceeds To Kars

IV. The Anatomy of The Revolution

The Peasant Awakens 116

23

Aghbiur Serop 125

39

Kevork Chavoush 134 Fatih Beg 164

THE MECHANICS OF REVOLT:

Jemil Beg 167

The Field Worker

41

Adjudication Of Civil And Criminal Cases

43

Punishment And Prison

42

Party Revenues

44

Expenditures And Purchases Of Arms

44

Propaganda

47

The Russian Government And The Party

49

The Bride Of Dadrakom 199

The Revolutionary Avengers

50

Kasim Beg 203

Palabekh Garabed 169

Aram Of Avran 173 Lodgekantzi Artin 177

Mehmed Effendi 182 Manoog Of Shenik 189

The Ottoman Constitution 219

V. Teaching The Peasant The Use of Arms 58 “Your Rifle, Your Life”

59

VIII. Epilogue

239

ROUBEN DER MIN ASI AN

PREFACE Some years ago a reader of Hairenik publications, writing in the Armenian language Hairenik Daily of Boston, proposed that the price­ less riches of the Armenian revolutionary experience preserved in the Memoirs of Rouben Der Minasian should be recaptured for the bene­ fit of the English speaking Armenian young generation. After a con­ sultation among the Hairenik editors, I was assigned the responsibility of accomplishing this task. The present work is the result of that sug­ gestion. This work is not a cohesive history of the Armenian revolution, nor is it intended to be. It is, rather, a selective assembly of typical cases— profiles and episodes drawn from the Armenian revolution as recorded by Rouben, designed to project the essential qualities of the emancipa­ tory movement and of the actors in the drama. In a sense it is an an­ thology of memorable experiences which, despite the individuality of each narrative, still retains the continuity’, the texture, and the spiritual cohesion of a fascinating story. Himself a revolutionary fighter, a company commander and an actor in the drama, Rouben Der Minasian, the incomparable chronicler of the Armenian Revolution, left behind a monumental work the greater part of which was first published in the Armenian language “Hairenik Monthly,” and later in book form, comprising seven volumes, immortal­ izing the late Nineteenth Century Armenian freedom fighter who was known by his imperishable revolutionary name of Fedayee.

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This work is not a literal translation of Rouben, nor does it pretend to present the whole of Rouben. After an arduous yet highly pleasant labor of years ending in a thorough and critical search of the entire seven volumes, I have selected chapters, individual profiles, episodes and experiences which were typical of the revolution, have translated, edited, paraphrased and adapted, with my own personal introductions to each chapter, in a style which would be easily understood by the English reader, observing the while a strict fidelity to the factual and historical accuracy of the original. I have even preserved the Armenian idiomatics, exactly as Rouben wrote it, the proper names, the indigenous aphorisms, the earthy and homespun conversations of the characters, and Rouben’s own philo­ sophical explanations for the expedience of the English reader. I have not tampered with the Armenian flavor which I personally think is a good flavor. Rouben wrote much more than is included in this work, all of which makes fascinating reading but which, unfortunately, could not be included for limitation of space. If the few chapters I have selected will inspire some Armenian youth to take a greater interest in the for­ tunes of his parent people, or to take a greater degree of pride in the valor and fortitude of his fathers, I shall feel that the time and labor so lovingly expended in the preparation of this work shall not have been entirely wasted. In conclusion, I feel constrained to make grateful acknowledge­ ment to Reuben Darbinian, the Editor-in-chief of Hairenik publications who first published Rouben’s Memoirs, who checked the historical ac­ curacy of this volume, and who lent me his moral support, to Leon Surmelian, Sarkis Atamian, Dickran Kouymjian, and Dr. Vahe Sarafian, all of whom read the manuscript and assisted me with their valuable suggestions, to Haigazn Kazarian who drew the maps, to the Hairenik Association which supplied the cuts for most of the profiles and Fedayee companies and lastly, to my friend and associate James H. Tashjian whose loyal support and constant encouragement enabled me to bring the work to its present completion.

James G. Mandalian

February 10, 1963 Boston, Mass.

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INTRODUCTION History, unlike the natural sciences, is a unique science which ad­ mits of neither repetition nor generalization. No two events or person­ alities in history, no matter how striking the similarity to the super­ ficial vision, have ever been exactly alike; and history, contrary to an oft-repeated fallacious notion, never repeats itself. The factors of his­ tory are so infinite, diverse and complex that they tolerate only analysis and explanation, but never generalization. This is what precludes pre­ dictability in history. By the same token, no two revolutions are exactly alike. There are many similarities between the American and French revolutions, be­ tween the Greek and South American revolutions, but none of these revolutions can be fully explained by its common aspects with the others. All revolutions imply popular discontent, demand for reform, patriotism and courage. They differ from one another in the character of the actors, the odds which are pitted against them, and the intensity of the dedication. There will be no such presumptuous pretense that the Armenian revolution was supreme among all revolutions, but here will be posed a grievance and a claim. In the books, for example, our college students have read about the Greek Mussolinghi, the Acropolis, and the Battle of Navarino, the South American Simon Bolivar, the American Valley Forge and Yorktown, the French Robespierre and the Bastille. But who ever heard of the Armenian Murad of Sebastia, Magar of Sbaghan and Kevork Chavoush? Who ever heard of the Armenian revolution?

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On a sunny August day of 1896 a small band of Armenian Revolu­ tionaries calmly climbed the forbidding concrete steps of the Ottoman Bank in the heart of the European sector of Istanbul, and, in a matter of seconds, overpowered the guards and seized the bank. The Ottoman Bank at the time was to Turkey what the Bank of England was to Britain, the Reichsbank to Germany, and Fort Knox to the United States. And although the investors were predominantly European financiers, it nevertheless was the only institution which fed the sinews of the Turk­ ish economy. This was the most audacious and meticulously conceived grand scale “hold-up” of history compared to which the notorious Brink’s robbery which at the time made such a sensation in the United States was mere child’s play. For days the revolutionaries had studied the entrances and the exits of the huge building, had carefully noted the habits of the guards, their armor, their change of hours, the strength of the ponderous gates, and all the steps which should be taken to secure the building against outside attack. Within minutes the bank was hermetically sealed against the out­ side world and the only way to break through was to reduce it by artil­ lery, something which the Board of Trustees, the gendarmerie, and the Sultan himself assuredly would be reluctant to attempt. Curiously enough the terrified employees of the bank soon dis­ covered that these men were not barbarians, nor bandits, nor bank robbers, but they were refined gentlemen who spoke to them of griev­ ances and administrative reforms. Not a hair of a single employee of the bank was touched and not a single raid was made on the cache of gold. The Armenian revolutionaries made this daring seizure right under the nose of Abdul Hamid, the bloody Sultan whose hands at the time were dripping with the blood of 300,000 Armenians in the interior provinces, to force negotiation for the immediate cessation of the massacres and the implementation of reforms for the belabored provinces. And yet, who ever heard of the seizure of Bank Ottoman? Who ever heard of Armen Garo, Babgen Sium and their brave companions who, at the risk of their fives, bearded the Turkish lion in his den?

Years ago, sometime after World War I, Franz Werfel wrote a novel entitled The Forty Days of Musa Dagh. This was the story of a small Armenian community of 3000 souls at the extreme north-eastern tip of the Mediterranean Sea, who, seeing what was going on around them, gathered their meager belongings and sought refuge on the neighbor­ ing mountain of Musa Dagh. They knew the mountain was a dead end and that, if the Turks ever broke through their fortifications, that would be their end. They would be slaughtered to the last living soul.

13

But they were determined men and if they were to die they would die honorably. They meant to sell their lives dearly. This courageous little band of Armenians was surrounded by a Turkish rabble ten times their numbers, supported by regulars and field artillery. Like a pack of mad wolves the Turks had hemmed them in on all sides, howling, yowling, yapping at them, eager to sink their teeth into their flesh. Why did these mad wolves want to exterminate this courageous little band? The Armenians had no quarrel with them, they had not offended them. They only wanted to live in peace. No one will be able to give a rational answer to this question. So the Ar­ menians defended themselves against the mad wolves. They rationed their supplies to make it last as long as possible. Tliey established a clinical system for the care of the sick and wounded, they patroled the limited perimeter, over and over again they made sorties and took a terrible toll of the enemy. Tliey fought off the mad pack for forty days until their last morsel of bread was gone and their last cartridge was fired. Tn their darkest hour, just when all seemed lost, a miracle hap­ pened. They sighted a French man of war cruising the coast and they signaled to it frantically. The captain of the ship took in the situation Musa and gave them asylum on his ship. And so. the remnants of cf Mgr?.

Dagh were miraculously saved. Musa Dagh has not yet made the history text books. At the time WerfeFs book made a sensation in the civilized world and a Hollywood firm wanted to film it. For some mysterious reasons Musa Dagh was never filmed, and the riddle still baffles the Armenians. Wil! someone explain to the Armenians how come that in a. country like the United States, the land of the free and the home of the brave, the greatest, the richest and the most powerful country in the world, there could not be rallied sufficient moral fortitude to defy all foreign intervention and make a picture of that Homeric stand? And what shall we say of heroic Ourfa where the beleaguered Ar­ menians fortified themselves in the elevation of their city quarters and for eight weeks fought off the onslaughts of the Turkish regulars and the rabble until all food and ammunition were gone, until their men­ folk fixed their bayonets to carve a path through the hail of enemy bullets and perished in the attempt, while their women drank poison or threw themselves from dizzying heights into the chasm below lest they fell captive to the vile Turk? And what of the tragic fate of Shabin Karahissar where, after a valiant stand for weeks, the over­ powered defenders were massacred to the last man, woman and child? And has any one ever heard of the magnificent stand of the Ar­

menians at the City of Van under the leadership of peerless Aram, sur­ rounded in their quarter of the city by the bloody Djevdet and his bloodthirsty cohorts, his trained regiments and his Turkish and Kurdish rabble, his artillery and machine guns, outnumbering them ten to one? Has any one ever read about that band of valiant men who created their own commissariat, their field hospitals, their fighting units, their counter espionage and their patrol system? How they manufactured their own old fashioned ammunition, how they captured an antiquated Turkish cannon and turned it on the enemy? How they held out against overwhelming odds for long weeks until the Russian army and the Armenian volunteers of the Caucasus came to their rescue? How they became instrumental in salvaging approximately 250,000 refugees from the deportations and transferred them to Caucasian Armenia where they later formed the core of the Independent Republic of Ar­ menia? What European or American college student has ever heard of Ourfa, Shabin Karabissar, Van, Musa Dagh, Aintab, Adana, Sardarapat and Karakilisseh? Who has ever heard of the Armenian Obrenoviches, the Bolivars and the George Washingtons? Who has ever heard of such paladins as Andranik, Dro, Nicol Duman, Keri, Hamazasp and Rouben? Almost none except the Armenians. The claim which the Armenians advance is a wholly different thing, stripped of the sentimentality of the grievance. The Armenians claim that their revolution was unlike all other revolutions in three cardinal respects, a difference which nearly brought the Armenians to the brink of total annihilation. The first of these was the character of the tyrant against whom they were destined to fight. The tyrant was a killer. It would be impossible to penetrate the soul of the Armenian revolution without an adequate comprehension of the character of the tyrant race with whom the Armenians waged their contest. To ap­ praise properly the enormity of the .Armenian tragedy, the depths of the pathos, and the intensity of the sacrifice, the Turkish record must be unfolded exactly as it was, no matter how ugly and repulsive. No nation of history blighted the lives of as many peoples as the Turk. No predatory tribe which ever stalked out of his lair corrupted degraded, debased, deflowered, defiled, befouled, contaminated and polluted the lives of as many innocent millions as did the Ottoman Turk.

Gladstone called him the “scourge of civilization.*’ Of him it was written “Where the Turks’ horses’ hooves trod, the grass never grew again.” He has been called “The Gray wolf of the East.” A representa-

11

five of Greece once said to the American Masterman in London: “Tur­ key is not an empire, it is a disease.” The Turk has been noted in history for his savagery, pitilessness and utter lack of mercy. He never gave quarter to the weak, the women and the children included. For centuries his name was associated with the dreadful Yataghan, the chilling instrument of the massacre, the rape and the pillage. Masterman resented his re-entry into Europe, felt happy when he was almost ejected from that region during the Balkan wars, and resented even more this re-entry after the Treaty of Lausanne. The peoples of the Middle East resented his entry into Asia Minor. All the peoples of the Byzantine Empire who were conquered by him cursed him during their captivity and they carried the residue of their hatred with them after their liberation. Even now they shudder when­ ever they recall the name Turk. Two outstanding characteristics, unshared by other peoples who have managed to survive, place the Turk in a class all by himself: his congenital killer’s instinct, and his creative sterility. The record of the killing is an awesome one, but to get the full impact of its heinousness, account should be taken of the quality of the killing. To illustrate this aspect of the Turk’s character a single case of history from among thousands should suffice. During the First World War. when the Russian armies were ad­ vancing on Bitlis, an Armenian company of horsemen who had joined an advanced guard of 300 Cossacks, came across an Armenian village called Giuzel Dereh which had been completely wiped off by the re­ treating Turks. This is what an eye witness later wrote about the grue­

some picture. “Before their massacre in the village and the church, the Turks had selected and carried away all the beautiful young girls and the brides and had satiated their lust on their terrorized, helpless victims. Tn the center of the satumalian orgies, piled on one another, were the naked bodies of the women, mangled and interlocked in ghastly -em­ brace, all done to death with cold weapons. Around their corpses, like a ring, were rows of sharp stakes firmly rooted in the ground, eac > bearing the body of a young woman or girl who had been impaled. The bellies of some of them were ripped lengths ise with a s arp sword, their entrails hanging out. The wombs of pregnant women were ripped open, their luxuriant long hair strewn over their nake bodies, or clinging to them with clotted blood. “As to the expression on their faces, it was a picture of infinite, unutterable agony, as if in writhing, which had been frozen. Not even

the brush of the most skillful artist could paint the scene in its stark reality. Tightly squeezed teeth, half-closed slanting eyes, gaping mouths, grotesque])' revulsive, and bulging closed eyes. It was as if they were ready to cry out, to scream, but how can I tell it? This is the story' of the man who saw with his own eyes only one of countless similar samples of human beastiality. This, obviously, was not the act of common criminals. This was the act of demons. Given this type of a master race whose centuries of contact with races infinitely superior to him in cultural achievement had failed to make the slightest impression on his predatory instincts, when it came to the question of administrative reforms for the subjugated peoples, or the far more delicate problem of liberating a whole people, one can readily see the stupendous and almost humanly impossible task with which the Armenian revolutionaries were confronted. Many Armenians, in retrospective horror of the enormity of the sacrifice of their people, have often bemoaned the fact that, if they were destined to be conquered, it was not their good fortune to be conquered by a nation like the British instead of the Turk. Had this been the case, they reason, their liberation would not have been so costly. The British, no matter how selfish and exploitative their rule over subjugated peoples, always had the happy facility of making their ex­ ploitation as painless as humanly' possible. They took the pains of un­ derstanding the psychology' of the peoples they governed and always found a way of meeting and resolving popular grievances, at least ostensibly, in a manner which reduced suffering to a minimum. They tempered their rule with moderation, understanding and wisdom. Firm­ ness, rectitude and wisdom were the three cardinal rules inoculated in each colonial agent of the British empire. Furthermore, the British brought the benefits of an enlightened civilization in the wake of their conquests. They educated the subject peoples so that, later, they could rise against them and win their independence. The British never re­ sorted to the massacre as a weapon against peoples with legitimate grievances. Even the other imperialistic nations who held colonies were all endowed with a modicum of humanity which prevented them from using the massacre as a weapon of suppression. In contrast, the first reaction of the Turk to the simplest manifes­ tation of protest against administrative abuse was the predatory weapon of the massacre, The celebrated “Kilijimin Hakki ileh”~By the right of my sword—fully explained the Turkish philosophy of government. It w ill be contended that the Armenians were not the only people who were massacred by the Turk. The Greek, the Rumanian, the Bul-

16

ganan, the Serb, the Arab, too, were massacred by him. But which of these peoples losses, it might rightly be asked, could be compared with the magnitude of the Armenian sacrifice? When in the latter half of the Nineteenth century William Gladstone was rocking the Christian world with his clarion call over the Bulgarian massacres, “Let the Turk de­ part from Europe with his Begs and Zaptiehs and Binbashis and Pashas, bag and baggage,” the number of the Bulgarian massacred did not ex­ ceed 30,000. The Armenians lost 300.000 in the Hamidian massacres alone, another 30,000 in the honey moon of the Young Turk Revolution, well over one million as the result of 1915 deportations, and an addi­ tional 50,000 under Mustafa Kemal the Ataturk. Gan the Greek record match this record? Let no one say that any other nation bore the brunt of the Turkish yataghan as much as did the Armenians. The second feature which sets the Armenian revolution apart from all other revolutions was the isolation of the Armenian people in the hour of their trial. The Greek revolutionaries received aid from Europe. Tlie European fleet annihilated the Turkish fleet at Navarino, landed troops on the mainland, drove out the Turkish commanders Ibrahim and Reschit, and saved Greece. Russia saved Bulgaria, Serbia, Rumania and Albania. The American colonies received aid from Europe and the Irish revolt was financed from Europe and America. The Cuban revo­ lutionaries received aid from America in their struggle for liberation from the Spanish yoke. Who helped the beleaguered Armenians when they were fighting for their very lives at Ourfa and Shabin Karahissar? Who sent a single rifle, a single dollar, or a single volunteer fighter when those desperate remnants of the Armenian people were making their last ditch stand at Sardarapat, Karakilisseh and Bash Abaran? No one, not one! The Armenians fought their battles all alone, themselves and God. The third distinguishing mark of the Armenian revolution was its idealism. It would be difficult to define the apotheosis of an adventure which, by its very nature, is fraught with violence, passion and murder, the very ingredients which are the antithesis of idealism. The Armen­ ian apotheosis included the dedication, the consecration, the spirituality and the martyrdom which characterized the Vardanantz War. Fifteen hundred years ago the Armenians fought a great battle against the Persians for the preservation of their Christian faith. At that time the Armenians had lost their independence and their country was ruled by the Persians. The Persian King Yezdigert II sent an ulti­ matum to the Armenian princes calling upon the Armenian people to renounce the religion of Christ and to espouse the Persian religion of sun worship. It was on this occasion that the Armenians sent their memorable reply to Yezdigert: “From this faith no one can shake us,

17

neither angels nor men, neither sword, nor fire, nor water, nor all the tortures* . 71 The Armenians lost the battle but they won their cause, because the Persian king, shocked by the magnitude of his losses, and impressed by the determination of the Armenian people, rescinded his former order and restored their religious freedom. The Armenians have con­ secrated this war as the greatest episode in their history because it saved their Christian Faith. In a sense the Armenian revolution was the reincarnation of the Vardanantz war. This spirit of dedication which pervaded the whole nation, the voluntary sacrificiality and the all-embracing slense df martyrdom for the national cause, an intrinsic part of the revolution, were qualities which no other modern revolution shared to such a de­ gree. The Greek revolution was hideously disfigured by internal dis­ union and discord. It gave birth to a host of adventurers, soldiers of fortune who sold their services to the highest bidder, including the enemy Turk, buccaneers who pillaged their own kinsmen, and ambitious commanders who fired upon one another, forgetting that they were fighting a revolution. Tliey forgot the common enemy and began to fight one another. There were times when, upon the return of Turkish armies to reoccupy vacated regions, the Greek peasants hailed them as their liberators! The French revolution spawned a host of adventurers, informers, scoundrels and the riffraff of society who loved to fish in troubled waters and to make hay at the expense of a noble movement which was supposed to liberate the French people from the tyranny of the royalty, the clergy and the nobility. The Armenian revolution was never marred by buccaneers and adventurers. The Armenians have a word, “Madagh,” the exact equivalent of which is difficult to find in other languages. Madagh means a sacrificial offering. Being an intensely religious people, the .Armenians have many shrines dedicated to some local saint where they make their annual pilgrimages to renew their faith. A sacrificial animal is slaughtered, a lamb, a ram, or an ox and it is cooked in a huge caldron .The priest blesses the sacrificial offering which then is rationed among the people. This meat is holy and he who partakes of it becomes sanctified. This is the Armenian sacrificial offering, the Madagh. The idealism of the Armenian revolution was indicated by the application of this religious symbol of the supreme sacrifice for the sake of the fatherland. When an Armenian lad wanted to enlist in the revolutionary army, he would not say to the recruiting agent, “I want

18

to enlist in the army,’’ but he would say, “I want to become Madagh,” meaning, I want to become a sacrificial offering for my people. To en­ list in the revolutionary' army meant the volunteer was reconciled with his fate and was ready to march to certain death, because, fighting the Turk was tantamount to sealing one’s doom. “Martyr,” was another word which was used synonymously. The volunteer would say, “I want to become a martyr,” which meant, “I want to give my life for the liberation of my people.” The recruiting agent understood it perfectly. No further explanation was necessary. Once there was an Armenian youth with black hair and eyes, handsome and powerfully built, who had Just been married. The nup­ tials over, and the priest having bestown his benediction upon the happy couple, the families and relatives of the bride and the groom were holding a celebration in the groom’s home. A luxuriant banquet, felicitations and toasts to the happy couple and their parents lent the party a festive mood. Just then a messenger arrived who whispered something in the groom’s ear. The next day there would be an en­ gagement with the enemy and his company commander had ordered him to report at once. Upon receiving the message the groom calmly turned to his parents and said, “Dad, Mom, the Fatherland has called me, my commander has sent for me. I am going now. Take good care of her (pointing to his bride). If I survive, I shall return and claim her. If I die, she is your ward. She is a member of the family now.” That youth was Drasdamat Kanayan, revolutionary name Dro, the future hero of the Battle of Bash Abaran, fought simultaneously with the battles of Sardarapat and Karakilisseh, whose victory forced the Turk to recognize Armenia’s independence. The Armenian circumstances—isolation, numerical inferiority, and centuries of inertia under the paralyzing effect of a ruthless regime, and the pitiless character of the ruling race—forced the Armenian patriots to create their own fighting machine. In France the infuriated populace stormed the Bastille and overthrew the government. In Tur­ key the .Armenians were in the minority, and consequently, overwhelm­ ing the Yildiz Palace by sheer numbers was altogether out of the ques­ tion. Nor, like the Americans, were the Armenians in a position to field equipped armies. Under the circumstances, the only way the Ar­ menians could compete with the Turk was through guerilla warfare, a type of operation which the Armenians developed to perfection. In the course of the revolution the Armenians put into the field countless numbers of guerilla companies, ranging from 10 to 50 or more volunteers, led by capable company commanders who became legendary figures. These companies roamed the hillside and the plains, defending the hard-pressed peasants, redressing wrongs, executing revo-

19

lutionary justice and inflicting punishment on the tormentors of their people. The soldiers of the guerilla companies were called Fadayees, an Arabic derivative which originally meant a dedicated patriot, applied by the Turks and the Kurds to Armenian volunteers in recognition and esteem of their valor and invincibility. The revenge of the Armenian Fedayee put the fear of God into die hearts of the Turks and the Kurds. It might truthfully be said that the Fedayee was the finest and noblest creation of die Armenian revolution. Dedicated to the cause of his people, fearless in battle, chivalrous toward women, generous toward his foes and yet terrible in his vengeance, the Armenian Fedayee renounced the comforts and pleasures of life, gave up his family and loved ones, endured the privation and die suffering of a wanderers life, and became a living Madagh for the liberation of his people. Rouben Der Minasian, the soldier, the philosopher, die analyst and chronicler of the Armenian revolution portrayed die soul of that revolution—the anatomy, the organization, the ideology and the apoth­ eosis-in a monumental work of seven volumes, the essence of which has been presented in following profiles and episodes now immortalized by the Armenians as an unending source of inspiration.

Profiles

James G. Mandalian January 17, 1962 Boston, Mass.

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The Revolutionary Crucible

Rouben Proceeds to Kars THE REVOLUTIONARY CRUCIBLE In this initial chapter of his Memoirs, appropriately called “The Revolutionary Crucible” Rouben at once introduces the reader into the revolutionary atmosphere, opening, as it were, the doors of a secret chamber and permitting the visitor to feast his eyes on fabulous treas­ ures which have been closehj guarded from common mortals. It might truthfully be said that, if one did not read a single line more from the rest of his work, this chapter from Rouben alone would suffice to give the reader quite a fair idea of the climate, the psychology, the mood, the ideology, the dedication, and the motive force which characterized the Armenian Revolution. Note the faith and the intensity of Sergey, the man with the sore eyes, the young dashing Hamo, the downy-faced lad who wants to be­ come a Madagh (a sacrificial offering) for the sake of the Fatherland, the sham wedding, the ingenious device to raise funds for the revolu­ tion without arousing the suspicion of governmental authorities, the psychology of martyrdom which made death for the sake of the Fatherland not only a desirable thing but ^a sweet experience? the generos­ ity of the people which was so unrestrained in its overflow it had to be “regulated,” the physical structure of the revolution and its mode of operation, the role of the Central Committee which, for all practical purposes, carried on the functions of a government within the govern­ ment, the rigidity of principle and the fastidiousness exercized in the election of the Central Committee personnel, that awesome body which, unseen and invisible, weilded such a powerful influence in the life of the Armenian people, the insistence on their qualifications which called for an integrity and a virtue greater than that of Caesars wife, and finally, that curious and highly informative discussion of the case of young Hamo, spiced with homey and homely Armenian metaphors which culminated in the eventual rejection of his sacrificial offer—all of which, studied with a critical eye and ear, are more than enough to give the reader a comprehensive and vivid image of the fiber and the blood of the revolutionary movement.

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Toward the latter part of 1903 I was ordered to proceed to Kars from Tiflis. This was the first order issued by the authorities of the Armenian Revolution. Deeming it a great honor, I set out that very night to place myself at the disposal of the Central Committee of the Armenian Revolutionary Federation. To me, that body was extremely mysterious. To face it, or to work under its orders, seemed to me an even greater honor than obeying my commanders when I was an officer of the Tsarist army. I arrived at Kars with mixed feelings of fear and reverence. Pre­ senting myself to Hagop Chilingarian, I handed him my letter of recom­ mendation, addressed to the Central Committee, which read: ‘The bearer comes from us. We recommend that you make good use of him and train him.” (Signed) H. Meherian. And indeed the Province of Kars was the revolutionary crucible where the novitiate Dashnaktzakan (member of the Federation) could be forged and come out solid steel, purged of all the dross, or, unable to stand the Spartan severity, pull out of the revolutionary career. “I will take your case to the Central Committee,” Hagop said to me, comprehending the meaning of my credentials. “They will arrange to make use of you here.” Then he called a youth named Medzik and told him to bunk me with the boys. The boys were quartered in an old, ramshackle building in a ravine near the city. Only a few jackets and knapsacks hung from the rusty nails on the wall, and the men were squatted on the floor. They did not ask me where I came from, or why, but treated me as one of them, as if we had been old acquaintances. Then came Hagop and said to the men, “The comrade has come to work with us. One of the men, with a small goatee, a little taller than I, a youth with sore eyes, looked at me sternly. ‘‘You’d better get rid of that neck­ tie of yours,” he barked at me. Then turning to Andranik he said, There are some jackets there, fetch one.” Andranik brought over an old, threadbare jacket with which he replaced my cherished clothes. I submitted silently, thinking this was one of the rules of novicehood. The man with the sore eyes looked very stern, and, it seemed, he

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was their chief. It was very difficult to distinguish between the great and the small; one had to surmise, rather than understand it. They talked about trite commonplaces, instead of serious business. They told funny anecdotes and rocked with laughter, holding their sides. But I was embarrassed and did not take part in the fun. Presently someone came in, holding in his hand a huge bowl, fresh from the oven, a sort of Hungarian goulash which made one’s mouth water. With shouts of delight they surrounded the plate and started to eat with their fingers. I was loath to join them. In rio time at all half of the plate was gone, the meat and the vegetables swim­ ming in the juice. The man with the sore eyes was peering at me under the brow. “Go on, eat. Don’t chew it like a young bride.” This made me blush all the more. Only Hagop watched me like a father. Seeing I was not used to squatting, he pushed the knapsack toward me to sit on. I knew none of their names and was afraid to ask since no one had asked my name. It seemed, it was enough for them that I was one of the boys. I only knew the names of Medzik and Andranik, but did not know if they were the servants or the Aghas (big shots) who cracked their jokes and exasperated the man with the sore eyes. After mess we went to town. The boys put me in the charge of Medzik to take me to a shindig, and they dispersed. That evening, through the dark, deserted streets, Medzik and I made our way into a home where, apparently, a wedding celebration was being held. The * streets were guarded by men who looked like sentinels, and who di­ rected the guests to the door. It was a sham wedding, but in reality it was the meeting place where more than 200 men and women- had as­ sembled. The musicians, with the zither, the lute, the tambourine and the Zuma (a shrill sounding wind instrument), were seated, but-they were not playing. They all were looking reverently at the man with the sore eyes. Here I learned that the name of the man with the sore eyes was Sergey, the most popular and respected man among the guests. But now he was not the stem man I had seen during the day, on the con­ trary, he freely mixed with the crowd, talking to them, and even tell­ ing jokes, and whenever he spoke to one, the poor soul nearly passed out for having deserved the honor of his attention. Sergey started to make a speech on the situation of Turkish Ar- . menia. His speech did not impress me as very profound—mostly cliches, repeated a thousand times. But he spoke with such passion, put so much spirit in his crude words that he enchanted them . all. I was pro­ foundly impressed by his intensity. But once the discussion got under- . way I did not agree with many of his views. However, I did not dare contradict him.

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1 here was a raffle and a collection, directed by Hagop who was assisted by a woman. It was at this time that Sergey approached me. and asked what I thought of his views. I told him my views were the exact opposite. He found my opinions somewhat extraordinary, and even non-revolutionary, yet he defended his case with such sincerity and intensity of conviction that I could not help but respect him, de­ spite my disagreement with his views. I do not know what Sergey saw in me, but from that day on his attitude toward me was changed. We became more intimate friends, and our friendship steadily deepened until his death. This man with the sore eyes and stem face was the Sergey of Kars, the future Aram of Van whom the Turks honored with the title of Pasha. He later became the Magistrate of Erivan, who, without witnessing the downfall of the Independent Republic of Armenia, parted from this world forever. Looking at him I understood the meaning of the saying, ‘Thy faith shall sustain thee.” I understood how feeble and shaky hit­ man reason is before the power of faith. A few days later I attended another gathering, this time near the bridge. The wedding guests, with their families, stepped inside. the home one by one, having previously been screened by the guards. There was an array of tables, loaded with food. The zither, the lute, the tambourine and the Zurna struck a soft strain. The guards in the street kept a close watch oh passersby and regularly reported to Hagop who sat solemnly at the door. The passersby were chiefly Rus­ sian soldiers returning to their barracks, or officers in their carriages, making for the fort. Hagop was flanked by two girls who were dressed to kill, holding in their hands collection baskets into which the arriving guests dropped whatever came from the heart. • ' Presently a youth strode in who was known to the guests by the name’ of Hamo, perhaps an abbreviation of Hamazasp or Hmayyak. He was a dazzling, dashing youth, verily bursting with joy. He was dressed in a black suit, shining boots, and a snow-white shirt. He was clean shaven and well groomed, and his fingers were loaded with flasht ing rings. He seemed to have just stepped out of a beauty parlor. He. smelled like a woman. . . Hamo pulled out a ten ruble piece and dropped it in the basket of the girl to the right, then, turning to the girl to the left, he flashed his irresistable smile. “I don’t want to overlook you, little sweatheart,” . he said, and he dropped another ten ruble piece in her basket. It was a large sum of money in those days and the guests were popeyed with wonder; . . .. , “Hamo Jan-Dear. Hamo-God bless you,”-exclaimed Markar of

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Mukhtontz. “But the Godfather of tlie bride and the groom is Sarkis. What will you give the Godfather?” "I will give him my Bumazhnik” Hamo said, and he handed his wallet to Sarkis. Mukhtontz Sarkis who was a businessman exclaimed, “Hey, Hamo, 1 trust the pocketbook is not empty.” But when he opened the wallet he was stunned. He started to count, 100, 200, 300, 400, 500, 600, 700 rubles, and 12 rubles in small change. Mukhtontz Markar turned to his brother and said, “Return the 12 rubles for Hamo’s transportation and keep the 700 for the bride and the groom." The wallet was laid before Hagop the collection master who looked around fiercely, then without counting the money he threw the wallet into the girl’s basket. The real beneficiary of the collection, of course, was not the bride and the groom but the Armenian Revolu­ tionary Federation, and in those days Hagop was the owner of the Federation in Kars. The party was on. Bio, the Master of Ceremonies, gave the signal, “Let us sing,” and he started the song: With gilded headgear, costly attire of the Laz, They were marching to Sassoun, to the aid of Andranik; Jan Fedayee on the scene, consternation to the foe.

Farhad, the blind minstrel who was the author of both the lyric and the music of this song, was king in those days, outshining all the other troubadours. In those days the poets Charentz, Toumanian, Hovanessian, Tourian and Beshiktashlian were not known to the public. Their fame was restricted to the intellectuals. One occasionally heard the name of Poet Isahakian, but compared to Farhad, he was a mere beginner. In those days Farhad was the most beloved Armenian singer, whose words enchanted the masses, and turned the funeral mourning into a wedding festival. Hamo was deeply moved, standing there, Iris face flushed, his eyes burning, and his fists clenched. Before the song was over, he started a new one: “The mighty hordes of Islam . . . “And so it went on until the signal was given for silence. Sergey mounted the stage to speak. He was speaking with an inner, irrepressible fire. He was still young, and yet his comrades al­ ready had won their crowns of martyrdom. When he mentioned the names of Mnak and Isachan his voice shook and the eyes of the guests turned moist. He recovered his composure. “Dear friends, these tears are not for Mnak and Isachan. They al­ ready have been martyred and have won their immortality. The

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weeping and the wailing is for us who talk about martyrdom and yet are afraid of winning it.” Sergey said many other things but these are the only words which have stuck with me. All the guests were deeply moved and Sergey had achieved his aim. He had prepared their mini for the Madagh, namely, the sacrificial offering for the sake of the Fatherland. During the applause Hamo approached me and said, “I want to talk to you.” He was a handsome youth with a downy face, marked by a hardly perceptible thin mustache like arched brows. Grief and indignation, boundless love and passion shot from his chestnut-colored eyes, charming the watcher like a flower of the spring. I had seen him only once until then. “In short,” Hamo began, “believe what I say. I want to become Madagh. ’ Although it was not my good fortune to become a martyr, let me be a simple Madagh—the sacrificial offering for my people” He was so moved he verily choked as he uttered the words. “Don’t you believe me?” he asked. “Believe me, try’ me.” “I believe you,” I replied. “You believe me, but Hagop does not believe. I begged him to send me to the Fatherland with the first company and put me in such a spot where there is dying. He flung a stone before me and said scorn­ fully, You are a mere child yet, yesterday’s calf. The wind has blown on your snout and you’ve stuck out your tail, but you dont know what you want. You say you want to go and become a martyr, but they dont give martyrdom to everyone who wants it. You are still unknown. And he dismissed me. I am not even enlisted in Dashnaktzakan ranks. My only hope is you and Sergey. You two can persuade Hagop, and if you want, you can enlist me in Duman’s company, or you can take me wherever you go and try me.” I looked into his imploring eyes and said, ‘Ill see what I can do. I told Sergey about it, and although he was glad to hear it, still he was doubtful. “He is too young,”’ he said, ‘ and he might regret it. Let us see what the others will say, they are better acquainted. We will take the matter to the Central Committee. Through Sergey and other comrades I became acquainted with the machinery of our organization in the region of Kars. This organiza­ tional pattern became the model for Turkish Armenia which we c e Tergir, meaning the Fatherland. The field workers and the agents were trained in the Caucasus and were sent to the Fatherland to put into practice what they had learned. The City of Kars, with al t e out ymg villages, were imbued with the revolutionary spirit. T e st reason for this was the Tsarist confiscation of Armenian schoo s in t e au casus. The second was the question of the liberation of Tur s ema.

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In the Russo-Turkish war of 1878, when the Armenian Generals Loris Melikov and Der Ghoogasian annexed Kars to Russia, the Ar­ menians of the region had come to believe that some good would come of this conquest. If not a completely free Armenia, they hoped, at least the landless Armenians of the Caucasus would be given land and op­ portunity for self-improvement. But they were completely disappointed in this their dream. On the other hand, there was the Turkish policy of oppression and massacre. The people of Kars, no matter to what class they belonged, saw all this and no longer put any trust in Russia. They considered the armchair politicians of the metropolitan coffee houses as ‘‘windbags.” Their mentality, although pessimistic, was nevertheless highly realistic condensed in the following popular adage:: “The Russian plies his axe to the root of the Armenian people; the Turk plies it to the branches; and the others sing Hallelujahs to us. A pest on both Sulik and Bulik.” This situation, dismal as it was, did not dismay the Armenian peo­ ple but, on the contrary, bolstered their faith in their private power. Their mottos were: to preserve the national identity no matter what the cost; to regard the national cause as sacred; sacrifices should not be offered to the saints, but no sacrifices was too great for the removal of Turkish and Russian tyrannies; the chasm between the two should be filled with our and the enemy’s corpses. These were not merely high-sounding beautiful words. The com­ rades who surrounded me were getting ready for death. Their sole concern was one thing, to sell their lives dearly and to die on the soil of the Fatherland. They knew that the Turkish and Russian tyrannies would not be removed by their death, but they firmly believed that the captive .Armenian people would eventually march to their freedom over their dead bodies. The people realized that these men were marching straight to their death. Yet, neither friends, nor the parents, nor anyone else ad­ vised them to desist from their intention. On the contrary, they ex­ horted them with infinite sorrow, “May your sacrifice be acceptable unto God.” The death of the comrades who were marching to their doom looked beautiful and easy. Death had become more attractive than life. In this setting the City' of Kars was organized as follows. The city was divided into two quarters, each with its party units-the club, the company and the committee—based upon age and desirability. The members of the company (the lowest unit) knew one another, held regular meetings, attended lectures, paid dues and carried out the orders of the Committee (the higher unit). A member of one company did not know the members of other companies. The companies operated

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secretly, their only common bond being the Committee. The women were similarly organized, their role being the Red Cross. They operated independently, chiefly' engaged in raising funds and providing sources of work and income for the members of the Party. Material sacrifice was an object of emulation and competition, while miserliness was tantamount to exclusion from society. Everyone gave more than he could afford, and sacrificed more than he should have. So great was the zeal to give that generosity had to be regulated by the leaders. Education was strictly in Armenian. Tire Russian public schools were boycotted. Tire children attended special parochial schools al­ most clandestinely. Education was compulsory. Speaking the Russian language was prohibited and the man who spoke Russian was con­ sidered a traitor. The organization of the villages was somewhat different. The com­ munity elected a Committee of three which was the supreme authority' in the village. The tasks of the village Committee were as follows: Judicial—No law suit was ever taken to a Russian federal court. The Committee of three settled all the cases in the village, and if in any village there were unsettled cases, the relevant Committee itself was tried before the Regional Committee for its negligence or failure to act. Education—The state schools were boycotted, and Armenian schools, even if clandestinely operated, were made compulsory. The expenses of the school were defrayed by voluntary contributions. Party Dues—To shun payment of government taxes was not con­ sidered a crime, but failure to pay the national and party dues was regarded as dereliction. Each individual paid his party dues in cash or goods which were transmitted to the Central Committee. Refugees—Housing and work was provided for the refugees whose welfare was considered uppermost. In addition to all this there was the question of guarding the cache of ammunition designed to be shipped to Turkey, and the nanc mg of fighting companies which crossed the border. The villages elected a Regional Committee which had jurisdiction over the local units, or committees. The Regional Committee emp oy a special agent who was called Field Worker, appointe y ® tral Committee, who enforced the orders of that bodi an ls“P ”® the disobedient. The field worker was always accompanied by personal guards. . .. , .t „ All these were carried out under the strict ance _ sian Government, especially since Kars was a mi itary z^ne' ment. of course, knew what was going on but had absolutely no way

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of interfering. The people’s hatred of the government was so great, and their affection for the Revolutionary Federation was so universal that, die lower echelons, terrified by the contempt of their kin, vied with one another in cooperating with the revolutionaries. And if anyone dared to become a tool of the government from malice or a loose tongue, he was promptly liquidated by the members of his family. The govern­ ment could not find the accuser, informer, or traitor. The Central Committee was the supreme executive body of the region in whose name everything was done. And yet, the Central Com­ mittee was invisible. This was not merely a precautionary measure but it had a definite meaning. From province to province the custom of bringing the bride home differs. In the Higher Plateau—Kars, Akhalkalak and other regions—the parents of die bridegroom would never give their assent to a marriage until the groom’s mother and aunt had seen the bride in the nude at a public bath house. The custom apparently was designed to guard against the possibility of any physical defects in a girl who was to be­ come the bride of their son. And obviously, the custom had its effect upon the election of the Central Committee, one of whose sessions I happened to attend and the like of which I have never seen anywhere else. The annual convention of the region was assembled in accordance with the provisions of the Party’s Constitution and By-laws. The Cen­ tral Committee, however, was represented by a single member out of a body of seven. Being a secret body, and having operated secretly through its appointed agents, the Central Committee kept away from the convention. Through its personal and subsidiary representatives, it presented to the convention two separate reports, one a financial state­ ment, and the other pertaining to its annual activity. At this particular convention it was represented by Hagop Chilingarian and Sergey, its agents or field workers. Meanwhile, it submitted its resignation and invited the convention to elect a new Central Committee for the com­ ing year.

As usual, the Central Committee’s activity was discussed and criticized. However, its case was defended by the delegates themselves, its representatives confining themselves to answering questions and giving explanations. When the discussion was over, the Chairman asked the convention: “Could the Central Committee have done more than they have done? Does their activity correspond with the decisions of the last convention? What is the verdict of the convention?” All were unanimous that the Central Committee’s activity was commendable. Then followed the election of the new Central Commit­

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tee in accordance with the provisions of the Constitution, but there was some details which were peculiar to Kars. The convention was first interested, not in the person of the candi­ date, but his geneology. Who were the candidate’s’ father, mother, grandfather, grandmother, great grandfather, great grandmother, and thus they traced his ancestry as far back as Noah the Patriarch. If you made a slip and asked what this all had to do with the candidate, the oldtimers would uncoil a bundle of old anecdotes and would re­ tort: “You are still yellowbeaked and you cannot understand. He who has sucked the Halal (genuine, pure) milk will be Halal (God’s bless­ ing will be on him). You can’t get a turtle dove from a snake’s egg.” Then they would tear apart the candidate’s family, his domstic life, how he kept his family. Does he drink? Does he gamble? Has he an eye on his neighbor’s wife? What are his personal habits? etc. etc. If you pointed out that it was not nice to probe into the personal life of the candidate, the oldtimers would retort indignantly, “Is not the Central Committee the head of thousands of families? How can one govern a nation unless he can govern his own family?” Then came the personal and party qualifications of the candidate. The members of the Central Committee should not be unemployed, on the contrary they should have a solid job or position. At least they should be financially independent. The unemployed, the needy, the man who looks to another for his support, how can he be expected to be impartial, upright, incorruptible and free? The candidates were elected without regard to birthplace, class or rank. And presently you would see a teacher, a public accountant, or a businessman who would address the convention: “The nation is a rainbow of seven colors. The nation is a symphony of seven voices. I move that we elect one each from these seven mys­ teries and create a Central Committee, so that we may have an ear and an eye on all the seven classes of society. The convention elected a teacher, a businessman, a worker, a government official, a physician, a tradesman, and one from the peas­ antry. I expressed my surprise why Darbakh, a veteran field wor er in the Fatherland was not elected, why Hagop and Sergey were not elected to the Central Committee. Hagop smiled and said to me: “I am surprised that you dont understand the basic nature o the Central Committee. Tn the beehive the Queen Bee is everything, while all the other bees are her creation and her slaves. Whatever she commands it is done. She prescribes a different task for eac one’ an< arms them accordingly. To one she gives a powerful armor and strong jaws to strangle the enemy; to another she gives a sting to protect itse ,

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and to glean the nectar from the flowers. She herself is deprived of all that, and relies wholly on the sacrifices of her creatures. But if that worm should absent herself from the hive, the rest would devour one another and would run away. For this reason she is a perpetual pris­ oner, never seeing the sun. Put it in your book that the Central Com­ mittee is the Queen Bee, and as such, it has three duties. First, to be with its children night and day, like our mothers, and to love- all with­ out discrimination. Secondly, to preserve the harmony in all this multi­ tude and to enforce its will in that union. Thirdly, to foresee and to provide for the safety of that multitude in peace and in danger, and to work for its growth in quality and in numbers. Nothing more.” With this analogy Hagop was trying to convey to me something and I asked myself, “Is Hagop trying to tell me that we should shackle our bees? Or was this an innate quality of the Armenian people?’ And my imagination took me back to old Eriza, the seat of the Armen­ ian Goddess Anahid, the Goddess of wisdom, who, like the Queen Bee, was everything, even if only a statue of stone. Could it be that all this tradition had been resurrected and been merged into the constitu­ tion and by-laws of Kars, making the election of the Central Com­ mittee an unwritten law? “You say Darbakh is a hero and yet we have overlooked him,” he continued. “That is all to the good. The members of the Central Com­ mittee have neither the chance nor the duty of becoming heroes. They must operate in secret. Besides, they are the ones who must produce the likes of Darbakh by the thousands. You say they sidestepped me and Sergey. That is good. Today we are here, tomorrow we are not, and we must end our days with our hand on the throttle. But who shall be the ones who can produce better and more workers than we? If the Central Committee realizes the seriousness of its mission, if it has the capacity and the will power to govern with wisdom and justice, it shall have justified its existence and all will be well.” I have related this story in order to show the peculiar mentality which prevailed in Kars, in the election of thie Central Committee. The field worker (agent or political commisar), the soldier; and the volunteer who went to the Fatherland (Yergir) were the elements who were to become Madagh (sacrificial offering) for the sake of the nation. They were subject to special rules chief among which were the following: He should not own private property. He should sever all ties with secular life. He should sever all ties with his family, the women in particular. He should renounce all worldly pleasures. He should be his own servant. In his language and actions he should observe proper decorum. He should be bold, brave, and proud. '

Lying, stealing, getting drunk, adultery, making love to girls, love of a soft life, ignorance of the mother tongue, cowardice, gossipmonger­ ing, taletelling, and temerity are faults. He who has not inherited these faults from birth, or who is incapable of these faults, is not virtuous or brave. The brave man is he who possesses these faults, publicly ad­ mits it, but has renounced them and fights to conquer them. What is the value of the priest’s sermon on charity when he will not contribute a penny from his pocket? The true benefactor is he who has and gives what he has. Of what value is the advice of the eunuch or the hermit of the cave about chastity? The truly valuable man is he who has every­ thing and yet is temperate. It was this spiritual school in which I was planted for my train­ ing.” My mother and brothers had come to Kars where they settled. They were even wealthy, and yet I, infected by the general atmosphere, never set foot inside their home. I was doomed to our miserable quarters in the forsaken valley, with the cold ground for my bed, and my military topcoat for my only blanket. Fetching food from a cheap restaurant polishing the comrades’ boots, grooming the horses an feeding them became our daily, party chores. Levon Calantarian came to us from Baku. They said e was a rich youth who had renounced his wealth, had left a thriving usiness and had come to Kars in order to become ‘ Madagh. He never to me, yet I had heard that he financed the complete equipment o dozen volunteer fighters, including their horses, having pai t e to the Central Committee. Despite this fact, his doubting,comrades kept testing him, to see if a real man could come ou o i bourgeois. They put him to a rigorous ordeal of omg c ore and they even robbed him of his rations. Yet he took it al like a true soldier and never complained. They used to say of him that he was

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like one, was entirely a different type. He was e Tolstoyism, them all. He was the ascetic type, inured to austen y. before his which was the fad at the time, Spartan severity. He wanted to inure his recovered> hardship, something which it could not sta . his bones t0 and finally joined the company of Vaghar , the ruins of Zivin for the sake of his people. hnurceois could Hamo Jampoladian, who likewise was not part with his costly cigarettes, his beau Fedayee atmosand his passion for women. He was not affe phere which he found absurd. Uv martyrdom “Are you going to save Armenia by asce ci

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and deeds?” he would ask testily. “I would understand it if you said that our aim is to strike down those who louse up our life. Our aim is to strike them down and to love life.” Hagop and I would despair of him. “You cannot straighten the crooked tail of a dog with mechanical gadgets,” we would sigh. I will tell of a meeting of the leaders which I attended to discuss Hamo’s case. The meeting was attended by Norhadian, Yervand (my brother), Sev Garo, Doctor Garo, Bznooni, Mukhchontz Markar, Bio, Sergey and Hagop. Yervand my brother took the floor. “I was passing by Baghdasarov’s shop when he called me inside and said, ‘It seems you don’t consider me an Armenian. I understand you need money for the nation. No one asks me nor tries me. Here, take this 500 rubles. I too want a finger in your cause.’ I was taken by surprise but took the money. 1 will take it to the proper authorities but I am not sure they will accept your gift’ I said to him.” Instantly Hagop sprang to his feet. “I had gone to the compound of Kro,” he said passionately. “The water vendor Khunko, who makes 30 Kopeks a day, scarcely enough to support his family, gave me two rubles, saying, ‘Take this, as a glass of water, for the sake of my na­ tion.’ Those two rubles are the equal of Baghdasarov’s two million. Let us not mix that unclean money with Khunko’s Kopeks.” It was decided that if Baghdasarov raised his donation to 1000 rubles it would be accepted as a voluntary gift. Anything less than 1,000 would be returned to him. Hagop gave^a report of the party which had taken place two days e ore. Sergey, he said, showed great aptitude in preaching and ic charmed his crowd. I moved that we make him Director of Propa­ ganda. ’ , ^e motion was carried despite Sergey’s vigorous protestations eart was not in IL and that he had come to Kars for an en­ tirely different purpose. wac At W®dding Party’” Hagop continued, “a total of 2912 rubles Ham aySe 5 3 Wa^et* From the latter 12 rubles were returned to amo Janpoladian, the remaining 700 rubles, together with the wallet, the Partv^ retamed' 1 move that we deposit 2200 of that sum in which orcra an rriSSUe & C0rresP°nding receipt to the committee tha^we^T^^ As to the 700 rubles and the wallet, I move that we return it to Hamo the owner.”

speak but T WHS moment tense silence. Sergey signaled to me to hXed FinT K :XCjted that 1 did not -hat to say and I hesitated. Finally Norhadian took the floor. streets with* the schn^ ^now Hamo, I have seen him in the with the school children. He is still a child who has not finished

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school, and having separated himself from the Russians, he has fallen into our church. He has come to our church, and with his entire wealth, a mere candle, he wants to light a candle for our saints, our martyrs. Why are you so intent on extinguishing Hamo’s candle? Why do you want to cast his gift into the sewer? I have been a teacher and I know the effect such a thing will have on a budding child if his gift is re­ jected. I move that we accept the gift, commend him for it, and send his wallet to the Federation’s Museum.” This was too much for Hagop. “Your analogy is good,” he said, but the application is fallacious. They place ikons before the saints, and they light candles which are acceptable to the saints. But if the candle is made of tire tallow of a dog or a swine, it becomes a sacrilege and our church becomes the abode of the swine. He is still a lad, he has earned nothing. Where did he get the 700 rubles to make a gift of it to us? Has your pocket ever seen 700 rubles?” “No, it has never seen, because I don’t have a rich father nor the salt mines of Kaghzvan.’’ At this I took courage and opened my mouth. “I have no right to speak, but I shall tell you what I have seen. I too haven’t earned any money, but I have 50 rubles in my pocket. That is not the fat of the swine, because those who gave it to me are here among you, and they are the dearest friends of Hagop.” Yervand and Hagop looked at each other and grinned. I continued: “I began to get scared of both my money and you listening to you. How much more will be the fright and disillusionment of Hamo if his gift is rejected! That is not what I want to say about Hamo. I wanted to Jet you know of his request. He complained to me of Hagop who, con­ sidering him a mere child, has stopped him from joining the companies which are headed for the Fatherland. He asks that we accept him into the Dashnaktzakan ranks and then send him on such a mission where death is a definite risk. He has sworn to become a martyr. I would like to see his wish fulfilled.” “No, no, my son,” Norhadian interposed. “You cannot make mar­ tyrdom an aim. Bravo Hagop! I agree with you. We must not let those lads throw away their lives. Hamo acts like a full grown man. Last night a lad came to my home. He is a teenager, just graduated from the Gymnasium. They had sent him to me from Derbend. He is still staying with us. Yervand, your home is large. I will send the boy to you. You cannot throw him in with those rough, rugged soldiers. Somehow we must persuade him to go back. We shall have need of this educated young generation. I see I have digressed somewhat. What I meant to say, when I was speaking with this lad (his name is Kevork) he was so passionate in his exposition of the mystery of death, so in-

35

tense in his desire to go to the Fatherland and win the martyrs crown that I was frightened. I tell you this new generation of ours is infected with the disease of martyrdom. (Turning to Dr. Garo) Have you got a remedy for this, Doctor? Bravo Hagop! You’ve got the right idea. To save Hamo, we must prevent his suicide.” Without realizing, Norhadian had stirred a hornet’s nest in that little meeting. Hands were raised, they all wanted to speak at the same time. Finally Mukhchontz Markar, without the chairman’s per­ mission, got up to speak. “Norhad, Norhad, do you know what you are saying?” Markar shouted, sticking out his goatee. “You mean to tell us there are white bones and black bones? You want us to pickle at home the good and the educated, and send the coarse, the uncouth, the ignorant and the illiterate to the Fatherland to become martyrs? Is that what you want?” Sev Garo was shouting from his seat. “Norhad, Norhad, you’ve got rocks in your head today. (To the Doctor) Doctor, give him a checkup. He seems to have lost his wits.” Sergey was boiling with rage, but Hagop prevailed on him to yield. If Norhadian thinks that I share his views he is badly mistaken,” Hagop began. “I am not opposed to taking Hamo into our ranks and let him join the companies. Let Norhadian keep his ‘Bravos’ to him­ self. However, despite Norhadian, I think our first candidates to go to the Fatherland will be neither the riffraff nor the illiterate, but our chosen generation, those who are educated, those who possess an ideal. I am definitely opposed to pickling them, otherwise they will sour and rot. Ninety percent of those who set out for the Fatherland perish on the way and only ten percent reach their destination. That does not mean that our aim shall be to die, to be sacrificed, to become martyrs, but out of that ten percent to push at least one man into tire Fatherland who shall disseminate our ideas. None of you know Hamo as well as I do. He is capable of all kind of sacrifice and he is fearless. A 1 the same, it is the operation, the adventure which he loves and not the aim behind it. That is the thing which I fear.” Then turning to me he continued: inte"ene without knowing, are wrong. First of all. r \ ° S°n JanP°ladov, a wealthy man who has exploited the " J c !h°USa"ds of ^^rs. We are supposed to fight against such

away his father’s money is no sign of sacrifice. As to his personal ex­ penses, his theater, his first class ticket in a passenger car, his sump­ tuous meals, his clothes and his woman’ jewelry, all these are indica­ tions that he is apt to fall. He is an unknown quantity. I am his friend; let him not think me his enemy. Let him stay out of our ranks.” After this eloquent expatiation the consensus of the meeting was unanimous. Hamo’s request was rejected.

t.UC PeoPe are our enemies of tomorrow. Hamo does not conthOUghtsec™d «*** reason is this. It is matter k a 6 ^at y0U cannot make money without working. No even Lor7 Tn mUS‘ money, he must legitimate f

m°ney- °Ur Hamo has not

eamed

legitimate fortune, and yet he feels proud that he is rich. Throwing

36

37

THE ANATOMY OF THE REVOLUTION

The Anatomy of the Revolution

In this chapter, one of his most fascinating analytical exposi­ tions, Rouben discusses the anatomy of the Armenian Revolution. It will be observed that, unlike the American Revolution which to begin with, was endowed with a colonial government which espoused the Revolutionary cause, the Armenian revolutionaries operating against a hostile government eventually evolved a system which was a government within the government, and again unlike the revolutions of the Balkan peoples which oper­ ated under similar conditions, the Armenian revolutionaries car­ ried the ait; of revolution to its highest ideological manifestation through the happy combination of the physical struggle and the social administration. Although the followers of the revolution numbered in their thousands and tens of thousands, the hard core of the organiza­ tion was made up of a small, dues-paying membership. Struc­ turally, the lowest unit was the company (political company as distinct from the fighting company), then the Committee which was commonly known as the ^Gomideh,” followed by the Re­ gional Committee, then the Central Committee, and finally the Bureau—the supreme executive body of the organization—a pat­ tern which has been preserved to this day. This pyramidical structure was supplemented by a lively corps of field operators, or agents who were called Field Workers, who carried out the orders of the Central Committee. Administratively, which perforce was underground, the or­ ganization maintained its departments of education, justice, dis­ cipline, propaganda, and counter-espionage. Revenues were de­ rived from membership dues, donations, and the proceeds of public functions or fund drives. Three factors lent cohesion to the organization: a strict discipline, the fear of the revolution­ ary arm which was known as ‘revolutionary justice, and the promotion of a high degree of patriotic morality. The Armenian

39

homes were so inoculated with this morality that even the whis­ per of the word “informer9’ or “traitor” was dreaded more than the executioners sword. Because the Central Committee derived its powers from the lower strata committees and companies, by its very structure the organization was incapable of developing into a dictatorship. Another source of the revolutions power was the derivation of its strength from the collectivity of its structure, rather than through the genius of illustrious personalities, much like the ancient Roman Republic which derived its strength from its do­ mestic virtues and the solidarity of its administrative and mili­ tary structure. Although the Armenian revolution later produced a host of patriotic heroes, these were the acknowledged product, rather than the cause of an enduring liberational apparatus.

40

The Mechanics of Revolt THE FIELD WORKER Since the Central Committee operated underground, the living link between it and the people were its roving emissaries who were called field workers or field agents. These agents, as described before, prior to their entry into active service, went through a period of rigorout training to inure themselves to a life of hardship, privation, and Spartan austerity. They were the men who carried out the decisions of the Central Committee. If in the discharge of their duty they were successful, they gave the credit to the Central Committee; if they failed, they would assume the whole responsibility, pending the Cen­ tral Committee’s investigation. The organizational unit was the “committee” which put no limit on membership, but when any community failed to produce a member­ ship of more than five, the unit was called “company. Thus, starting with the company, the organizational unit expanded according to num­ bers. This network resembled a pyramid, the capstone of which was the Central Committee which operated in secret. The organizational units constituted the administrative and legislative organism through their elective bodies. Thus the supreme authority stemmed from the lower strata, and not from the top, namely, from the people. On the other hand, operating from the opposite direction, namely, from the top of the pyramid on down to the lower levels, there was another authority which was appointive and which was visible both to the people and the government. That authority put a protective mask on the organization by posing as the real power. Its duty was to see that the decisions of the organizational units—the committees and the companies—and of the Central Committee were executed. Those questions which it could not resolve were referred to the proper bodies. This network was the creation of the Central Committee. The key figures of this visible network were the intellectuals— graduates of colleges and universities, having under their command 2 to 5 soldiers who were known experts in the use of arms. These men were the revolution’s missionaries—its field workers, propagandists, and

41

roving emissaries who went to the Fatherland (Turkish Armenia), smuggled arms and ammunition, and organized the military expeditions. These field agents were dependent on the Central Committee and its subordinate bodies, subject to dismissal or expulsion in case of legiti­ mate protest. ADJUDICATION OF CIVIL AND CRIMINAL CASES The settling of local disputes consumed a considerable time inas­ much as resort to government courts was prohibited by the Central Committee. The disputing parties, if members of the Party, presented their case to the local committee; if they were not members of the Party, they still appealed to the committee, meanwhile submitting their own judges. No relatives of the disputing parties could act as judges. The verdict of the judges was final. Disputes between Armenians and non-Armenians were settled by the field agents of the Central Committee. The latter, sometimes armed, would present themselves at the home of a complainant in a Turkish, Greek, or Russian village. If they were unkown to the disputants, they would reveal their identity and would offer their services to settle the matter without the government’s intervention. Usually, the offer was accepted and the case was settled with dispatch and without charge, and the verdict was so impartial and just that often non-Armenians pre­ ferred to settle their cases in a Dashnaktzakan tribunal. The trial would take place at the home of one of the disputants in the presence of spectators who watched the proceedings in silence. The two sides would swear to tell the truth, the whole truth and noth­ ing but the truth, and if they lied they would stand the punishment. They would answer the questions, the trial would end and the verdict was delivered the same day. The verdict was dictated by the voice of the conscience and the customary moral code. Small cases were settled at a street comer or a restaurant. These trials generally quieted the aroused passions and reconciled the two parties.

PUNISHMENT AND PRISON There were various degrees of punishment depending on the na­ ture and the gravity of the offence. The gravest penalty was punish­ ment by death—a sentence which was passed upon the demand of e village or the regional tribunals. But the sentence was never carrie out without the Central Committee’s examination of the case and its unanimous confirmation. The man who executed such a sentence without the Central Committee’s certificate with the red seal was con­

42

sidered a criminal. Generally the execution was delegated to a close relative of the condemned man and never to a partisan of the accusing party. This was done in order to avoid the possibility of vendetta. The next in the order of severity was punishment by exile. With the exception of conspiratorial cases all death sentences were commuted to exile by the Central Committee. The death sentence was restricted to only two types of crimes: treason and murder. For treason the death sentence was irrevocable, but in the case of manslaughter the verdict could be mitigated, provided the condemned man or his family appealed for pardon and the condemned man, in the presence of his wife, re­ nounced his possessions in favor of his heir, renounced his family, agreed to pay alimony to his wife, and went into voluntary exile within 12 hours. The death sentence was signed by the condemned man and his family. If he ever returned from his exile all those who had signed the sentence would be condemned to death. The simple exile was designed for non-criminal offences. The Cen­ tral Committee passed this sentence as an administrative measure, with­ out holding a trial. This penalty was generally dealt to those individ­ uals whose presence in the society was undesirable. The category of the undesirables included: (a) a man who is an intrigant and creates division in the ranks, (b) a man who does not submit to discipline (c) one who comports himself in a manner unworthy of his position or rank, (d) one who disregards the local moral code. The field agent bearing the certificate with the red seal would simply order these men to leave for elsewhere within two hours and his command would in­ stantly be obeyed. Imprisonment was the punishment for the thieves, loan sharks, exploiters of the poor, and derelicts in duty. In the Tsarist days when the gendarmes were busy smoking out the Dashnaktzakans, at the out­ skirts of the Fort of Kars, the Armenian Revolutionary Federation had its own jail, a ramshackle building in the Kro quarters. The house had no lock from the outside but could be bolted from the inside. A couple of small holes served for windows, two or three cold benches strewn with straw completed the furniture. Sergey, the field agent, would say to the condemned man, “You will remain in your jail until the end of your term.” It was as simple as that. This would take place in broad daylight, in full sight of the Tsarist gendarmes. When all importunities failed, the condemned man would go to his jail, alone or accompanied by an escort. Before his confine­ ment he would arrange with his relatives for his daily ration of food and water. The cost of his confinement was defrayed by his relatives. The poor man had no other alternative. To appeal to the govern­ ment for protection would be an admission of his guilt. It would be

43

stupid of him to send word to the government that he had been jailed because it was he who locked himself in. If he should run away, where could he go? If he went back home he would be caught and given a terrible beating. Often there were ludicrous situations. The gendarmes, sensing what had happened, would sometimes storm the jail. “What in hell are you doing here?” they would ask. “Get up and go to your work. “Leave me alone. I have made a vow to do penance. I have abused my wife,” the prisoner would plead disarmingly. Bewildered, the government would record the incident as the case of a fanatical revolutionary, and having no proof against him, would leave him alone or would transfer him to another jail. Beating was another punishment when the guilty party resisted or shunned a decision. Indemnity was positively forbidden. In case of robbery or swindling, a double amount was collected, the first half to indemnify the wronged party, while the second half was turned over to the trustees of the local school.

PARTY REVENUES One of the basic duties of the field agent was collecting member­ ship dues and the expansion of party revenues. Aside from the material value, the party dues had a moral significance. He who considered him­ self a Dashnaktzakan was subject to party dues. The party dues were the principal source of party' income, as well as the proper conception of duty. The man who made a hundredfold sacrifice and yet failed to pay his monthly dues was expelled from the ranks. The party dues were not a blanket requirement, but were dependent on the individual’s ability to pay. The amount was determined by the higher bodies, or the committee to which he belong. If someone, carried away by his zeal, offered to pay more than his share, or if led by avarice offered to pay less, it was the members of his committee who decided his quota. Ordinarily the party quota did not exceed one to three percent of his income. The organizational membership scarcely comprised one to two percent of the population, so the individual dues were trivial as com­ pared to the party’s general income. And yet, it was this hard core which counted for the organization, because it was stable and un­ changeable. The bulk of the Dashnaktzakan party consisted of its out­ side following, but the thing which gave the organization its stability and vitality was this small, reliable membership.

arms was the region’s field agent. In Kars in 1904 the regional field worker was Hagop Chilingarian. For the Province and the City of Kars the organization maintained a corps of 15-20 soldiers and an average of five field agents. However Hagop, no doubt with the Central Com­ mittee’s assent, had devised a system of rules of his own which dis­ pensed with much of the operational expense. These rules were: (a) the soldier or the agent who has sworn to dedicate his life to the nation should not receive any pay under the name of wages. Accepting pay for his services is tantamount to selling his blood; (b) each home in the nation is the soldier’s home, and the home which closes its doors to the man who has sworn to sacrifice his life for the nation is not an Armenian; (c) these potential martyrs primarily belong to the poor, and therefore, the volunteer fighter or the field agent should prefer the hospitality of the poor, to be their guest, to break bread with them, rather than with the class which is well off. If the host is hungry, the Federation’s soldier goes hungry with him. With the application of this rule practically all the field expense was dispensed with. The only deviation from this rule applied to the cities where a soldier”s or field agents expenses were paid, provi e they did not exceed the daily sum of 20 Kopeks. Eighty percent of the party’s income went into the purchase of arms and ammunition which were kept in caches for the use of the Fatherland. Cash was converted into ammunition in the following man­ ner. Those Armenians who were in the Russian army and consi ere themselves Dashnaktzakans or friends were duty-bound to supp y arms and ammunition, which meant stealing from the government. . ean while it devolevd on them to teach the Russians and ot cr nation a how to convert ammunition into cash. This was done in following manner. The Russian soldier loved his vodka and women, but his pay, 37 Kopeks for two mon s, scarce y sufficed for his atrocious tobacco. The only way t e ussian s° could enjoy his pleasure was stealing through the me lum ° agents planted at saloons and public houses. At these resorts, as , payment a deposit of 3000 rubles was placed at the disposal of the owners, to be used for the purchase of cartridges a er a Kopek each. In this manner all centers of revelry were ^ve"

secret markets. And while those resorts were un er mental surveillance, at the same time they were pro ec e emment for the diversion of the soldiers. The so c ler , coat pockets bulging with ammunition, would arge in

EXPENDITURES AND PURCHASES OF ARMS

The man who had charge of the expenditures and purchases of

44

pistol under the counter.

® trench-

-——* ■ n— 45

“Give me some vegetables,” another would call as he slipped a sack of cartridges under the table. And so it went on. The soldiers would have a luxuriant meal with­ out paying a Kopek, the glasses were filled, and the singing began. If the soldier was caught in the act he alone was responsible to the military court. But once the singing began, from then on it was the concern of the house. There could be informers, or the soldiers in their intoxication might demand more for their haul. The agents of the secret service could catch them in the act and hale them before the military court. All these were the soldier’s’ concern. Aside from the main entrance the saloon inevitably had a back door and a secret exit. The minute the bartender received the ammuni­ tion, he would take it to the secret exit and deliver it to a stranger who waited there. He was “clean” now and they could search his place if they wanted.

From this moment the responsibility belonged to the stranger who was the intermediary. He was supposed to dump his loot into a wait­ ing wagon some fifty feet away and return to his former post to accept fresh goods. The wagon raced to a designated spot where a second vehicle waited. The transfer was made silently, and the first wagon re­ turned to its former post for new cargoes. The first wagon, likewise, belonged to the intermediary who was responsible for any mishaps until the transfer. The second cart was accompanied by our boys, usually Medzik, Andranik and Muto, who drove it to a designated spot where Hagop checked the cargo and distributed it to various individuals. The latter took their load to the warehouses which were located outside the city, in villages and ravines. The responsibility of the latter operation devolved on the party. A second method of obtaining arms was bribery. To this end con­ tact was made with the officers of the army and the keeper of the gov­ ernment’s arsenal. When the deal was made the goods were transferred to our storehouse. This operation, although seemingly easy, was ex­ ceedingly dangerous and frightening. The man who went on such a mission had to make his peace with God and write his will. All the same, the government depots were emptied countless times in countless ways. The risks and the accidents of these adventures would make an intriguing police novel. Thus, arms and ammunition were obtained in Kars through all kinds of artifices, same pardonable, some unpardonable. The unpardon­ able was resorted to when all other means failed. Ammunition was an article which was strictly forbidden to the revolutionaries, but it was essential to the Fatherland.

46

PROPAGANDA Propaganda was essentially the work of the field agents. At that time we had no written propaganda because there were no party pub­ lications in Russia, Turkey and Persia. Our publications of abroad could not reach the Caucasus, and if they did they already were too old. Our only official organ was the “Droshak” (Banner), published in Switzerland. When we received this periodical we handled it rev­ erently and kissed it like the Bible. We wrapped it in handkerchieves and set it aside. Tt was read by only a select few. The principal source of our information was the pulse of the people. Reading matter was very scarce in those days. Nevertheless we all knew the unwritten constitution and by-laws of the organization and we carefully read and explained the circular letters of the Bureau, supreme executive of the Armenian Revolution­ ary Federation. The principal medium of information was the oral propaganda, accessible and understandable to all. This was done by the so-called Ashoughs’’—traveling minstrels—on the one hand, and the intellectuals on the other hand. The work of the minstrels has never been fully appreciated, al­ though it was through them that the large masses of our people were aroused from their lethargy and started to think. Those minstrels were completely detached from the present and lived in the past and the future. To them the present was only a pretext for recalling centuriesold forgotten national instincts, buried in the heart of the Armenian people. They inflamed the old fires, presenting them as new, living issues. The legend of David of Sassoun, a tale very dear to the people’s heart, was a favorite theme of the minstrels. Having renounced the present, they projected the future on the screen as an accomplished reality, the very thing which the people wanted to hear. Chief among these minstrels was Farhad the blind who at once improvised the lyric, played his banjo and sang it. To him, what counted was the inspiration, rather than the factual or historical accuracy of

his words.

Firfir Kar, Andok and Kepin, When Simon Zavarian the brave Drew his sword in Sassoun.

And when someone observed that Simon Zavarian was never in Sassoun and that he never was a man of the sword, he would retort angrily, “Mind your business. If Simon was never in Sassoun he was the type of man who could have been there. If he was not a man of these word he should have been one.”

47

Farhad spoke to the hearts of the people. You might think he was inflating his images and you might not agree with him that Sultan Hamid’s throne was shaken,” just the same his bloated exaggerations were pleasing to the ear. In short, the minstrels were the men who aroused in the people the longings of the past and the future, some­ thing for which we were very grateful. After the prelude by the minstrels came the principal speakers, the lecturers and the propagandists who brought the listeners down to earth and expatiated on the present, no matter how dismal and dis­ tressing the present was. The City of Kars had seen many transient and permanent prop­ agandists who were remembered. It had seen the stuttering yet sharpwitted Rosdom of whom they said, ‘‘When you hear him, you learn something and you feel satisfied.” It had seen Khazhak whose inspiring lectures were “like the breezes of Mount Ararat.” It had seen Nicol Aghbalian who, like an ancient prophet, “counted the very teeth in a man’s mouth.” It had seen Vramian who talked so fast he could say in one hour what another could not say in a year. It had seen many others who, like these men, had come and gone, leaving something behind. But among them all stood out one who lasted until his death. That man as Norhadian. Next to him were two others who were always remembered with keen sorrow7. One of these was Yegor (Arastamian) of whom they said, “He sang with the fire of Ariel and led men to their death as if they were marching to a wedding feast.” The other was Sergey, the man with the sore eyes and stem face, of whom they said, "He was clumsy but what he said was short and sweet. He called a spade a spade.” When I came to Kars the only propagandist there w’as Sergey, surrounded by the likes of me who, although understanding what was going on, took a back seat when it came to the discussion of real issues. Sergey alone could make the people understand, and therefore, we left the field to him. And Sergey held meetings every night, attended by one to two hundred guests under the pretext of holding a wedding feast, or a ceremony of engagement, or a baptism. Our propaganda proper was confined to companies of ten to twenty in which we an­ swered questions. When all this was done by the field agents, the question arises, what then was the role of the Central Committee? And what about the Russian government? Was the government asleep? Was it a fool? Was it bribed to tolerate a government within the government? From the preceding recital it is plain that, generally, the various tasks of the Central Committee were accomplished through its ap­

48

pointed agents. It was as if the Central Committee never existed, or was a mere symbolic entity, an impersonal authority like an honorary president. Outwardly this was true, but in reality it was the exact op­ posite. It was the Central Committee which appointed the field agents, disciplined them, rewarded or fired them. They all worked in its name even though it was invisible. The minute the Central Committee was elected it cut itself off from the outside world. The conception of the operations, the mainte­ nance of discipline and order, and the exercise of power were not the whole of the property of the Central Committee. These initiatives and powers stemmed from the lower strata—the companies and the com­ mittees—whose wishes and decisions were concentrated in the central body. The Central Committee was duty-bound to adopt and execute the collective will of the lower units. This was the reason why the Central Committee could never become a dictatorship, even if its operations looked dictatorial. On the other hand, all the appointive agents, the roving emissaries and the volunteer soldiers had only one duty, namely, to enforce the Central Committee’s will, to carry out its operations, and to maintain discipline inside the ranks, much the same as the bees in a bee hive or the soldiers of an army. The real strength of the organization lay in this undefined collectivity. It never rested on the glamor of the in­ dividual, on personal distinction or prestige which might obscure the entire organization. THE

GOVERNMENT AND THE PARTY It is absurd, of course, to think that the Russian Government was ignorant of what was going on all the time, that it was foolish, incompetent, irresolute or feeble-minded. The Russian government, in fact, was alert and well informed. The anti-govemmental operations were of such a nature that it could not fail to take notice. Consequently, it maintained an imposing force in that military zone, twice the num­

RUSSIAN

ber of thegovernment population. might not know the identity of the personnel The of the Central Committee, but the field agents were known to it, so much so that when Sergey walked through the streets the gendarmes and the chief of police saluted him as if he was the unofficial Viceroy. They saluted Hagop and the others whom they took for members of the Central Committee. As to Bio who really gloated over the homage accorded him, the gendarmes would banter him: Ton must be the king of them all.” On such occasions Bio would accept the compliment

and would smile benignly.

49

All the same, the government was bewildered and did not know what to do. First, the Armenian population was solidly behind the Federation. Touching a single member of the Armenian Revolutionary’ Federation might touch off the same popular uprisings which had oc­ curred only a few months before when the government invaded the domain of the Armenian church and schools. Moreover, the government was afraid of armed rebellion. Its sole effort was centered on alienating the people from the Federation which it blamed for all the happenings. However, the desired separation was not as easy as it looked. In the first place the government could not institute legal action against the Federation because there was neither protest nor formal appeal for its intervention, not even on the part of the police. Matters had gone so far that, when the revolutionary avengers shot a man in the street in broad daylight, the witness of the deed disclaimed any knowledge and contended that the man must have committed suicide. There remained the administrative method of approach, but this too, was fraught with dangers. The Golitzin regime had so far alienated the Armenian people that they even had discarded the Russian head­ gear for the fur cap and the Fez. Administrative repression was not the remedy. The only remedy lay in promoting dissension among the Caucasian nationalities, to busy the Federation, and eventually destroy it by sheer attrition. To this end, they first tried to antagonize the Dashnaktzakans and the Socialists who regarded the former as a chauvinist organization. Next they in­ cited the Armeno-Tartars clashes. And finally, they came to an agree­ ment which the Turks to eradicate the Dashnaktzakans as disturbers of the peace in Turkey and the Caucasus. These were the real reasons why the situation was tolerated. The government was waiting until the boil came to a head and “the dog strangled the dog,” as the Russian officers were wont to say.

THE REVOLUTIONARY AVENGERS When we consider the solidarity of the Armenian people in 19031904 in Kars, their united stand against the mighty Russian govern­ ment, their superb discipline and matchless spirit of sacrifice, the ques­ tion naturally arises, were these people so far advanced, so enlight­ ened and so matured to the total exclusion of adverse qualities which might vitiate that unity? To imagine that in those days all men were bom with superlative virtues is both absurd and baseless. Man is man, always with his posi­ tive and adverse instincts. As the old proverb goes, “There is no village without dogs.” However, lest the dogs assumed the power, three con­ ditions were necessary, two of which already have been mentioned.

50

First, there was the external pressure-the foreign tyrant-which jeopar­ dized the interests of both the good and the bad. Second, the presence of an organized force in the midst of the community united the people in their common cause of liberation. However, these two forces were not enough to herd the wolf and the lamb into the same fold. A third force was necessary to bring the incorrigible and the selfish into line. That force was the ability to en­ force responsibility. He who could not see the inevitable repercussions of the common danger to his own personal interests, he who could not be infected by the moral climate which the organization had created for the common good, such a man should either be restrained or de­ stroyed. The organization’s weapon to eradicate this evil was what was known as revolutionary justice. Acts of revolutionary justice, according to nature, were divided into two categories: the external, and the internal, in other words, the political, and the disciplinarian. The political aspect was divided into three classes; mass execution, demolition of government bases, and re­ straint of the officialdom. The disciplinarian, in turn, was divided into two classes: against an individual or group of individuals who openly sided with the enemy and fought against their own people; and those

who turned into informers. In case of informing or treason, the decision of the Central Com­ mittee had to be unanimous and the execution of revolutionary justice could be enacted only after obtaining the assent of the neighboring central committee or the Supreme A.R.F. Body (the Bureau). For the remaining offences, no matter how grave, there was no death by the revolutionary avenger. Criminal offences, confiscation of property, swindling, sinning against the moral code and disregard of discipline were subject to various degrees of punishment, provided the offender submitted voluntarily or offered no resistance. In the con­ trary event, the offender was automatically sentenced to death. Mass murder was executed on the Armenians of Turkey during the notorious Hamidian massacres of 1895-1896. In the Caucasus, the Russian government tried mass murder through the Tartars. Mass mur­ der reached its peak in Turkey in 1915 by Dr. Nazim, Behaeddin Shakir, Enver and Talaat and their confederates who were bent on a radical

solution of the Armenian question. However, not one Armenian faction, much less the Armenian Revolutionary Federation, even for a moment, thought of resorting to the weapon of mass murder. The reason for this was not to be sought in Armenian inability or its humanitarianism alone, but primarily in the deeply-rooted principle that responsibility for bad administration does not belong to the people but their governments. That a regime

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may be changed by revolution and enlightenment. And that, only through the establishment of a democratic form of government can any nation or any class of society achieve their freedom. This idealism was so deeply rooted in the Armenian people, and especially in the Revolutionary Federation, that the latter to this day sings with distinct pride an old revolutionary song which runs: “The avenging Jan Fedayee Women and children never harms.” And from the founding of the Federation to this day there never has been any decision to employ mass murder as a weapon on any na­ tion or class of society. Mass murder was considered not only anti­ human, anti-revolutionary and barbaric, but meaningless and wasteful as well. Opposing mass murder was the sacred duty of the Armenian revolutionary. In the region of Kars the resort to revolutionary justice as a weapon of restraint against government officialdom, resided strictly within the jurisdiction of the Central Committee. It was a very delicate thing to pass decisions involving the appli­ cation of revolutionary justice on officers of the government and the army. It was important to consider not only the extent of the harm the condemned man had brought to society, but the elements of volition and personal responsibility were involved. Did the man do what he did as a matter of official duty because it was expected of him, or he was ordered or forced to do, or did he commit his crime for the sheer pleasure of it? This fine distinction was a necessary in order to avoid provoking the enmity of the class to which he belonged or at least partly to mitigate the impression of defiance. Thus, for instance, if the sentenced man belonged to the army, the reasoning ran: ‘We send our sons into the army to fight against our external enemies for the safety of the people. But Ivan, having con­ sidered a certain citizen an external enemy, has killed him and left his family orphans. Under the circumstances his death is necessary in the interests of the people.” If the condemned man was a policeman, the same reasoning fol­ lowed. The police is for the internal security of society. If he abuses a citizen for reasons of extortion, he is disrupting the internal security, and therefore he should die. If the charges against a man accused of violating either tire in­ ternal or external security were based on irrefutable proof, a brief sketch of the indictment was pinned on his body after he had been executed, invariably eliciting ejaculations of approval by the spectators

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When an act of revolutionary justice drew popular spontaneous approval, the operation was considered successful. The avenging act had achieved its aim. If an error was made in the sentencing, the result was negative and the government made the most of the situation. I was told that between 1900 and 1904 there had been eight acts of revolutionary justice, seven of which were just but one was°regretable. Yet, even in this case the sentence was just but the revolutionary avenger had confused the identity of the intended victim and had killed an innocent man, pinning on his body the list of his alleged crimes. That error cost us dearly despite the fact that the victim’s family was fully indemnified. The liquidation of eight government and army officers had taken place in broad daylight, in the middle of the street, in full sight of the spectators, and yet, not a single avenger was caught. They all made their get away. All were pleased with the results. The government could not get any testimony from the witnesses. The police department was always on the job, always discreet, and avoiding high-handed methods. When it felt the issue had a po­ litical lining it pretended not to see it. The police could see many men who were strangers to the locality but never asked for their passports. They could see these strangers with bulging waists, no doubt conceal­ ing weapons, still they asked no questions as long as their names were not registered. The police knew very well who these men were. On pertinent occasions they even saluted them respectfully as the chiefs of a revolutionary group who were fighting the government, but they took no action as long as they had no specific orders. When a police­ man received an order to arrest someone he instantly sent a messenger to warn the victims that a search would be made and asked them to be on their guard to prevent unpleasant consequences. The gendarmerie had been converted into a sort of screen to cover the deeds of the

revolutionaries. There still remained the toughest part of all—the secret police, the informers, and the traitors. Identifying the personnel of the secret police was the most difficult of all. It was difficult to cope with them because they were invisible. They were impersonal entities who perhaps stood right next to you and yet you could not recognize them. And what they saw or heard was relayed to the authorities with sue secrecy that only a few could understand what really had taken p ace. The closest guess you could make as to the identity of the secret police was during the interrogations in prison. By re-enacting t e past you could make a search among scores of names to locate the secret agent who might be a man you did not like, or one you i e verY muc » a member of your own family, or your revolutionary comrade, your

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fellow-soldier, and who knows? perhaps your chief, a noted hero or a field agent whom you might have suspected but never dared to utter the thought. And why not? When a man like Azef, the most daring social revolutionary avenger and member of the Central Committee, could at the same time be on the payroll of the Tsarist secret police, why could not the same thing happen among the Armenians? The very thought was paralyzing, something which the Central Committee had to take into account. There were two methods of pinning down the secret police agents. First, to watch the movements of the men around us, especially to note their income and expenditures which led to mere hypotheses. The sec­ ond, to place trust-worthy agents in the government, or officers who were bought. These men supplied the list of the secret agents, and if they could not obtain the names, they at least provided us with the contents of their reports. These methods appreciably limited the extent of the evil, but the real source still remained hypothetical. Consequently, this suspect ele­ ment had to be treated in extraordinary manner. The suspects were merely warned to make themselves scarce. This took care of the prob­ lem because most suspects, realizing the revolution’s grimness, pre­ ferred to heed the warning rather than risk the organization’s vengeance. Those whose connection with the secret police or their treason was beyond doubt simply disappeared and no one thereafter knew what had happened to them. If a people harbors neither informers nor traitors, the government becomes impotent and the secret police is frustrated. Fortunately it is not difficult to eradicate both these cancers; at least it is easier to remove them than to combat the secret police. In Kars this was the method we used. First, an emotional climate was created, especially among the women and the children, to abhor the informer and the traitor worse than the plague. To accomplish this, the propaganda apparatus was mobilized. Religion, history and ethics were brought to bear to produce the desired mentality. Thus, when on the Night of the Lamentation some innocent child asked his parents, “Why didn’t Jesus kill that no good Judas, Daddy?” the child’s question sent a cold shiver down the spine of the parents, more terrible than the thought of the bullet or the gallows. Such questions inside the homes killed the snakes. The next step was to determine where these snakes came from, or who created them. Close examination revealed that most of these traitors came from the ranks of gossip-mongers, the loose tongues and the braggarts. Essentially, these men were not traitors; they even shuddered at the idea. They hated the Judases and the Vasaks although

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they did not realize that their loose talk produced the same result. They had fallen into that tract light-heartedly, being unable to gage the farreaching consequences of their frivolity. Such cases were cured by administering a sound thrashing in the presence of the family. The greater part of these traitors were the product of personal animosities. The Armenians are a hot tempered people who, when cor­ nered, will resort to extremes. The best cure for this disease was the application of revolutionary7 justice, provided the avenger was not a member of the accusing side but was picked from among the immediate relatives of the accused man, or a soldier of the revolution, and pro­ vided the execution took place in broad daylight. After the execution the body of the victim was to be buried, without disfiguration, on a lonely wayside so that passers-by could cast a stone on him and curse him, or ask God’s forgiveness on him. It is no exaggeration to say that, in 1903-1904, there was not a single Armenian traitor or informer. We owed this splendid record to the prohibitive atmosphere which we had created. That was the reason why an act of revolutionary justice was considered so natural and easy. The revolutionary avenger was the Archangel Gabriel whom to oppose was unthinkable. He was sinless and impeccable, the executor of the will on high. He was invisible and invulnerable. His hands were al­ ways clean. We never had a revolutionary avenger who was arrested. All of them made their safe get-away. The people knew who they were, sat at dinner with them respectfully, never uttering a word about what they had done. During the operation of an act of revolutionary justice the people were expected to leave the doors of their homes open to enable the avenger to escape arrest. Furthermore, they were expected to assist him in his disguise. If a policeman should happen to be an eye witness he was supposed to mislead his fellow-officers and frustrate the pur­ suit. Those who failed to cooperate in this were held responsible, but those who assisted the government could be killed on the spot, or, were expected to commit suicide to escape the avenger s bullet. The selection of the revolutionary avenger was another meticulous operation. It has often been stated in Turkish and Russian courts that the avengers were selected by casting lots, or by command of the Central Committee. The proponents of this theory failed to understand the truth of the popular adage “You cannot strangle the wolf by beat­ ing the dog.” The man who went on an avenging mission at the com­ mand of the Central Committee or by drawing lots might easily bungle

the delicate operation. The man who went on an avenging mission should first resolve

that he would do the job no matter what the cost. This meant life itself. Secondly, he should never be taken alive, whether wounded or un­ harmed. Third, he should make his escape without leaving traces be­ hind. Fourth, in case he failed in any of these steps, he should com­ mit suicide. From this, it is apparent that the revolutionary avenger should have something more than sheer courage. Confidence in his ability to succeed was a prerequisite; his escape or suicide were only secondary to his mission. This particular quality could be determined by the individual himself alone. This was not something which could be dic­ tated from above or imparted by the blind operation of drawing lots. The selection of the revolutionary avenger was made in the follow­ ing manner. An emissary of the Central Committee would summon be­ fore him a man who was thought suitable for the job and would say to him, ‘There is a serious job to be done, for the success of which only one man can be held responsible. Can you do it?” The man with the call was given a time limit of 24 hours in which to give his final answer. If, after the agonizing night, his answer was affirmative, only then did the representative of the Central Committee divulge the nature of the mission, the necessary information and the instructions. If no objection was raised, the man was given a short time in which to fulfill his mission, and the representative departed with the words: “Success, or your corpse.” Generally, the avengers discharged their duties to perfection. In Kars, in particular, there was not a single case of failure, thanks to the cooperation of the people. The chief reason for this success was the fact that their primary incentive was neither rank nor glory, nor ma­ terial reward. Their sole concern was the elimination of those baneful elements which jeopardized the safety of the people and the progress of the emancipatory cause.

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Teaching the Peasant the Use of Arms

TEACHING THE PEASANT

“Your Rifle, Your Life!”

THE USE OF ARMS While any revolution against a firmly entrenched government gen­ erally is an unequal content, in most revolutions, a critical study of history reveals, the revolutionaries enjoy one distinct advantage. In most cases they have had the backing of the people. This consciousness of the popular support implied two factors which were vital to the revolutions success: self-confidence, and willingness to fight. At the, outset of the struggle, however, this was not the case with the ^Armen­ ian revolution. The hard core of the Armenian revolutionaries had to do both the fighting, and had to accomplish the difficult task of arous­ ing the people. Centuries of ruthless treatment had broken the spirit of the sub­ jugated nationalities under the Ottoman Turk, making them indifferent, or what is worse, reconciled with their fate. The terror of the ever present Yataghan had sapped the self-assurance of the Christian sub­ jects and had drawn over them the heavtj pall of the orient’s fatalism. An idea of the extremity of the degradation of the Armenian peasant of the 19th century is gained by the experience of the Fedayee leader] who visited an Armenian village in the interior of Turkey, and when he asked the villagers to raise sufficient funds to purchase a dozen rifles with which to defend themselves against their Kurdish overlords, the amazing reply of the villagers was: “What’s the use of getting arms when the Kurds in two days will come over and take them away from us?” The Armenian revolutionaries had to contend with the difficult task of first arousing these peasants from their lethargy, restoring their self-confidence, and firing them with the zeal to fight for their freedom. They accomplished this through three mediums: education, propaganda, and the inspiring presence of Fedayee fighters. There was nothing like ihe sight of armed Armenian soldiers. In this chapter Rouben, the Fedayee leader, tells us how he took actual charge of a Kurdish-infested region called Lernabar and com­ pletely revolutionized it by teaching the people the use of arms.

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Lernabar, an Armenian region meaning Mountain Range, is the most beautiful spot on the face of the earth. On one side is nestled the matchless Lake of Van, surrounded by deep, precipitous gorges, promontories, small, lovely evergreen meadows and thick forests. On the other side of this beautiful panorama is a line of giant mountains, rugged and perpetually covered with snow, cleft by deep, abysmal canyons. Enshrined in the clouds, these towering peaks serenely gaze on the sprawling valleys and the beautiful Lake Van below. One side of the panorama inspires awe and fear; the other side tender love and the gentle beauty of a young girl about to become a bride. It is per­ haps because of this sharp contrast that the native of Vaspourakan has appropriated the legend of Belus and Haik. The latter, the legendary ancestor of the Armenians, slew Belus, king of Assyria, in battle, and founded the first independent Armenian kingdom. And perhaps this is the reason why the native of Lernabar sings of Misra Melik and Dzoor David—heroes of the legendary epic of David of Sassoun. Perhaps that is the reason why he still holds the legendary hero Mher a captive in his land. Naregatzi, the great poet of the Armenian liturgy, is likewise a son of this land and his mysticism is quite in keeping with the land­ scape of Lernabar. This is an entirely different world than the Plateau of Taurus. While Sassoun and the Plain of Moush inspire in men the love of free­ dom and valor, Lernabar, on the other hand, inspires twin antithetic qualities: conquerors, or abject slaves. As a matter of fact, this land has given birth to many absolute monarchs, knights, and heroes. The Kurds who dominated the heights became the ruling race; the Armen­ ians who inhabited the lowlands became Rie subject race. The Armenian revolution had come to convert these ruled masses into rulers, to reverse the psychology of meekness, and to drive off the ruling Kurds from their impregnible mountain nests. I shall not discuss here the rights and the merits of the institu­ tions which made the Kurd the ruling class and enabled him to keep the Rayahs in subjection. The Turk and the Kurd called the Armenian a Rayah, which means cattle. The implication of the insulting tag is

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that the Armenian was the property' of his Turkish or Kurdish overlord. In the instance of the Kurd, or the Kurdish AshiT in his words, he was the capricious overlord while his Rayah was like the woman of his Harem. This was the relationship between the Armenian and the Kurd in this region. Education, revolutionary propaganda, and the presence of fighting Fedayee bands in their midst opened the eyes of the Armenian people and aroused them from their centunes-old torpor. It injected in them the desire and the urge to lift themselves of their animal status and to five as free men. Many pioneers had worked hard to bring about this awakening, but the real organizer was a son of the Karabagh mountains, a Fedayee leader named Nicol whose revo­ lutionary name was Ishkhan which means Prince. After Ishkhan set foot on Lemabar, the Armenians became organized and fought for their liberation. Ishkhan created an iron organization of Fedayee companies in Hayots Tsor (the Valley of the Armenians): Kiavash, Gardjkhan, re­ mote Shadakh, Gargar, and partly in Moks and Vozm. There still re­ mained, however, Getzan, Sbargert, Shnitsor, the distant region of Karasou, Dadik and Kiavsar-Norkiough. There was much work to be done in these regions to remove or to neutralize the influence of the Kurdish ashirets (tribes), the Begs, the Sheiks and the feudal lords who were perched on the outskirts of the plains. It was necessary also to restrain the nomadic tribes who infiltrated by the thousands from Mosul, Djezireh and Bohtan and seized the mountains during the sum­ mer months, not so much to pasture their herds as to exact tribute from the Armenian slaves. To organize the region of Lemabar the Central Committee had called a top level meeting in the Island of Agthamar in Lake Van. Aside from the members of the Central Committee, present were Ish­ khan, Shahbaz-Vardan and I, our field operatives and company com­ manders Yeghishe of Tadu and Mesrop of Maku, and more than 30 Fedayee soldiers. At this meeting Lemabar was divided into two re­ gions. The north was placed under the command of Ishkhan. The task of supplying arms and ammunition, the building of store­ houses and the repairing of damaged weapons were turned over to Shahbaz-Vardan and Yeghishe of Tadu who, with their headquarters in the Village of Khuntzoruk, were to open an armory, build arms de­ pots, and convert the village into a fortress like Geliguzan of Sassoun. I was given charge of the remotest comers of Lemabar where no Fedayee had ever set foot. Getzan, Shnitsor, Sbargert, Asket, Karasou were an uncharted world to Dashnaktzakans and generally to all revo­ lutionaries. This region to the south of Taurus, largely a part of the

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Province of Bitlis, stood opposite real Kurdistan, completely cut off from the neighboring provinces. In the winter months the roads to Vaspourakan were impassable. The only line of communication with Bitlis, Sughert and Bohtan were the streams which poured into the Tigris River. Our company of 20 boarded small boats and emerged at Mokhraberd from which place we made the ascent to the Kurdish village of Deghtis. As we circled the Haght Pass I had a full view of my domain with its canyons and ravines. From the heights of Haght Mountains we could see the upper and interior countries of Gargar with its 19 Armenian villages. Farther on lay Khizan with its country of Shnitsor with 29 villages. To the north-east was Dadik with 11 villages and on to the south-east of Gargar and west of Moks was the country of Sbar­ gert with 29 villages. South of Sbargert was Mardank with 16 villages. This was the frontier of real Kurdistan. Thus there were approximately 102 villages with a population of 3000-3800 families, for me to organize, to Armenianize, and to liberate them from slavery. Our first missionary call was made at an Armenian village called Kedji whose natives, although originally Armenians, were half Kurdified. In the presence of Kurds they pretended kinship with them, but when alone they were fanatically Armenian. The village chiefs Hassan Chavoush and Tamo were Kurdified Armenians, and yet both ^re staunch friends of the Fedayees. Hassan himself openly aligned him­ self with the revolutionaries and had become a member of t e arnar A.R.F. Committee. Although in the presence of the Kurds he posed as a devout Muslim, his wife kept a cross and a holy Bible in a secre niche of her home where the family knelt in prayer eac nig With guides furnished by Hassan Chavoush we bypassed the Kur ish village of Keresa, and likewise the village of Voriz w ic ar or■ two traitors named Khacho and Manoog, and fina y reac e ’ the village of Kaloosd. The latter was a highly pa trio 1C •» wr;(» minded man, the only one in the region who cou rea Khacho and Manoog of Voriz were on the revolutionary a fenced to die at the hand of the revolutionary avenger

Gargar was a terribly impoverished province where *ce of called bread was a veritable luxury. The natives drank a mixed flour and greens. Their main food was a wild p ant ca e ’ nuts of the plain and wild apples. They all were dresed shabbily.

There was not a single bed in the whole province. Qn j down around the family despite’its extreme bay, pulling a blanket over their bodies. Thi , poverty, was the Kurds’ milking cow.

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The Kurdish Aghas came here to collect their tribute, and they in turn, paid tribute to Shiek Seyid Ali. These Aghas were a sort of squatting tax-collectors. Besides these, in the summer months the no­ mads came from the south and exacted their tribute which was much like a tithe. Between the squatting tax collectors and the nomads the natives of Gargar were squeezed dry. Furthermore, they were com­ pletely cowed. They were not permitted to carry arms for self defense. There was not a single dagger, an old fashioned flint-lock rifle, nor a school in the entire region. Gargar was a world of abject slaves. In such a region we had to work fast. In each village we had to organize a Fedayee company, a party committee, and the customary revolutionary apparatus. We had to open schools, create local tribunals, arm the natives, and minimize the raids of the Aghas and the Ashirets. Once this was accomplished the people took heart. We were now ready to take care of Seyid Ali and his lackeys.

The solution of the first six problems was not difficult. The people were so oppressed and angry that they readily responded to our prop­ aganda. By far the greater part of the population supported our effort. Relying on this spontaneous response, in a short time we organized all the villages except Voriz. Local disputes were settled by the A.R.F. Committee, instead of carrying the case to the Kurdish overlords. Six schools were opened and 90 pieces of firearms were made available to the villagers, quite an imposing weapon for an impregnible region like Gargar, especially since the Kurds themselves were poorly armed. Our only opposition came from the Village of Voriz whose chiefs, the traitors Khacho and Manoog, were Seyid Ali’s men. They were wealthy because, in addition to their property, they collected the taxes of all the neighboring villages, dividing the loot with the Kurds. Therefore, they would not let us come close to the village. They had 14 rifles and they threatened to shoot us down from their fortified man­ sion. Ishkhan, and later Shahbaz, tried to storm Khacho’s home but both failed. Therefore we avoided further complications for the time being and bided our time. Khuntsoruk was a little village of 15 houses, Hals had 6 houses. These two villages were located in a deep valley where the natives were cut off from the outside world for seven months of the year. Hals commanded a narrow pass which, guarded by one man, could stop the entry of thousands. It was positively impregnible. We chose this village for our headquarters, our capital, and our arsenal. Shahbaz had charge of the ammunition supplies. Here, in our workshops in the cave, our chests were filled with arms and ammunition. These two

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villages made such a name as a revolutionary nest that no Kurd nor Turkish soldier ever dared to near it. After bringing the Province of Gargar into line, it was my duty to explore the rest of the region which, although totally unknown to me, was virgin soil. Sbargert was separated from Gargar by an im­ pregnable mountain range inhabited only by wild animals. Men seldom passed through these mountains. Shod in moccasins fifteen of us climbed the top of the mountain. To our right lay the land of Moks, to our left were the deep canyons of Sbargert. On our way down on the other side we first came to the Village of Hoghand. When the villagers saw our arms and strange uniforms they took us for enemies and started to run away, without heeding our shouts and explanations that we were their friends. Finally their leading citizen, one named Nerso who had seen the world recog­ nized us and came to our aid. He had been in the City of Van, had seen Vardkes and his Fedayee company, and knew the revolutionaries. Their fears removed, presently all the villagers, men women and children gathered around us, and with tearful eyes watched the soldiers of the 'Armenian army’’ in their uniforms, mauser rifles, and field glasses— tilings which even the Kurdish Aghas lacked. Having organized the upper and interior Huruk, we now ^cie ready to explore the uncharted regions. We had succee e m co ing sufficient funds to purchase 40 modem rifles. We sent messengers to Van and Kiavash to fetch the weapons. At this juncture I made a miscalculation. Seeing the ease which we had won the villages to our side, I deci e o ma of the region incognito, strictly for propagan a purposes.. ^eCp to spare my company the unnecessary fatigue o t re r^ve Kodveuard my entry into the province a secret. Taking along a so i Village in disguise, each of us armed with revolvers, I ^ded for the Village

of Tadevan. Nerso and his son acted as our guic es. an(j sembled to hear my sermon but they were not grea y' general when I suggested ihat they should arm ^nse^re w^ genera* laughter and one of them said to me naive ’ us of them* arming? Our Kurdish Aghas will come and There was one fellow named Bedros who kept 1 lost my temper. As I made at him, Bedros a took a swing at me and knocked me down, wWe ran out of upon me and my guard and gave us a soun ident I reflected that village humiliated and disgraced. Af er SDOken word is that, far more powerful than the the presence of a Fedayee company. I rushed back to my

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and having rallied the boys from Khuntsoruk, I raided the village at dawn with a force of 30 Fedayees. Naturally I did not tell my com­ pany about the indignity of the preceding day. I assembled all the menfolk in the village church. When they recognized me they started to tremble like leaves. As it dawned on them that they had beaten the leader of the Fedayees they were horrified, fearing I would order their heads cut off. Great was their relief when I told them that no harm would come to them. All we asked was that they swear loyalty to their race, their church, and eternal enmity to the government and their Kurdish overlords. I could not have hoped for a better oath. Instead of 30 which I had demanded, they raised enough to purchase 38 rifles, and Bedros, the fellow who had knocked me down, instantly sent a man to Van to fetch the weapons. A converted revolutionary now, he acted as our guide as we toured the villages, covering the whole of Sbargert and part of Mamurdank. From there we went to Shnitsor, Khizan, and the Monastery of the Holy Cross where, years before, its Abbot Vardapet had been barbarously murdered. There was a small orphanage at this monastery with fifteen inmates. In these regions, wherever we visited, it was the first time that the natives were looking at real “Armenian soldiers.” At first they were afraid of us, then as they realized we were friends, they approached us with tearful eyes and wanted to kiss our hands, our uniforms, our weapons. We had not come to rob them, or to exact tribute as the Kurds did. They realized we were their brothers. All we wanted to do was to preach to them the “Armenian law,” the “Armenian Faith,” and the “Armenian armed might.”

From the village of Ani, the last Armenian outpost, we set out cau­ tiously, avoiding Karasou and Dadik for fear of stepping into an am­ bush since both the government and the Kurds by this time were aware of the extent of our penetration into the interior. On our way back, just above Broshentz, a company of Kurds and Turkish gendarmes intercepted our path. The villagers were fearful lest we surrender or bribe our way through the predicament. However we were not that easily discouraged. We called on the Kurdish force of 60 to lay down their arms if they did not want to be massacred. Upon their refusal, a few spurts from our rifles were enough to drive them back in terror into the ravines, leaving behind two dead. This encounter, I think, was the first fight with the revolutionaries in that region. It was a mere incident, but the Armenians, and especially the Kurds, magnified it and wove legends around it, exaggerating our numbers, the quality of our rifles, and our tactics. The false reputation was to our advantage,

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inspiring fear in the Kurds and bolstering the spirits of the Armenians. Having accomplished the most difficult part of my mission, I still had to organize a part of Dadik and Mamurdank. Further penetration in the cold weather being impractical, I had to spend the winter in the Village of Khuntsorout. With each passing day we grew stronger, the people were being aroused, the mute animal once again was don­ ning his manly dignity, conscious of his rights and his dormant powers. Our enthusiasm steadily mounted. From the mountain heights of Hivaghalu we descended on Getzan, the Sanjak (county) of Gardjkan. There were four Armenian and countless Kurdish villages in this re­ gion. Here lived Sheik Ali’s brother. Having arrived at a little village just below Sunakr, I gave the people my customary harangue on the necessity of arming. Responding to my appeal, the villagers organized a Fedayee company and raised the necessary funds for their equip­ ment. While the meeting was going on, suddenly an Armenian, cov­ ered with blood, rushed inside and slumped senseless to the floor. I had only four soldiers with me at the time, Ardo of Akhlat, a veteran of the Sassoun fights, Asbo who was known for his part in the en­ counter of Narek and who had killed a Kurdish chief, Kevork of Bergru, and Arch Vardan of Shadakh (I am not sure about the last name). The incident took us by surprise, and fearing w c were surroun we instantly sprang to our feet and made a dash for t e oor. dark night and the streets were deserted. An old woman s an in c a comer of the street whispered to us that she ha seen ur s. with us one of the villagers who was named Hovsep we made our way to the outskirts to take stock of the situation, decided to seize the pass which commanded t ie roa , j my soldiers u. est we alerted the neighboring IT ordered not to hre llest few Kurds to hasten to the aid of their kinsmen. them alive; if we were to dispatch them with our daggers or sera unchallenged. they were many, we would let them go throug h breath. BeWe lay in ambush along fore us was a deep precipice, behind ® d before us mg we heard the sound of footsteps. Pr Y came to grips, one at a time, altogether three of them. In reaching its mark a calling on them to surrender. As my d^er , ger loose, and the powerful hand gripped my gun, wrenche Kurd had the too of us interlocked, rolled over into t e having finished off best of me and was strangling me just ^en S, on tOp of me with his man, rushed to my aid and killed t c ur dead but one stroke of the dagger. My companions a wounded on the 1 had merely passed out from lack of rea . struggle Shoulder by the Kurd’s teeth and my hrf was m

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over my dagger. I had many bruises from the struggle. The autumn rain brought me to my senses. We gathered our scattered belongings, made the villagers lug the corpses and hurl them down the precipice. Then we climbed the Sunakr Mountain. Fortunately the falling snow covered our tracks and the corpses. Although we had come out on top in the struggle, it took us some time before we recovered. I myself had been badly mauled and Ardo had received an ugly gash on his head. The Kurds we had killed proved to be bandits, cattle rustlers, one of them an outlaw. The incident proved highly beneficial because it put an end to the per­ petual holdups in the region. We had to leave the work here half finished. I sent two men to Gotzan to organize that region. So strong was our position on the heights by now that the Kurds of Lernabar took note of it and tried to befriend us to avoid our reprisals. The Village of Voriz alone defied our power. By this time my reputation as a warrior had spread far and wide and my name was on every lip. Legends were woven around my name as a fearless but gallant warrior. “He is a brave man,’’’ they said of me, “absolutely fearless ini battle, his bullet never misses its mark, he is a Muscovite (Russian), exceedingly wise and kind-hearted. He never spills the blood of an Armenian; his only enemy is the Turk. Most of all, he is generous toward the vanquished. He never holds a grudge against the man who repents and begs his forgiveness.”

case they reneged a second time, the neighboring villagers would mas­ sacre them with the very weapons they had supplied. I held Khacho a hostage and sent the rest back to the village to raise the sum of 100 pounds sterling for the purchase of the rifles. It was difficult for the villagers to raise such a large sum, and consequently, Khacho remained my prisoner for six weeks. Meanwhile, the news having spread, Ishkhan wrote me a letter blaming me for having pardoned treason for money, and for holding Khacho a prisoner, a circumstance which would invite the government’s attention a factor which might jeopardize our operations in that region. He demanded that I either kill Khacho or set him free. I chose the second alternative. Having collected 93 pounds sterling, I made arrangements for the purchase of the rifles and at the same time issued orders that there would be no revolutionary justice executed on Khacho since he had repented. This, combined with some other questions, brought about my break with Ishkhan.

These fictitious reports, glamorized by Bedros of Tadevan, traveled far and wide. And this was the reason why, one day, in the bleak cold winter, Khacho of Voriz and his two brothers, led by Onnik of leghekis, suddenly showed up at our camp, bringing with them a peace offering of one sheep, a supply of sugar, fruits and pastries. No one had expected such a daring step by Khacho the traitor. He and his brothers were on the organization s black list as traitors to the revolu­ tionary cause. Until then two attempts had been made on their lives. And now Khacho had come to me of his own will, begging forgiveness from his nation and protection from Shahbaz and Ishkhan. I had two alternatives before me: (a) to execute the Party’s decision by dispatch­ ing him on the spot at the cost of a revolutionary’s chivalry and his prestige, or, (b) to save that prestige by defying my comrades Shahbaz and Ishkhan. I chose the middle way. I promised Khacho I would spare his life and the lives of the villagers provided each man procured a rifle for himself. In addition, they should throw in a bonus of 18 rifles which would go into the arming of the neighboring village. Thus, in

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67

JAN FEDAYEE

Riddled with wounds, Jan Fedayee, A wanderer I am without sleep, For a sweetheart my cold weapon To my bosom did I press. Bugle and sword, my bleeding land, Love of homeland, tormented mine, Made me defy the peril. They called me a Jan Fedayee, From my cloister summoned me. Ideal's soldier I became; Let each droplet, my sacred blood, To Armenian braves example be. Behold I part to my final resting place, My only hope in you resides, Comrades mine. Keep up the work begun by us, Dashnaktzutioun s dauntless braves.

The Fedayee

6

THE FEDAYEE The word Fedayee is of Arabic derivation, tracing its origin to the time of the Crusades. Originally its connotation was honorable, meaning a volunteer fighter who is dedicated to the Father m s cause. The word, as applied to the Armenian freedom fighter, comes c ose to the ancient concept in its implications of valor, patriotism, a dedication to a cause. The word Fedayee is not an Armenian co & but is a Turkish and Kurdish designation of the Armenian freedom fighter, in token of admiration and respect. Rouben himself a Fedayee commander, was essen i with no presumption of being a writer. Curious y enoug , ’ proved 4 he a first class writer as attested by hrs oirs which Reuben Darbinian, the Editor of the Hatrendt Monthly, ha.

"T^ssay Rouben perhaps touches the peak of^^ gioing «s a true and oioid picture of the in the exquisite description of his cite/ of his idealistic qualities, his mode corruptibility, his chivalry, his dedication, absorbing punishment and suffering for a ary souls, he worshipped unto death.

Armenian

f t > an cause

discipline, his ininfinite capacity for uMke mercenr

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“He

Who Fought”

In physical features the Fedayee differed from the ^z—his proud fighting headgear. He should wear a woman’s clothes and wage his fights with poison and evil spirits, just like an old woman. He is unworthy to be called a he-man.” Kasim Beg was discredited among his relatives. His younger brother Noh Beg left the ancestral home and settled in the village of his father-in-law. His wife scorned him and his servants shunned him. Kasim was so distracted that he suspected his most loyal servants,

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and for no cause at all he killed Hassano and Musdo, the two men who had carried out his orders in killing the sleeping Fedayees. Ka­ sim Beg had turned into a common hoodlum. Some time later we learned the real reason for Kasim’s unexpected behavior. As early as the preceding summer he had received an order from the Governor of Bitlis to kill me and present my head to the government. For this service he was to receive a pardon, and would be recognized as the undisputed Lord of Choukhour. The liaison be­ tween the Governor and Kasim Beg was Bedr Khan Beg of Moush. Tempted by this enticing offer, Kasim Beg had given his word. That summer he called on me, no doubt intending to catch me off guard and execute his plan. Fortunately, my habitual caution saved my life at this time. Seeing I never got drunk nor let my guard down, he finally returned home empty-heanded. A few months later when I gave him a return call at his home I was very careful and never gave him an opportunity to carry out his evil design. Despairing of these apparently dilly-dallying tactics, the government finally had sent troops against him which resulted in the fight at Khouner of which I already have related. After that encounter when we all were firmly convinced that Kasim Beg was irrevocably on our side, when he was considered as a Bash Fedayee (high ranking Fedayee) both by the Turks and the Ar­ menians, lo and behold he again was conspiring against us through Bcdrkhan Beg and Hadji Mustafa. Through these men he had struck a friendship with the Governor of Bitlis. Ostensibly, Kasim Beg was on the government’s black list, but secretly he was working for the apprehension of the revolutionaries. Since this secret understanding was unknown in Moush, and since we had no contacts in Bitlis, we were left completely in the dark. It was under these circumstances that Kasim had sent his mes­ sengers to entice me into his domain. I had not accepted his offer and my suspicious-mindedness had once again saved my life. Despairing of all hope of trapping me, and frightened by the impatience of the Governor of Bitlis, Kasim finally had decided upon a sensational act which would leave no doubt of his loyalty to the government. He had killed three Fedayees in their sleep. Kasim had achieved his aim. After committing his crime Kasim did not present himself to the government immediately. Instead, he packed the bodies of the three Fedayees in a cart and sent them to Moush, meanwhile waiting for the edict of his pardon. One week later the edict was issued and Kasim, accompanied by an escort of 100 guards, presented himself to the

government.

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Kasim Beg had killed our companions-in-arms and by so doing he had struck a deathly blow at our prestige, as well as at the peoples spirit of resistance. I had to do something extraordinary to dispel the depressing effect of his perfidy and to restore the people s faith in the Fedayee institution. To this end, taking along two trusty Fedayees, T set out to reconnoiter the vicinity of Moush, and if possible, to enter the city itself. Plowing through a narrow trail covered with a thick coat of snow, sometimes on foot and sometimes wearing snow shoes, we finally made the Village of Churik and stopped at the home of the village priest Father Mushegh. Churik was a composite of about 60 Armenian and 80 Turkish and Kurdish families. Adjoining the town was a garrison and an army hospital. Situated on the highway, a distance of 3 to 4 kilometers from the city, the village presented a beautiful countryside, surrounded by fertile fields and vineyards. From the strategic viewpoint I had chosen the most dangerous spot for a refuge. If any of my enemies had dis­ covered my presence even a miracle could not have saved me. Upon seeing us the priest’s family turned pale as if they had seen a ghost, but Father Mushegh, who was an intrepid Fedayee, was quite composed. To my salutation “Bless Father” he grunted casually, “Ah, it’s you, the crooked one.” He was wont to call me the crooked one in light-hearted jesting. But I was in no mood for jesting. “Your seven generations of crooks,” I retorted testily, “I will shave off your beard. Have you turned into a sparrow now? Come, snap out of it. Got us some hot tea so we can warm up.” Father Mushegh was not a common priest. He was an old revo­ lutionary who had taken part in the Sassoun revolt, was a member of the A.R.F. Committee, and had played an active role in the revolu­ tion. At the same time he was deputy to the Armenian Prelate, chair­ man of the church council, and the driving force of the educational council.

Refreshed by the hot tea, and after warming up our frozen limbs, I explained to him the purpose of our mission. I told him no one would suspect our presence in the village. We had to find out what was go­ ing on in the city and the intentions of Kasim Beg. We could not get this information while lingering in the mountains. The Village of Churik was the key spot for our intelligence service. We could get much pre­ cious information from the gossip of the Kurds, the soldiers and die travelers. Once we established contact with the city, the rest would be easy. The priest, although apparently convinced by my arguments, was

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still obdurate. “It’s too risky my children,” he pleaded. “Three Fedayees in the village cannot go unnoticed.” After much hemming and hawing we finally agreed that my two companions, Kialsho Manoog and Didil, would leave on the morrow for the mountains while I stayed behind in the priest’s home. Having disposed of my weapons—a Cossack’s rifle and an ivory hilt dagger, and disguising myself as a peasant, I hid in a secret compartment inside the wall which was used by the family as their bedroom in the night. The priest’s door was open to all visitors. The Armenians came to make their confessions and to receive absolution. The Turks and the Kurds dropped in for a midday snack, while the officers of the gar­ rison came to enjoy the priest’s Raki— a mastic-flavored whiskey of di­ stilled grapes, and his choice wine. An educated man and a charming conversationalist, the priest was highly respected by the Turks even if he was a giavoor (an infidel dog). The officer took pleasure in ex­ changing views and listening to his judgment. Hidden in my secret compartment inside the wall, I could clearly hear interesting conversations in Turkish and Kurdish languages. Often I heard atrocious oaths at my name, Father Mushegh being the most vociferous of all in his blasphemy. The Turkish officers were less ve­ hement in their curses. They sometimes called me a plain renegade and sometimes a sterling patriot, but they all were unanimous in their vowing my death. Thus I suffered in my hiding place for one week. Each night I crawled out of my hole to discuss the day’s conversations with the priest. The conversations revealed that Kasim Beg was the guest of the government, having taken residence at the home of Bedrkhan Effendi. The government would lend him an armed force which, together with his private contingent, would disarm the Armenians and would extirpate the Fedayees. Kasim Beg had no friends. Everyone despised him as a traitor and a coward. Yet the government considered him its indispensable ally in the effort to destroy the revolutionaries. Terri­ fied, and deprived of all hope, the Armenians now put their entire trust in their saints. It looked like this was the end of us all. We could easily have finished off Kasim Beg were it not for the opposition of our city comrades. The Yerganian Fedayee company was willing to supply the “revolutionary avenger.” Haro wrote to us, “Arsho and I have partaken of our last communion and we have decided to make an end of Kasim Beg. If we finish him off in the night, we shall be with you in the morning. If we have to do it in the daytime, we shall take our chances. If we fail, we shall take our places with Kevork Chavoush. It’s up to you to knock some sense into the stupid heads of our committee.”

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The committee, on die other hand, wrote us through our secret agent Dadrak: “If you go through with this plan you will be the cause of a blood bath in the Plain of Moush. To dispatch Kasim in the city means the massacre of the people. If it’s necessary to remove that dog, waylay him outside the city and do what you please with him. Think well of the consequences, my brother. If Haro’s attempt should succeed we shall all be martyred. If it fails, you know what that will mean. You shall have buttered the enemy’s bread.” Buttering the enemy’s bread of course meant giving him an ex­ cuse for his continued persecutions. I was hard put to make a decision. I was in favor of Haro’s pro­ posal and yet I could not fail to see the wisdom of the committee’s position. Whether from conviction or from shunning the responsibility, however, I wrote them that there would be no “revolutionary justice” in the city. All they had to do was to let me know the hour of Kasim’s departure from the city at my quarters in Arvarinch. Father Mushegh pulled up his priest’s tunic, seized his rifle, handed me another, then sent for his relative Rouben, a powerfully-built brave youth who was a member of the local Fedayee company. Headed for the Village of Arvarinch, the three of us left the village unnoticed and. skirting the villages of Dzapan, Dcrgeran and Aragh, we finally reached the Village of Pertak. It was a cold wintry night, icicles hanging from our mustaches and beards. We took shelter at the home of Ncrso and warmed ourselves around the tonir. Nerso was an old warrior and companion-in-arms of the Fedayee commander Arabo in his day. After that he had been a leader in the region of Grvadsaghk. Although close to sixty, he was still a robust man, an active member of the local A.R.F. committee. Nerso urged me to take to the hills before daybreak. “Don’t let the villagers know that you are in these parts,” he warned me. “I have a hidden company in the hills. Go join them and I will tip you off when Kasim hits the trail. When I give the signal you can fall upon him.” This was joyful news for us. The Fedayees led by Manoog of Pitar, already were on the scene, ready to capture Kasim on his way home. We still had plenty of time before daybreak. We girded our loins, and led by Nerso, took to the hills. He was a careful guide and he saw to it that we left no tracks in the snow. After endless zigzaggings we finally made the slope of the mountain range which had been cleanly scraped off of all snow by the blowing wind. We noticed a black speck moving on the rocks which proved to be the picket of the Fedayees, signaling us to join them. It was the bronzed Akho who, clambering over the rocks, led us to the company’s hideout.

The hideout was a natural tent formed bv two huge tilting boul­ ders, the front and rear openings having been walled with snow, and a small hole serving as the entrance. The inside, although not warm, was nevertheless quite comfortable, at least more tolerable than the outside. The Fedayees seemed happy and carefree, looking like black­ ened bronze statues under the feeble candlelight. With our arrival, there were altogether 17 Fedayees in the hideout. Nerso returned to the village to send us word from the city. At dawn we searched the countryside with our binoculars. We could plainly see the outlying villages of Aragh, Pertak, Havadorik and the Monastery of Arakelotz on one side, and Arvarinch, Norshen and Alizuma on the other side. We could clearly see the men and the animals moving about in the fields. Had we ventured out of our hole we could easily have been spotted, but we stuck to our little cave and waited all day long, trying to forget the cold and the suffering by tell­ ing stories and making predictions. Akho, a veteran Fedayee, watching the skies and the behavior of the birds, finally predicted that there would be a big storm that night. These tested veterans of many fights would not yield one step to the meteorologists. They could probe the secrets of nature by listening to the croak of the crow, the call of the crane, the chirruping of the birds, the screech of the crickets, the neighing of the horses, the buzzing of the insects, and by observing the colorations of the sky, the sun, the moon, the course of the clouds and their destiny. Akho the connoisseur warned us of the coming blizzard and old Markar confirmed his pre­ diction. The prospect of the blizzard determined our next move. Markar suggested that we at once move to the Village of Dzudzmak and lie in ambush near the highway. The storm meant much to the Fedayees because upon its certainty depended their fate on the morrow. Our plan was to ambush Kasim a few paces from the main highway while the blizzard not only would cover our tracks but it would actually hide us from view. It was imperative, therefore, that Akho’s predic­ tion came true. At nightfall we emerged from our hole and headed straight for Dzudzmak. There we took our positions near the highway and waited for long hours. Late in the night we saw some travelers from the di­ rection of Pertak, headed toward us. They were our comrades bringing letters from Moush. With the aid of a candle light Lazar of Shenik de­ ciphered the letter: “Kasim is proceeding to Choukhour early in the morning, accompanied by a force of 120 soldiers, his gholams (servants), the Mudir (Mayor) of Avzaghbur, and his gendarmes.”

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Haro, our secret messenger, never gave any false information. We now knew definitely that before noon on the morrow Kasim Beg would pass by our ambush. Seventeen Fedayees against a force of 120. The odds against us were staggering. Besides, how were we going to pick up Kasim in this crowd? We could not hope to subdue the enemy with our small force, and yet we had to do something. We could not retire without a fight. The place called Dzudzmak is located behind the Village of Ar­ varinch, an extension of a wing of the Taurus range whose rocky chain terminates in the Plain of Moush. The highway from Moush to Bitlis runs directly below this spot, separated by a swampland on one side, and the tip of the Taurus range on the other. Dividing our small company into three squads we seized the mountain side, leaving the highway and the swamps to the travelers. A company of three ascended the mountain top, right behind the Village of Arvarinch, from which vantage point they were to guard against surprise attack from the neighboring garrison, and to cover our retreat. Manoog, Akho and Lazar took their positions among the rocks, some 50 paces from the highway. The remaining 11, including myself, hid ourselves some 150 paces from the main road. Before sunrise our luck started to work. There was a strong wind, and presently, the peaks of the distant mountains disappeared in the storm. “The blizzard is coming,” Akho shouted pridefully. But now we were afraid of two things. Seeing the storm Kasim might change his mind and stay in the city. Or, if the blizzard was too strong, we all might lose our lives. By sunrise the storm had unleashed its fury. By noon there was not a sign of Kasim from the direction of Moush. Could it be that he had postponed his trip? Finally, about two o’clock, we caught sight of some mounted companies in the distance. At sight of them my heart started to pound. We checked our ammunition, levelled our rifles, and got set for the kill. The vanguard was a company of 20 riders, some 150 paces from the main body. Reasoning that Kasim would be in the center, we let the vanguard pass unchallenged. Our signal was to come from Manoog’s company. Manoog was watching the riders, and yet he gave no signal. The vanguard was followed by a body of 60 riders. Kasim will surely be among these, we thought, holding our breath. As the main body reached the position of Manoog all three fired their ten repeaters like a machine gun and we instantly responded with a volley of our own straight at the center, knifing them in the middle.

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“Fedayees, Fedayees. We have been ambushed,” shouted the shocked soldiers. We kept firing away at them. Some fell, some ran away. Finally they reassembled at a distance of some 500 paces to take stock of the situation. If Kasim had been among the fallen, good and well. If not, there was nothing else we could do but to take to the hills. The reformed soldiers kept firing at us. Our salvation lay in our ability to stand the blizzard and our speed in running away. We had no fear of the riders because the snow was too deep for the horses. But if the infantry of Arvarinch blocked our retreat it would be curtains or us. So we made a dash for the top of the moun­ tain. Defying the cold, we clung to the mountain tops and by evening we reached the mountains of Marnik, completely exhausted. For the moment we were safe. However, the enemy might catch up with us in the morning unless we made the plain on the other side. At the plain we found a deserted barn where we camped, built a fire and warmed ourselves. Our only concern now was to find out if Kasim was among the killed. A few days later we learned what had happened. Kasim Beg, familiar with Fedayee tactics, had come out of the city with the main body of his troops, but half way, to avoid an ambush, had separated himself, and escorted by a crack company of guards, had headed for Kurdakom. The rest of the force, some 80 riders, he had sent away by way of Khuvner. It was this latter company which we had en­ gaged on the highway. Kasim had managed to escape and all our labor and suffering had gone for naught. And although our desperate measure served to raise somewhat the depressed spirits, and in a sense restrained our perse­ cutors, nevertheless Kasim and the government were determined all the more to exterminate the revolutionaries. The January of 1908 was an exceptionally cold month. After our abortive attempt on the life of Kasim, the government had taken up the hunt against me and my Fedayees. Far away from the festivities of the Christmas holidays, we seemed to have forgotten everything in our cold hideout in Taurus mountains. Our only safety lay in climbing the mountain tops just like wild goats. After many hardships we spanned the Mamik Mountains and crossed to the peaks of the Taurus range. Here for our hideout we chose a place called Amreh Kialeh, located between Shenik and Pitar, behind the City of Moush. This is a very high and deserted plateau. Akho our astrologer told us that an unseen blizzard was in the offing, to escape which, we decided to seek shelter in the Village of Pitar. Arriving at the village we took lodging at the homes of Bedo and Akho.

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Meanwhile the government having learned that our company was in the mountains, had sent a considerable body of troops to hunt us down. Without an expert weatherman like Akho, the soldiers had been caught in the blizzard and had lost their way. After much wan­ derings they finally had separated into two companies. One company staggered into Sassoun half frozen, the other safely returned to Moush. Some 50 stragglers, caught in the storm, lost their way and stum­ bled into Amreh Kialeh where they froze to death. Two of these strag­ glers finally reached Pitar and gave the alarm to rush to the aid of the stranded men. The villagers asked my advice as to what they should do. I figured that the population of Turkey would not diminish ma­ terially by the loss of a few Turks. So I thought it would be better if the villagers rescued the men. Besides, I reasoned, the villagers would receive a certificate of merit for such a humanitarian act. Armed with picks and shovels, the villagers braved the blizzard and ascended the mountain. They dug up the petrified corpses and the abandoned rifles. Five were still alive, 22 were frozen to death. There was no trace of the remaining 24. The villagers brought the live men and the bodies of the dead to the home of Bedo. Disguised as a peasant, I went about expressing my sympathy for the dead soldiers. While carried away by my medi­ tations of the strange workings of fate, I saw Lazar of Shenik and Manoog of Pitar talking to the miserable soldiers: “Allah is with the Fedayees. That’s the reason why he sent the blizzard and punished you. What the Fedayees say is true. The policy of the government is unjust. It is against the Sheriyat (the sacred Moslem law), the Koran (the Moslem Bible), and Allah. That’s why these hapless soldiers are frozen.” The soldiers were bitter. “Good brothers, a pest on both the Fe­ dayees and the government. May Allah scourge the government and extirpate the Fedayees. We poor soldiers and you poor peasants are caught between the two. What is our sin that we should suffer all this?” “We are to blame greatly,” replied Lazar of Shenik, ‘To Allah all men are his children; they are all free and equal. If what I have heard is right the Fedayees want the Sheriyat, God’s justice, and equality. The government says no, they are not equal. One is a Kiafir the other is a slave, the other is a Beg, and the other is a gendarme. One shall suffer and the other shall enjoy the fruits of his labor. One of the two must be right, either the Fedayees, or the government. We must side with him who speaks Gods truth. We must not let them crack their nuts on our skulls.” “Ya Allah! The Fedayees speak the truth but they have no Caliph.

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The Caliph is at the head of the government. What can we poor com­ mon mortals do?” the soldiers bemoaned. Thus the two sides were trying to convince each other. I do not know who won the debate. All the same, we put up with the soldiers for ten days until the storm subsided. When the skies cleared I assembled my Fedayees and made for the plain while the villagers took the soldiers and the dead bodies to the city. The poor villagers were hopeful that the government would reward them for their rescue act. Instead the government opened an investigation. The villagers were scarcely saved at the last moment through the intervention of the surviving soldiers. After our abortive attempt on Kasim’s life he triumphantly re­ turned to his stronghold in Khuvner. High strung and suspicious, one day he sent for his faithful aide Husseh and shot him. To this day we never learned the true cause of this murder. Whatever it might have been, however, it suited our cause. Regrettable as it was that Husseh was not killed by our hand, his liquidation removed a great source of potential danger. Husseh knew too much about the revolu­ tionaries to keep on living. After the assassination of Husseh, Kasim sent his chief aid to the Village of Mushaghshen to disarm and terrorize the natives. By tor­ ture and killings he succeeded in forcing the villagers to surrender a few old-fashioned rifles. One of the leaders in the village named Mu­ shegh who was a friend of Alay Beg of Kirdan fled to Bitlis to solicit the latter’s protection. The other leader, a man called Nato, rallied the village youth and took to the hills as an outlaw. Thus, a state of semi-rebellion had been forced upon a peaceful village. Through Ka­ sim’s follies the government was driving the people to open rebellion, something for which we were not quite ready. It was up to us to remove Kasim once and forever, to avoid the pending catastrophe. Toward the latter part of February, 1908, I organized a second plot to remove Kasim Beg. Familiar with Fedayee methods, Kasim foiled this plot. This left me no other alternative but to meet him in open combat. The minute the mountains were clear of the snow I in­ tended to organize a substantial force and cross swords with him in a pitched battle. To this end I sent word to our leaders in Caucasus to hasten the return of Koryoun, a veteran Fedayee commander who was to replace me in case of my death. As a preliminary, and by way of warning, I wrote a letter to Kasim Beg, half sarcastic, half threatening: ‘The new Melik of the Armenians and the Kasim Beg of the Turks: Some day the black camel of luck will kneel down at the door

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of the luckless one. It seems you have missed me. I too have missed you very much. God willing, we shall meet some day. My respects to your Hanum (The Mrs.) whom I continue to esteem highly.” (Signa­ ture). This note made a terrific impression on Kasim who misinterp­ reted the import of the last sentence, whereas I really respected his wife who was a woman of character and who had shown herself a friend of the revolutionaries. I received a reply from Kasim which was full of foul oaths. "The sooner we meet the better it will suit me,” he wrote arrogantly. How­ ever, fate decreed that we should never meet again. The proclamation of the Ottoman Constitution in 1908 frustrated our appointment. Ka­ sim seemed to have quieted now. Some thought it was because he was afraid of us. In my opinion there were other underlying causes for his taming. In the beginning of 1908 a distinct tendency to criticism was dis­ cernible among the officers and the soldiers of the Turkish army which was steadily mounting. They were criticising the government for re­ lying so much on a common criminal like Kasim Beg. Expressions of sympathy for the Fedayee cause were common occurrences. Actually, many of the soldiery and their officers established friendly ties with the Armenians. Many of them sent us their personal regards. Not knowing the real situation we thought these expressions of friendship were nothing but a trap. This diagnosis proved false. These were the first symptoms of the brewing Turkish revolution, something which we could not comprehend nor believe. All the same, the govern­ ment did not change its policy of persecution. A Macedonian Governor an experienced executioner who had just arrived, was busy organizing his forces to hunt us down. Whatever in store for us, I was happy to learn that Koryoun would soon be in Moush. With his coming my burdens would be light­ ened somewhat. I had great confidence in this brave lieutenant of mine.

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THE OTTOMAN CONSTITUTION At this stage of Rouben’s story we begin to see clear signs of his weakening. The strain of long years of wandering and hunted life, the mounting intensity of the search,, the fear of being captured at any mo­ ment as result of the perfidy of some informer, and nature’s urge to seek a respite from his physical weariness apparently had undermined his former fortitude. Strangely enough, Rouben seemed to have a pre­ monition that his hour had come, that he ivould either retire from the arena or would join the long list of Armenian martyrs. To this end, to provide for the succession, after his expected de­ mise, he wrote to the A.R.F. Central Committee of Caucasus to send Koryoun, a former lieutenant of Kevork Chavoush, a fearless warrior and leader, and a bronzed veteran of many battles. Meanwhile, the air was full of vague rumors about the strange behavior of the Turks, hinting at a relaxation of the former fanaticism against the Fedayees. To make certain of what really was going on, soon after the ar­ rival of Koryoun, Rouben left his company in charge of the latter, and together with an aide he ventured into the vicinity of Moush. The strange rumors had to do with certain developments within the Ottoman Empire, affecting the overthrow of Sultan Hamid. And yet, just when deliverance was at hand, and just as the hour is darkest before dawn, while in hiding in a small village, Rouben nearly lost his life and was saved only through the heroic ordeal of three faithful friends, a Fedayee leader named Markar, his wife Tako and their uncle Amo.

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In this chapter Rouben tells the story of his miraculous escape, the clarification of the vague rumors, and the ensuing glad tidings. The Turks and the Armenians had made common cause in forcing Sultan Hamid to proclaim liberty and equality to all his subjects. There was an end to the former master and slave, Moslem and Giavoor, and Beg and Rayah status, and a new era of brotherhood had been in­ augurated. The chapter ends in a dramatic narrative of the universal jubi­ lation, the public homage which was given to the Fedayees, and the spectacular ending of all Armenian ills, as it appeared at the time to those who witnessed the miracle.

In response to my repeated appeals our authorities of Caucasus finally sent Koryoun to the Plain of Moush to join me. My plan was to groom him for the succession after the deaths of Hrair, Kevork Chavoush, and my possible retirement or capture by the Turks. Prior to joining me Koryoun already had an imposing revolutionary record. He had been the “revolutionary ’ “ avenger” of a traitor Vardabed of Avran, had been a revolutionary propagandist and an able lieutenant of Hrair. He had been confined to the prison of Moush with a death sentence hanging over him, and like Kevork Chavoush, he had man­ aged to make his escape. He had taken part in countless Fedayee fights as a lieutenant of Kevork Chavoush in the region of Sassoun and had been company commander under Kevork in the Sassoun Revolt. And now this valiant warrior of many battles had come to join me in the Plain of Moush. In his mild manner he recounted to me his adventures in Caucasus during the past two years. I left this hell of a battlefield and went to Caucasus thinking I would have a little respite, but as it turned up, I emerged from the creek and fell into the river. When I arrived at the City of Kars they took me to the A.R.F. Central Committee a man named Yervand who looked something like you, Norhadian, Bznooni, Gazanjian, Mikhjian, and a priest. They told me I should stay with them because the Turks and the Kurds of Ardahan and Kaghzuvan were becoming restless. I made a tour of the region and saw that our men had complete con­ trol of the situation. . „ yNvhere had our soldiers, and the Turks did not dare to mpnt OUVUtt°ny Th®1*6 was a government within the govern­ ment, outwardly the Russian, actually Armenian. The Armenian Revochuroh^ ma*ntajned its own system of courts, schools, cavalrv M^° taxation» and a military force of infantry and cavalry. Men, women and children, young and old, like one man stood

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behind the invisible Central Committee with respectful awe and af­ fection, carrying out its orders. ‘The Turks, completely cowed, spoke of brotherhood, while the Russians, in the security of their barracks, merely watched but never interfered in public affairs. I saw that there was nothing for me to do in Kars. Soon I received a telegram ordering me to report to Tiflis. The A.R.F. Bureau (Supreme Central Executive) had good grounds for believing an outbreak with the Turks was imminent, but nothing happened. Had there been a fight the Turks would have taken a good licking. “There are some fine theaters in Tiflis. One day they took me to a show where the actors were presenting the holy war of Vardan Mamikonian. One of the actors played his role of the traitor Vassak so well that I lost my head, thinking he was a real traitor. I was seated in the third balcony, and when I saw this vile traitor, I lifted my chair and hurled it at the stage. I pretty near killed somebody for no cause at all. Then I reflected on my hasty deed but it was too late. They arrested me for a drunk. “They told me Tiflis was no place for me and sent me to Erivan to join Nicol Duman. There was too much excitement in the vicinity of Erivan, offering me plenty of opportunity for action. Seydo Boghos had been surrounded by the Turks in Sharoor. He needed help, and the only way to reach him was via Taralakiaz, the seat of Avak the Lion and Hadji of Kudo. These two had put the fear of God in the Turks of the region. We cut our way through Khanukhlar and came to the aid of Seydo, but we could not make him budge an inch. ‘I will not yield an inch to these Turks,’ he said fiercely, ‘I will stay here and save the village.’ He stood his ground and saved the village. “We got word that the Akoulisi were besieged by the Turks and were in danger of being massacred. Although the roads were cut off, I volunteered to hasten to their rescue. If Seydo can save the Khanukh­ lar, I thought, I surely can save Gokhtni. Over the mountains I de­ scended on Gokhtni and in a few days we fell upon Vanand with our full force. Our mission was a complete success. Besides, we de­ stroyed several Turkish villages. The Turks came to their senses and

started to talk about brotherhood. “We had just reached Gokhtni when news arrived that Zangezur was in distress. We left Gokhtni and crossed to Sissian. Blood flowed, and the Turks quieted down. But this time we got word that Gapan and the region of Arevik was in conflagration. Me waded through the valleys and came to their aid like a bolt of lightning. A village called Hank was living its last days. They had neither food nor ammunition. The enemy had penetrated' the village and had started the massacre. Our arrival was most providential. My company was small, but the

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time for dying had arrived. We fell upon the enemy with such fury that thev turned tail and fled. Heartened by our initial success the villagers joined my company and we chased the Turks, destroyed their villages, and reached as far as Askelum and Zangelan, beyond the Ar­ menian border. Thus we established the peace in the entire region of Hand. “The Village of Hand was very grateful to us, and in recognition of our service the villagers changed the name of their town to Koryounavan, which means the town of Koryoun. T liked this region very much. It reminded me of Sassoun. But they would not let me stay there long. They told me it was time to go to Baku where the Armen­ ians were in danger. So I went to Baku which I found comparatively peaceful. And yet there was a tense feeling everywhere. The people apparently were expecting a momentary7 explosion. Men had become wolves, and even the Armenians were at each other’s throat. “I was ordered to preserve the order and stop the killings. There were many rich Armenians in the city, each with the wealth of a king. They vied with one another to be the first to offer me and my Fedayees their hospitality. They feasted us in their homes and showered us with clothes and money. At first I thought they were doing this for their love of the nation. Later I found out they did it from selfish motives. They all wanted to save their hides. What sort of Armenians were these men any how? Men who remembered their nationality when the knife reached the bone! Somehow hospitality of this sort did not jibe with me. I saw that I had become a slave of their polite bribery. I begged Rosdom to relieve me of my plight. He understood my feel­ ings and informed me that he had letters from you asking for my recall. I left everything behind me and here I am, once again among my countrymen.” Koryoun’s arrival was a veritable godsend to me. He was a son of this land, a brave warrior and a capable leader. Kasim’s head will surely be lopped off this time, I said to myself. I committed the plan­ ning and the execution of this delicate mission to Korvoun who ac­ cepted it, although with some misgivings. “It’s a good and worthy task,” he said with deliberation. “The important thing is the execution. Kasim is on to all our tricks. It will be difficult to trap him.” Before embarking on our mission we reconnoitered the villages. This time we all were mounted. Koryoun and his companion Murad of Orknotz, both clever riders, gave some dazzling exhibitions of horse­ manship before my Fedayees. We planted a row of eggs along a rac­ ing course and Koryoun and Murad picked them up one by one while in full flight. They had learned the trick from the Cossacks of Caucasus. While in full flight, they would suddenly roll over under the horse’s

belly, stretch a hand, pick up the egg, and roll back on the saddleThen the horses would come to a sudden stop, the riders would dis­ mount and remount in the flick of an eyelash. My Fedayees from Sas­ soun watched the exhibition with gaping mouths. “These men arc possessed of the demon,” Cholo exclaimed incredulously. When Lazar fried to imitate the feat he fell from his horse and nearly broke his neck. It was so funny that Koryoun chuckled while Murad rubbed salt on the wound. “These tricks are not for you,” he said with a superior air. The old Fedayees were hurt and taunted back, “You may be all right on your horses in the open plain. Wait and we shall sec you when we clamber the mountains of Andok.” Tims, laughing and jesting, we kept on our way light heartedly, iust as if we were not engaged in the grim business of death. When we crossed the Murad River the villagers on the other side came to meet us. They welcomed Koryoun with open arms, offered us fried chicken and buttermilk. Refreshed and fed, we resumed our journey into the Taurus range and finally reached Kizilaghaj, the birth town of Hrair. Hrair had been dead long since, but his wife Mariam, his two sons, and his brother Maneh were still there. The village wel­ comed Korvoun as the dearest friend of their worshipful Hrair. While lingering in the village for a few days we received letters from Moush, saying: “There is something in the air which we cannot understand. The upper circles are seized with mingled feelings of joy and fear, rage and impotence. They are tight-lipped to us. Come and join us in the vicinity of Moush. Perhaps we may be able to find out what really

is going on.” The letters were signed by Karmen and Dadrak. We had joyful news that the soldiery and the Turks were now siding with the Fedayees, recognizing the justice of their demands. At the same time the pursuit force against us had been multiplied. We thought these reassuring reports were but a ruse to trap us, therefore, it was imperative that we destroyed all our tracks. I ordered my Fe­ dayees to get rid of the horses and take to the hills on foot. I promised to join them with Koryoun at the heights of Bremok in one week. T took with me Kialsho Manoog, an old Fedayee who caughed incessantly and seemed to be ill. As we emerged fiom Kizilaghaj and hit die plain, I turned to him and said: “You will take me to Kurdmeydan and deliver me to Markar. You yourself will go into hiding in Sheikhlan. ^ou will not admit it but

you are a very sick man.” Manoog did not contradict me. He crossed himself and said, “May the end good.” I was at the Village of Kurdmeydan, hiding at the Pastbe midnight

home of our beloved company commander Markar. Kurdmeydan was a little village of about 60 families with a scattering of a few Kurd­ ish homes. It was the last Armenian village which marked the end of the Plain of Moush and the beginning of the Mutesariflik (province) of Mindjik. Markar’s two children were tucked snugly in their bed and sound asleep. Their mother Tako busied herself untieing my moccasins. I lost no time in explaining the purpose of my call. “Markar,” I said to him, “I neither want to fight nor die, now that our deliverence seems so near. But still they are after my scalp. I have come to you to show me a way out.” As I said this, Tako’s lips pressed against my hands while Mar­ kar said in a shaking voice, “I have never seen you like this. Take it easy now. Remember you are not alone. We shall live together and die together. By Saint Garabed, the end will be all right. Tell me this who else knows that you are in the village?” “Kialsho alone knows I am here. Have no fear, he has gone into hiding and will never return here. You know him well enough to realize that his lipe are sealed. Only you and I, your wife and the vil­ lage dog know that I am here.” Markar straightened up. “In that case,” he said, “no danger will come to you even if the world is destroyed. Come here, do you see anything in this fire place?” I got up and examined the fire place. There was a smouldering fire cradling a kettle which contained a native dish called Keshkeg— a whipped thick goulash of wheat and mutton. I saw nothing extra­ ordinary about the fire place. “Tako will hide you underneath this fire place,” Markar said triumphantly. “There is room there for three persons. You will find in it an underground passage which leads to the barn of my uncle. God forbid, if misfortune should befall you, you will get in from one entrance and come out from the other. If not, you can rest there peacefully. The air is not suffocating.” I examined the place the second time and found that it was posi­ tively detection proof. A huge stone slab which served as the fire place covered the mouth of a trap door. In case of escape, they extinguished the fire, removed the ashes, and lifted the trap door. It was as simple as that. There was a little discussion about the procedure, lest the chil­ dren detected my presence. Tako insisted that I take the underground passage and go to their uncle’s barn. They called their cncle “Amo” which is the Armenian word for uncle. That way Amo would be the only one on the other side who would know of my presence. If there should be a search, I would get into the tunnel while Tako and Amo

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camouflaged the entrance from the other side. “If the Baron wants to avoid a fight,” Tako said to her husband, “you will go assemble the village braves and hit the road, Once outside of the village you can fight or not, as you choose.” Markar wanted to object to this plan but I cut him short. “Mar­ kar, I said, ‘you talk too much. Evenal ay you and I are company commanders. Today let Tako be the company commander, and Amo shall be her corporal.” Very well,’ Markar replied, “since you have become a soldier of Tako, I too will become one. Tako will see us through.” It was too bad I could not see Tako’s face shining with pride. I wanted to take this woman in my arms and kiss her, but her face was covered with a veil. I could only see her eyes sparkling with happiness. Markar left the house before daybreak. When it was time to awaken the children, Tako removed the ashes from the fire place, lifted the trap door, and asked me to step inside. The hole was like the mouth of a well. I moved inside with my belongings. I lit a candle and started to crawl through the passage until I reached the other end. Here I stopped and waited, my heart pounding. After one hour of waiting I heard some voices, Amo opened the trap door on his side, pulled me out, and took me to a dark comer of the barn. “The village is quiet, there are no evil eyes. You stay here as long as there is no search,” Amo reassured me and was off. There in the darkness I fell asleep in my thoughts. At noon Amo came to see me. He was white as a sheet. “Baron,” he gasped, “the soldiers have entered the village. Quick, get inside the tunnel. I will go meet the soldiers.” Amo was the village chief. Should I enter the tunnel or not? My suspicion of Amo was gnaw­ ing at my heart. Loading my rifle I stood there at the entrance, frozen. I don’t know how long I stood there when Tako quietly approached me. “‘Amo is obliged to meet the soldiers soldiers,” she said assuringly. Get inside now and I will cover the entrance. ’ I seized her hands and pleaded with her frantically. “If Amo should betray me, my blood will be on your hands.” She closed the trap door behind me. There was a deathly silence in the passageway. My mind was working on the double, desperately trying to fathom my plight. The slightest weakness on the part of Amo or Tako would seal my fate. What was worst of all, mine would be a dishonorable end. I crossed over to Tako’s side of the tunnel where I heard the sound of footsteps, a terrible tumult, the scream of a woman. I took a breath of relief. Thank God, there was no betrayal. I tried to bolster my spirits. Again dark thoughts engulfed me and I shrank from weari-

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ness. The racket above me had stopped. I waited in this suspense for about two to three hours when finally I heard the scraping of the fire place. They were pouring cold water on the fire and the hot ashes, drenched by the water, fell on my head. I drew my pistol and stepped back. Then I heard a voice calling to me: “Baron, it is I. The dogs have gone away. You may come out now.” Could it be true or was this but a dream? I pushed my head through the trap door and clambered out. I was horrified seeing there the bloody figure of Amo. Tako’s face was black and blue from the terrible beating she had taken, now stripped of its veil. I fell on the body of Amo and kissed him uncontrollably. “Amo, O dear Amo! His face was still hot, he budged feebly and his lips touched my face. Amo was not dead, he had been beaten to a pulp I helped Tako replace the trap door and rebuild the fire. Presently Amo beckoned to me and Tako. We came to his side. “I want to ask you a question, he gasped. Are there any Fedayees at the forest of Kizilaghaj? Did not Markar and my son and the Fedayees go there? I told the soldiers that’s where they would find them. My God I have betrayed you! Am I a traitor?” No, no, no, dear Amo. You are not a traitor, you are a martyr,’’ Tako exclaimed, and casting aside all convention, she fell on his body and kissed him tenderly. Tako had completely collapsed and was weep­ ing in spirit. I broke down and kissed them both. This is the story as we learned later. After laying siege to the village, the soldiers had called on the village Bekji (village Marshal) who was a Kurd and a friend of ours. He had told them'’he had not seen me. Then they had questioned the village Chief Amo who like­ wise denied having seen me. They beat him until he lost conscious­ ness. When he came to, he told them a lie. He admitted seeing me. He said I had left in the morning headed for Kizilaghaj, together with Markar and the village braves. This had put an end to the tortures and the soldiers had gone to Kizilaghaj. Amo’s lie had saved my life, as well as the lives of Markar and his son who actually were hidden in the village. I could no longer stay in Kurdmeydan. Markar supplied me a guide to lead me to Kialsho. After a few days of adventure in which Kialsho and I had many a brush with death, we arrived at our renaezvous with Koryoun and the Fedayees. Koryoun and I went to the Village of Pitar from where we sent word to our comrades in Moush to meet us at a deserted winepress on the slopes of a mountain. This appointment never took place because the soldiers had been tipped off There were times when the soldiers were hot on our trail but fortunately we managed to elude them each time. Scampering over

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the mountains for several days we finally reached a place called Gorcgn Aghbiur, a spring of cold waters. The highway of Moush to Sassoun traverses these mountains, directly above the water hole. While here we saw a company of 12 men directly above our water hole. Our company numbered more than 15, consequently we thought they would be easy prey for us. If they are not Sassountzis they must be soldiers, the bovs reasoned, come, let us finish them off. “Teslim—Surrender, Surrender!” The greater part of the company froze in their tracks, two of them ran away. Lazar, Moso and Koryoun stopped their advance. White flags were waving on the soldiers’ bayonets. “We are brothers, liberty has come to the land! ’ they shouted. I ordered them to drop their arms and advance. They advanced boldly, shouting the while, “We are brothers, freedom has come to us all. Sassoun will be an Armenian state.” What they said made no sense to us. We were completely ignorant of what was going on in the world. We thought this might be another Turkish trick. No one would believe the soldiers. Akho and Moso, were furious. They seized the soldiers rifles. This is him. No, that s the one.” And they plunged the bayonets into their bellies. The rest of the soldiers stood there petrified. Presently Koryoun leaped at the Fedayees like an eagle. “Hold it,” he barked, “let’s hear what they have to say.” One of the soldiers was a Kurd from the Village of Achmanoog. He recognized Koryoun and fell at his feet. “I throw myself at your mercy, please, do not kill me.” The passions subsided. We came back to the water hole where the soldiers told us then story. Freedom had come to the land, the Fedayees had destroyed the throne of Sultan Hamid. They were carrying letters to the soldiers in Sassoun ordering them to withdraw from Armenia. The letters were in Turkish, and since none of us could read Turkish, the soldiers read them for us. We learned that the soldiers in Dalvonk, Ishkhanatzor and Geliguzan had orders to retire at once to the garrisons of Simal and Dapuk, and from there to leave for Moush, abandoning the gar risons once and forever. Some of the Fedayees doubted the reading, vet, apparently, there was nothing to doubt. The poor soldiers^themselves did not'know what Hourriyet meant. Houmyet. is the Turkish word for Liberty. Apparently there was somethingto their story. W fraternized with the soldiers and broke bread with them. I ordered mv Fedavees to return the soldiers rifles which they reluctantly did • 4-1 kolk Then the soldiets and raced after removing the shells. I hen we we parted parreu with w for the nearest habitations, to learn the meaning of the puzzle^ We . c t-Tavordik where we seized some shepherds, made the mountains of Havord t7;„qiiv wp reached the but these were even more ignorant than we. Finally we reached Village of Pertak.

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Tn Pertak we found Nerso whom we sent to the city to find out the truth. Before his return, a few traveling villagers came to us and told ns that the Turks had turned very sullen. They said liberty had come to the land and all political prisoners had been freed. In the evening Nerso brought letters from Dadrak and Karmen: “Gods light is dawning. Today the Mutesarif called on our Prelate and told him that there had been a revolution in the capital and Sultan Hamid had granted a Constitution. All the political prisoners will be freed. Tell Rouben to rest easy, the Firmen (edict) of his pardon will soon arrive. Reading these joyful news we proudly strode down the street. The villagers flocked on the rooftops, asking me to explain to them the meaning of the “Constitution,” Hourriyet,” “Liberty,” words which I myself did not know. I kept a discreet silence but this did not prevent the others from expressing their conjectures. “Ha, Vallah! The Armenians will have a king.” “It is not an Armenian king, but it will be an English or Russian consul who will put a stop to the oppressions.” “Man alive! It’s neither a consul nor a king. Sultan Hamid has croaked. His son has pardoned the people, he wants no more oppres­ sion.” “Boys, could it be that it was our boys who croaked the Sultan? The last time they failed. Perhaps this time they succeeded. That Ar­ menian girl is irrepressible. Tell us, Baron, is not Rubina in Istanbul?” “She is in Istanbul,” I said, to ease their minds. All of them were convinced that it was our boys who had killed the Sultan. There was no limit to their joy, and yet there was a note of fear in their voices: “May God make the end well. The Turk will take his revenge.” Tn the midst of these jubilations two riders arrived from Souloukh who announced that the Turks had clashed with our boys in Derik. Makountzi Lazar’s company of five had been seen by 50 gendarmes who wanted to arrest them. Our boys had attacked the gendarmes’ had killed the nephew of Topalentz Ilyaz Effendi, two gendarmes, one Chavoush (Sergeant), and three horses. They had put the gen­ darmes to flight and themselves had retired to the security of the ruins of Ashtishat. Strangely enough, there were soldiers in nearby \vran and yet they did not come to the aid of the gendarmes, nor did they advance on Ashtishat. They merely sent a messenger to Avran to tell the Fedayees to make themselves scarce until the Firman of their pardon arrived. This news of a fresh fight upset the applecart, blowing into smith­ ereens all our dreams of the Hourriyet and our illusions of an Armenian kingdom. Moso and Akho were furious that we had spared the lives of the •

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soldiers, believing their weird tales of liberty and a Turkish consti­ tution. As a precautionary measure, we retired into the woods. I sent word to the villages of the plain advising the villagers not to trust the word of the Turks, to draft a letter of protest, and stage a demon­ stration in front of the government building and the Armenian Pre­ lacy, reminding them that if freedom had come to the land, why then the fight at Derik? Why the political prisoners were not freed? And why the criminals in the government still retained their posts? Our retirement into the mountains worried both the government and our comrades in Moush. They were afraid we might act foolishly and ruin the new fraternal mood between the Armenians and the Turks. As a matter of fact we had a mind to attack Khuvner and finish off Kasim Beg. However, we received letter after letter, begging us: “For God’s sake, don’t do anything foolish. The Constitution has been pro­ claimed, today they freed the prisoners. Aram of Avran, our veteran Fedayee who was sentenced to 101 years of prison, openly strides the streets of the city.” Thinking there might be something to all this I decided to go to Mogounk, not far from the city, to find out the truth. There at a winepress I had a conference with Bishop Nerses, aa Catholic, Catholic, Davo Davo of Mokoun, a Protestant, Ozoonantz Mekhitar, and a few Fedavees. The old Bishop was so happy he acted like a little boy. Casting aside the dignity of his ecclesiastical rank, he embraced and kissed me, ca­ ressed my weapons, “Liberty, Liberty!” he kept shouting, and showed me a copy of Byzantion, a Constantinople Armenian newspaper, with banner headlines and a bold display of the proclamation of the Turk­ ish Constitution, the picture of Enver and Niayazi Beys, the heroes of the Turkish revolution, and a scorching denunciation of the old regime. Byzantion was a respectable paper, it would not lie. Neither the Bishop nor the paper gave a clear idea of the details of the newly-won freedom, nor, for that matter, any one cared to know. They were too far transported with joy to care for details. From Sultan Hamid to the Catholic Bishop, from the feudal lord to the peasant, from the slave Flah to the ruling Turk, all were embracing and kiss­

ing one “Myanother. son,” said His Grace the Bishop to me, “His Excellency Salih Pasha and the Mutesarif send you their greetings and ask you to come down to the city. Give yourself up and you shall have a royal recep­ tion. We shall be brothers, and you shall defend the Constitution.” “Your Grace, please tell me the meaning of this brotherhood. What will the Armenian cause gain from this Constitution? Has an Armen­ ian Prince been appointed? Have the reforms in the provinces been assured? After all, I am a soldier of the Armenian Revolutionary Fede­ ration. Has our Bureau given its approval of this Constitution?”

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My questions seemed stupid and irrelevant to the Bishop. “My son, what prince are you talking about?” he asked surprised. “We all are’one now, we all are princes. What need of guarantees for reforms when we all are equals now? What can be a greater guarantee than this? Don’t be stubborn, my son. Come to your senses. Believe me. Come, let us go to the Government.” At the heights of Marnik, the Frank Sahak raised a question which put the Bishop on the spot. “Suppose we set all this aside,” he said, “suppose we admit that freedom has come and that we all are free. Will this freedom extend to Kasim Beg and Salih Pasha or will it ap­ ply only to us?” “My son, of course it will extend to all. The sun shines on every­ body.” “In that case the whole thing is a lie. I want no part of such a sun.” Frank Sahak was adamant. Bishop Nerses was not a deceitful man. Under his clergyman’s garb he was a good patriot, a good Armenian, and a devotee of his nation. He was not a Fedayee like me, but I knew that he had been devoted to us in the days of our distress. Although a Catholic Bishop, he nevertheless was vehemently opposed to the Latinization of the Ar­ menian church and he did his utmost to foster the Armenian language and letters. Disliked by the Turks and the Russians, he was respected by the Catholics and the intellectuals of the Armenian Church. Besides, His Grace was not a stranger to me. He had taken many a chance, at the risk of his life, to hold a secret conference with me in some dark chamber to discuss such matters as Armenianizing the Catholics, teaching the Armenian language to Kurdish, Turkish, Rus­ sian and Georgian speaking Armenians, and similar topics. Together we used to look around for missionaries to Akhltzkha and Akhalkalak, as teachers and priests. Although a Catholic, he had ordained many an Armenian priest of the National Apostolic faith to preserve the tradition of Gregory the Illuminator, the founder of the Armenian Church. His Grace insisted that I give myself up but I refused. “You are drunk,” I said to him. “Priest or no priest, I shall never surrender my­ self. I will never trust the word of Sultan Hamid or Salih Pasha. Only yesterday they were after my scalp, shall I now trust the word of those infidels?” My final answer was, I would not budge an inch until I received a telegram from the founders of the Ottoman Constitution. I retired to Dercvank and from there to Marnik where I told my Fedayees the whole story. My Fedayees supported me in my stand. Thereafter I was flooded with letter after letter, postman after postman, urging me to trust them, to come down to the city and

present myself to the government. The letters came from the Armen­ ian Prelate, Karmen, Dadrak, and other acquaintances. Besides these received postal bundles from the Governor, the Mutesarif, the Military Commandant and officers of the army, all written in Turkish which I could not read. Two days later the Postal Superintendent who was a Turk, and Hamazasp, a member of the A.R.F. Central Committee of Moush, called on me and showed me a telegram from the Central Government, addressed to the Mutesarif of Moush, and another tele­ gram addressed to Salih Pasha, blaming them for having persecuted the Fedayees after the proclamation of the Constitution, and for hav­ ing caused the fight at Derik. Another telegram was addressed to the Chief of the A.R.F. Committee Rouben Effendi (myself), announcing the advent of the Constitution and trusting my cooperation and sup­ port in its establishment. These telegrams removed all doubt. We embraced one another and rejoiced in the good news. The time had come for me to take the decisive step. I held a conference with my Fedayees to discuss our next step. As far as I myself was concerned, the matter was settled. I was re­ solved to come down from the mountains, to lay down my arms, and to devote myself to peaceful pursuit. I explained my thoughts to my Fedayees in a broken speech as if I were reciting a funeral oration. It was easy enough for the city dweller to surrender himself to the festive mood of the newly-won Constitution, but the soul of the Feda­ yee is different. Old Kirbo of Ishkhanatsor and Kialsho Manoog whose Fedayee life dated from the time of Arabo, their eyes burning deep in their sockets, and with heavy hearts, pleaded with me not to trust the word of the Turks. Cholo and Manoog swore they would never lay down their weapons. They chided me for being weak-hearted. Koryoun and I tried to make them understand that we had no intention of surrending our arms. We were going to present ourselves to the government fully armed. “Ah, you are going to enlist in the Hamidieh Corps, to support the Ottoman Constitution,” they accused us bitterly. We assured them that there would be no such thing. If there will not be an Armenian state, if there will not be an Armenian army, we Fedayees will not trust the Osmanli. A pest on both their Homriyet and their Constitution. The majority of the Fedayees were of the opinion that we no longer could ignore the situation. But since complete harmony was lacking, I thought it would be better if I satisfied all their wishes without compromising my personal conviction. “Kialsho is right,” I told them solemnly. “This may be a trap of the Osmanli. You Fedayees are the root of the revolution. Therefore

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the Fedayees from Sassoun will retire into the mountains. If they hang me at the government square, you shall do as you always have done. Manoog will lead the Fedayees from the plain, will make the rounds of the villages, and will carry on as before. Koryoun who like me be­ lieves in the Constitution will take the company and will enter the city, but he will not surrender. I will go to present myself to the govern­ ment. If they hang me, let Koryoun come to my rescue or perish on my dead body. If they do not hang me there will be time enough to think about our next move.” This compromise solution pleased ah. Of course there was no danger of my being hanged, but still Kialsho Manoog was persistent in his devotion. "If there is to be any hanging, we shall all hang to­ gether, he insisted. fake it easy, Kialsho. By God, nothing will happen to me. If anything, we might hang Salih Pasha,” I assured him. Finally we separated into three companies and embraced one another. Many of the Fedayees were openly weeping. Sixty Fedayees broke into two companies, one heading for Sassoun, the other for the plains. Koryoun and I stayed behind with eight Fedayees. Coming out of the deep forest we returned to the place where le Armenian and Turkish delegations had met us. They were quite surprised seeing a company of Fedayees, like a flock of geese, slowly receding toward the mountains of Sassoun, while the other company, hke wild goats, were scampering down toward the Plain of Moush. Naturally they could not have surmized our decision. To satisfy their curiosity I told the delegation that the Fedayees were going to hold a conference in order to present themselves to the government in a body. We ourselves would show up in a few days After bjddmg them good-bye, our company moved to the fortress rf an old pagan shrme adjoining the City of Moush. Here we waited for the dawn. xicie we Led by my guide Haro of Moush I headed for the citv bv wav of the cemetery where the body of Kevork Chavoush rested. Wend^ ing our way through a precinct of the city called Knah w i T made straight for St. Marineh, the site of the Prehev Meanwhile Koryoun and his company of six, led by Arsho, were hurrymg toward Isoroutagh where they were to go into hiding, waiting for what might happen to me before their next move. g With mingled emotions of hope and i x , the door of the Prelacy building A se^,^ ? I We kn°Cked °n x r xx 7 . 7 uuuuinS- A servant named Aram onened thp Prelate, met me with obvious surprise.

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ardabed, the

“God help me! Welcome, welcome! At last you have cast away the devil’s stone from your apron.” This was the Prelate’s way of saying I had at last believed his word and had come down to the city. He flew at me, embraced and kissed me. Then he ordered his aide Aram to remove the Madzoon and the onions from the table and fetch some fried chicken and cognac from the ice box. My presence being a special occasion, the Prelate’s table was enriched with chicken, spiced beef and sausages, topped by cognac. Do you know, my son? There is a God in heaven. Our prayers have been heard. Our shed blood has at last given some results. Sultan Hamid has become a street dog. It is freedom now. Our day has come.” The Vardabed was overflowing with happiness. To his question if I had come to the city alone I lied. I did not tell him that Koryoun and his company were hiding in the city. Secrecy had become a habit with us, although it was quite plain that pre­ caution was needless. The holy father told me all that he knew-the happenings in the city and the writings in the newspapers, all of which were incredible revelations. The weariness and the cognac left no strength in me to listen longer. Thus, leaving the responsibility of the morrow to the Vardabed. I retired into a small narrow room, locked the door behind me, and slept like a log. I had a sound sleep, forgetting the hour of rising. There was a knock on my door. From the window I peered out into the street and 1 was seized with a sense of wonder and fear, seeing the’ streets Armenians the rooftops filled with a surging crowd. These were no alone. There were countless Turks with white turbans and wKh white Koloz headgears. More amazing there was a double file k e column colum of soldiers in front of the Prelacy building ^mg guard oneted rifles, the officers constantly shuffling back and orth Ah. I said to myself. “Kialsho Manoog was right These mhdels na to arrest me and give me a stately hanging., Vardabed There was a second knock on y j -nto a come to see me. Cautiously I open .nn,i .he cause of mv ex­ perfect wiki goat The Holy the people and the citement and said to me soot gy Friday, the Mohamgovemment have heard that you are er • a celebration ir Ldan holiday. There will be a _

honor of the new constitutio . & si of their fraternal spint. turned out into the Armenian qu * asleep and he went Salih Pasha came to call on you t y assembled, waiting for away. Now the government dignitanes a your appearance. Come, was up, j washej and dressed. My They brought me water in a piten .

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hair, which I never cut, fell on my shoulders in great disarray, and merging with my fully-grown beard, gave me the appearance of a Persian Dervish for which reason they used to call me “Sareh bu Purch” (wooly head). My attire consisted of a tall Chechen (Cir­ cassian) furcap whose fur freely merged with my natural hair, light moccasins, baggy trousers of the Sassountzis, a long felt sash and a short woolen jacket underneath which shone rows of cartridges. In this grotesque outfit I looked more like a mountain bear standing on his hind legs. Vardan Vardabed led the way to the reception hall of the Prelacy where the Turkish and Armenian dignitaries were waiting for me. The aisles were crowded with Turkish officers who grasped my hand as I passed along, muttering some apparent felicitations which I under­ stood not. We entered the huge salon where rows of men stood in line like mummies. They made me sit down between, the Catholic Bishop and the Turkish Imam. Presently I began to recognize some of the guests, high ranking officers bedecked with medals, with shining swords and gold-tasseled chains. I was profoundly impressed by the awesome spectacle. Among the dignitaries I espied the figure of Kar­ men with his black formal dress and red necktie, his beard well trimmed and groomed. All the rest of the guests were well dressed and clean shaven. My clothes, reeking with the stench of the perspiration, started to bother me, especially since I was not deloused. In this woeful condi­ tion I was afraid people might think of the popular adage which goes: "You cannot make a Pasha out of a Posha,” meaning, you cannot make a respectable man out of a gypsy. Apparently, however, this was not the mood of my audience. The manifest genuineness of the officers’ respect toward me inspired me with fresh confidence, and taking courage, I addressed the guests: “My compatriots, tyranny drove us into the mountains and made us wild men. Take a good look at my clothes. May God spare our future generations the suffering which we endured.” Kevork Marzpetouni, the school teacher, translated my words into Turkish and they all shouted “Yashasoun!”—Long live Rouben Effendi! Outside, in the street, the crowd was restless. They were clamor­ ing for my appearance. I hesitated to show myself to the people. His Grace the Bishop pleaded with me: “Oghloom, my son, stick your head out of the window. Say a few words to the people. They want to hear your voice.” I approached the window. “Silence, silence! Rouben Pasha will speak.” But the people would not be silenced. They had gone mad with

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joy and kept firing in the air. It was a wild demonstration which would both frighten and thrill the spectator. “My compatriots, go back to your homes and rest. You shall have many occasions to see me in the future.” These were senseless words, and yet, I don’t know why, they still rang the welkin with their shouts of “Yashasoun, Yashasoun!” Long live, long live.

One hour later we attended the celebration which had been orgamzed by the Government. This was an affair which I could not attend in my present attire. I had to do some sprucing up. The moc­ casins which had served me well in the past looked like thorns in my eye. Our teacher, Kevork Marzpetouni, had an extra pair of shoes and an extra suit which he brought over for me to wear. I had forgotten how to knot my necktie. Keghan kotted it for me. They gave me a haircut and the full treatment and I became a shorn city youth. I was no longer the “Wooly Head.” Iwo officers came to escort me to the government building. I was surrounded by an imposing entourage of dignitaries, including Karmen. I stood between His Grace the Catholic Bishop and the Ar­ menian Prelate Vardan Vardabed. More than 50 Turkish officers formed a protective ring around me. It was very difficult to cut our way through the surging throng. The streets and the rooftops were crowded with spectators who kept shouting and clamoring. Officers and soldiers were helpless to restore the quiet. A military band headed the procession. The air was ringing with martial strains. In the narrow street the crowd broke through the iron ring and stampeded His Grace the Bishop. He was so hurt he had to be taken back to the Prelacy for medical aid. Presently they hoisted me on their shoulders and the jubilant mul­ titude marched through the streets to the Government building. Here the crowd was so dense it could not be moved. In front of the build­ ing a regiment of guards stood at salute, before whom a bevy of Pashas and high ranking officers kept pacing back and forth and exchanging words. The crowd halted in front of the soldiers as the dignitaries, carrying banners, advanced to the podium. Karmen who was close behind me whispered to me, Here is your Salih Pasha, here is the Mutesarif.” He introduced me to the long list. We embraced them all and took our positions on the plat­ form according to rank. One of the speakers opened the program wit the introductory words: , „ “Bou guiun en beyouk guiun dir”-This is the greatest day of all. I did not understand a word of what was said, but I knew when they were through. They all ended with the words.

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"Yashasoun Ermeni Vatandashlar! Ermeni vatan pervarlar!” “Long live our Armenian compatriots. Our Armenian patriots!” As proper decorum, each speaker, when through, stepped down and kissed me. The only speaker who would not conform to this rule was Khoja Ilyaz, the Moslem priest, but when the Mufti pulled his robe he reluctantly rubbed his dirty, scrawny hand against my shoulder. The speakers and their speeches came to an end. It was now my turn as the climactic speaker. Kegham my interpreter and I ascended the platform. I asked Kegham to speak for me since I did not know Turkish. I supplied the words and he translated for me. Apparently he made a fine speech because they applauded him with shouts of ‘Yashasoun.” Finally the ordeal was over. It was apparent that there would be no hanging for me. Kialsho and Manoog were mistaken. However, the ceremony was not yet over. Long lines of troops, regiment by regiment, the artillery corps, the infantry and the cavalry and the various departments of the army had occupied a vast space, ready for the inspection. Salih Pasha, holding Karmen and me by the hand, led the way, followed by the officers of the army. He stopped in front of each regi­ ment and made the introductions. Behold the Fedayees. We have been blind, and we have levelled our bayonets brother against brother. We were not to blame. The fault belonged to the old regime. Long live the Constitution! Long live the revolutionaries!” The military band kept playing the March of Freedom as we in­ spected each regiment. Presently we were confronted with a difficult situation. We were facing the Ottoman flag. Salih Pasha approached and kissed the flag. I remembered that I too had been an officer of the army. I saluted the flag, althought I avoided kissing it. Presently the soldiers filed out before us, the officers stood at salute with drawn swords, while the soldiers passed with rhythmic steps, kicking up the dust. These were followed by the beautiful col­ umns of the artillery and the cavalry. For the first time I began to realize what a difficult task it was to destroy this power. But this was the hour of the Constitution. Freedom had come to the land, and from now on this imposing power was ours, just as much as it was the property of the Turks. Everything seemed to have changed. The old was dead and the new was in the ascendency. The thing which we called the Revolution —Adalet, Musavat, Hourrietjet—Justice, Equality, Liberty. These three words were slogans borrowed from the French Revo-

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lution which one hundred and twenty years later had come to shake the foundations of the Ottoman Empire, to forge a new life and a new order.

EPILOGUE

Ep Hogue

Le.st the reader gain the erroneous impression that with the proc­ lamation of the Ottoman Constitution a permanent end was made to all Armenian ills, that the Armenian Question was finally and irre­ vocably solved, and that the Turks and the Armenians lived together happily ever after, a final word of explanation here is necessary. An explanation is also necessary as to why Reuben’s narrative has not been extended to include the succeeding events which ended in the consummation of the Armenian revolution—the events of World War I, the final stand, the creation of the Independent Republic of Armenia and the Soviet takeover. In the first place it is pertinent to recall that, while Rouben’s seven volume work is an imposing record of his experiences as a revo­ lutionary fighter, the revolutionary episodes and profiles selected from his files were not designed to be a cohesive narrative. They were se­ lected for the purpose of projecting certain qualities and characteristics which bring out the soul of the revolution. With the presentation of these typical case histories gleaned from Rouben, the fundamental aim of this work is deemed as accomplished. The proclamation of the Ottoman Constitution was a landmark in the history of Fedayee activities. Practically all the revolutionary fighting, the origin and development of the Fedayee generation, the evolution of the Fedayee character and the burgeoning and the flow­ ing of the Armenian national consciousness took place during the period which immediately preceded this signal event. Rouben has devoted four volumes to this period which have supplied the episodes and the portraits of this work. His remaining three volumes, equally

239

enthralling as reading matter, pertain to a period of entirely different genre which have no relation to the fundamental aim of this work. The period following the proclamation of the Ottoman Constitu­ tion—the years between 1908 and the outbreak of World War I—was known as the period of Armeno-Turkish collaboration. The question which engaged the Armenian mind in particular was, would the newlywon freedom work? Would the new slogans of Liberty, Equality, and Fraternity sweep away the accumulated residue of the old oppression? Would the ecstatic Armeno-Turkish embraces, so warm and so seem­ ingly genuine in the paroxysm of the initial intoxication endure long against the sobering impact of cool reflection? Would the Moslem overlord and the Christian Giavoor become brothers at last? The experi­ ment had to be given a fair trial. At all events, if the experiment would be a failure, it would not be the fault of the Armenians. There has been a considerable amount of hindsight statesman­ ship among the Armenians since the disastrous deportations of 1915. Enemies of the Armenian revolution have ruthlessly excoriated the revolutionaries for having cooperated with the Ittihad—the Turkish Committee of Union and Progress. They have accused the revolution­ aries for having “philandered” with the executioners of the Armenian race and have blamed them as “the cause of the Armenian massacres.” It would be only an ineffectual rebuttal to point out that the very same critics who blamed the Armenian revolutionaries for having col­ laborated with the Turk themselves collaborated with the same Turk when they aligned themselves with the Turkish Party of Hourriyet and Ittilaf—the Party of Liberty and Entente which opposed the It­ tihad. In the light of the overwhelming social and political forces which at the time held sway in the Ottoman Empire, such polemical re­ buttals, no matter how ostensibly devastating, seem so trivial and fu­ tile. The serious charge that the Armenian massacres could have been prevented were it not for the intervention of the revolution demands a stronger scientific explanation. The Armenian revolutionaries suf­ fered the onus of this cruel accusation for which they have no excuse to offer except to point out that they did it from purely patriotic mo­ tives. They honestly and sincerely tried to make the Armeno-Turkish friendship work for the sake of the nation. It might be argued that it should have been obvious to the Ar­ menians that the basic incompatibilities of the deeply-rooted racial antipathies, the mutual distrust, the memory of the nightmare of the long oppression, the deeply-ingrained Turkish complex of the master race versus the slave race, the racial tempers, the moods, the attitudes, the different world outlooks, the Turkish sensitivity to further terri­ torial dismemberment due to one more secession, and the innate Ar­

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menian longing for eventual independence could not possibly have been eradicated by one stroke of the pen, nor could a thousand fra­ ternal embraces have expunged the memory of rivers of blood which had been shed. It should have been obvious that, once the initial honey­ moon was over, the true feelings of each race would reassert themselves. The assumption which constitutes the core of the charge against the revolutionaries is that they should have foreseen all this, and, in­ stead of cooperating with the Turks, they should have prepared the nation against the coming catastrophe. As a matter of fact there were men who saw beyond the surface luster of the initial jubilations and were deeply concerned about the future. Rouben himself foresaw the coming disaster and tried to avert it by offering his own plan, a plan which, in the intoxication of the hour, was rejected. Still, despite the dictates of a keener analytical insight into the elements of impermanence affecting the proposed Armeno-Turkish Armenians, under the modus vivendi, it must be contended that the __ ____ circumstances, could not have acted other than they did. The Armen­ ians had to cooperate with the Turks even if that cooperation were folly. The joint action of the Armenian and Turkish revolutionaries had wrung from the Sultan a liberal constitution, and one year later had brought about the deposition of the tyrant. A new regime had been installed in the land in which Armenian and Turk alike were recognized as constituent elements of the common fatherland. There was equality before the law between Mohammedan and Christian, and equal opportunity for advancement, creative activity, and self­ improvement. Armenian members of the Turkish Parliament sat side by side their Turkish colleagues, discussed the problems of the com­ mon fatherland, and passed the laws. Orators and the press on both sides did their utmost to make the people forget the iniquities of the old regime and to make the new regime work. If the Armenians had not won their independence, they at least had won their freedom. It could truthfully be said that the revolution had achieved at least a

part of its original aim. Under the circumstances, the temper of the Armenian people (and this includes the critics themselves) would not have tolerated, and did not tolerate, the slightest sign of defection from the common pact which might have underminded the faith of the Turks. At that time the people were in such a mood that no amount of admonition as to the true nature of the Turk, no amount of foreboding warnings as to the future, and no amount of wise counsel could have prevailed. The Armenians could not be persuaded to risk any action which might arouse suspicion and jeopardize the life of the nation. If worse came

to worse, at all events, it would not be the Armenians who sparked the first provocation. In a sense the general political atmosphere at the time was ana­ logous to the atomic atmosphere of today. Even as the two sides, the Soviet and the free world, today abhor taking any steps which might be construed as the first provocation to precipitate a catastroplric world war, even as neither side wants to be found guilty of the first act of aggression, so during the period of Armeno-Turkish collabora­ tion the general atmosphere was so charged with explosive possibil­ ities that, regardless of possible Turkish perfidy, the Armenians could not afford to be guilty of the least act which might precipitate the disaster. For the Armenians, the stakes were too high, and the risks were too great to act recklessly with their fate. Therefore, despite the better judgment of a rare few, despite their foresight into the future, and despite their warnings, the gen­ eral mood of the Armenian people was such that no power on earth could have induced them to make a false move or take a reckless chance. If calamity would befall the Armenians it would have to be­ fall as an inevitable act of fate, and not because of their conscious doing. This psychology, eye witnesses will testify, pervaded the very men who today criticise the Armenian revolutionaries as the cause of the Armenian massacres. Furthermore, critics of the Armeno-Turkish cooperation overlook the fact that, as a rule, historical forces once set in motion will run their natural course until they fulfill their mission or dissipate them­ selves from sheer attrition. The institutions of the royalty, the nobility, feudalism and imperialism have all gone through the same refining process. Qualities of permanence inherent in social forces may prolong the life of an institution for an indefinite time, the lack of these qual­ ities will invariably make the same life only ephemeral as demon­ strated by the experience of Nazi Germany and Fascist Italy. There have been some historians who have ventured the opinion that, had a more resolute Western stand nipped the Bolshevik revolu­ tion m the bud in the fall of 1917 the world might have been spared the colossal woes of the past forty years. This assumption is at once fallacious and scientifically untenable, because, it might be stated with certainty, had the Bolshevik revolution been suppressed at the time it would have kept on smouldering and would have erupted at another time with even greater explosive power. Social moods like great social forces, cannot be held in abeyance by persecution or repression. They run their natural course until they fulfill their mission or demonstrate their fundamental bankruptcy and become outmoded c .kA °f the Armenian evolution after the promulgation of the Ottoman Constitution. The Armeno-Turkish friendship experi-

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meat had to be given a fair trial, and, in cooperating with the Tuik, the Armenian revolutionaries, acted in keeping with the wishes and the temper of the Armenian people at the time. Censure for not hav­ ing behaved otherwise, therefore, is both irrelevant and unjust. The natural course of events proved beyond the shadow of a doubt the veracity of what otherwise might have been a perpetually harrowing question mark even to the most incurable skeptic. That the Armeno-Turkish friendship did not work was not the fault of the Armenians; it was the fault of the Turks. It took the Ar­ menians the hard way to learn that the leopard cannot change his spots. The lesson cost the Armenians a minimum of one million livtes and another million rendered homeless. The Turkish perfidy did not mark the end of the Armenian revo­ lution. When at the outbreak of World War I the Turkish Govern­ ment’s intention to exterminate the Armenian people became obvious beyond the shadow of a doubt, the Armenian revolutionaries instantly reactivated themselves. During the wholesale deportations they di­ rected a number of resistance stands in various parts of the Turkish Empire, some successful, others disastrous in their ending, but all of them magnificent in the sublimity of their heroism. The old Fedayees of the guerilla era now enlisted in the famous Armenian Volunteer Battalions, others enlisted in the Armenian Legion which distinguished itself on the Palestinian front, and thousands of others fought on the Western front as soldiers of the Allied army. Eventually the Armen­ ians defeated the Turk in the Battles of Sardarapat and Karakilisseh and forced him to recognize their right to be independent. The Inde­ pendent Republic of Armenia came into existence in the Spring of 1918 the Treaty of Sevres provided for the territorial integration of historic Armenia, and President Woodrow Wilson drew the boundary of new Armenia. The creation of Independent Armenia in the Caucasian segment of the fatherland and the enactment of the Sevres Treaty were the crowning achievement of the Armenian revolutionanes-the cuhmnation of the Armenian Revolution. It is altogether beside the point that the Allies later betrayed the Armenians, bolstered the tottering Turk, scrapped the Sevres Treaty, and buried the Armenian cause And i is equally irrelevant that later the Soviet took over a perfectly inde^ndent Armenian state which had been created by Armenian valor and sacrifice.

Sm £= -

,

,

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inspires the patriotic Armenians to continue the struggle for Armenia’s liberation from the new tyrant. In this achievement the credit belongs to those intrepid souls who, in the words of Theodore Roosevelt, strove valiantly, who erred and came short again and again, who knew great enthusiasms and great devotions, who spent themselves on a worthy cause, who, at best, knew in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who, at the worst, if they failed, at least failed daring greatly, so that their place shall never be with those timid souls who knew neither victory nor defeat—those wonderful Armenian Fedayees who gave their lives for the sake of the Fatherland, whose images have been clearly etched by the inimitable pen of one of Armenia’s noblest sons, the incom­ parable Armenian freedom fighter Rouben Der Minasian. JAMES G. MANDALIAN