Forty Days of Musa Dagh (65 page)

 

 

They were expecting a fierce attack. But Sarkis Kilikian quietly stood
in front of the center trench, not going either on or back, not shouting
any word of command. Three hundred Mauser rifles opened a gruelling quick
fire on the rigid human targets above them, who stood out black against
the glittering sunset. In a few seconds a third of the garrison of this
sector were crouching, with groans and howls of pain on the blood-soaked
earth of Musa Dagh. Sarkis Kilikian stood on, in thoughtful surprise,
his hands in his pockets. The Turkish bullets seemed to avoid him, as
though fate considered that to put an end to this unique destiny by a
simple death in the field would be far too banal a proceeding. When at
last he raised his hand and shouted something to his riflemen, it was
much too late. He was swept along in the general flight of what still
remained of the garrison, a flight which only turned and collected
itself half-way to the stone barricades. These were four fairly oblong
heaps of piled-up stones, almost outside the Town Enclosure. Before the
fugitives reached their cover, they left twenty-three dead and wounded
behind them. The Turkish infantry, shouting indescribable war cries,
took possession of the vacated trenches. Their reserve crowded in after
them, the saptiehs, the chettehs, and last the armed villagers. A fair
number of bellicose Moslem women had followed their men. When these women,
hidden behind the trees of the ilex gully, saw the success of the Turkish
advance, they broke forth, like frenzied maenads, from the wood, took
each other's hands, formed a chain, while from their throats came a long,
shrill sound unlike any other, the zilgith, the ancient battle cry of the
women of Islam. This raking scream let loose the devil in the men. They,
as their bold creed instructs them, had ceased to care for life or death;
they dashed in a mad gallop against the wretched heaps of stone, without
firing another shot, with fixed bayonets.

 

 

In this disaster several bits of isolated luck came to the aid of the
Armenians. As they saw the Turks bayonet their wounded and tread them
into the ground with their army boots, the whole watchful, frigid
alertness of their unavoidable destiny came upon them again. They lay
stiffly behind their cover and aimed quietly, with all their accustomed
deadly certainty. The Turks had the last, dazzling sun in their faces,
the Armenians at their backs. Another advantage in misfortune was
the confusion arising from the circumstance that attackers before the
neighboring sectors, running past their own officers, left their posts
and, drunk with victory, swarmed towards the breach. Therefore defenders
also left their trenches and crowded, left and right, towards the danger
spot. The consequence was a confused hand-to-hand struggle, in which
friend and foe (many Armenians were wearing plundered Turkish uniform)
got mixed in together unrecognizably. It was a long time, and many
men had to lose their lives, before the enemies sorted themselves out,
and superior numbers succeeded in driving back the Armenians towards the
Town Enclosure. Bagradian arrived with his mobile guard at the very last
second to avert the worst for the camp itself. The Turks were driven back,
but only as far as their captured trenches, which they held stubbornly.

 

 

Luckiest of all, it was now night, and a cloudy moonless night into the
bargain. It had gathered quickly, unperceived. The major could no longer
venture on another decisive thrust. In the dark the Armenians, who knew
the Damlayik like their own bodies, had still, in spite of their many
wounds, the advantage over a whole division. The Kaimakam, disturbed
profoundly by the immense losses they had sustained, did not quite know
what to do with this unused victory. The major swore by all his gods
that by three tomorrow he would have the whole business cleared up. He
developed his next plan of action. The Turks, all except a few camouflaged
protecting garrisons, were to be noiselessly withdrawn from the defense
sector. The whole force should encamp for the night in the wide ilex
gully and be ready, a few hours before daybreak, to thrust forward,
like a great battering-ram, through this last, inconsiderable obstacle.

 

 

But that did not prevent the new Moslems in the villages, since now they
were all householders, from preferring a night indoors to one in the open,
and leaving the troops.

 

 

 

 

Towards six o'clock Pastor Aram Tomasian, bathed in sweat and broken
with fatigue, came into the women's tent, gulped down two glasses of
water, and gasped: "Iskuhi, Hovsannah. Get ready. Things aren't going
well. I'll fetch you in time. We must find somewhere to hide, down among
the rocks. I'm going out now to look for Father."

 

 

Tomasian had vanished again at once without properly getting his breath.
Iskuhi, who had kept her promise, and not left the tent all day,
helped the complaining Hovsannah to get dressed as well as she could,
gave the child its bottle of watered milk, and with her right arm drew
out from under the bed what little baggage they possessed. But suddenly
she stopped her unfinished work and left Hovsannah without a word.

 

 

 

 

An hour after sunset. The big square, with its trampled grass before the
altar in the Town Enclosure. The leaders had not retired into their hut,
but were sitting on the grass by the altar steps. The people squatted
close around them in heavy silence. The huts were abandoned. From
time to time the screams of badly wounded men came across from the
"hospital." Some of the recent dead had been rescued from the last
attack. They lay in rows, incompletely hidden by sheets and sacking. No
light. No fire. The Council had forbidden any voice to be raised above a
whisper. The crowd was so heavily silent that all could easily distinguish
the whispering voices of representatives.

 

 

Ter Haigasun seemed the only one there who could still keep his presence
of mind. His voice sounded quiet and circumspect. "We have only one night,
that is to say eight hours darkness."

 

 

He was misunderstood. Even Aram Tomasian, whose heart was torn by the
thought of Hovsannah, Iskuhi, and the child, proposed all kinds of hasty
plans. He suggested in all seriousness that perhaps it would be better
to clear the camp and seek shelter in clefts among the rocks, in the
limestone caves and grottoes of the cliffs. But his suggestion found no
partisans. It was evident that these men, without any reason for it, had
begun to love their habitation and would defend it to the very last. They
began to argue. These few hours of darkness threatened to crumble away,
minute by minute, without results. Here and there out of the crouching
people, a woman's suppressed shriek and convulsive sobbing from time to
time. This day had brought death to over a hundred families, reckoning
those whose wounded had fallen into Turkish hands. Nor did anyone know
how many seriously wounded were still lying out before the positions,
whom no one so far had managed to bring back to camp. The heavy night
pressed like a low ceiling on Musa Dagh.

 

 

As their whisperings grew wilder and more pointless, Ter Haigasun assailed
Gabriel sharply: "We've only one night, Bagradian Effendi. Oughtn't we to
use these eight hours?"

 

 

Gabriel had stretched himself out full length, his arms under his head,
and was staring up at the dark above. He could scarcely defend himself
against sleep. Everything sank away. Meaningless words came splashing
round his ears. At this instant he had not even the energy to answer the
priest. To himself he mumbled something incomprehensible. It was then
he felt the little, ice-cold hand touching his face. It was too dark to
recognize Iskuhi. After long straying about from post to post, she had
found him at last. Now she sat down, as though it were the most natural
thing for her, at his side, in the circle of the leaders. She did not
seem even ashamed before her brother. This was their last and only night.

 

 

Iskuhi's cool hand roused and quickened Gabriel like fresh water. His torpor
began to melt away, his mind to germinate. He sat up and took her hand,
not heeding whether anyone saw his tenderness in the dark. Iskuhi's hand
seemed to lead him back to himself through the stubborn confusion of his
fatigue. His muscles became taut. That physical well-being filled him
which a thirsty man feels who has drunk his fill. Suddenly the Council
held its breath. Voices came nearer. They all sprang up. Turks? Some
lanterns swung into view. It was a komitaji detachment returning to
camp. It wanted its orders for tomorrow. The komitajis reported that only
one of their number had been killed, and two taken prisoners by the Turks,
and that they had kept their positions as before. At the same time they
announced that the Turkish companies were vacating most of the sectors
on the height, to collect again in the ilex gully. Communication between
the captured trenches and the command was being maintained by chains of
patrols. Their intentions were clear as daylight.

 

 

"We'll use tonight, Ter Haigasun!"

 

 

Gabriel said it so loud that the crowd could hear him. Simultaneously the
other leaders seemed to have conquered their paralysis. The same thought
flashed through all their minds before Bagradian said a word. Only a
strong surprise attack on the Turkish camp could avert disaster. But
for such an attack the exhausted fighters of this day of blood had no
strength left in them. The whole people, women and children, must in
some way or other take part and give it the added physical weight of
thousands. Now they were all talking at once. Every mukhtar and teacher
had his suggestions, till Gabriel sharply commanded silence. They must
not discuss this question aloud. It was not impossible that Turkish spies
had slipped into camp. Gabriel sent Chaush the Lion back to his sector
to pick a hundred and fifty fighters, out of the twenty decads by which
it was manned, who had suffered comparatively little. He was to bring
them quietly. Those left behind could and must suffice to hold their
particular trenches and rock barricades against a counterattack. The
South Bastion and the sectors on the edge of the mountain, twenty decads
in all, were to furnish the same, and did in fact, in the course of the
next few hours, silently assemble on the altar square. With his komitajis
and mobile guard Bagradian rallied a force of over five hundred. All
these movements took a long time, since they had to be done in absolute
quiet, and no commands, but only the most necessary directions, briefly
whispered, could be given. It was very hard, in the thick darkness,
to classify. Only his knowledge of each individual among them enabled
Bagradian to divide into two groups these wearily torpid men. The first,
the larger, was put in charge of the captain of the komitajis. When they
had eaten a few rations and received their supply of cartridges -- which
again in the dark proved very difficult and laborious -- they were moved
some way towards the south, to creep down by remote tracks, noiseless
as shadows, with endless precautions, through woods and thickets, across
clearings and open spaces, nearer and nearer the Turkish camp. They had
more to help them than their own instinctive knowledge of the ground;
they had the campfires of the companies, which the yüs-bashi had allowed
to be lit on the edge of the ilex gully. These fires were built up on
barren or rocky places, since otherwise, though the great gully itself
was heavy with damp, the dryness of the undergrowth beyond might easily
have caused a heath fire. But, in spite of these campfires, komitaji
leaders managed to surround the whole elliptical valley. Armenians
sat motionless in the trees; they lay hidden behind the thick arbutus
bushes; here and there they curled themselves, without proper cover,
round knotted roots. With never-shifting eyes they watched the camp,
which gradually quietened into silence. They kept their rifles trained,
although it must still be more than an hour before sudden firing up on
the mountain gave them the signal.

 

 

Bagradian had ordered Chaush Nurhan to lead the attack against the captured
sector with the other group of a hundred and fifty rifles. Nurhan advanced
his men from behind stone barricades, towards the chief trench, with its
flank supports. More than the dark -- a soughing beneficent wind muffled
this crouching, rustling movement so perfectly that the Armenians managed
to get some little way past the trenches, on either side, and so have them
surrounded. One thing was especially in their favor. The Turkish trench
garrison, one of the strong companies left behind, had stupidly lit
a couple of acetylene lamps, which sharply lit up the soldiers' heads
and plunged all else in densest obscurity. Here, too, endlessly calm
and set on their object, the Armenians sighted the garishly outlined
targets. It was as though nobody breathed. Not a limb stirred. Every
life seemed buried in the shaftless coal mine of this night.

 

 

The Kaimakam and the major were standing together at the place where,
between ruined walls, the track first leaves the lower slope, to continue
upwards through the wide conduit of the ilex gully. They were on the
lower edge of the camp. Some men with lanterns and torches stood in a
group to light them.

 

 

The yüs-bashi glanced at his ultra-modern wristwatch, with its luminous
face. "Plenty of time. I'm going to have them waked an hour before sunrise.

 

 

The Kaimakam seemed concerned for the major's physical well-being.
"Hadn't you better sleep in your quarters, Yüs-Bashi? You've a heavy day
behind you. Bed will be good for you."

 

 

"No! No! I don't want any sleep."