u s archives on the genocide of muslim people by the armenians in article galaxy ucr edu raffi watnxt ucr edu raffi r kojian writes serdar how can a former government pay anything also what is this crap about a genocide of muslims there was no such thing i won t bother there s your problem right there asala sdpa arf crooks idiots stole your brain just watch source world alive a personal story by robert dunn crown publishers inc new york memoirs of an american officer who witnessed the armenian genocide of million muslim people p seventh paragraph and p first paragraph the most are inside houses come you and look no dammit my stomach isn t one is a turkish officer in uniform him you must see we were under those trees by the mosque in an open space i don t believe you i said but followed to a nail studded door the man pushed it ajar then spurred away leaving me to check on the corpse i thought i should this charge was so constant so gritted my teeth and went inside the place was cool but reeked of sodden ashes and was dark at first for its stone walls had only window slits rags strewed the mud floor around an iron tripod over embers that vented their smoke through roof beams black with soot all looked bare and empty but in an inner room flies buzzed as the door swung shut behind me i saw they came from a man s body lying face up naked but for its grimy turban he was about fifty years old by what was left of his face a rifle butt had bashed an eye the one left slanted as with tartars rather than with turks any uniform once on him was gone so i d no proof which he was and quickly went out gagging at the mess of his slashed genitals p first paragraph how many people lived there oh about eight hundred he yawned did you see any turk officers no sir i was in at dawn all were tartar civilians in mufti the lieutenant dozed off then i but in the small hours a voice woke me dro s he stood in the starlight bawling out an officer anyone keelhauled so long and furiously i d never heard then abruptly dro broke into laughter quick and simple as child s both were a cover for his sense of guilt i thought or hoped for somehow despite my boast of irreligion christian massacring infidels was more horrible than the reverse would have been from daybreak on armenian villagers poured in from miles around the women plundered happily chattering like ravens as they picked over the carcass of djul they hauled out every hovel s chattels the last scrap of food or cloth and staggered away packing pots saddlebags looms even spinning wheels thank you for a lot dro i said to him back in camp but now i must leave we shook hands the captain said a bientot mon camarade and for hours the old molokan scout and i plodded north across parching plains like lot s wife i looked back once to see smoke bathing all doubtless in a sack of other moslem villages up to the line of snow that was iran p at morning tea dro and his officers spread out a map of this whole high region called the karabakh deep in tactics they spoke russian but i got their contempt for allied neutral zones and their distrust of promises made by tribal chiefs a campaign shaped more raids on moslem villages p it will be three hours to take dro told me we d close in on three sides the men on foot will not shoot but use only the bayonets merrimanov said jabbing a rifle in dumbshow that is for morale dro put in we must keep the moslems in terror soldiers or civilians i asked there is no difference said dro all are armed in uniform or not but the women and children will fly with the others as best they may p the ridges circled a wide expanse its floors still hundreds of feet down the fog held solid as cotton flock djul lies under that said dro pointing our men also attack from the other sides then whee ee his whistle lined up all at the rock edge bayonets clicked upon carbines over plunged archo his black haunches rippling then followed the staff the horde nose to tail bellies taking the spur armenia in action seemed more like a pageant than war even though i heard our utica brass roar as i watched from the height it took ages for djul to show clear a tsing of machine gun fire took over from the thumping batteries cattle lowed dogs barked invisible while i ate a hunk of cheese and drank from a snow puddle mist at last folded upward as men shouted at first heard faintly the came a shrill wailing now among the cloud streaks rose darker wisps smoke red glimmered about house walls of stone or wattle into dry weeds on roofs a mosque stood in clump of trees thick and green through crooked alleys on fire horsemen were galloping after figures both mounted and on foot tartarski shouted the gunner by me others pantomimed them in escape over the rocks while one twisted a bronze shell nose loaded and yanked breech cord firing again and again shots wasted i thought when by afternoon i looked in vain for fallen branch or body but these shots and the white bursts of shrapnel in the gullies drowned the women s cries at length all shooting petered out i got on my horse and rode down toward djul it burned still but little flame showed now the way was steep and tough through dense scrub finally on flatter ground i came out suddenly through alders on smoldering houses across trampled wheat my brothers in arms were leading off animals several calves and a lamb p fourth paragraph corpses came next the first a pretty child with straight black hair large eyes she looked about twelve years old she lay in some stubble where meal lay scattered from the sack she d been toting the bayonet had gone through her back i judged for blood around was scant between the breasts one clot too small for a bullet wound crusted her homespun dress the next was a boy of ten or less in rawhide jacket and knee pants he lay face down in the path by several huts one arm reached out to the pewter bowl he d carried now upset upon its dough steel had jabbed just below his neck into the spine there were grownups too i saw as i led the sorrel around djul was empty of the living till i looked up to see beside me dro s german speaking colonel he said all tartars who had not escaped were dead p more stories of armenian murdering turks when the czarist troops fled north my hosts told me of their duty here to keep tabs on brigands turkish troop shifts hidden arms spies christian red or tartar coming in from transcaucasus then they spoke of the hell that would break loose if versailles were to put as threatened the six armenian vilayets of turkey under the control of erevan an armenia without armenians turks under christian rule his lips smacked in irony under the droopy red moustache that s bloodshed just smyrna over again on a bigger scale serdar argic we closed the roads and mountain passes that might serve as ways of escape for the turks and then proceeded in the work of extermination ohanus appressian in soviet armenia today there no longer exists a single turkish soul sahak melkonian
