08 Apr Dickran Der Ghazarian
I remember it was early April, 1915, when all the men in Kharpert went to work, but never returned. My father was among them and we heard he was taken to a jail in Mezre. My sister went to see him....
I remember it was early April, 1915, when all the men in Kharpert went to work, but never returned. My father was among them and we heard he was taken to a jail in Mezre. My sister went to see him....
My father had an acquaintance by the name of Mahmed Effendi: a well-off Turk who owned a textile family and was rumored to have kept a 100 Armenian family under his protection during the Genocide, working in his factory....
By early spring of 1915, he and his father had gone to the vineyard to cultivate the vines for the following year, when abruptly a villager ran by to warn his father not to return to his house....
In 1915, I remember the Turkish police entering our house and searching for revolutionary books because they suspected my father of being a revolutionary. They found no books, but took my father anyway. ...
I was too little to remember anything. I don’t remember anything from those years. My mother was a teacher and my father worked in a rice factory. When the Genocide began, they fled into hills to become fedayeen to fight the Turks. ...
During the defense of Aintab, I was a kid. We tried to help as much as we could. The French were in Cilicia then, as you well know, and they alongside the Armenian volunteers were fighting Ataturk’s army....
They first took us to the first train station outside Aintab. On the Baghdad railway. A train station in the middle of nowhere. We set-up our tents and camped. Already that first night Turkish bandits attacked our tents. ...
There was a girl, a girl whom I had befriended on the road earlier. Her name was Satenig. I remember her very well. She was not too strong. I saw her again in that basement. ...
I do not remember how many days our decimated caravan marched southward toward the Euphrates River. Day by day the male contingent of the caravan got smaller and smaller. ...
When the massacres began, I was 12 years old. I remember, they first took all the men of our village and killed them. The rest of us were deported. I don’t know how many hundreds we were. ...