Our family lived in the village of Tandzot, in the region of Ardvin. My father was a tanner. He was a handsome and broad-shouldered man. My grandpa was rich and he had married his beautiful daughter to my father.
I haven't seen the 1914 events. But they have told me that the Turks had come to Olti, had tied the Armenian men and taken them to the rivulet near Tandzot and had shot them all. At that time if the Russian army hadn't retreated, we wouldn't migrate. We were taken to Ardahan in carts. We were in the front, and the Russian army was behind us. The Russian army left us in Ardahan and went away. We were put up in the Russian military barracks.
In 1918, at night, the Turks came at night, by the Ardahan Bridge, armed with axes and scythes. We were hiding in the barracks. They searched and dragged out two men hiding under the mattresses and killed them on the spot. They hanged our Armenian fedayis and at night they poured kerosene on them and burned them to light the surrounding. I can't forget that horrible scene. It was in 1918; we had remained in the barracks as prisoners, when the Turks came and surrounded our building; they poured kerosene around the building and burn it in order to kill us in the smoke. Only women and children were left in the building. They had already kidnapped the teen-age girls.
At that time the Russians had taken the prisoner in Akhalkalak the Turk khans and beys with their families. They said to the Turks: "If you touch the Armenians in the barracks, we'll kill these high ranked Turks together with their families." Thus, we were set free by miracle. I, my mother, grandmother and my younger brother were saved. But my two brothers, father, grandfather, my uncle and many others, about 240 people, were killed.
The Turks drove us to Akhalkalak, those who fell behind were killed. Mother had left her wedding clothes and jewels in Olti, at her father's house with the intention of taking them on her way back. Mother had made a cushion and had put in it her wedding clothes. The cushion was in my grandma's hand. The Turk officer came up and struck grandma on the back with his bayonet. It tore the cushion. The Turks saw the nice clothes; they seized them and took away. We were left without the cushion.
On the way the cholera epidemic started, of which grandma and brother died. We were hungry and thirsty, but there was nothing to eat and no water to drink. I remember that I saw a raw potato in the field, I ran and brought it, and we ate it: I, mother, grandma and my little brother. The Turks brought us to the Kura River. The bridge on the river was swinging. We were thousands, but the Turk prisoners were few. They wanted to exchange us, and there was some confusion. They began to fire from both sides and we had a narrow escape and got free. We came to Akhalkalak, in Djavakhk. The Armenians received us very well. They gave us a bath, they fed us, dressed us and gave us rooms to live in.
All these cruelties I've seen with my own eyes. They brought me to the Surami Orphanage, which had been a school before, but they had converted it into a Children's House. The Armenian Relief Committee had organized it, which became a salvation for numerous refugee children like me.
When we say Turk, we understand an executioner, a killer. They massacred us. Their goal was to organize the Armenian Genocide, so that no Armenian survived on earth. The Turks and the Kurds slaughtered all the members of our family.
Then my mother came and found me at the Children's House. We wanted to go to Batoumi, but there had been Armenian-Georgian clashes in 1920. We came to Zangibassar (now: Massis). In those days most of the inhabitants of Yerevan were Turks, but the Armenians were greater in number in Leninakan (now: Gyumri). I married in Yerevan and I started to study.
When I graduated from the Polytechnical Institute I was already a lieutenant. When the war broke out I was in Tiflis. I came to Yerevan. Mother met me with a smile on her face, but tears in her eyes: "God bless you, you have a son, but you must go to war." I went to the maternity hospital and sent my wife a bouquet of flowers and I went to join the army. I became a platoon commander. There were many Turks in the army, but we were on friendly terms with them. I have fought in the Caucasus and Crimea; I remained miraculously alive in Kerch. But Fascists were not like Turks; they did not touch the inhabitants of the places they occupied; they did not disturb women and children. Turks were different.

Copyright © 2004 V.Svazlian. All Rights Reserved.

The village of Tandzot, Ardvin region, my birthplace, was a beautiful orchard. It had its name for the 13 kinds of pear growing there. The Jorokh River divided the village into two parts: the Armenians lived on one side and the Turks on the other, where there was a tall mosque. The two sides were joined with a small bridge. The Armenians and the Turks lived in harmony until 1914.
In 1914, when we heard that the Turks would attack the Armenians, father got ready to take our whole family to Tiflis, where his sister lived. But the Turks had closed the road and they didn't let us go forward. We were compelled to come back. Then the Turks of Tandzot came and collected all kinds of weapon from the Armenians, even the bread knives. Then they gathered the men, filled them in the church and at night they killed them all. Father had been able to escape away from there and reach my aunt's house. A kind Turk woman, who had seen my father, had later said to my aunt: "Your handsome brother-in-law came by night, went round your house and then entered the forest."
Father had encountered there a group of Turks and an Armenian traitor, who had killed father. In the morning when we heard that all the men had been killed, everybody was filled with despair. Mother, who was the daughter of the well-known Grigor agha and Shoushan khanoum, decided to put an end to her and our lives. She had arsenic with her; she gave it to a few girls of the village; she drank it and made me and my sister Anoush drink it - I was four years old, but she didn't give it to my brother who was ten months old.
The house of my mother's brother was on the bank of the Jorokh River. All of us had taken poison. There, on the river bank, a few women were crying and moaning that the Turks would kill them as well. Mother, in despair, and having already taken the poison, threw herself into the river. People came and took mother's corpse out of the water. My aunt Anoush also died, she had also drunk the poison. I was small. They made me drink pickle water and gave me an apple to eat. My sister Anoush didn't die, too, but, as the effect of the poison, her feet were swollen. They gave her also pickle water to drink. I, Anoush and our ten-month old brother remained orphans.
At that time Vardan Mazmanian, who was the director of the Tandzot School and mother's cousin, had been hiding in my uncle's cellar. He heard how the Turks came and began talking that in the morning they would come and kidnap the young women and the girls and kill the rest. Vardan heard all that from his hiding place. After they left, he came to my uncle's house. They hid Vardan near my mother's and aunt's corpses, which were covered with a bed sheet. They covered them with a sheet leaving open the two women's faces only. At that moment the Turks came and searched the house: they were looking for Vardan. They looked at the two dead women, spat on them with disgust and left.
Vardan's neighbor, the kind Turkish woman, brought a few of her clothes and said: "Let Vardan put on these clothes, so that I may take him to the Jorokh River as a Turkish woman."
It was already December. Tandzot was surrounded with forests. Uncle Vardan disguised as a Turkish woman, accompanied the neighbor woman to the Jorokh River.
Uncle Vardan reached with great difficulties Ardahan, where the Russian army had settled. He crossed his face, spoke in Russian and told the Russians that he was not a Turkish woman; he wore women's clothes in order to be able to come and tell them that the Turks intended to slaughter the Armenians and it was necessary to reach Tandzot without delay to help them. The Russians listened to him and agreed to go and help the people. Vardan knew the road: he walked by night, and the Russian soldiers followed him. The Russian soldiers reached Tandzot before the Turks could realize their hellish plan.
Gun-shots were heard, accompanied by the ringing of the Armenian Church bells. When my sister Anoush heard the ringing of the bells, she told me to kneel and cross my face. She took out the hands of my 10 month-old brother from his swaddling clothes and crossed his face; she thanked God for helping the poor people of Tandzot.
When the Turks saw the Russian army, they ran away to save their skin. The Russians came and began to help the Armenians. They said: "We're leaving in 24 hours. Get ready if you want to come with us." Learning that we were orphans, the Russian soldiers put all three of us: me, my sister Anoush and our baby brother and on a sledge and covered us with a military coat to keep us warm. They fed us on their own ration and brought us to the military barracks in Akhalkalak.
The local photographer Yortanian Tatos, who was a very kind man, came to the barracks and seeing us, three orphans, wished to adopt us. But our grandma gave him only our ten-month-old brother and kept us near her.
After staying a year in Akhalkalak, we went back to Tandzot, when the Russians occupied our lands again. The mulberry had ripened. Tandzot had become a paradise. The Tandzot mulberry was exclusively tasty indeed.
It was already 1917. Vardan got information that the Turks would come again. He gathered the people again and we set off. When we came out of Tandzot, we passed through Armenians villages, which were burned to ashes: old women and children lay on the ground, killed; dogs and cats were feeding on them. Those horrible scenes I could never forget through all my life.
Passing through burnt villages and slaughtered corpses, we finally reached hungry and thirsty an Assyrian village, where the inhabitants received us very well. The following day, under the guidance of Vardan, we all reached Ardahan and from there to Akhalkalak. Half of the inhabitants of Tandzot remained there and where taken prisoner when the Turks returned again.
At that time many Turks of Akhalkalak fell prisoners into the hands of the Russian army. They decided to exchange prisoners. Thus, many people were saved. During this second migration, my kind grandma, didn't want to come with us: she had grown very old; she remained in Tandzot. We heard later that the Turks had come and burned our house and had hanged my poor grandma from the tree.
I have written a poem about it:

I went all over the world,
I couldn't find my granny's tomb.
How could I find it anywhere?
When the Turks had hanged her from the tree.

I found my mother's burial mound,
I shed bitter tears on it,
And from those tears of mine
The stony mound turned green.

I looked for my father's greave,
But where could I find it?
When the ruthless Turks
Had torn him to pieces.

On the way to Akhalkalak, we had a rest in the Bakourian Forest. But we were exhausted; all of us were hungry and thirsty. And the miracle took place: the Armenian Benevolent Union came and gathered all the orphans like us and took us to the Surami Church, which was converted into a Children's Home. At that time the cholera epidemic had started. Then the Americans came and the Near East Relief Committee took us under its care. They supported us very well: they gave us food, clothes, education; they transformed us into human beings. Besides our lessons in Armenian, Russian and English, I've learned there to play the violin, to dance ballet and to understand art, which later made me almost a person of arts. Look at these tree trunks and roots. I've gathered them with my own hands, I've shaped them. I've given them an artistic form. Each of them looks like a statue: the creation of nature...
More than 80 years have passed, but I cannot forget up to this day my prematurely dead beloved father, mother, uncle, grandmother, our neighbors and all my relatives who were brutally killed, and we were left lonely and helpless. During all my life I have always remembered those appalling scenes, which I have seen with my own eyes and I have no rest ever since. I have shed so much tears. I should say also that not all the Turks were bad; there were nice people among them, too. That was the work organized by the Young Turks, otherwise, the people were good and we were constantly in good relations with the Turks. There were good people among them, too; that is also a fact.

Copyright © 2004 V.Svazlian. All Rights Reserved.

Несколько комментариев. У меня вызвали удивление несколько мест. Во-первых, о том, что в Ереване "большинство жителей были турки". Во-вторых, о том, что "в армии было много турок". В-третьих, рассуждение о фашистах и о турках.

Я пошла по миру,
Я не смогла найти могилы моей бабушки.
Могу ли я найти ее где-нибудь?
Ведь турки повесили ее на дереве.

Я нашла могилу моей матери,
Я пролила горькие слезы по ней,
И от тех слез моих
Каменистая насыпь зазеленела.

Я ищу гроб моего отца,
Но где его найти?
Когда безжалостные турки
Разорвали его на части.

По пути в Ахалкалаки мы встали на привал в Бакурианском лесу. Но мы были истощены, все мы были голодны и испытывали жажду. И произошло чудо: люди из армянского благотворительного союза пришли и собрали всех таких сирот, как мы, и взяли нас в церковь Сурами, которая была преобразована в дом ребенка. В то время началась эпидемия холеры. Потом пришли американцы и Комитет помощи Ближнему Востоку принял на себя заботу о нас. Они очень хорошо заботились о нас: дали нам пищу, одежду, образование, они превратили нас в нормальных людей. Кроме того, нас учили армянскому, русскому и английскому языкам, я научилась играть на скрипке, танцевать балет и понимать искусство, которое позже почти превратило меня в человека искусства. Посмотрите на эти стволы и корни. Я сделала их собственными руками, я придала им форму. Я придала им художественную форму. Каждый из них выглядит как изваяние: творение природы ...
Более 80 лет прошло, но я не могу забыть до сих пор моих безвременно ушедших любимых отца, мать, дядю, бабушку, наших соседей, и всех моих родственников, которые были жестоко убиты, и мы остались одинокими и беспомощными. Всю мою жизнь я помнила эти ужасные сцены, которые я видела своими собственными глазами, и я с тех пор не могу успокоится. Я пролила столько слез. Я должна также сказать, что не все турки плохие, там были хорошие люди среди них тоже. Это было организовано младотурками, но многие турки – хорошие люди, и мы все время были в хороших отношениях с турками. Были хорошие люди и среди них тоже, это тоже факт.
Copyright © 2004 В. Свазлян.