The horror that the world wants to forget
The Daily Telegraph
It was an evil so monstrous that it defied belief Marcus Warren, in Yerevan, finds that Armenians are still suffering the pain of what the Turks did to them in 1915.
HER ghastly wounds saved the five-year-old's life. When one of the Turkish soldiers, picking through the pile of corpses,
saw the blood gushing from her head, he assumed that the girl would not survive.
Instead of finishing her off with his sword, the Turk left her alone. But he issued a terrible order to the little Armenian as he did so. "Die," she remembers him telling her. "But I didn't, I lived," says Rehan Manukyan, now 90 and still bearing
the scars of her ordeal. "And I have three children and 10 grandchildren."
She can recall little else of the slaughter that day in 1915. But judging by the mutilations to her face and hand, she as-sumes that the soldiers used cold steel, rather than bullets, to murder the women and children she was with. Her mother hugged her tight to her body as the killing started. That, the soldier's brutal command and the loneliness of being the sole survivor are the only memories she has of the massacre. While her face, the tip of its nose sliced off, and her right hand, missing half of its thumb and ring finger, are testimony to the soldiers' cruelty, Mrs Manukyan is a living witness to the first genocide of the modern era.
There are not many left, perhaps 20,000, and many of those would have been too small to remember how their families were forced from their homes and slaughtered on the spot or sent on death marches into the desert. Their experiences are a common bond and the memories and outrage at modern Turkey's denials of the numbers killed - and western govern-ments' collusion in the lies - live on in their children and grandchildren. "It was planned, 100 per cent planned," said Ma-sis Kojoyan, also 90, one of three survivors of a family of 23. Of his memories, two stand out. In one, a Turkish soldier lines up two little boys to kill them. The other is of his cousin trying to escape by diving into a river but holding her child's head above the water as if to save him.
As a five-year-old in the Turkish town of Malatya, Vergine Najarian watched babies being thrown into pits and being set on fire. In her flat in Yerevan, Armenia's capital, she asked: "How can we forget those terrible times? The memories are always flooding back and visiting me. And my children and their children will never forget what happened either."
At the genocide monument overlooking the city - a stele soaring into the sky next to an eternal flame in a pit surrounded by stone slabs - the 1.5 million massacred from 1915 onwards are not the only ones remembered. One plaque is dedicated to Viscount Bryce, the statesman and author of The Blue Book, a collection of evidence of the slaughter published in 1916.
An urn containing earth from his grave in Edinburgh is set into the stone. There is no space set aside at the complex for those who deny genocide. If there were, perhaps a place should be reserved for another peer, Baroness Williams of Crosby, the former Labour politician and SDP founder.
In Thursday's House of Lords debate on the place of the 1915 events in today's Holocaust Memorial Day in Britain she advocated drawing "a distinction between the horrors of history. No one alive remembers the Armenian massacre," she said.
Lavrenti Barseghian, head of Yerevan's genocide museum, said: "I feel that the UK Government is defending the Turks." The photographs on display at the museum, taken by German officers and smuggled out of Ottoman Turkey, anticipate
the images of mass killings and tragedy from later in the last century.
Piles of Armenian skulls are reminiscent of the exhibitions of Khmer Rouge terror in Cambodia. Lines of Armenians on the move through Turkey under armed guard look similar to scenes in the Balkans in the Nineties. Nearly 90 years on, the
legacy of the genocide in Armenia poisons relations between Ankara and Yerevan still. Their two states have no diplo-matic relations.
Mrs Manukyan spent 13 years in an American orphanage in what became Soviet Armenia but remembers no English, ex-cept for one nursery rhyme. Her flat suddenly echoes to her party piece, a rendition of Little Jack Horner. She changes the last line, though. "What a poor good girl am I," she sings, pointing to herself.
The Daily Telegraph
It was an evil so monstrous that it defied belief Marcus Warren, in Yerevan, finds that Armenians are still suffering the pain of what the Turks did to them in 1915.
HER ghastly wounds saved the five-year-old's life. When one of the Turkish soldiers, picking through the pile of corpses,
saw the blood gushing from her head, he assumed that the girl would not survive.
Instead of finishing her off with his sword, the Turk left her alone. But he issued a terrible order to the little Armenian as he did so. "Die," she remembers him telling her. "But I didn't, I lived," says Rehan Manukyan, now 90 and still bearing
the scars of her ordeal. "And I have three children and 10 grandchildren."
She can recall little else of the slaughter that day in 1915. But judging by the mutilations to her face and hand, she as-sumes that the soldiers used cold steel, rather than bullets, to murder the women and children she was with. Her mother hugged her tight to her body as the killing started. That, the soldier's brutal command and the loneliness of being the sole survivor are the only memories she has of the massacre. While her face, the tip of its nose sliced off, and her right hand, missing half of its thumb and ring finger, are testimony to the soldiers' cruelty, Mrs Manukyan is a living witness to the first genocide of the modern era.
There are not many left, perhaps 20,000, and many of those would have been too small to remember how their families were forced from their homes and slaughtered on the spot or sent on death marches into the desert. Their experiences are a common bond and the memories and outrage at modern Turkey's denials of the numbers killed - and western govern-ments' collusion in the lies - live on in their children and grandchildren. "It was planned, 100 per cent planned," said Ma-sis Kojoyan, also 90, one of three survivors of a family of 23. Of his memories, two stand out. In one, a Turkish soldier lines up two little boys to kill them. The other is of his cousin trying to escape by diving into a river but holding her child's head above the water as if to save him.
As a five-year-old in the Turkish town of Malatya, Vergine Najarian watched babies being thrown into pits and being set on fire. In her flat in Yerevan, Armenia's capital, she asked: "How can we forget those terrible times? The memories are always flooding back and visiting me. And my children and their children will never forget what happened either."
At the genocide monument overlooking the city - a stele soaring into the sky next to an eternal flame in a pit surrounded by stone slabs - the 1.5 million massacred from 1915 onwards are not the only ones remembered. One plaque is dedicated to Viscount Bryce, the statesman and author of The Blue Book, a collection of evidence of the slaughter published in 1916.
An urn containing earth from his grave in Edinburgh is set into the stone. There is no space set aside at the complex for those who deny genocide. If there were, perhaps a place should be reserved for another peer, Baroness Williams of Crosby, the former Labour politician and SDP founder.
In Thursday's House of Lords debate on the place of the 1915 events in today's Holocaust Memorial Day in Britain she advocated drawing "a distinction between the horrors of history. No one alive remembers the Armenian massacre," she said.
Lavrenti Barseghian, head of Yerevan's genocide museum, said: "I feel that the UK Government is defending the Turks." The photographs on display at the museum, taken by German officers and smuggled out of Ottoman Turkey, anticipate
the images of mass killings and tragedy from later in the last century.
Piles of Armenian skulls are reminiscent of the exhibitions of Khmer Rouge terror in Cambodia. Lines of Armenians on the move through Turkey under armed guard look similar to scenes in the Balkans in the Nineties. Nearly 90 years on, the
legacy of the genocide in Armenia poisons relations between Ankara and Yerevan still. Their two states have no diplo-matic relations.
Mrs Manukyan spent 13 years in an American orphanage in what became Soviet Armenia but remembers no English, ex-cept for one nursery rhyme. Her flat suddenly echoes to her party piece, a rendition of Little Jack Horner. She changes the last line, though. "What a poor good girl am I," she sings, pointing to herself.
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