CONSTANTINOPLE
I Leave Sofia—A Valuable Document—The Change in Adrianople—The Bulgars in Possession—The Turk Determined to Fight—I Adopt the Fez—War Pressure—The Fate of Enemy Subjects—A Way They Have in Turkey—The Financial Situation—Enver Goes to Berlin—A Turkish Girl Clerk—A Quick Change—A City of Darkness.
I Leave Sofia—A Valuable Document—The Change in Adrianople—The Bulgars in Possession—The Turk Determined to Fight—I Adopt the Fez—War Pressure—The Fate of Enemy Subjects—A Way They Have in Turkey—The Financial Situation—Enver Goes to Berlin—A Turkish Girl Clerk—A Quick Change—A City of Darkness.
I stayed only a few days in Sofia, and soon continued my journey to Constantinople. The train left about two in the morning, but as we were told on the afternoon previous that the train would leave at 11 p.m. that night, we, my fellow passengers and I, were all there at the railway station at 10 o’clock, and had to wait four hours in a nasty, dirty-looking waiting room, filled with German soldiers and Bulgarian soldiers and officers. It was uncomfortably warm in the room. Most of the Germans were playing cards, and I was longing to get out into the fresh air, but no one was allowed on to the platform.
Mylaissez passerfrom the Bulgarian Minister at Vienna again proved invaluable, and I found out to my great satisfaction that this paper would serve me in many ways. As soon as I showed it to the Bulgarian Commandant I was allowed on the platform. There I found myself, the special correspondent of an English newspaper, allowed more privileges than even German civil travellers—a thing that made me smile. Most of the German soldiers were on the way to Constantinople and Asia Minor, and some of them told me that they had not seen their homes since the beginning of the war. They were not complaining, however, as they seemed to be convinced that the victory would be theirs. They were well-clothed, and looked well-fed also, and I did not notice any old Landsturm men. We in this country are too often inclined to believe that the German man supply is exhausted. The men they send to the Balkans, however, have by no means the appearance of being the last of the bunch; in fact, no onecould wish for better soldiers, every one of them being of excellent physique.
When I eventually left Sofia I was faced with a journey of twenty-four hours, once more with carriage windows painted white; but this time I had the good fortune to secure sleeping-car accommodation, and I promptly turned in; there was nothing else to do. We were four in a sleeping-car compartment. The man opposite to me was a German merchant on his way to Asia Minor to buy wool, which, as is well known, is one of the great products of Turkey. He seemed very tired, and did not respond at all well to my efforts to engage him in conversation. Soon he was snoring with such earnestness that I had considerable difficulty in getting to sleep myself.
The next morning we arrived at Adrianople. What a change from the Adrianople I had seen eight months before! There were no Turkish soldiers, no Turkish flags, no Turkish lettering at the station. Bulgarian soldiers were guarding the line, Bulgarian flags were flying from the railway station,and Bulgarian letters indicated the name of the place.
During the last few years the Holy City of the Turks has experienced many vicissitudes. In the first Balkan War it was captured by the Bulgars, aided by the Serbs. When difficulties arose between the various members of the Balkan League, owing to the treacherous conduct of Bulgaria, the Turks retook the town, but their reign was short, and now they have surrendered it once more to the Bulgars. There was not a single Turkish soldier to be seen at the railway station, and, to add to the irony of the situation, the Turks have almost completed a fine new railway station, which I suppose the Bulgars will presently take over, allowing a minimum sum as compensation.
As soon as my train drew up at Adrianople, German soldiers rushed into the different carriages to ask for German newspapers. While I was in Constantinople I found that the only paper printed inEnglish that was allowed to be sold wasThe Continental Times, a German propagandist journal with a very obvious purpose.
It should interest English readers to know that everywhere the Turks regard themselves as fighting for their very existence. Such being the case, the Allies must not deceive themselves as to the desperate character of the resistance which the Turks will continue to offer. All are convinced that war with the Allies was inevitable, for the reason that Constantinople had been promised to Russia. A Turkish deputy “friend” of mine was never tired of harping on this note.
At Lule Burgas there were further interrogations, and once more I had to go through the ordeal of cross-examination, but thanks to the personal letter I carried from the Turkish Ambassador in Vienna to Halil Bey, the Turkish Minister for Foreign Affairs, my difficulties were soon over. In fact, the officials were very polite, and wished me a good journey.
Not only has Adrianople become mergedin Bulgarian territory, but Lule Burgas, the station beyond, has also passed into the possession of the Bulgars. It was not until I was past Lule Burgas that I met the first Turkish soldiers.
The impression I got of Turkey in Europe was that of a poor and monotonous country; nowhere did I discover anyone cultivating the soil, and, with the exception of the miserable little villages that we passed, it was quite possible to imagine oneself in an uninhabited country.
It was one o’clock in the morning when I reached Stamboul, the Turkish part of Constantinople. I went direct to the Pera Palace Hotel, being conveyed in an old carriage, the only one I found available. Not a light of any description was to be seen, the town being in utter darkness. The Pera Palace Hotel is well known to many Englishmen as being the only good hotel in the place. It is now more than ever expensive, prices having been greatly increased. I could live cheaper at the Ritz Hotel in London than in the Pera Palace Hotel inConstantinople. After a few hours’ sleep, I set out upon an exploration of the city, which I knew from my previous visit. What a change!
My first precaution was to adopt the fez as a head covering. When in Rome do as Rome does, is an excellent maxim, more particularly so in war time. Over and over again I had noticed that some sort of uniform is the best means of facilitating travel in a country occupied by soldiery. In Constantinople the fez is almost an introduction. But of the changes I noticed: bad food, bread-tickets, or rather bread-books, the bread itself practically uneatable, the hotel swarming with German officers grumbling bitterly at the fare, and all talking bombastically of Egypt.
In Constantinople one realises the war pressure better than in any other of the great capitals in the war zone that I have visited. The dearth of the necessaries of life has become alarming. None the less the Germans who swarm the streets, the Government offices, and the railway trains seeto it that they themselves are well fed and well provided with every requisite. The more I saw of the German side of the war, the more I realised that the care and attention of the entire German people is being concentrated on the Army, that, while all the other Government offices in Constantinople were shabby, as they have always been, while electric light and gas light exist no longer, the German-controlled War Office had been entirely redecorated inside and out, and looks as spick and span as if it were in reality Prussian.
The defenceless subjects of the nations at present fighting the Turks who are still in Constantinople have to suffer many indignities. It is disheartening to describe. To my great satisfaction I found that nearly all the English colony had left before hostilities broke out, but many French and Belgians remained, also a number of Russians, who for some reason or other stayed behind. They are in a deplorable condition. Many of these people before the war belonged to the wealthy classes, but at presentthey are poor and dependent. One Belgian with whom I had become acquainted on my first visit, a very reliable and honest business man, told me many interesting things.
When war broke out he was living with his wife and three children on the Asia Minor coast, the other side of the Bosphorus, which must be considered a suburb of Constantinople. Nearly every business man has only his office in Constantinople, ninety per cent. of them living on the Asia Minor coast, which is far more healthy, clean, and agreeable. This Belgian possessed, besides the house in which he was living, four other houses, and a farm some 20 miles inland. He was the owner of a motor car, three carriages, two motor boats, and a number of cows and horses. The houses he owned were requisitioned by the Turkish Government for hospital purposes, and they used them for the worst cases, such as cholera, the Plague, and other dreadful diseases.
My Belgian friend was compelled to leavethe house in which he was living, and seek refuge in a hotel in Constantinople. His own house was stripped, everything being taken away; his beautiful collection of rifles, pistols, pictures and furniture was stolen by the soldiers. His horses, cows, and in fact everything he had was taken away, and not even a requisition-bond handed to him. The Turks even appropriated his balance at the bank.
In stripping a man of his possessions, the Turk shows a thoroughness that would make a German green with envy. The Belgian has become a poor man who can hardly find food for his children. If it were not for some subjects of neutral countries, who had known him before the war, he and his family would be actually starving. The American Ambassador, Mr. Morgenthau, to whom was entrusted the care of these people, does not seem to be able to render them much assistance. Not only the Belgian of whom I have just spoken, but many others, complained to me that whenever they went to the American Embassy when something had been stolenfrom them by the Turks, they were put off with the assurance that nothing could possibly be done for them.
In all probability the French and British warship commanders were unaware of the Turkish method of dealing with the question of compensating the Faithful whose property had been damaged by bombardment. Whenever a house belonging to a Turk had been demolished by the French or British shells the property of one of the subjects of the enemy countries then living in Turkey was confiscated, and the owner with his family sent to the interior of Asia Minor. All his belongings were handed over to the Turk whose property had suffered through the bombardment.
The financial situation in Turkey is of an alarming nature, I found to my great delight. I myself had never been a real enemy of the Turks. I considered them a simple, good-hearted race, and in many ways superior to the inhabitants of the surrounding countries. What I found out during my last visit has, however, entirely changed myopinion. In many desirable ways they can claim the honour of equalling their German masters, but in cruelty, barbarism, and utter unscrupulousness they now excel even the Germans. No! I am no longer a friend of the Turks. Especially am I no friend of their Government.
When eight months previously I was in Turkey, I was astonished at the amount of gold that was in circulation. I had always heard that Turkey was such a poor country, and I was greatly surprised, when I entered a bank for the purpose of changing Austrian bank-notes, to find that I could get as much gold in exchange as I wanted, and I was puzzled, especially as that gold looked suspiciously new. I afterwards found that it was part of the gold that Germany had lent, or given, to her Turkish friend to get her to participate in the war. Gold had also been given for the purpose of paying requisitions, which were many, for the Turks as a result of the Balkan War had exhausted nearly all their war material. I found out that many of those requisitions had,however, not been paid. In fact, of the new war requisitions not one had been paid, most of the gold having been peculated by the Turkish officials in high places. The result was a bitter quarrel with the Germans, which, however, had been kept secret.
For obvious reasons the Germans refused to send any more gold—they had none themselves. Some months ago Enver Pasha went to Berlin to try and settle the affair, and his mission seems to have been successful.
On this visit to Constantinople I found the financial situation was critical. All the gold had disappeared, and, what is even more significant, silver was hardly to be obtained either. This is due to the fact that the new Treasury bonds recently issued by the Turkish Government are refused in the interior of Turkey, which is where the farms are situated. The Anatolian farmers promptly refused to accept paper money in exchange for their products, and the Turkish merchants, in order to purchase the harvest, etc., were compelled to pay the farmers in silver money. The result is that there ishardly any silver left in Constantinople, but there is any amount of it circulating in the interior of Asia Minor.
The shortage of currency has paralysed the Turkish trade, and therefore the Government had to think of something. Just a few days before I left Constantinople I witnessed the appearance of the funniest paper money I have ever seen. Just imagine the situation. In Turkey, on £1 notes (the original value of a £1 note is about 17s. or 18s.), even at the Government offices or State Railways, one has to lose about ten per cent. in exchange. To meet the shortage of currency the Turks decided it would be legal to cut a £1 note in half, so when I took my meal one day in the Tokatlian Restaurant, in the Pera Street, I received my change in this new fashion. It was a very odd sight to see a man get his knife out of his pocket and cut the bank-note in half.
It has always been my desire to see a Turkish woman face to face, unveiled, of course. They seem so mysterious with their covered faces, and one imagines them muchnicer than they really are, on account of the mysterious way in which they go about. On my previous visit I had not succeeded in seeing one; this time I was more lucky. One day I entered the post-office in Stamboul, where no Europeans live, and went to the Poste Restante box to find if there were any letters for me. A young girl was answering my questions, and she was a pretty Oriental-looking creature. At first I took her for one of the innumerable Jewish or Grecian girls who are to be found in Constantinople. She spoke the French language very well, and after I had spoken for a few minutes I asked her if she were Grecian or Armenian. She answered me at once, “No, I am a Mussulman girl.” “What!” I exclaimed, “are you Turkish,realTurkish?” “Yes, I am,” she said, and then went on to tell me that during the last fortnight a few Mahommedan young girls had entered the Government service, and she told me that others were to follow. If all Turkish women are as charming as shewas, then a harem must be far more interesting than I thought it could be.
Several times I had noticed black Turkish troops passing me in the streets, men of the typical African negro type, and I could not understand from what part of Turkey they had come. I soon found out, however, that they were not Turks at all, but French native soldiers who had been taken prisoners during the Gallipoli campaign. These soldiers, being Mahommedans, were soon turned into Turkish soldiers. The Turks treated them well, put them into Turkish uniforms, and now they fight against the French!
Tall and well-dressed German soldiers were on duty everywhere. A lot has been written about old men, belonging to the Landsturm, and boys, being taken prisoners on the Western front, but the Germans are not sending this class of men to the Near East. Their army in Constantinople consists of really first-class troops. It has been stated by the Salonika correspondent ofThe Timesthat there are 50,000 troops inConstantinople. That number may have passed through the city. In my opinion, arrived at after careful calculation, the number of German soldiers actually in Constantinople may be put down at about 10,000.
When I was in Constantinople eight months previously there was comparative gaiety in the city. It is extraordinary to see the difference that has been made by the absence of electricity and gas. It has at once closed theatres, cafés, kinemas, and all other places of amusement. Nearly all the shops are closed. With the cutting off of the coal supply the whole life of the city has thus been destroyed. In London there is at least some light, but in Constantinople the only means of getting about at night is by the aid of electric torches, the very smallest of which cost me 8s.
The condition of affairs in the city approached famine; the electric tramway service, as far as the public is concerned, has practically come to a standstill. I took careful note of the prices of necessaries; sugar is 5s. a pound, coffee 6s. a pound, andcigarettes have been advanced by 40 per cent. Anyone who knows Turkey will understand what this means for a people that smokes practically all day long. Matches are 3d. a box. The stock of paraffin oil has been exhausted, likewise that of chocolate, and all cheese, save the horrible Turkish variety, is no longer procurable. Mutton has advanced 40 per cent. in price and beef is not to be had. The small Turkish eggs, which used to cost one farthing each eight months ago, are now twopence each. Soap is ridiculously expensive, but the Turk does not suffer much in consequence! There is very little rice, but fish, of course, is as plentiful as ever, thanks to the unique situation of Constantinople.
Despite all these difficulties and inconveniences, the German War-Machine seems to move with its customary precision. If the Turkish citizen goes short of food the German private soldier gets his full ration every day. This is as it should be, according to the German view.
I INTERVIEW ENVER PASHA
Germanising the Turkish War Office—Halil Bey—Wireless Disguised as a Circus—Enver Pasha Receives Me—The Turkish Napoleon—Something of a Dandy—“If the English Had Only Had the Courage”—“To Egypt!”—Turkey’s Debt to Great Britain—Affairs Before Manners—A German Tribute to British Troops—Their Designs in the Suez Canal—German War Plans—Where to Kill Germans—The Baghdad Expedition—German Officers in Mufti.
Germanising the Turkish War Office—Halil Bey—Wireless Disguised as a Circus—Enver Pasha Receives Me—The Turkish Napoleon—Something of a Dandy—“If the English Had Only Had the Courage”—“To Egypt!”—Turkey’s Debt to Great Britain—Affairs Before Manners—A German Tribute to British Troops—Their Designs in the Suez Canal—German War Plans—Where to Kill Germans—The Baghdad Expedition—German Officers in Mufti.
The principal object of my visit to Constantinople was to find out from the Turks what were the German plans. I determined to take the bull by the horns, and accordingly called at the Turkish Foreign office to see Halil Bey, the Foreign Minister. It must be remembered that I was in possession of a personal introduction to him from the Turkish Ambassador in Vienna. After four unsuccessful attempts, I succeeded in seeing him by reason of my credentials, which have enabled me to gather so much valuable information. The Foreign Office,like every other Government department, is infested with Germans. Halil Bey, who received me courteously, is a prosperous-looking Turk, who might be described as fat. He was frankly pro-German.
“What we Turks need,” he remarked, “is German business initiative. We do not possess it yet. Look what Germany did for Roumania; she has reorganised her and set her on her feet. Roumania is now rich and prosperous, and full of enterprise. The Germans are with us only for the duration of the war,” he added, “and they will help Turkey to become a wealthy nation. See what they are doing for us in Anatolia. There we have 200 German non-commissioned officers teaching the people modern farming.”
I decided that Halil Bey was an optimist, and a very poor student of history. Also an equally bad judge of German character.
My object in seeking out Halil Bey, however, was not so much to obtain his own opinions, as to get an introduction to EnverPasha. I pressed the Foreign Minister very hard.
“It is my desire,” I said, “to have a few words with the Napoleon of the Balkans.”
“That,” he replied, “is very difficult. Twenty or thirty Austrian and German journalists have been here, but the Minister of War has been so occupied that he has been unable to see any of them; but I will try,” he added, and taking up the telephone he called up the War Minister, and had some laughing conversation with him in Turkish, the nature of which I did not understand. So far as I was concerned, it was obviously satisfactory, and I was told to go to the War Office on the following morning, when Enver Pasha would grant me an audience.
The Turkish War Office stands on the top of a hill in the very heart of Stamboul, the native quarter of the city. It is a huge squat building surrounded by a railing some five yards high. The hill commands a magnificent view of Stamboul and the Sea of Marmora; but to a poor and over-tiredjournalist, unable to procure a carriage, who has for half-an-hour toiled laboriously up the hill to reach his goal, the glories of nature are somewhat discounted.
During my previous visit to Constantinople I had made the acquaintance of the War Office, then sadly dirty and neglected and typically Turkish in appearance. Now everything was so changed as to be scarcely recognisable. Inside and out it had been redecorated. It was obviously the intention of the Germans that, however neglected the other Turkish Government buildings might be, the War Office was to be a place that would impress itself upon the imagination.
Again I was struck by the number of German officers to be seen, albeit in Turkish uniforms for the most part. They were to be seen everywhere, and clearly the entire direction of affairs was in their hands.
On my arrival I was ushered into an anteroom, where I spent a few minutes in conversation with Enver’s Germanaide-de-camp.
As we sat chatting together I recalled anincident that occurred during my previous visit to the Turkish War Office in May, 1915. Through one of the windows I had noticed a huge mast belonging to the great wireless station of Osmanli.
“What do you think of it?” inquired a German lieutenant with whom I had been conversing. “With that wireless station we can communicate with Berlin.”
I doubted this at the time, but I have since discovered that the statement was quite correct. I inquired if it were the wireless from theGoeben, deliberately assuming innocence in order to stimulate the German to further disclosure.
“Oh, no,” was the reply, “ships do not carry masts of that size. This one came from Germany.”
“From Germany!” I exclaimed. “But surely Roumania would not allow to pass a wireless apparatus. That would be a violation of neutrality.”
The officer smiled, a German smile, a smile of superior knowledge. “Well,” he replied, “as a matter of fact it was notpassed as a wireless apparatus, but I will explain to you the little device that we used to get it there. We had to think out some plan, as we badly needed a strong apparatus, so we got it here as a circus!”
I laughed outright, but my companion did not appear to see anything funny in the incident. It seemed to strike him as clever rather than humorous—he was a typical German. Humour does not exist where the needs of the Fatherland are concerned.
Presently an electric bell rang, summoning theaide-de-camp, who conducted me into the War Minister’s presence. My first impression of Enver Pasha was that he was on very good terms with himself. He is a small man, standing perhaps some five feet five inches, with coal-black eyes, black moustache, and generally rather handsome features. He is about thirty-five years of age, but looks younger, and has obviously taken great care of himself. On his face was a pleased, contented expression that never for one moment left it. I could not say whether this was habitual or whether it was assumedfor my special benefit. He was well-dressed and well-groomed, with something of the dandy about him; low down on the left breast he wore the Iron Cross of the First Class. He spoke German perfectly, Halil speaks only French.
Enver smiled as he shook hands with me, not only at my fez, but at my card which was printed in Turkish characters. There was a merry twinkle in his eye, and he had an extremely easy manner. It is said that he models himself, not upon the Great War Lord but upon Napoleon, even to the extent of riding a white charger. The general impression in Constantinople was that he has no little conceit of himself. Never for one moment did he allow me to forget that he was graciously giving me some of his valuable time. His first act was to produce a big gold cigarette case, from which he invited me to take a cigarette, having first carefully selected one himself. He then leaned back comfortably in his arm-chair and awaited my questions.
To make him talk I asked whether it wastrue that Great Britain was prepared to make a separate peace with Turkey, and, if so, what would be the result of such overtures.
“It is too late,” he replied, smiling. “They may have had that design, and it might have succeeded; but we learn that the Entente”—or as he called them jocularly the mal-Entente—“Powers have designs to hand over Constantinople to Russia, and that compelled us to remain with the Central Powers.”
Referring to the Gallipoli campaign, he said: “If the English had only had the courage to rush more ships through the Dardanelles they would have got to Constantinople, but their delay enabled us thoroughly to fortify the Peninsula, and in six weeks’ time we had taken down there over two hundred Austrian Skoda guns.
“But,” he continued, “even had the British ships got to Constantinople it would not have availed them very much. Our plan was to retire our army to the surrounding hills and to Asia Minor and leave the cityat their mercy. They would not have destroyed it, and the result would have been simply animpasse. With the Germans we can strike at the British Empire through the Suez Canal. Our motto is, ‘To Egypt!’”
I told him that in my country we found it extremely difficult to realise that Turkey was actually at war with England and France, seeing that but for the efforts of these two countries Turkey would long since have ceased to exist as a separate kingdom in Europe.
“That is quite correct (sie haben recht),” he replied without pausing to think. But in the same breath he murmured, “Whatever England did for Turkey was not dictated out of love, but rather from consideration for her own interests. England feared the competition of Russia in the Mediterranean.”
I was a little suspicious of Enver’s complacent attitude, but I believe he was sincere in what he said to me. I watched him very carefully when he told me that the sacrifice of a few more ships would have gotthe English to Constantinople, and I am convinced that this is his firm opinion. I could not help thinking of the pity of it all, and that 200,000 casualties might have been saved by a little more enterprise. I learned that this opinion was general in Constantinople, even in high diplomatic quarters.
At the end of ten minutes Enver rose and remarked: “You must excuse me now, I am busy.” He shook hands with me and abruptly left the room. I was a little surprised at this, but concluded that in his many responsibilities he had never had the leisure in which to study manners, and the courtesy due even to a journalist. Had I been English I could better have understood his attitude; for, some years ago, he visited England, where he did not receive the attention he expected. The result was that he returned to Constantinople strongly anti-British.
Enver’s view as to the possibility of Great Britain forcing the Dardanelles, had they shown a little more vigour and indifferenceto the loss of a few ships, I found echoed by the German officers whom I met both at the Pera Palace and the Continental Hotel, where I stayed on my return from Asia Minor, only in their case it was more vehemently expressed. The Turks have no real dislike for the English and none for the French, although all French words have been removed from the shop-signs in Constantinople.
German officers, however, were very free in expressing their loathing of the British, though full of admiration for the fighting capacity of their soldiers. On every hand I heard the remark that they wished they had British, Australian and Canadian Tommies to command. The general view expressed in Constantinople is to the effect that the united German-Turkish army will destroy the Suez Canal from one end to the other, if necessary, filling it up with its ancient sand and thus render it impassable.
“But if you do that,” I remarked to more than one of them, “the British will merelyreturn to their old route to Indiaviathe Cape of Good Hope.”
Never once did they vouchsafe an answer to this. The German has an extraordinary capacity for seeing no further than his particular goal. He is a creature of cries “To Paris!” “To Calais!” “To Warsaw!” “To Egypt!”; and when he finds himself baulked he forgets his object, just as a child forgets a toy when something more interesting presents itself.
One and all, however, admitted that there was no chance of the Germans getting to Paris. Their contention was—and it must be remembered that many of them had been fighting in the West—that they had effectually walled off the English and French armies and rendered them to all intents and purposes impotent, thus enabling themselves together with their allies—Austrian, Turkish, Bulgarian, and Arabian—to operate freely on the Eastern front.
As I have said, my instructions were to find out what were the German plans in the East. With this object I mingled freelywith as many Germans and Turks as possible. I lost no opportunity of entering into conversation with anyone who showed the least inclination to converse. Fortunately I speak French perfectly, and German almost as well. French enabled me to talk to the Turks, and my German permitted me to “get close,” as the Americans say, not only to the German soldiers, but to officers and civilians, who are stationed at, or are passing through, Constantinople on their way to Asia Minor.
It appears to be part of the German economic plan to turn Turkey into a great German dependency, and to force the Turk to cultivate the soil, which in some places is the richest in the world. The true humour of the situation will develop when the Turk discovers what he has let himself in for. As to the German military plans, they are, so far as I could gather, three in number. My own view is that they will attempt the whole three simultaneously, and then allow them to develop as fortune may decide. These plans are (1) the Baghdad-Persia-India plan; (2) the Caucasus plan, withwhich to tackle the Russians; (3) Egypt and the Suez Canal plan.
One afternoon a German said to me, “If the English and French only knew, the proper place to kill Germans is between Nieuport in Belgium and Mülhausen in Alsace; but owing to their inferior staff work, lack of munitions, fear of our guns, gas, mines, and machine-guns, they leave us comparatively quiet in the Western theatre, and enable us to menace the line of communication to India and the ridiculous Townshend Expedition, which will never get to Baghdad.”
There is among the German officers a general contempt for the English and French, particularly the English, staff work. At the Sachim Pasha Hotel in Stamboul I encountered a pleasant old Turk who spoke French extremely well. He was the Vali of Baghdad (a sort of Justice of the Peace, I believe), who had come to report to the Germans the condition of the English and Turkish forces. What he said was practically a repetition of what Enver had said to me a few days previously aboutGallipoli: “We were very alarmed when we heard they were coming,” he remarked, “for our defences were in a bad condition, and we had nothing but a few old guns. Our spies, however told us that General Townshend’s force was a small one, and we therefore took courage and held the English in check until we could get our reinforcements; now, thanks to Allah, they will never reach our holy city, their relief force is too late.”
It is not for me to offer advice to the British Government. As I have said, I love the country just as I hate the Germans, but I wish the British Ministers could appreciate how often the term “too late,” in connection with the operations of the Allies, has cropped up during this journey of mine.
The German authorities in Constantinople were urged by the people at Baghdad to send every available man there, whereas the immediate wish of the Turks is to get to the Suez Canal and so regain their fair province of Egypt and the Nile. Turkish sentiment combined with German hatred of England may probably precipitate the immediateadvance on the Canal. I have been told frequently since my return to England that this is impossible, that it is only “bluff.” I remember the same things being said when Enver Pasha announced, months ago, that the Germans were coming to relieve Constantinople. My own opinion—which, of course, may be worth nothing, but it is formed as the result of talking to scores of Turks and Germans in Constantinople and Asia Minor—is that unless there be great combined efforts in France by the British and French, and in the Caucasus by the Russians, the Germans and Turks may achieve one—at least one—of their three objects, possibly two, perhaps all three even. The determining factors are the pressure by the hated British Navy and greater activity in France, Belgium, and Russia.
At four o’clock every afternoon the German officers, who are constantly arriving from Berlin at the Pera Palace Hotel to receive their instructions, remove their military clothes and appear in mufti. Here again we have evidence of German subtlety.No man in the world loves his uniform as does the German officer, but, as one waggish Bavarian lieutenant said to me, “We must not give the Turks the impression that we are a flight of German locusts. We do not want the Galata Bridge to look like Unter den Linden all the time, so as soon as we have finished our duty we go about as civilians.” They are wise. Constantinople already looks quite German enough; that is, to Turkish eyes. There are German newspapers printed in the city, there are the crews of theGoebenandBreslauwearing the Turkish fez, and of the submarines, and swarms of miscellaneous Germans, all with their particular object in view. These facts in themselves are enough to cause misgiving in the heart of the most pronouncedly pro-German Turk. My own impression is that whatever may be the result of the war the Germans are getting such a hold on the Near East that it will be next to impossible to drive them out. Money is scarce in Germany, but the Germans seem to have plenty to spend in Turkey and Asia Minor.
I VISIT ASIA MINOR
A Remarkable Railway Station—I Leave for Konia—The Anatolian Railway—How to Get to Baghdad—Elaborate Instructions—Necessity for Caution—English and French Prisoners—Instructing the Turk in the Arts of Peace—A Noisy Sleeper—Hamburg’s Hatred of Great Britain—Sops to Austria and Turkey—Field-Marshal Von der Goltz—I Return to Constantinople.
A Remarkable Railway Station—I Leave for Konia—The Anatolian Railway—How to Get to Baghdad—Elaborate Instructions—Necessity for Caution—English and French Prisoners—Instructing the Turk in the Arts of Peace—A Noisy Sleeper—Hamburg’s Hatred of Great Britain—Sops to Austria and Turkey—Field-Marshal Von der Goltz—I Return to Constantinople.
After I had been nine days in Constantinople I determined to undertake what I clearly saw would be the most dangerous portion of my journey. At that time I did not anticipate encountering the Kaiser and his detective bodyguard at Nish.
I knew that for ordinary civil travellers the Anatolian Railway is closed, because the whole of Asia Minor is what we call here in “the War Zone.” After my interview with Enver Pasha, however, I thought it would not be so difficult to get permission to travel into the interior of Turkey, and infact, after two days’ ceaseless effort and many hours spent in ante-rooms, I was lucky enough to secure the so much-desired permission. It was stated on my passport in Turkish characters, under the stamp of the Turkish War Office, that I was to be allowed to travel in the military zone—in other words, that I could go into Asia Minor.
I took the ferry boat across the Bosphorus to the Haidar Pasha railway station, a palatial edifice, the starting place for all the great German ventures in the East. It has been built quite recently by a German company, and stands there as a monument of the enterprise and ability of that astonishing nation. Haidar Pasha itself is a mere village on the Sea of Marmora, and the station stands out in one of the most beautiful positions of its kind in the world. The heart of every patriotic Teuton thrills as he struts about the great hall, and reads the various notices in his native tongue.
The rest of the world has a good deal to learn from the German railway station, andthis one at Haidar Pasha is an object-lesson in cleanliness to the Turks. The surrounding country looks poor, all the houses are small and ill-kept, and the more one looks at the beautiful station the more obvious is its contrast with its surroundings. It must be remembered that every Turkish or German soldier going to the Caucasus, Mesopotamian, or Egyptian front will have to pass through the station of Haidar Pasha, the terminus of the Anatolian, and in fact all the Turkish railways in Asia.
My dark complexion, coupled with my habitual wearing of the fez, caused me to attract less attention than would otherwise have been the case. I had fortunately struck up a slight acquaintance with Enver Pasha’s Germanaide-de-camp, and he most kindly obliged me with official directions of how to get to Baghdad, where to stop, what to pay at the so-called hotels, and so forth. I can only hope, for his own peace of mind, that he never reads this book.
This list of instructions is a typical example of German thoroughness, and is printedin French because, although Germans now swarm in Turkey and Asia Minor, the only language possible for a visiting traveller in out of the way places is French—that is, provided he does not know Turkish.
I regard the document as of such interest that I reproduce it below, together with a translation.
Bulletin des renseignementssur le voyage de Haidar-Pacha à Rees-el-Ain.1. Départ de Haidar-Pacha, arrivée le soir à Eski-Chehir; Hôtel Tadia (Mme. Tadia).2. Départ d’Eski-Chehir, arrivée à Konia; Hôtel de la Gare construit par la Société (Mme. Soulié).3. Départ de Konia, arrivée à Bozanti. Il n’y a à Bozanti qu’un simple han.4. Trajet en voiture de Bozanti à Tarsus, 70 kilom. en 10 à 12 heures sur bonne chaussée. Les voitures doivent être commandées d’avance au Handji de Bozanti ou à Tarsus, si l’on veut poursuivre le voyage sans arrêt à Bozanti. Prix des voitures, de Ltqs 2 à 5 suivant les circonstances. Entre Bozanti et Tarsus il y a plusieurs Khans où l’on peut à la rigueur passer la nuit: Sary Cheih, Mezarolouk, Yéni-Han. Il se recommande d’emmener son lit de camp et de se pourvoir d’approvisionnements et de boissons suffisants.5. Tarsus, environ ¾ d’heure avant d’y arriver ontraverse la ligne du M.T.A. à la Halte de Kulek-Bognaz; à Tarsus 3 hôtels: Sérai Hotelli, Osmanli, et Stamboul (10 p. par lit), en outre restaurant “Bélédie.”6. Départ de Tarsus, arrivée à Mamouré. Mamouré n’est qu’une station d’étape militaire. Aucun hôtel ni han. Les voyageurs qui n’ont pas de tente à leur disposition peuvent passer la nuit chez de simples cafedjis, où ils trouvent quelques vivres, mais où ils ne peuvent obtenir de lits. Il est donc préférable pour les voyageurs non munis de tente et de lit de camp de s’arrêter à Osmanié pour y passer la nuit. Hôtels: Ismyr et Ahmed (5 p. par lit). Les tenanciers de ces hôtels procurent les voitures nécessaires pour le voyage à Radjou. Prix des voitures 2 à 5 Ltqs. suivant les circonstances.7. Trajet en voiture d’Osmanié à Radjou. Environ 110 kil. en 2 jours sur route carrossable, qui est une pendant la bonne saison: ler jour; par Hassan bey et le col de l’Amanus à Entilli (environ 50 kil.); à Entilli point d’hôtels, rien que de simples cafedjis. Les voyageurs peuvent aussi passer la première nuit à Islahié à environ 12 kilom. d’Entilli; à Entilli, siège d’un caza, bureau d’étape militaire, plusieurs Hans avec des lits (10 p. per lit.) 2ème jour: de Entilli resp. Islahié à Radjou (6O resp. 48 kil.); à Radjoué ni hôtel ni hans; rien que des cafedjis.8. De Radjou à Halep: le même jour (différents hôtels).9. De Halep à Rees-el-Ain (le même jour). Siège d’un caza. Quelques Hans sans lits; rien que des cafedjis.10. De Rees-el-Ain à Bagdad. Trajet qui s’offectue en 10 à 12 jours.Recommandations spéciales: Lit de camp ou matelas indispensable. Il se recommande d’emmener aussi une tente. Malles doivent être de construction très solide et ne doivent pas excéder le poids de 60 kilogrs. par pièce. Au lieu de malles on peut prendre des valises ou des sacs de voyage. Le transport usuel se fait par voiture “Yaili,” qui est toujours préférable au voyage par cheval. Se munir de vêtements chauds pour la nuit et d’approvisionnements et de boissons suffisants. Ne pas oublier une petite pharmacie de campagne. L’eau qu’on trouve en cours de route est souvent nuisible à la santé.
Bulletin des renseignements
sur le voyage de Haidar-Pacha à Rees-el-Ain.
1. Départ de Haidar-Pacha, arrivée le soir à Eski-Chehir; Hôtel Tadia (Mme. Tadia).
2. Départ d’Eski-Chehir, arrivée à Konia; Hôtel de la Gare construit par la Société (Mme. Soulié).
3. Départ de Konia, arrivée à Bozanti. Il n’y a à Bozanti qu’un simple han.
4. Trajet en voiture de Bozanti à Tarsus, 70 kilom. en 10 à 12 heures sur bonne chaussée. Les voitures doivent être commandées d’avance au Handji de Bozanti ou à Tarsus, si l’on veut poursuivre le voyage sans arrêt à Bozanti. Prix des voitures, de Ltqs 2 à 5 suivant les circonstances. Entre Bozanti et Tarsus il y a plusieurs Khans où l’on peut à la rigueur passer la nuit: Sary Cheih, Mezarolouk, Yéni-Han. Il se recommande d’emmener son lit de camp et de se pourvoir d’approvisionnements et de boissons suffisants.
5. Tarsus, environ ¾ d’heure avant d’y arriver ontraverse la ligne du M.T.A. à la Halte de Kulek-Bognaz; à Tarsus 3 hôtels: Sérai Hotelli, Osmanli, et Stamboul (10 p. par lit), en outre restaurant “Bélédie.”
6. Départ de Tarsus, arrivée à Mamouré. Mamouré n’est qu’une station d’étape militaire. Aucun hôtel ni han. Les voyageurs qui n’ont pas de tente à leur disposition peuvent passer la nuit chez de simples cafedjis, où ils trouvent quelques vivres, mais où ils ne peuvent obtenir de lits. Il est donc préférable pour les voyageurs non munis de tente et de lit de camp de s’arrêter à Osmanié pour y passer la nuit. Hôtels: Ismyr et Ahmed (5 p. par lit). Les tenanciers de ces hôtels procurent les voitures nécessaires pour le voyage à Radjou. Prix des voitures 2 à 5 Ltqs. suivant les circonstances.
7. Trajet en voiture d’Osmanié à Radjou. Environ 110 kil. en 2 jours sur route carrossable, qui est une pendant la bonne saison: ler jour; par Hassan bey et le col de l’Amanus à Entilli (environ 50 kil.); à Entilli point d’hôtels, rien que de simples cafedjis. Les voyageurs peuvent aussi passer la première nuit à Islahié à environ 12 kilom. d’Entilli; à Entilli, siège d’un caza, bureau d’étape militaire, plusieurs Hans avec des lits (10 p. per lit.) 2ème jour: de Entilli resp. Islahié à Radjou (6O resp. 48 kil.); à Radjoué ni hôtel ni hans; rien que des cafedjis.
8. De Radjou à Halep: le même jour (différents hôtels).
9. De Halep à Rees-el-Ain (le même jour). Siège d’un caza. Quelques Hans sans lits; rien que des cafedjis.
10. De Rees-el-Ain à Bagdad. Trajet qui s’offectue en 10 à 12 jours.
Recommandations spéciales: Lit de camp ou matelas indispensable. Il se recommande d’emmener aussi une tente. Malles doivent être de construction très solide et ne doivent pas excéder le poids de 60 kilogrs. par pièce. Au lieu de malles on peut prendre des valises ou des sacs de voyage. Le transport usuel se fait par voiture “Yaili,” qui est toujours préférable au voyage par cheval. Se munir de vêtements chauds pour la nuit et d’approvisionnements et de boissons suffisants. Ne pas oublier une petite pharmacie de campagne. L’eau qu’on trouve en cours de route est souvent nuisible à la santé.
[Translation.]
DirectionsFor the journey from Haidar Pasha to Ras-el-Ain.1. Leave Haidar Pasha, arrive in evening at Eskishehr; Hotel Tadia, Mme. Tadia.2. Leave Eskishehr, arrive Konia; Station Hotel built by the company, Mme. Sulieh.3. Leave Konia, arrive Bozanti; only a simple inn.4. By carriage or car, Bozanti to Tarsus, 44 miles in ten or twelve hours on good road. Vehicles shouldbe ordered beforehand from Handji of Bozanti or at Tarsus if you wish to avoid delay at Bozanti. Fare £T2 to £T5 (£T1 nominally 17s. 6d. to 18s.), according to circumstances. Between Bozanti and Tarsus several inns to sleep at in emergency; Sary Cheih, Mezarolukl, Yeni-Han. Better take a camp bed and enough food and drink.5. Tarsus, about three-quarters of an hour before arrival, cross the Tarsus-Aleppo line at the Halt Kulek-Boghaz. Three hotels at Tarsus: Serai, Osmanli, and Stambul, 10 piastres (1s. 8d.) a bed. Also a restaurant Beledieh.6. Leave Tarsus, arrive Mamureh. This only a military post. No hotel or inn. Travellers without a tent may pass the night in the cafés, where they can get food, but no beds. Better if you have no tent or bed to stop at Osmanieh. Hotels Ismyr, Ahmed, 5 piastres (10d.) a bed. The hotel proprietors can get vehicles for the journey to Radju. Fares, £T2 to £T5, according to circumstances.7. Journey by car or carriage, Osmanieh to Radju, about 70 miles in two days on a drivable road, which is good in the good season.1st day: Hassan Bey and Pass of Amanus to Entilli, about 32 miles. At Entilli no hotels, only simple cafés. You can pass the first night at Islahieh, about 7½ miles from Entilli. Entilli district headquarters, military post, several inns with beds; 10 piastres a bed.2nd day: Entilli (or Islahieh) to Radju, 38 (or 31½) miles. Radju, no hotels or inns, only cafés.8. Radju to Aleppo same day. Various hotels.9. Aleppo to Ras-el-Ain same day. District headquarters. Several inns without beds, only cafés.10. Ras-el-Ain to Baghdad. Journey can be done in 10 to 12 days.Special advice: Camp bed or mattress indispensable. Advisable to take a tent. Trunks ought to be strongly made and weigh not over 120 lbs. each. Instead of trunks you may take bags or suit cases. The usual way is by the vehicle Yaili, always preferable to horseback. Get warm clothes for night and enough food and drink. Don’t forget a little medicine chest. It is often risky to drink the water found on the way.
Directions
For the journey from Haidar Pasha to Ras-el-Ain.
1. Leave Haidar Pasha, arrive in evening at Eskishehr; Hotel Tadia, Mme. Tadia.
2. Leave Eskishehr, arrive Konia; Station Hotel built by the company, Mme. Sulieh.
3. Leave Konia, arrive Bozanti; only a simple inn.
4. By carriage or car, Bozanti to Tarsus, 44 miles in ten or twelve hours on good road. Vehicles shouldbe ordered beforehand from Handji of Bozanti or at Tarsus if you wish to avoid delay at Bozanti. Fare £T2 to £T5 (£T1 nominally 17s. 6d. to 18s.), according to circumstances. Between Bozanti and Tarsus several inns to sleep at in emergency; Sary Cheih, Mezarolukl, Yeni-Han. Better take a camp bed and enough food and drink.
5. Tarsus, about three-quarters of an hour before arrival, cross the Tarsus-Aleppo line at the Halt Kulek-Boghaz. Three hotels at Tarsus: Serai, Osmanli, and Stambul, 10 piastres (1s. 8d.) a bed. Also a restaurant Beledieh.
6. Leave Tarsus, arrive Mamureh. This only a military post. No hotel or inn. Travellers without a tent may pass the night in the cafés, where they can get food, but no beds. Better if you have no tent or bed to stop at Osmanieh. Hotels Ismyr, Ahmed, 5 piastres (10d.) a bed. The hotel proprietors can get vehicles for the journey to Radju. Fares, £T2 to £T5, according to circumstances.
7. Journey by car or carriage, Osmanieh to Radju, about 70 miles in two days on a drivable road, which is good in the good season.
1st day: Hassan Bey and Pass of Amanus to Entilli, about 32 miles. At Entilli no hotels, only simple cafés. You can pass the first night at Islahieh, about 7½ miles from Entilli. Entilli district headquarters, military post, several inns with beds; 10 piastres a bed.
2nd day: Entilli (or Islahieh) to Radju, 38 (or 31½) miles. Radju, no hotels or inns, only cafés.
8. Radju to Aleppo same day. Various hotels.
9. Aleppo to Ras-el-Ain same day. District headquarters. Several inns without beds, only cafés.
10. Ras-el-Ain to Baghdad. Journey can be done in 10 to 12 days.
Special advice: Camp bed or mattress indispensable. Advisable to take a tent. Trunks ought to be strongly made and weigh not over 120 lbs. each. Instead of trunks you may take bags or suit cases. The usual way is by the vehicle Yaili, always preferable to horseback. Get warm clothes for night and enough food and drink. Don’t forget a little medicine chest. It is often risky to drink the water found on the way.
There is naturally far less danger of Secret Service officers in a crowded city than in small towns. In Constantinople I was but one of thousands of strangers passing to and fro, and that at a time of great change in the history of the Turkish capital. The arrival, however, of a stranger in a village sets every local busybody talking and speculating as to where he has come from and why he has come. And this brings him into conflict with, or at least under thesuspicion of, some blundering minor official. Quite possibly this person, zealous in his desire to show his authority and his patriotism, may, by virtue of his blundering, stumble across something that his superiors have quite overlooked. Such a thing had happened to me already on a previous occasion.
I therefore determined to be more than ever careful, and to leave nothing whatever to chance. I was desirous of getting as far as possible along the Baghdad Railway, not only to examine the line itself, but to talk to the passengersen route. People of strange countries become companionable, and I have often found that there is more to be learned in a railway carriage during a comparatively short journey, than from a long stay in a city. There is a bond of sympathy between travellers, just as there is between smokers, that causes them after a few hours, sometimes even after only a few minutes, to become communicative. I wanted to get to Aleppo, but I came to the conclusion that I should probably never return if I penetrated too far on the road to Baghdad.
The train for Eski-Shehr, which is the junction for the Caucasian Railway,viaAngora, left at four in the afternoon. Turkish soldiers on their way to the Caucasian front to fight the Russians go by rail only as far as Angora, the rest of the journey being made on foot. The roads are terribly bad, but the Turkish soldier philosophically overcomes all the difficulties he encounters, for he is justly famous for his stout heart and his capacity to endure hardships of every description.
In Angora, I believe, the English prisoners are confined. I have no evidence of this beyond a chance remark I heard whilst waiting for the train at Eski-Shehr. I know for a fact that French prisoners are in Angora. Later, at Konia, I saw some 300 French prisoners, deplorably neglected, I regret to say, with little food, and dying like flies. The insanitary condition of that camp was beyond description. The Turks are perhaps not naturally cruel, or, at least, they confine their atrocities to Armenia. They have their own particular views asregards prisoners in general. Turkish prisoners in Turkish prisons are not well treated. After all, a prisoner is not a very important factor in the Turkish mind, and it should be remembered that the food shortage extends throughout the whole area of German operations, always excepting the German soldier himself. Even at the beautiful station of Haidar Pasha I could not get a mouthful of bread or even a biscuit. The only refreshment obtainable was unlimited German beer, produced by a local German brewery.
The journey to Eski-Shehr was pleasant, although the trains were slow and stopped for a considerable time at each station. There are no express trains on the Baghdad Railway. There was, however, no paint on the windows of the carriages, for which I was devoutly thankful, and the carriages themselves were quite comfortable. As we sped along I was much struck by the number of German non-commissioned officers that I saw working and cultivating the land, which between Constantinople and Konia isfor the most part fertile, in co-operation with the Turkish farmers. It was explained to me that more than 200 of these non-commissioned officers had been sent to Turkey with the sole purpose of teaching the Turkish farmers how to cultivate their ground. This, again, is typical of German methods, but it has another significance. If Berlin did not believe in the good faith of the Turks, and were not convinced that Germany will remain the unofficial masters of Turkey, all this trouble would certainly not be taken to instruct the people of Asia Minor in the art of agriculture. There is nothing philanthropic about the Germans.
All along the route until Konia was reached I saw these German non-commissioned officers, and whenever the train stopped some of them rushed up to the carriages asking for German newspapers, believing that all the passengers came from the Fatherland, as, indeed, some of them had.
My fellow-passengers were typical of the German invasion of the East. There wereamong them two merchants from Hamburg, going to bring back Persian products. They talked particularly about copper. At the hotel in Konia I had to sleep in the same room with one of them, and I was desperately afraid lest I might talk in my sleep, and, indeed, when a Turk came to awaken me in the morning I inadvertently called out, “Come in.” The good Hamburger was lying flat on his back, sleeping noisily, and I thanked the good luck that seemed to protect me for sending me as a companion one who was so hearty a sleeper. That Hamburger impressed upon me in no uncertain manner the meaning of sea power. The British are not actually popular in Berlin, as is well known; but the feelings of Berliners are mild and gentle in comparison with those of the inhabitants of the desolated port of Hamburg.
I have seen it stated in the English newspapers that supplies are getting into Germany in spite of the British Fleet, and there are many evidences of this fact in Germany. On the other hand, however, these supplieshave to meet the consumptive power of some seventy millions of people. A little, too, is doled out now and then to the Austrians, as if to keep them quiet, but it is very little, and I suppose that even the Turkish officials get a small percentage for the same purpose. The balance goes to the German Army, for that must never be short of anything. It is obvious that if you must be a German, the wisest thing is to be a German soldier.
I have seen it stated that von Mackensen will take charge of the Turkish-German forces at Aleppo, the place from which the expedition to the Suez Canal will start. At present Djamil Pasha, formerly Turkish Minister of Marine, is in command. Travellers who had come from Aleppo told me that the combined German and Turkish forces there numbered 80,000, but I am not in a position to guarantee the accuracy of these figures. What I do know is that there is everywhere an air of general activity and preparation. Long trains full of new railway and telegraph material, rails, smallbridges, and numbers of locomotives are to be encountered everywhere. The plodding, persistent Prussian is prodding his Turkish slaves into such action as has never before been known to them. It is incredible that those in high places among the Turks can conceive it possible that they will ever be able to shake off the German yoke. There is to be seenen routea great amount of light railway rolling stock, and I was assured that it was intended for the construction of the railway that will cross the desert to bring the Turkish-German armies face to face with the British on the Canal.
Field-Marshal von der Goltz is at Baghdad. He is one of the oldest German generals with one of the youngest German staffs. At Constantinople they say that the old man is merely a figure head, but he is extremely popular with the young men about him.
At Konia, for reasons that I cannot explain, I thought it advisable to run no further risk, and so I returned to Constantinople. It was very fortunate for me that Idid so, otherwise I might have missed the Banquet at Nish, and I should not have earned the name of “The Man who Dined With the Kaiser.”
CONSTANTINOPLE FROM WITHIN
A City of Maimed and Wounded—I See the Sultan—Enver’s Popularity—Talaat Bey the Real Administrator—Gallipoli Day—Constantinople “Mafficks”—The Return of the Ten Thousand—How theGoebenandBreslauEscaped—Their Fateful Arrival at Constantinople—German Privileges—Mendacities of the Turkish Press—The Egyptian Situation—A German Camel Corps—The Turks a Formidable Factor.
A City of Maimed and Wounded—I See the Sultan—Enver’s Popularity—Talaat Bey the Real Administrator—Gallipoli Day—Constantinople “Mafficks”—The Return of the Ten Thousand—How theGoebenandBreslauEscaped—Their Fateful Arrival at Constantinople—German Privileges—Mendacities of the Turkish Press—The Egyptian Situation—A German Camel Corps—The Turks a Formidable Factor.
To me Constantinople seemed to be a city of maimed and wounded. One morning I strolled out of my hotel, intending to take a carriage to Stamboul, one of those strange vehicles drawn by two lean but vigorous horses that still remain on the streets for hire. From twenty-five to thirty carriages passed me as I stood vainly endeavouring to persuade one of the drivers to pull up. They took not the slightest notice of my gesticulations, but continued precipitately on their way. I was curious to knowthe reason for this, and on my return to the hotel I inquired of the porter. He informed me that the carriages were going to the Bosphorus to take up the wounded arriving from different battlefields. “After what you have told me,” I remarked, “I shall be afraid of using a carriage in Constantinople.” But shaking his head, the porter replied dispassionately, “Do not be afraid. By order of the Germans, every one of these carriages must be disinfected after use.” “The East is the East and the West is the West,” I meditated as I passed into the hotel. It would be interesting to have the frank opinion of the highly-placed Turk upon the “thoroughness” of their German allies.
I very soon discovered that every big building in the city had been turned into a hospital, one of the biggest being the Lyceum. All the beautiful houses belonging to the wealthy English and French residents, which overlook the Bosphorus, have been commandeered for the Red Crescent,the occupants being obliged under Turkish war regulations to live in hotels.
The Sultan is a mere figure-head, as is well known. One Friday I saw him walking from his palace to a mosque a little distance away—he has given up taking the longer journey to the Aya Sofia for fear of assassination—and his fat, heavy appearance suggested to me that the Turks knew their business when they removed all power from his hands. In the old days a Sultan could not make his appearance in the streets without its being the occasion for a great demonstration. That was yesterday; now popular enthusiasm was for Enver Pasha when he accompanied the Commander of the Faithful. The potentate himself might be persuaded that the acclamations were for his holy person, but everyone else knew better. I was told that the Sultan leaves everything to Talaat Bey and to Enver Pasha. To me the Sultan looked like an unidealised copy of one of Rembrandt’s Rabbis.
Enver may claim to be the power behind the throne, but the real ruler of Turkey isthat shrewd statesman Talaat Bey, who, although a great Germanophile, is credited with the belief in the ultimate victory of the Entente Powers. This conviction on the part of Talaat may account for some of the rumours circulated in the Balkans to the effect that he would be not unwilling to conclude a separate peace.
I was in Constantinople when the evacuation of Gallipoli was announced. The town was gay with flags, mobs passed up and down the streets shouting. Notices in Turkish and German were exhibited everywhere. Special newspaper bulletins were being rushed hither and thither by ragged boys. The Turks, who are never over-prodigal of truth, announced the evacuation as a great victory for their soldiers, which had resulted in the English being driven into the sea. Although I had no other news than that supplied by the official proclamation, I was not in the least disturbed, knowing full well the Turkish character. Had there been a great victory there would have been prisoners, and the German knows too wellthe advantages of clever stage management not to produce these for the edification of the cheering crowd.
Three days later, when Constantinople had to some extent recovered from its mafficking, there passed through the streets about 10,000 of the weariest soldiers it has ever been my lot to see, a long bedraggled line, most of them stumbling along as if scarcely able to stand for fatigue. The people did not know where they had come from. Had they been aware that these poor wretches were some of the stout defenders of Gallipoli they might have given them a warmer cheer. As it was, I saw little or no enthusiasm, although here and there people ran out to give the men cigarettes.
The sight of these utterly worn-out soldiers lingered with me all day. Some of them were so exhausted that they could proceed no further, and had to be lifted up and half carried, half dragged along by their more stalwart comrades. They carried neither rifles nor knapsacks, these following behind in carts. It was interesting to noteto what an extent the German officering of the Turkish forces has been carried. For every Turkish officer that passed by in that brown and miserable procession that smacked so little of victory, there were two German officers. The Turks may be entitled to all the satisfaction that the British evacuation of Gallipoli has given them, but I am sure that if the Anzac heroes, for instance, had been present with me the morning I stood watching the long war-worn line, they would have been comforted by the knowledge that however great the hardships and privations they themselves had suffered, those of the foe had been as bad, if not worse. It was obvious that some time would elapse before these men were sufficiently rested to be fit for active service once more, and this in spite of the fact that the Turkish soldier is famous for his remarkable recuperative powers.
I have seen it stated in the newspapers (February 13th, 1916), that large reinforcements of Turkish troops are being sent to Mesopotamia. This seems to confirm myview that several weeks’ rest would be necessary before the men who fought so well at Gallipoli would be ready for active service again. Even these must be picked men, for it is a long and tedious march from Aleppo to Baghdad over roads that the word “wretched” utterly fails to describe.
At Stenia, in the Bosphorus, I saw both of those mystery ships, theGoebenand theBreslau, lying at anchor; probably there were never two ships in all the world about which so much that is inaccurate has been written. TheGoebenwas in a bad state, and kept afloat only by means of the crudest contrivances, shell-holes being filled in with cement. It is obvious that the authorities, be they Turkish or German, do not regard her as likely to be of much further assistance to them, for several of her big guns have been removed for use on land. TheBreslau, on the other hand, is in good condition, and as I saw her riding at anchor she looked very spick and span, having recently received a new coat of grey paint. She is afinely-built ship, and looks capable of rendering a very good account of herself.
The stories of how theGoebenandBreslauevaded the Allied fleets are legion. A Turkish deputy gave me one account which I relate for what it is worth. According to him it would appear that the two ships had taken refuge in Messina, and that outside the three-mile limit there waited 24 Allied ships of war, like hounds ready to pounce upon their prey. The prospect of escape seemed hopeless, so hopeless in fact that the commander of theBreslauproposed exceeding his time allowance in a neutral port so that his ship might be interned. The commander of theGoeben, however, was determined to make an effort to get away, and being the senior officer his less courageous comrade had no choice but to acquiesce. They waited until night, and then steamed away, keeping as near to the coast as possible, and were never overhauled. It was their arrival in the Dardanelles, the Turkish deputy assured me, that finally induced Turkey to join the Central Powers, theTurks believing that with the addition of these two fine ships to their navy they would be more than a match for the Russian Fleet in the Black Sea.
One day I made a curious discovery, not without its significance. In crossing the Galata Bridge a toll of one penny is demanded, which all the Faithful must pay, and likewise the Infidels. An exception, however, was made in the case of the Germans, who are exempt, and for this very interesting reason. When the bridge was damaged by the torpedo of a British submarine some time ago, the Turks were in a quandary to know how to repair it, having no engineers of their own capable of undertaking such work. In their difficulties they turned, as usual, to their German friends, who readily agreed to undertake the work, and the damage was accordingly made good. When the bill was presented from Berlin, however, the Turks wrung their hands, and with tears in their eyes expostulated that, although they had the best intentions in the world, they had no money.
The result was that the Germans had to allow the bill to remain owing, but by way of getting some acknowledgment for their trouble and the expense that they had incurred, they made it a condition that all German subjects should be allowed to cross the bridge free of charge. This I was able to prove by a very simple test, for on presenting myself to the tollkeepers and speaking German, I was immediately allowed to pass without any demand of the customary penny. It amused me to think that the real inhabitants of Constantinople should have to pay for the privilege that was accorded free to those who had usurped their authority.
The attitude of the Turks in regard to truth is too well known to require comment, but the lying qualities with which their press seems to be inspired are worthy of the word inspiration. To believe anything seen in a Turkish newspaper postulates a simplicity and credulity which, charming enough in themselves, are scarcely calculated to help its possessor in the struggle for existence.For instance, in Has Keiul, on the Golden Horn, a big powder factory was destroyed by a tremendous explosion; the Turkish newspapers charmingly described how three persons had been killed and six wounded, and that only two houses in addition to the factory had been destroyed. I determined to test this statement, and I found on visiting what is the Jewish quarter, that the whole neighbourhood was in ruins. Two thousand people at least had been killed, and, although my visit was not made until a fortnight after the explosion, search-parties were still digging dead bodies out of the ruins. The Turk himself is not entirely devoid of thoroughness.
Just as I was preparing to leave Constantinople rumours of the big Russian offensive in the Caucasus were coming through. Almost the last thing I saw were five battalions of Turks, splendidly equipped and with 1916 rifles, leaving for the Caucasus front.
I wish I were able to persuade the British public of the seriousness of the Egyptian situation. What most surprised me on myreturn to this country was the incredulity of the general public with regard to the German threat against Egypt and India. I am a neutral with no axe to grind, but I have a great respect and affection for a country where I have received nothing but kindness, and I view with alarm this dangerous and apathetic frame of mind. All that I saw in Constantinople, as in Asia Minor, convinces me that the Turks are serious in their intended invasions, and as the whole affair will be under German management it will, after the manner of the Germans, be done thoroughly. I feel that I shall have achieved something if any words of mine can dispel the illusion on the subject which seems to prevail everywhere.
Nothing is to be left to chance, and the Germans have taken the precaution, as a preparation for the Egyptian Expedition, of training 4,000 German soldiers to ride camels, the instruction being given at Hagenbeck’s Menagerie at Hamburg. All those who know Egypt will appreciate the value of a body of 4,000 camelry. Aleppois to be the starting point, and a glance at the map of Syria will show its importance. I shall be greatly surprised if within the next few months something is not heard of Djemal Pasha, who is in command there. When I was in Constantinople the name of the redoubtable von Mackensen was freely mentioned in connection with the leadership of this expedition, but other work will most likely be found for him.
The Turks are still a very formidable factor in the situation, and have to be seriously reckoned with. Their losses may be, and undoubtedly have been, very great, but there are plenty of men still available. As a matter of fact, all able-bodied men are being called to the colours. That alone should give Great Britain an indication of the magnitude of the task that lies before the Allies. Turkey may be one of the weaker members against the combination of the Entente Powers, but she is nevertheless very strong, and hourly growing stronger under the masterful domination of the German military mind.
The language difficulty in Turkey is rather amusing. Germany has done its best to implant its own tongue upon its unfortunate allies, but with very poor success. It was a constant source of amusement to me to hear German officers ordering their dinners in French. Everywhere in Constantinople French is spoken; even the tramway tickets are printed in French and Turkish. Waiters, shopkeepers, officers, sometimes even the man in the street speaks French as well as his own language. Frequently I would go to the rescue of German soldiers and sailors in shops who could not make themselves understood.
The German opinion of the Turks is very well shown by the following little episode. I was in conversation one day with two A.B.’s of the famous cruiserEmden. As a souvenir one of them gave me the ribbon from his cap with theEmdenscroll upon it. He informed me that it was his original intention to give it to his mother, but he was now convinced that he would never return to the Fatherland alive, consequently Ireceived it as a compliment in return for the beer and cigars I had given him. This sailor was communicative to the extent of saying, “We have lost nearly all our Colonies, and I am sure that we shall lose the last one, but we are going to make Turkey our newest and best colony.” I heard similar remarks from other Germans.