Paradise Lost: Smyrna 1922 - The Destruction of Islam's City of Tolerance (32 page)

Admiral Bristol felt that American business interests would be best served by pursuing a resolutely pro-Turkish policy in this troubled land, caring little for the fact that Greeks were being massacred in their thousands in and around the Black Sea port of Trebizond. Indeed, he scandalised many in Constantinople by dismissing the reports of European eyewitnesses as ‘propaganda from unreliable sources’. He knew that America would never win concessions to the region’s rich oil supplies if it harped on about the persecution of minorities. And since he had the final say on where American journalists were allowed to travel – they needed passes for assignments in Anatolia – he was able to censor reports before they were even written.

He certainly had no intention of aiding the 150,000 destitute refugees that were, by noon on Thursday, camping out in the streets of Smyrna. The two destroyers already sent to the city – the
Litchfield
and
Simpson
– were under strict orders not to intervene in what he regarded as a Turkish internal affair. On 7 September, under pressure from Washington, Bristol ordered the USS
Lawrence
to head for the city also, but the crews were told ‘to assist in care of American lives and property, it being clearly understood that sending war vessels is solely for such protection of Americans’.

The liberal elite in America was troubled by the government’s approach to what was fast developing into a humanitarian crisis. A
New York Times
editorial lambasted senators for their refusal to help the persecuted. ‘The Administration doubtless expects popular approvement of the view that Greek Christians may be shot down, so long as Americans are not knocked over by stray bullets.’

Admiral Bristol found himself under increasing pressure to allow journalists to sail with the USS
Lawrence
, especially as news from Smyrna was starting to find its way onto the front pages of the American dailies. When deciding to issue a couple of press passes, he took great care when selecting the journalists he felt he could trust. He eventually chose John Clayton of the
Chicago Tribune
and Constantine Brown of the
Chicago Daily News
. Clayton’s reports were to reach a wide international audience, for they were syndicated to many newspapers, including Britain’s
Daily Telegraph
. Brown’s despatches were also widely read and did much to shape public opinion.

Bristol made it quite clear what was expected of these journalists before he allowed them to board the USS
Lawrence
. ‘I told them they must remember that going on my permission and on one of our destroyers they must always keep in mind that they were not free to report in the same way as if they went on their own resources. I would trust them to protect my interests along this line. They both stated that they understood exactly what I meant and I could count on them.’

The only other journalist reporting from Smyrna was George Ward Price, correspondent of the pro-Turkish
Daily Mail
. He had hitched a ride down on the
Ajax
just a few days earlier and was in the process of filing his first despatch to London. Ward Price had a prejudice against the Greeks that was almost as vehement as that of Admiral Bristol. The American High Commissioner had not been aware of Ward Price’s departure from Constantinople but he could not have wished for more. The only three Western journalists reporting from Smyrna were all ‘on message’.

As the USS
Litchfield
steamed its way southwards across the Aegean, the Greek administration in the city was doing everything in its power to embark its defeated army before the arrival of the Turks. Thousands of soldiers were taken off by the warships at anchor in the bay. Once these were full, the troops were directed to nearby Chesme, where there were more ships awaiting them. The embarkation took place in a state of unnatural calm. When Edwyn Hole, the British vice-consul, jostled his way through the refugee-packed streets that afternoon, he was surprised by the discipline of the defeated army. ‘As fast as the Greek soldiers reached the town they were put on transports and removed,’ he wrote. ‘It had been feared that on their arrival they would do a great deal of damage, but they were in such a state of depression and exhaustion that their one desire was to get away.’

The refugees were equally desperate to get away, but they found this almost impossible, as the Greek transport ships refused to take them. Only those wealthy enough to buy passage on one of the local fishing boats were able to leave Smyrna.

The city’s administration, still headed by Aristides Stergiadis, was also preparing its departure. Throughout the morning and afternoon of 7 September, officials, clerks and secretaries packed their belongings and arranged passage to the motherland.

By late afternoon, most of the city’s Greek administrators had left their posts. General Hatzianestis had embarked on a transport ship a few hours earlier, having taken a last wistful look at the quayside palace that he had been in the middle of restoring. George Horton wryly suggested that the Greek army might not have been in such utter disarray if the general had devoted as much energy to his military campaign as he had to choosing his wallpaper and furnishings.

As dusk fell, the city’s gendarmes also packed their bags and left, leaving Smyrna with neither a police force nor a civil guard. The last Greek official to depart was Stergiadis himself. ‘[He] had but a few steps to go from his house to the sea, where a ship was awaiting him,’ wrote Horton, ‘but he was hooted by the population.’

Horton was sorry to see him go, for he had come to respect this dour and humourless individual, feeling that Stergiadis could be justifiably proud of his achievements. Public health had been transformed; farm machinery had been imported from America; and the Ionian University, open to all races and nationalities, promised to be one of the most enlightened centres of learning in the Islamic world. ‘He had done his best to make good in an impossible situation,’ wrote Horton. ‘He had tried by every means in his power to make friends of the implacable Turks, and he had punished severely, sometimes with death, Greeks guilty of crimes against Turks.’

The Armenian physician, Garabed Hatcherian, spent that evening at the house of his friends, the Atamians, discussing the fact that Smyrna was now without a government or a police force, although they were reassured to see that the refugees were calm. ‘Nothing unruly happens,’ wrote Hatcherian in his diary. ‘The port looks solemn.’ A few people tried to smuggle themselves away with the departing Greek soldiers but most wished to remain in the city, ‘believing that these events will be short-lived, since fleets from every nation are in the harbour, filling the people with trust and reassurance’. Hatcherian’s brother-in-law, Costan, did not share his uncle’s confidence. That very evening he managed to secure passage aboard a vessel bound for Cyprus.

‘Everything is perfectly quiet here,’ wrote Hortense Wood shortly before retiring to bed on the evening of 7 September. ‘Not the slightest cause for alarm. We sat at the gate this evening watching the soldiers and refugees still coming on . . . Not one untoward incident has happened; no quarrels; no threats. They marched passed in silence. So did the poor refugees.’

Friday, 8 September 1922

N
ews that the Greek administration had left Smyrna unsettled the Bournabat families who had remained in their own homes. Even Hortense Wood succumbed to a moment of panic when she awoke on Friday morning to discover that Smyrna was now minus a government or a police force.

‘Things have come to a head!’ she wrote. ‘All our gendarmes have bolted. We are without protection and the fighting . . . is quite near. Nymphia, Afyon Karahisar, Cassaba, Alascheir and Magnesia are blazing! . . . The British authorities in town are still deliberating whether it is proper to send marines to Bournabat for the protection of ourselves and [our] properties.’

British naval officers were extremely reluctant to land troops in Smyrna, fearing they would get caught in skirmishes with the approaching Turkish army. They were also concerned that sending soldiers into the city – if only to protect British property – would be seen as an overtly provocative act. The last thing they wanted was to provide Mustafa Kemal with an excuse for advancing on Constantinople, where Allied troops were stationed in large numbers.

Hortense was outraged by the attitude of the British officers. ‘Are [our houses] to be left to the mercy of infuriated Greek rebels and burnt to the ground?’ she wrote. ‘And when these have devastated Bournabat, we are told to expect the wild hordes of Circassians who will destroy everything that may have escaped the attention of the Greeks.’

Most of the remaining Levantines in Bournabat decided to depart when they realised that no protection would be forthcoming. ‘Our people are leaving for town and taking with them small valises with a few things, all that the carriage can carry,’ reported a disappointed Hortense on that Friday morning. She still had no intention of going with them. ‘I remain here, come what may. I’d rather be killed than losing all my belongings [and] remain[ing] destitute for the rest of my life, a burden to all.’

Her sisters and their families had previously vowed to stay in Bournabat, but now, after a long discussion about the deepening crisis, they changed their minds and decided to follow their neighbours’ example. ‘Lucy left reluctantly,’ wrote Hortense, ‘and very much worried with Fernand staying here . . . She looked pale and had her [heart] pain. Louisa was excited and insisted on Ernest going with her to town.’ Only Fernand de Cramer, Hortense’s forty-seven-year-old nephew, elected to remain behind in order to look after his aunt.

The rest of the family spent the day packing their jewellery and other valuables. Confident that even military catastrophe would not interfere with the running of the suburban rail line, they intended to leave Bournabat on the 7.30 p.m. train to Smyrna.

The Greek newspapers continued to print upbeat stories about the tactical retreat of the Greek army, insisting that the soldiers were planning to defend Smyrna from the advancing Turks and that the city would be safe. However, when one of Hortense’s Greek friends called at her villa that Friday morning, he warned her and Fernand not to believe a word of what was written.

‘What the papers say is not true, he told us. It is merely to calm people. The truth would cause a revolution in Greece. The Greek army is not going to make a stand, he said. It is absolutely incapable of doing so. They have no officers, no food, nothing.’

This assessment was shared by the numerous British Levantines who had sought safety at the English Nursing Home in Smyrna. Grace Williamson was wondering how she would cope with the arrival of yet more refugees. ‘This morning, early, Lilla [a helper] went down and found our sitting [room] full of sleeping men! . . . They turned out to be Englishmen! Some from Aidin and who had been travelling all night and day; among them was Leslie Stephenson, Jessie’s husband!’

Grace was unsure where to house them all. ‘Well, we have got to a pass and no mistake – more and more people crowding into the clinic. I don’t feed them, they have to provide their own food and bedding – but what a fuss it creates.’

Once Grace had completed her morning round, she made her way across the city in order to visit the Dutch hospital. As she pushed her way through the crowds, she was surprised to discover that thousands of Greek soldiers were still on the quayside, waiting to embark. ‘What we fear is the rabble and the crowd lest the Turks arrive before the army has cleared out,’ she wrote. ‘There are dozens and dozens of ships taking them as hard as they can, and the soldier, in his hurry to get off, pushes and scrambles and drops his rifle and everything he can so that the town is strewn with things and guns.’

Grace’s sympathies lay entirely with the Turks and she had long held that Britain’s pro-Greek policy was doomed to failure. ‘I wish Lloyd George could have been here to witness all that has gone on,’ she wrote in her diary that Friday morning. A little later she added: ‘I rather hope Kemal will come soon.’

Although Grace’s views were not shared by the majority of Smyrna’s inhabitants, there remained nevertheless an overwhelming air of calm. Department stores remained open for business; butchers and bakers opened their doors as usual. Even the brasseries and beer houses continued to serve their regular customers as if nothing untoward was afoot. And at the Théâtre de Smyrne, a small queue of people were waiting to buy tickets for the evening motion picture –
The Tango of Death
.

George Ward Price of the
Daily Mail
disembarked from the
Ajax
on Friday afternoon and checked into the Grand Hotel Kraemer Palace. That done, he paid a visit on Sir Harry Lamb and his consular staff, whom he found making extraneous efforts to get all British nationals out of the country. ‘[They were] working day and night to issue passports for all inhabitants who could claim British nationality. Many of these were British in name only.’

The lack of any civil authorities in a city the size of Smyrna was causing as much concern to George Horton as it was to Sir Harry Lamb. A large number of Americans were still living in the city, as well as a sizeable population of Greeks and Armenians who held American nationality. Horton did not wish to create panic by advising all Americans to leave, yet he was acutely aware of his responsibilities as consul if and when trouble arose. Many American wives had already taken refuge aboard one of the ships at anchor in the bay and Horton advised his own wife to do likewise. ‘But she refused, thinking that her staying might give comfort to those who remained.’