Father's new Job

Oct. 31, 1915

I'm so excited! Father's got a new job. It was so unexpected. What with the war, and all, we were all afraid he'd be called up. Of course, they don't usually trust our people with weapons, but the new leadership seems to have new ideas on so many things. And the War has changed so much.

But, instead, they have told us that new work will be available to everyone soon. I'm so happy!

Nov. 5, 1915

There are more soldiers in the streets than ever before. They are changed, somehow. More friendly, I think. Towards us. Towards our people.

I had heard that the new leaders were trying to help everyone get along. The alliance with Germany means that Christians and Muslims must learn to get along! We shall be good neighbours, seperate but equal. That is what the soldiers say now.

Nov. 7, 1915

Some of the farmers have had their stores confiscated. This is not unusual, they say, in time of War. The soldiers need food, to fight the enemy, who press us hard on all fronts. Civilians must manage as best they can. I am not worried. Neither is father.

Nov. 10, 1915

We here stories of great fires to the east of our town. Whole villages burned to the ground. The soldiers tell us of great airships of the enemy, with terrible fire weapons. May the Lord protect us from such evil!

Father and mother are preparing us to move to our new home, where father can begin his new job. I do hope we have a large garden! It's so nice to have food of all kinds on the table.

Sister and brother look tired today. I tell them things are getting better now.

Nov. 12, 1915

Next week we move. We see many families in our neighbourhood are also preparing to move. They say there are new jobs to be had, and they fear the enemy.

The soldiers are all very helpful. The new leadership -- the "Young Turks", they say -- truly want to help our people. They smile at us, and help us to pack.

We have seen other families of Christians travelling through our town. They all look happy.

Nov. 13, 1915

Sister had an accident today. She had cuts and bruises but, she wouldn't say a thing. I don't know why. Father and mother kept asking her questions but she just shook and cried. Her dress was torn. The soldiers all smiled at her, but she just ran away. I hope she feels better, tomorrow.

Nov. 19, 1915

Moving day! I'm so happy, and excited. Everyone is bustling about, eager to go to their new homes. The soldiers are a little pushy, I think. I guess that is their job. I fell down once, and two of them trampled me a little. But I was Okay.

Last Sunday, in Church, the Priest talked about the Exodus of the Jews from Egypt. OF the pillar of fire that led them out of Egypt, that confused and destroyed the armies of Pharoah that pursued them, that led them through the desert, that gave them food for forty years, and that led them to the Promised Land.

But the Priest said, this time, Pharoah is on the side of God's Chosen People. That Pharoah's armies will gaurd and protect his people, will lead them to their new homes, and will supply them with good jobs.

Nov. 25, 1915

We have been travelling for days. I don't know where our Priest is. He was supposed to have his own wagon, but, for some reason, the soldiers wanted him to travel with them, in an advance armored truck. He argued with them, but they looked very angry, and pulled him by the arms along with them.

Father and mother look sad today.

Nov. 27, 1915

Travelling is hard. We have little food. Even the horses are very tired, and groan from hunger.

The soldiers no longer look friendly. They frown, and shout at us. I don't know why. Sister screams when she sees them. Brother looks very angry.

Nov. 30, 1915

We passed through a town today. All burned and leveled to the ground. The houses, the farms. There were dead animals -- horses, dogs, cats, chickens, cows -- but no people. No people anywhere.

I saw what must have been a very old and fine church. The walls were broken. The steeple collapsed, its great crucifix burned to blackened charcol. Strange words were scrawled on its blackened walls. They were curses.

Dec. 1, 1915

We are becoming very hungry. And there are fewer of us here, in our little caravan, I think. I don't know where they have gone. Some, perhaps, have gone home.

The soldiers are still with us. Sister hides in the wagon when they pass by. Sometime they search the wagons, and take things from them. Usually food. We have very little food, now.

Dec. 3, 1915

We have come to a great city. People, wagons, trucks are everywhere. The old people stare at us, the children run away. Soldiers fill the streets, but our gaurds say they must continue to protect us. They won't let us speak to anyone, or move far from our wagons. When we try to beg for food, they hit us, they shout at us. I am frightened, sometimes.

Dec. 4, 1915

The Train Station. Turkish soldiers heading to fight the enemy. And German officers are there too. They are easy to pick out in their spiked helmets. But the Germans never look at us. And there are many, many Christians travelling here, in caravans of gaurded wagons, like us, all to be transported by train to their work for the Turkish State. But the Germans never look at the Christians. Aren't they Christians too? They never look at us, but they know we are here. I can feel it.

There are really two Train Stations here. One is noisy, full of Turkish and German soldiers, clean, open, ungaurded, bustling.

We are led to the other. Walls topped with barbs, and near silence. No sound but the rhythm of the trains, coming and going, like a great machine. Gaurds are now all around us, all the time. We pass through a walled gate, and see masses and masses of poor, hungry people. Too tired to cry or groan. They stand and stare. They are herded to the waiting trains, we are jammed inside, into the dark. Into the smell. And we see nothing. We see nothing.

Dec. 7, 1915

We are home. In the camp. In the barracks. All the families and children, all together.

I cannot remember the train. It was too dark there, so, I cannot remember it.

I am hungry. And very cold. I tremble with the cold and mother and father try to hold me close.

Sister no longer speaks. Brother no longer looks angry.

Dec. 14, 1915

There is work. As they said, there is work. For father, mother, sister, brother and me. We break rocks. We dig ditches. All day.

And then we eat.

And then we sleep.

And then we work.

But day by day there are fewer of us to work. Of those who first came. They say more are on the way here.

The gaurds say we eat too much and work too little. They shout at us and wave their rifles and bayonets in our faces. We cannot keep up. And then they beat us.

Dec. 21, 1915

There is a light in the forest near the camp. A bright, glowing light, day and night you can see it, like a pillar of fire on the horizon. A pillar of fire, and a sound like the beating of many, many drums, loud and louder, it never stops.

I think of the Exodus. Of the Jews in Egypt. Of the pillar of fire that led them through the desert, to the Promised Land.



© Copyright Jerome Raymond Kraus 2007