But the crushing of their false friend did not deminish the number of their enemies. The Christians were now threatened on all sides by Turk, by Kurd, and by Persian; and in Urmi they had to control a seething hostile community considerably more numerous than themselves. The British advance from Baghdad had still penetrated no higher than Tekrit, 250 miles to the southward; and all hope of Russian help was gone. They were still well off for munitions; but the bulk of the lavish supplies which had been intended for the armament of Russia had fallen into the hands of their enemies, and the Turkish armies in Eastern Asia Minor were now equipped as no Turkish armies in that district had ever been equipped before.
There still remained, however, some scattered contingents of Armenians—unhappily divided against themselves by bitter internecine dissensions—and with one of these led by a grim fighter named Andranik who commanded a personal following of about 5000, there was still some chance of effecting a junction. Petros got into communication with him, and a plan was concerted to this end.
Had the plan succeeded it is probable, in the light of subsequent events, that the Assyrians would have been able to keep their hold upon Urmi until the Armistice. But the Turks held the interior lines and Ali Ihsan, their commander in this district, was unluckily a General of considerable capacity. He flung himself across Petros’ path as he pressed northward and repulsed his attempt to break through. Petros, better as a tactician than as a strategist, unhappily did not renew the assault at the moment when perseverance might have earned victory; and Ali Ihsan, in the nick of time, was able to turn upon Andranik, and beat him back after a long day’s desperate fighting in the streets of Khoi.
Nevertheless the Assyrians still continued to present a bold front to their enemies; and for three months, under Petros’ able leadership, they beat back in battle after battle[{383}] all the attacks that were delivered against them both north and south of Urmi. They are said to have fought no fewer than fourteen actions in this time. In one of these, at Ushnu, they captured nearly 350 Turkish regular soldiers, besides 5 machine guns and 2 pieces of field artillery; and with almost unbelievable generosity these prisoners were released upon parole.
“But what of your Kurdish prisoners, Saypu?” we asked of the stalwart young warrior whose maiden exploit in arms we related on page 315.
“We took no Kurdish prisoners, Rabbi,” replied Saypu grimly, “after the death of Mar Shimun.”
Their humanity is more to their credit, since they knew well the fate of their kinsfolk in the outlying villages which they were forced to abandon, and might learn thence to what fate they themselves were doomed should they fail to make good their defence. Ali Ihsan had now gone southward to take over the command at Mosul, and to be defeated by General Marshall in the last battle of the war. The Turkish leader in the north was now Jevdet Bey, previously Vali of Van, the brutal son of kind old Tahir and brother-in-law of Enver Pasha, a man who had already earned eternal infamy by his pitiless massacres of the Armenians at Van. Now on one occasion he forced the entire population of a village, numbering it is said 700, and including all the women and children, to dig a deep trench for their own grave along the foot of a lofty mud wall. When the trench was finished they were marched into it. The wall was thrown down on the top of them; and every soul was buried alive. On another occasion a village, which had defended itself to the last cartridge, surrendered at last on fair conditions which the Turks solemnly confirmed by oaths taken on the Koran. Every male was immediately massacred; every female stripped and outraged, and then turned adrift naked to crawl to Urmi as she could.
Such incidents are, of course, but samples of hundreds of similar atrocities perpetrated by the Turks upon their Christian helots during the recent war. Neither is it permissible for any honest chronicler to leave them unrecorded,[{384}] so long as there are any advocates for a policy of leaving Christians subject to Turks.
And the cruel mercies of Islam seemed now closing round the Assyrians. Their fighting force was steadily dwindling and now their ammunition was running out. The end was almost in sight; but once more there came a gleam of hope just as the last hope seemed extinguished, and an aeroplane appeared over Urmi on July 8th, 1918. It was saluted with a hot fusillade, for all, of course, deemed it Turkish. But presently it dawned upon someone that the tricoloured circles were not a Turkish emblem, and it was wildly welcomed to earth. Captain Pennington of the Royal Air Force had flown from Miani in the south over 150 miles of unknown and hostile country; and, having escaped his friends’ bullets, was next nearly suffocated by their embraces, for all, of course, argued (Oriental-like) that their final relief was now assured.
But Captain Pennington was no more than the far-advanced scout of a woefully weak flying column, consisting of a machine-gun company and a squadron of the 14th Hussars; and these had only penetrated as far as the village of Sain Kaleh, 100 miles to the south. Yet he bore a message of hope. They had escorted thither a first instalment of money, munitions, and officers; and if only the Assyrians could gain touch with them these supplies might enable them to hold out.