The L'Anse sentinel. (L'Anse, L.S., Mich.) 18??-current, 1916-11-18
THE DYING TURK
BY HENRY SMITH.

Tash-Kishla hospital is not pretty
place at best; and ward % was the
dreariest and dustiesoof all. The long
dormitory was nearly empty, and the
waving shadows of trees outside float
ed quietly to and fro on the grimy
walls and the floor, still damp from its
morning cleaning. For 1t was very
bright outside, and most Of the men
were In the courtyard or visiting
friends in the SUMMER wards.
On one dirty bed q small group was
engrossed in a quiet game Of scam
bile" forbidden to soldiers like all
card games, but winked at in the hos.
pital. Players and onlookers were 81
lent and intent, for the Turk takes life
and it's scant pleasures seriously. On
| another bed young man whose lined
face showed the recent agonieS OF
tetanus lay dreamily gazing at red
rose and singing to himself the refrain
Of an Anatolian love song. Bed No.
81, too, was occupied by something
that stirred uneasily and groaned.
A nurse came in with a large screen;
the men glanced up from the game
moment They understood. Then a
player snapped down his card and the
game resumed.
No. 27 did not understand why the
screen was put around his bed. for the
hospital and its ways were strange to
him. Perhaps he did not see 1t, his
eyes stared upward so fixedly.
Allah! Allah" he fnurmured soft
~ again and again.
HE will die in few minutes" whis-
pered the nurse. "Hassan, little wa
ter"
The one-eyed orderly limped on his
errand, while she famed the flies
away. When the water came she
dipped towel and wiped the sweat
drops from the gray forehead.
rs there anything we can do?" /
asked.
mo. He wants nothing. In few
moments he will die"
Then paroxysm Of pain seized upon
him and shook the wasted frame. His
mumbled words were almost .inaudible,
but one word was repeated over and
over again, "rahat" He was praying
for peace, for rest. And so he lay q
long time.
From the courtyard came a song.
The soldiers were singing. 1t was the
Silistria march, the song Of Young
Turkey, the song that Hamid the Red
forbade on pain Of death lest its mar
tial strains should remind his subjects
that they were free Osmanli, swing
ing song of hope and idealism and de.
votion to the Ottoman empire OF their
hope. AS we listened to the alien
verse our own pulses beat stronger.
But Ibrahim did not hear the refrain,
"Feda olsun janumiz."
"Feda olsun janumiz," translated the
nurse, For our fatherland our souls
shall be sacrificed"
''Ibrahim, where is your homer
"YeniShehir"
"Are you married."
eyes"
"And children"
1.-TWO, effendim, boys. One twelve
and the other eight" There was q
ring of pride in the faint voice.
"Ibrahim baba, haven't you any
other children"
Eyes, effendim, but the others are
girls"
Can We do anything for your"
Nothing"
"would. you see hodja?"
Eyes"
So the priest came-a little pursy
man, in a white turban and a pink
robe, and a helpless expression. At
last he spoke.
"Ibrahim."
"Effendimw
Have you any money!"
about fifteen piasters.'
Give 1t to me. / will take care of
It for you"
The dying man raised his eyebrows,
the eastern gesture of scornful refusal.
and turned his head. The priest walked
away muttering.
For long time Ibrahim lay very
still. At last he drew his hands from
under the blanket and stared at them,
closely, DULY, for long time. Then
he dropped them lifelessly and a
strange light came into the sunken
eyes.
"Ulujem, ulujem," he repeated a
score Of times. II shall die, shall
die, I shall die"
Don't be afraid" said the nurse,
ut will be all right soon."
He looked at her reproachfully and
answered one strong word, "Korkme-
Drum" I'm not afraid).
Presently he grew uneasy. No posi-
ton could bring relief. Then came de-
lirium; and through It all he prayed
for peace. Once he softly spoke q
womans name.
HE calls to his mother" whispered
the nurse.
!. Beyond the screen the card players
had become noisy the one-eyed or
DERBY tiptoed out and everything was
still again. Ibrahim was very quiet
4