The Logan Republican. [volume] (Logan, Utah) 1902-1924, 1916-08-26
THE DYING TURK
BY HENRY SMITH.

|
dreariest and busiest of 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 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 we're 81.
lent and intent, for the Turk takes life
and its 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 large screen;
the men glanced up from the game q
moment. They understood. Then q
player snapped down his card and the
game resumed.
No. q 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 murmured soft.
ly 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 a 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
long time.
From the courtyard came song.
The soldiers we're singing. It 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 we're free Osmanli, q 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 q sacrifice!"
"Ibrahim, where is your homer"
"YeniShehir."
Are you married."
Eyes"
"And children?"
1.-Two, effendim, boys. One twelve
and the other eight" There was
ring Of pride in the faint voice.
'Ibrahim baba, haven't you any
other children?"
Yes, effendim, but the others are
girls"
Can we do anything for your"
Nothing"
Would you see a hodja?"
Yes"
So the priest came-a little pursy
man, in q white turban and pink
robe, and a helpless expression. At
last he spoke.
"Ibrahim."
"Effendim?"
Have you any money!"
".bout fifteen piasters."
Give It 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 a long time Ibrahim lay very
still. At last he drew his hands from
under the blanket and stared at them,
closely. duly, for q long time. Then
he dropped them lifelessly and
strange light came into the sunken
eyes.
"Ulujem, ulujem," he repeated
score Of times. II shall die, ! shall
die, 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" G'm not afraid).
Presently he grew uneasy. No posi-
ton could bring relief. Then came de-
lirium; and through 1t all he prayed
for peace. Once he softly spoke a
woman's 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
now; he seemed to sleep. Slower and
slower and slower came the gasping
breaths. Then suddenly the eyes