The Armenian Weekly On-Line: AWOL
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AWOL (Armenian Weekly On-Line), Volume 73, No. 5, February 3, 2007
1. Letter to Hrant Dink
By Khatchig Mouradian
2. From April 24 to January 19
By Khajag Mgrdichian
Translated by Tatul Sonentz
3. Genocide on Film, Italian Style
By Andy Turpin
4. The Lady in Gyumri
By Knarik O. Meneshian
5. Stephen Kurkjian Speaks at NAASR on Dink Funeral
By Andy Turpin
6. A Growing Family Tree
By Betty Apigian Kessel
7. Community Honors Vartabedian on Retirement
8. Oral History of John Amboian of Andover
By Gregory Arabian
9. Vahan Hovhannisyan in New Jersey
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1. Letter to Hrant Dink
By Khatchig Mouradian
Dear Hrant,
I believe by now, the water found its crack; you found in the great beyond
those whom we lost 92 years ago.
Hrant, I have some favors to ask.
Embrace Krikor Zohrab for me. Tell him I have been reading and rereading his
short stories ever since I discovered them.
Give Daniel Varoujan my best. Tell him he enlightened my youth with his
poems, and he continues to inspire my soul.
Hrant, do not forget to chant songs of survival with Siamanto.
Tell them they are on our bookshelves, they are on our classroom tables,
their words are on our lips and in our hearts.
And tell them I believe-I’m sure you do too-that one day, they will be on
the bookshelves, classroom tables, lips and hearts of Turks as well.
One day their statues-and yours-will also adorn Istanbul.
Do not forget to pray with Komitas, and tell him that one day, Armenian
women will sing again in the villages of Anatolia.
Please find my grandparents. Tell them we carry their names and their love
to the land they never left, the land we never saw.
Hrant, kiss the blessed foreheads of each and every victim of the Medz
Yeghern of 1915.
Tell them we shall continue to walk on the road of their dreams. Because
their dreams are our dreams.
Tell them we shall make the deserts flourish with the scent of their memory.
Tell them that from Talaat to Samast, we are survivors.
Tell them we are all Zohrab, Varoujan, Siamanto, Komitas and Hrant.
Love,
Khatchig Mouradian
—————————————- ———————————–
2. From April 24 to January 19
By Khajag Mgrdichian
Translated by Tatul Sonentz
On Jan. 19, in broad daylight in Istanbul, Turkish intolerance opened fire
on Hrant Dink, the editor of the newspaper Ago, making him a martyr in the
struggle for freedom of thought and speech.
>From the very first day of this crime, the Turkish authorities did
everything in their power to convince international opinion that the
incident was the work of immature extremist youngsters, and that they
condemn this deed.
This lame Turkish attempt is not new; this very same approach was adopted
even before 1915 and still continues.
Listen to Turkish officials’ and intellectuals’ express their points of view
on the Armenian Genocide, and you will notice the same approach. In spite of
the overwhelming historical evidence, from Ecevit and Demirel to Ozal and
Erdogan, they all insist that there was no official decision to massacre the
Armenians at the beginning of the last century; there was simply a
conviction that the Armenians, as an untrustworthy element, should be moved
from the conflict regions of World War I. As for the massacre of some
deportees, it was due to the unsanctioned actions of certain armed elements,
motivated by righteous revenge in view of attacks against Turkish
populations perpetrated by armed Armenian bands. They are reluctant to
discuss the special units formed by order of the Sultan Abdul Hamid, or the
hardened criminals released from penitentiaries by the Ittihadist
authorities and the covert orders issued by the Interior Minister Talaat.
Today’s Turkey repeats the same gabble. Turkish officials try to wash their
hands of any responsibility in Hrant Dink’s assassination, presenting the
incident as a crime committed by extremist youth, refusing to talk about the
"Gray Wolves," "Ulkujis," or the strictly covert transfer of state funds to
government sponsored chauvinistic mafias in the 1990’s, during the Tansu
Ciller administration-all brought to light following the notorious Susurluk
car crashor even today’s infamous Article 301.
It was the same Hrant Dink who was convicted and condemned to six months
incarceration by the courts, based on Article 301. In sham conformity to
European standards, Turkey could not condemn Hrant Dink to death, but that
same state carried out the execution through elements it sponsored.
Dink’s main transgression was his audacity to state that "Rather than being
a Turk, I am a citizen of Turkey, and I am Armenian!" Yes, Hrant Dink was
not a Turk, he was Armenian, and for that very reason he was judged guilty
by the Turkish courts. His punishment was considered insufficient by
elements active under the very nose of the authorities; elements who
considered a death penalty more appropriate and picked him as a target of
this revolting crime.
The same "guilt" caused the violent demise of Siamanto, Daniel Varujan,
Zohrab, Komitas, Vartkes and countless other intellectuals, and today, their
hundreds of thousands of heirs in Turkey do not dare state that they are
Armenian, because they know very well, that the Turk, with his borrowed
Latin alphabet and Western garb, has yet to abandon the mentality of Gray
Wolves.
—————————————– ———————————–
3. Genocide on Film, Italian Style
By Andy Turpin
WATERTOWN, Mass. (A.W.)-No matter how conflagrating the issue, Italian
filmmakers have always taken it on with passion and never without public
fallout. Such was the case in the ’70s when the late legendary director
Carlo Ponti took on the duality of Italianita (Italian-ness) and fascism in
"Massacre in Rome," and in 1997 when actor-director Roberto Benigni took on
the Holocaust in "Life is Beautiful."
Now the Taviani Brothers, Vittorio and Paolo, are battling the PR behemoth
that is the Armenian Genocide in their newest opus, "The Massacre of the
Allodole." (The international title of the film has also been billed as
"Lark Farm.") The film, based on the novel of the same name by author
Antonia Arslan, is set to premiere at the Berlin Film Festival on Feb. 14
and to open internationally May 4.
The story follows that of two Armenian brothers from Anatolia, Yerwant and
Sempad. At the age of 13, Yerwant decides to leave his family to go to Italy
to study at the Italian-Armenian college of Venice and to go to the
University of Medicine in Padova. Sempad stays in Anatolia to work as the
village apothecary. At the age of 40, Yerwant finally plans a visit to his
brother in Anatolia, where Sempad is preparing to celebrate his arrival. By
that time, however, the well-known heinous events of 1915 have already been
set in motion by the Young Turks.
Beyond the initial controversy that will inevitably be raised by producing a
film about the Armenian Genocide, the film and novel contain a subplot
involving a romantic rendezvous between a Turkish officer and an Armenian
woman.
Arslan drew on the story of her own family to tell the story of "Skylark
Farm," transforming the "obscure memories" that are her heritage into a
novel as lyrical and poignant as a fable.
Arslan lives in Padua, Italy, and has a degree in archeology. She was
professor of modern and contemporary Italian literature at the University of
Padua. "Skylark Farm" is her first novel. Through the work of the poet
Daniel Varoujan-whose collections "The Song of Bread" and "Seas of Grain"
she translated (with Chiara Haiganush Megighian and Alfred Hemmat
Siraky)-she rediscovered her deep and unspoken Armenian identity.
The film’s most recognizable stars are Arsinee Khanjian and Spanish actress
Paz Vega ("Sex and Lucia," 2001). The Taviani brothers are cornerstones of
the Italian film community, having gained their reputation for
politically-minded neo-realist revival pieces in the ’70’s with films like,
"St. Michael Had a Rooster"(1972), "Night of the Shooting Stars"(1982) and
"Good Morning Babylon"(1987).
When asked why the directors chose to premiere the film at the Berlin Film
Festival-as opposed to the well-known showplace of the Cannes Film Festival-
they said that they had chosen Berlin because of it’s large Turkish
population. "The Turkish people need to face history and admit it happened,
like the Italian people admitted to the brutality of fascism," they said.
The father of the Taviani brothers, a Tuscan lawyer, was persecuted for his
anti-fascisti beliefs during WWII.
Such political sentiments on the part of the Taviani brothers come on the
heels of the Italian government’s open support of Turkey’s E.U. accession
bid and a domestic backlash by the Italian Green and Communist parties on
expansions to the U.S. military base in Vicenza. Both are policy decisions
with ties to Turkey culturally and militarily as the Bush administration’s
long-term troop redeployment plans incorporate bases in Greece, Turkey and
Italy.
—————————————— ———————————-
4. The Lady in Gyumri
By Knarik O. Meneshian
Like feathers falling from a torn pillow,
Snow flakes tumble
Onto streets and walks,
Bare trees, withered grass, dead flowers;
Onto roof tops, telephone wires, and the occasional
clothesline.
In the frosty cold,
Quiet beauty shimmers everywhere,
And I remember the lady in Gyumri.
I never saw her face
Nor heard her voice.
Did she laugh or cry much?
Did she dare to hope or even dream
Amidst the poverty and shabbiness
That had become a rite of passage
For many in that far away place?
I never found out.
While there,
Each morning from my kitchen window,
Doing chores,
I only saw her milk-white hands and arms
Opening her kitchen window,
One hand reaching out, palm up.
The weather did not matter,
Nor did the day-
There was work to be done.
The same work in the same allotted time
Each day-
Because of the water.
Just when the water came
Ruled her day
As well as everyone’s in that city.
It had become a part of her,
A part of everyone-
Like breathing.
First, from her window
She’d shake out a pair of little black socks,
Big black socks,
Little black trousers,
Big black trousers,
A little white shirt,
A big white shirt,
A slim blue dress with faded pink flowers,
Three sheets,
Three towels,
A tattered brown housecoat,
And some rags.
Done at last,
She’d slam shut the window
As if to announce to the sky
And the birds flying above,
The sooty snow
And crumbling concrete ground below,
The widowed village lady
Peddling her matzoon and milk,
Even the barking, hungry street dogs,
"I am finished!"
Later, opening the window again,
This time more slowly
And with grace,
To hang clothes,
Washed clean by hand,
On a clothesline
Riding on a rusted pulley
Groaning each time it was moved
To make room
For one more piece,
And still one more.
Flapping in the wind,
The clothes on the line
Looked like flags
Beckoning.
Now, as I look out of my kitchen window
So far from Gyumri,
I watch a bird
Perched on the snow-covered clothesline
In my backyard.
It dances.
Squirrels leap
>From fence to apple tree
Nibbling frozen fruit,
And rabbit tracks dot the snow.
The water flows freely here.
(January 2007)
——————————————– —————————-
5. Stephen Kurkjian Speaks at NAASR on Dink Funeral
By Andy Turpin
BELMONT, Mass. (A.W.)-On Feb. 1, Boston Globe journalist Stephen Kurkjian
spoke at Belmont’s First Armenian Church on his impressions of the massive
funeral service held in Istanbul for Hrant Dink.
The event was organized by NAASR as part of their 2007 Lecture Series and
Seminar.
Der Dajad Davidian presented a commemorative prayer in honor of Dink, and
NAASR chairwoman Nancy R. Kolligian introduced Kurkjian.
NAASR director of programs and publications Marc A. Mamigonian also attended
Dink’s funeral. He described the various reactions of the Turkish press to
the Dink murder. "In Turkey," he said, "there were four categories of
coverage: self-pitying, paranoid, mournful and hateful." He quoted Turkish
headlines across the news gambit: "Turkey Needs Multiculturalism," "Turkey
is Anti-Everything," and most resoundingly, "Hrant is Killed Let All the
Liars Shut Up."
He compared these headlines to U.S. coverage, quoting the Wall St. Journal’s
assumption that the attitude in Turkey was indicative of "A new era of
democracy in the Balkans, the Caucasus, maybe soon the Middle-East."
He noted that the Boston Globe’s reaction, independent of a byline by
Stephen Kurkjian, was that "Turks must re-define what it means to be
Turkish."
"The Turkish presses are staying with the story," Mamigonian said. "It’s a
Turkish story. Things sometimes take a long time to be clear in Turkey. .
Turkey is getting ready to deal with the killing the way Hrant wanted. Maybe
they [the Turkish people] will usher in a new era of freedom and democracy."
Speaking of Dink’s personal career and convictions, Mamigonian said, "He was
a very brave man. He had guts. He spoke his mind. For us, when we speak our
minds we risk only our reputations." He showed slides from the funeral with
its overwhelming attendance levels, and then showed a Sultan Hamid-era slide
depicting the C.U.P inaugural celebration, noting, "I was reminded of images
100 years ago of 1908 and the Young Turk movement."
Giving lead-in to Kurkjian taking the podium, Mamigonian described him as a
"knowledgeable amateur historian and a detective."
"Like most of you [when the murder occurred]," Kurkjian said, "I was at
work. I did not know him personally, but I knew of his work." Showing slides
of the funeral and of Dink’s family pallbearers, he commented on the crowd’s
reactions, saying, "There was instantaneous applause for any member of his
family."
He said also of the level of lament, "There was very little sound. . There
were beyond 200,000 people. In many places you couldn’t tell who was
marching and who was observing, but among all there was a deep sense of
solemnity."
Poetically, he described the sight of doves being released into the air in
honor of Dink. "One dove came back and landed on the hearse," he said, and
showed the picture of the lone dove on the casket, looking into the camera.
The image had an even greater impact when one recalled what Dink had written
in the weeks prior to his death: "I feel like a dove. .I know people in this
country don’t like to disturb doves."
Kurkjian met Armenians in Turkey, and was frank when he said, "I saw total
subjugation, brought on by fear and insecurity. . There are no Armenian
political figures in parliament. The fear and paranoia of the Armenians
there is palpable."
Hrant Dink’s widow, Rakel Dink, read her "Letter to My Beloved" during the
funeral, and "It took me back to November of 1963, to the quiet dignity
Jacqueline Kennedy showed at her husband’s funeral," said Kurkjian.
"Dink had an intense philosophical bent. He didn’t make his decisions, like
most journalists, based on pragmatism. . He wanted to make Agos a newspaper
for the democrats-small ‘d.’ His fight for us was a fight for Turkish
democracy."
Speaking to the audience, Kurkjian rallied, "We must count ourselves beyond
the bitterness at the Turkish government. We must look to groups like NAASR.
Lend a hand. The time to show up is upon us." He flashed an index card-sized
placard of Dink and said, "Show it, proclaim it, be proud of it. Wear it on
your lapel until at least 10 people ask you, ‘What’s that about?’"
During the question and answer session that followed, Kurkjian was asked
what potential opportunities existed for the Armenian Diaspora in the
aftermath of Dink’s death. Kurkjian noted that the momentum might produce
greater support for legislation recognizing the Armenian Genocide in the
U.S.Congress.
"We will finally get the recognition of our beloved grandfathers and
grandmothers of who they were. Finally the world understands and is paying
attention to us. We must go the extra step and help those that are Armenian
in both Turkey and Armenia. .Our beloved vigil for our ancestors was worth
it, and we are marching forward," he said.
Filmmaker Apo Torosyan asked Kurkjian that if Armenians and their activities
are so closely monitored by the Turkish secret service, who was behind the
task of producing all the protest signs and organizing the funeral? Kurkjian
surmised, "There were a small number of Kurds shouting, ‘Down with Fascism!’
But I don’t think they were the core, I think that came from the Turkish
people."
He then said notably, "Despite my three Pulitzer prizes, I think this event
and my being there will help define me as a journalist."
——————————– ——————————————
6. A Growing Family Tree
By Betty Apigian Kessel
I had barely gotten used to the idea of becoming a grandmother the first
time, when I found out that the stork of glad tidings was hovering overhead
again. He picked the cold, snowy day of Jan. 26, and landed in Beverly
Hills, Mich., at the home of Brant and Lorie Karam Kessel.
It was to be a boy as determined by those scientific tests for parents who
choose not to be surprised. The reasons for wanting to know vary from
nursery decorating purposes to picking outfits to just plain not being able
to handle the suspense. Personally, if I were the expectant parent, I’d
prefer to find out when the child is born. Are there no surprises left in
life into which science has not meddled?
Because of the delivery method, even the baby’s birth date was
predetermined. The obliging child chose not to pick its own birthday by
arriving earlier, and instead accommodated the doctor’s appointed due date.
All the second-guessing about an earlier arrival by his parents and
grandparents did not deter him from his debut with destiny. He remained "in
hiding" til the morning of Jan. 26.
The maternity ward of William Beaumont Hospital in Royal Oak is a plush
affair with the mothers being ensconced in large private rooms. Their
built-ins resemble fine furniture and the adjoining bath is, well, big!
Nothing but the best for the modern-age woman. No dropping the newborn in a
field like the old days where it was said the mother would then go on to her
tasks. I don’t believe that stuff for a minute. Been there, done that, and I
wasn’t feeling like planting corn soon afterwards.
My daughter-in-law delivered a beautiful, healthy infant and another
grandson to us. We were more than happy to help out caring for 22-month-old
Cole Aeben, their first born, until his mother returned three days later.
Weeks earlier she had asked me for a book of Armenian names and it just so
happens the Prelacy had mailed me the yearly calendar which contained such
names. She is of Scotch and Lebanese extraction. I had no idea what she and
my half-Armenian son had in mind.
Of course, we were all curious what name they had selected, and we thought
we would finally find out upon his birth. Oh, no. No, they let us hang on
with suspense. After all, these days you have to know your place and not
press certain matters. It may kill you to do so, but life will go smoother
if you cool it. And we did. Upon our son’s return from the hospital Saturday
evening, we finally found out. His dad prodded, "Brant did you name the baby
yet?" I sat there waiting for the answer. Then the second-time father spoke:
"ARMEN GABRIEL," tumbled out of his mouth, and I grinned from ear to ear as
I repeated the name out loud several times before it sank in, and then burst
into tears and quickly grabbed the cell phone to call Rosemary Haroutunian.
"Rosemary, guess what?" You have an Armen grandson, and now I have one too!"
She shrieked, "Oh, my God, congratulations! Atchgernit louys." It was the
Armenian name all the excitement was about. She had previously been informed
about his birth. The two of us chattered incessantly interrupting each other
and carried on like two Armenian grandmothers. Like Rosemary’s and my own
Zonguldaktzi mothers would: "Armen Gabriel?" she queried. "My brother’s name
is Kapriel." "Yes, I know, and your daughter-in-law is named Lorie, too." It
was agreed that the coming Friday night required a gathering to celebrate
the birth and to graze at a mezza seghan (table).
"Little Giant" Makes Big Impression
Armen Gabriel, or as I refer to him, my "little giant," weighed in one ounce
short of 10 pounds and is 22 inches long. He has the longest fingers I have
ever seen on a baby, and coos as I hold and sway with him. His eyes are
light like our side of the family and has a head full of dark hair. He is
ours and he is darling. We have been blessed. Our year has been challenging
but all along we have had the support of great friends and relatives.
The evening that we learned of the new baby’s name we got home around 10
p.m. and I landed in my leather chair and made 32 phone calls locally,
across the U.S. and Canada, and sent umpteen e-messages. I would have
shouted it from the top of Mt. Ararat, too, but I have a fear of heights.
The name had the same effect on everyone. They rolled the name off their
tongues. "Armen Gabriel. What a lovely name." Now anyone who knows me isn’t
surprised at what I did before I made the phone calls. I went into my office
where my parents’ wedding picture hangs
over my work desk and "talked" to my dad. I said, "Hairik, I have news for
you. Your great grandson is born and his name is Armen Gabriel. I know you
are pleased, Hairik, and I do everything to please you. I am so happy,
Hairik. They harkeled (paid respect to) us by giving him that Armenian
name."
Why would anyone devote a column to the birth of a baby? Because I choose to
be a reflection of you. Because everyone who has been in my shoes knows the
feeling. To give a child an Armenian name signifies to all the world for
forever what your bloodlines are. Armenia lives on in many ways in many
places.
Pete Stepanian of Niagara Falls was congratulatory because, as he said, the
Keghetzi blood line he and I share would be continued. Heather Krafian, too,
would have picked Armen for a son’s name, but she has four precious
daughters with lovely Armenian names.
The Karadians and everyone else said "Atchgernit louys," which means "may it
bring light to your eyes." My older cousin Armen Demerjian laughed, saying
that there would be someone to carry on his name when he passed. Armenians
have beautiful sayings for every occasion. The kindness and response from
all has been most gratifying. It means so much to be Hye, to carry on
tradition.
What’s in a name? It’s a reflection of our beloved ancestral homeland.
Armenia, the home of the Hyes, is destined "Never to Die." It lives on even
in ARMEN GABRIEL!
—————————————– ————————————
7. Community Honors Vartabedian on Retirement
HAVERHILL, Mass. (A.W.)-More than 350 guests turned out on Jan. 23 to honor
veteran reporter-photographer Tom Vartabedian during a recognition breakfast
tendered by the community at DiBurro’s Function Hall.
Vartabedian was being toasted upon his retirement from the Haverhill Gazette
following a 40-year distinguished career, which resulted in several
newspaper awards from all levels of media coverage.
The gathering included four Haverhill mayors, several state politicians and
a representation from the business and civic community.
In attendance were four generations of the Vartabedian family, including Tom
Vartabedian’s 95-year-old mom, Jennie, who was transported there from a
nearby nursing facility.
A survivor of the 1915 Armenian Genocide, Mrs. Vartabedian was given a
standing ovation while upstaging her son.
Sonya, Ara and Raffi Vartabedian, presented a retrospect of their father’s
newspaper career, which stemmed in 1966 upon his arrival in Haverhill
shortly after marriage.
"Most people are surprised when they learn our father wasn’t born in
Haverhill," said Sonya Vartabedian, a features editor-writer for the
Eagle-Tribune. "His first love-our mother-brought him here in 1965. That’s
when he met his second love-The Haverhill Gazette. It’s as if The Gazette
has been a member of our family for 40 years."
The chronology touched upon the early years with Vartabedian pounding the
streets of Haverhill to the sports arenas, schools, city halls and senior
centers of his community looking for human-interest stories.
His career was also shown crisscrossing that of The Armenian Weekly which
started in 1960 and evolved into an almanac that’s appeared the last 36
years along with the souvenir AYF Olympics issue.
Over that time, he’s portrayed such characters as Uncle Sam in a patriotic
celebration, circus clown in Tin Pan Alley, a homeless victim, pool shark,
Santa Claus and Salvation Army bell-ringer.
Among the awards were several from United Press International and Associated
Press for humor columns; Massachusetts Golden Press Award for stories in the
best interests of youth, and a number reflecting his camerawork.
Along with it has come a Pulitzer Prize nomination from the Eunice Shriver
Foundation for Special Olympics coverage. In 2002, Vartabedian was presented
a Master Reporter Award from the New England Society of Newspaper Editors
which underscored his career.
"Every great newspaper provides a refuge and a home for its readers,"
Vartabedian told the crowd. "The torch of liberty is sustained by the ideas
of free men. The pen is an expression of such men and their ideas. It’s
nurtured the young and given the elderly something to embrace. Without it,
no community will stay informed."
The event had been staged by various service clubs in the community –
Exchange, Kiwanis and Rotary – along with Pentucket Bank, Greater Haverhill
Chamber of Commerce and The Salvation Army.
Proceeds totaling $4,500 were turned over to Vartabedian’s favorite
charity-The Gazette Santa Fund-which benefits needy families throughout the
community during Christmas.
Rev. Vartan Kassabian emphasized Vartabedian’s attachment to St. Gregory
Church of North Andover as a former long-time trustee and Armenian School
superintendent for 25 years.
"His commitment to the Armenian community has been invaluable," said Father
Kassabian. "Tom has always looked for opportunities to write and photograph
the people of Merrimack Valley. His stories about Armenians have touched us
all."
Citations were received from the city, Massachusetts House of
Representatives and Massachusetts State Senate.
"The residents of Haverhill and Merrimack Valley are the grateful
beneficiaries of Tom Vartabedian’s unwavering commitment to journalism on
issues and capturing images pertinent to the readers," said State Senator
Steven A. Baddour (D-Methuen).
"He has been a valued member of the Armenian community, having traveled to
Washington, DC., to advocate for justice and having toured Armenia in
2006."
Earlier in the month, Vartabedian was honored by two schools in his city,
Haverhill High and Whittier Vo-Tech, for his coverage of academic and
athletic issues, along with Northern Essex Community College, where he has
taught courses in Armenian language, history and culture.
—————————————– ————————————-
8. Oral History of John Amboian of Andover
By Gregory Arabian
The following oral history was recorded at the St Vartanantz Church in
Chelmsford, Mass.
Staff Sergeant John Peter Amboian was a combat veteran during the Korean
War. He knows that freedom is certainly not free because he participated in
that joint UN military operation. Today, we maintain 25,000 U.S. troops
monitoring the dangerous "demilitarized" zone at Panmunjom while North Korea
threatens us with nuclear weapons, 50 years or more after that conflict.
Born in 1931 and brought up in Lowell, Mass.-where he lived almost all of
his life-Amboian moved to Andover and settled there with his wife.
His parents were from in Mougheb, Kharpert, in occupied Armenia. They
married in the U.S., raising John, his two sisters and seven grandchildren.
John was the only one in the family to serve in the US Armed Forces.
John graduated from Lowell High School in 1950, not knowing what kind of
career to pursue. His teacher, whose son operated a funeral home in Lowell,
suggested a career in embalming, which required two years of education. His
mother quickly disabused him of that.
Instead, John decided to learn and work in his father’s dry cleaning
business for two and a half years, after which he was drafted into the Army.
While he had hoped to be a bookkeeper or an accountant, his only skills were
learned from the dry cleaning business, and his other interests never
developed.
John in-processed at Fort Devens, Mass., where tests revealed his
exceptionally high aptitude in Morse code. His first day at Devens consisted
of processing and testing. John felt comfortable at Devens because he was
close to home, and his parents were allowed to come see him. It was a
different experience, but he was joined by some local recruits, one of which
was Nick Ramos. Living conditions and the food were fine. He adjusted well,
despite the emphasis on discipline.
John transferred to Fort Dix, N.J., where he underwent 8 weeks of field
artillery training and 16 weeks of radio training. He adjusted well,
including his first KP assignment and quartermaster duties where he met
chief chef Michael Ohanian, who later went west and opened up a restaurant.
He underwent forced marches, a demanding exercise because he was not in good
physical shape.
He recalls asking himself during guard duty at a sewerage plant with loaded
M1 rifle, flashlight, full instructions and passwords, "Why am I guarding a
sewer plant?" He was told that someone once threw a baby into the processing
plant and they wanted to guard against such incidents. He also recalls
Bivouac training and outdoor survival in two-man tents living on field
rations. He participated in target practice, learned using the M1 rifle, the
anti-tank Bazooka and rifle-launched hand grenades, in which he became very
accurate.
Radio training was not new to John because he had experience in Boy Scouts
in Lowell’s Troop 27 for two years. He had familiarity with Morse code and
graduated high in his class. Radio School at Dix was like a college campus.
He was assigned to the 84th Field Artillery. He learned to use Morse code in
a continual learning and testing period of four weeks. After 18 weeks, he
was up to 21 words per minute, so he felt that the aptitude test at Devens
was quite accurate.
John graduated Radio Training School in spring 1953. He hoped for service
either stateside or in Europe, but received orders to report to Korea in the
Far East. This concerned him and his family deeply. He knew little about
Korea-where it was and what the issues were. However, his senior in charge
warned him that radio operators were the favorite targets of the enemy, so
he had to "remain on your toes." He described how the enemy "triangulated"
the location of the radio by measuring the direction of three or more
outgoing messages, and then dropped a shell on the radio station. John had
no choice; he headed for Korea with 20 others in his class.
John wondered why we were in Korea, but "followed the flow" without
protesting. He went home for 10 days, back to Fort Dix and to Fort Lewis,
Wash., by Pullman train with civilian and military passengers. The trip to
Washington was very enjoyable and scenic. He describes it as "quite an
experience: attractive ladies going to Sun Valley, good food and a vast
country."
It took 10 days to process through Fort Lewis, board the "Marine Adder"
merchant marine ship and get underway to Korea. He left Puget Sound as
advance party, equipped with white helmets and clubs and packed like
sardines, five bunks high, in a ship that got everyone seasick. Life was
"very difficult" for 14 days.
"We landed in Tokyo in May 1953 at 10 p.m., were fed cold spaghetti,
received our shots and boarded onto larger ships from Tokyo to Inchon,
Korea, east of Seoul," he says. "On May 10, Mother’s Day, we climbed down
rope ladders into smaller ships with shallow drafts to shore, got loaded
onto two-ton trucks on the dirt roads through Inchon. I felt nostalgia and
somewhat homesick on this Mother’s Day, carrying my duffle bag with carbine
on trucks, dropping off each troop every 5-10 miles to his assigned unit.
Six hours later, arriving at the 937th Field Artillery Battalion, we heard
the booming of 155 mm Long Tom shells. The Arkansas 937th could hurl shells
from their Long Tom guns for over five miles. I finally arrived at
Headquarters, where radios were mounted in a shack-small enough to be
mounted on a ¾ ton truck. We had three shifts and were covered with
camouflage netting. The sound of these guns did not interfere with my
ability to communicate on radio."
"Our batteries communicated with each other despite the booming of the guns.
We learned that a ‘boom’ is an outgoing shell, but that a ‘whoom’ is an
incoming shell. On the first morning on the way to work, I noticed body bags
outside the mess hall. I learned that these were bodies of North Koreans who
were killed trying to infiltrate our lines. The body bags were lined up to
impress us to be careful about infiltrators. Many of these North Koreans
were infiltrating to look for food. We were close to the action, indeed. I
also recall hearing Greek music in the Chorwan Valley. Strangely enough, it
was coming from a UN Greek Battalion over the next hill who was blasting
Greek music to upset the enemy."
"Our colonel was a radio freak. He wanted a radio with him 24/7. I recall he
once had me take him out to our batteries with a radio truck. I thought it
was to be a short trip, so I got into the truck and drove out to the
batteries. I thought about getting hit by enemy ‘triangulations.’ There was
heavy fighting, so I got out of the truck and into the fire direction
control center as I thought I could transmit out of the bunker. Our messages
were from higher command; some were classified, others non-encrypted. We
were not involved with fire direction which was handled on FM radio, mostly
oral, and dealt with grid coordinates, etc. Our only language was Morse
code. I operated out of a trench-like bunker, separate from the radio truck.
The bunker was underground with heavy door on it. The floor was a
trench-like passageway with 6-8 inches of water. I saw a houseboy there with
blood running down his neck. Our medical chief at HQ was very good. He
performed quick first aid. We had no MASH type hospitals, but we had a
helicopter, which was constantly utilized. My ‘short trip’ to the batteries
with the colonel lasted 10 days-until July 27, 1953. That day was both my
birthday and the day of the cease-fire. We received orders to ‘fire at will’
all our ammunition so we did not have to carry it all back. We kept firing
until 10 p.m. on that day. What a birthday present!"
"Thirteen months after the cease-fire, infiltration continued. You could see
South Korean troops heading south, piling their rifles along the side of the
road. They were not very well trained and everyone had had enough of the
war. Now there was more freedom, no combat worries, and hunger. Most
infiltrators were simply hungry, looking for food. You could not distinguish
the ‘friendlies’ from the enemy, because both wore green garbs."
"We were given 12 days R & R to Tokyo. We first stayed at Yokohama, a rather
small city by our standards but with a huge harbor. You saw no WWII
destruction there, but the city lacked adequate sanitation. There was no
running water in the toilets or in public places. Our hotel was a small,
nice facility labeled for foreigners only.’ While at the barracks, I heard
someone singing "Oglan, Oglan" in the toilet. Instantly I recognized them as
Turkish soldiers, the only ones that insisted on keeping their bayonets and
firearms on them, so I did not strike up any conversation with them."
"Going back to Korea was like going back to a job. Lack of sanitation in
Seoul was also evident. Their public restrooms were benches with holes.
There were people running underneath the benches catching the human waste
because this was their only source of fertilizer. Koreans buried their dead
in a sitting position, so many homes had a mound in the backyard where a
family member had been buried and covered over. We had no contact with the
locals."
"I was always looking for Armenians while in Korea. I met Sonny Kazanjian,
who operated the motor pool. He now lives in Florida and his two sons,
Michael and Allen, served with the U.S. Marines during the Vietnam era.
Sonny was 12 miles south and we were able to talk over the radio and
telephone. He offered to provide me with gas if I could get down to see him.
That was the beginning of a beautiful friendship that lasts to this day.
Sonny’s family runs Kazanjian Enterprises in Lowell."
"As for medals and recognition, most Americans remember Korea as the
Forgotten War. The medals we received were the usual ones. Almost everyone
around me, including myself, had been promoted to Staff Sergeant, so I could
not ‘pull rank’ for extra privileges. But I do remember receiving a medal
from South Korean President Syngman Rhee. In later years, I met his niece
who attended a household gathering in Andover, Mass. They were most thankful
for our help and expressed high regard for our troops when I informed her of
my service and my medal. They had lived there for six years before moving
on."
"I remained in Korea for 13 months after the cease-fire. I hoped for a
flight back home, thinking that my Staff Sergeant rank might help, but
almost everyone was a Staff Sergeant. I was again advanced party, with white
helmets and club for 12 days on the USS Walker, DD-517, a huge destroyer
escort used to transport troops. It had excellent facilities, and in
contrast to the trip on board the Marine Adder from the U.S. to Korea
previously, the weather and the oceans were calm and it took us only 11 days
to arrive in the U.S."
"Whales followed us. It was a pleasure coming back. I learned that if you
are traveling by ship in the Pacific, the best time to travel is August."
"We landed in Seattle and flew via Johnson Airlines to Washington and then
N.J. It was an enjoyable trip, viewing the beautiful countryside all across
the land at 10,000 feet. We had six fuel stops and no turbulence. At one of
our stops, we were told that Johnson Airlines was a civilian contractor,
whose aircraft were held together with wires, hangars and duct tape. This
got me a little nervous. I could view the open cockpit when we were invited
to view the country from the third seat. We finally arrived at Camp Kilmer,
N.J., and then we were separated and went home by train to South Station and
by cab to Lowell, to the delight of my family."
"I corresponded regularly with my parents and two sisters. I cannot over
emphasize the value of receiving mail, not only for combating the effects of
loneliness and homesickness, but for knowing what is going on back home. If
a day went by with no mail, it was a ‘down day.’ Everyone looked forward to
receiving mail. My mother kept the letters. I still have them with me.
Returning home, I enjoyed family gatherings."
"However, my military service did not end. I had completed one month short
of two years of active duty and it was required to serve eight years more
before discharge. That time passed by quickly as I was assigned to a Ready
Reserve Unit in Methuen, Mass., for three years and then another three years
standby reserve. I was discharged in 1960. While we did virtually nothing in
the reserve, the Army simply wanted to be able to locate you if necessary."
"I returned to civilian life with Dillon Dry Cleaners, an upscale business.
Shortly thereafter, my cousin in Detroit urged me to go to college and take
advantage of the GI Bill. I couldn’t get psyched up about attending school,
but did so on my cousin’s urging. I attended Bryant and Stratton School in
Boston, and was placed with the Boston Manufacturers Mutual Fire Insurance
Company’s loss prevention department where I served as an accounting clerk
for 35 years, ending up as senior vice president of administration upon
retirement. While attending school under the GI Bill, I spent the day
working at the insurance company and the night at school. When my GI
benefits ran out, my employer picked up the costs, allowing me to finish
with a BS degree."
"I joined the Lowell Armenian American Veterans Organization upon the
invitation of my relative Azad Juknavorian, who was commander at the time. I
have become, by reason of age, somewhat inactive. However, I keep in contact
with my fellow comrades. The U.S. Army opened up vistas of knowledge to me,
for which I am indebted, and has made me more aware of the role of our
country in the world."
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9. Vahan Hovhannisyan in New Jersey
On Feb. 11, the ARF Eastern Region will host a reception in honor of Vahan
Hovhannisyan, the deputy chairperson of the National Assembly of the
Republic of Armenia and ARF Bureau member.
During the reception, Hovhannisyan will discuss current developments, the
progress registered in the Republic of Armenia, the challenges it faces and
how to overcome them through the joint efforts of the entire Armenian
nation. The event will be held at the Rockleigh Country Club in New Jersey.
Cocktails will be served at 4 p.m., and dinner will be served at 5 p.m.
To attend this event, please call the ARF Eastern Region USA Central
Committee’s office at (617) 926-3685, or call the ARF New Jersey Gomideh’s
office at (210) 945-0011. The donation is $500 per couple.
***
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