Freiherr Kurt Wolgast stepped off of his train; the Turkish sun greeted him after an exhausting journey. It had been an eternity since he last saw his home of Bavaria. He was in Istanbul on direct orders from the Kaiser. He straightened out his spectacles and looked around the steamy platform. Kurt had served the Kaiser for twenty-two years, starting when he was twenty-six; his hair had faded from its shadowy black color to an ashy gray, his face roughed from years of service to Germany. The short plump figure of his host in Turkey, Tevfik Kemal, appeared across the platform. Kurt approached him and the two men exchanged a handshake.

“Welcome to Istanbul Herr Wolgast.” Kurt successfully tried to hold back a laugh; it was amusing to him that a man of Persian decent was trying to be German. “Is it really necessary for me to stop here in Istanbul? The train could have just taken me straight to Baghdad.” Kemal just motioned for Kurt to follow him. “That line is being repaired, it will be up and running again by August. But for now you and I are going to have to travel to Baghdad by car.” Kurt nodded and followed the man out of the train station.

June 2, 1915

My Ottoman contact and I have just left Istanbul and have crossed the Syrian frontier. The desert of the Ottoman Empire greatly contrasts the snow capped peaks of my native Bavaria, it is amazing that two nations, Germany and the Ottoman Empire, so very different, could fight a war side by side. We encountered a small group of marching Armenians; I could hardly recognize them as human. They were walking corpses, escorted by bored looking Ottoman troops. I tried to ask Kemal about their state but he just changed the subject.

The car coughed and burped its way through the endless desert of the Syrian Iraqi border. The dirt road ahead gave way to a small cluster of buildings in the distance. “What is that?” Kurt asked, staring at the cluster. Kemal sighed, cleared his throat then looked ahead. “It’s one of the camps that hold the traitorous Armenians. It’s either their last stop until death, or their final resting place.” Kurt just stared at Kemal, confused. What did he mean final resting place? Surely the Ottoman’s couldn’t be committing mass murder.

As they came closer to the cluster of buildings Kurt watched in horror as Ottoman troops escorted larger groups of Armenians, the fly and maggot infested bodies of the deceased littered the road side. “What have you done?” Kemal just looked out his window. “We’re saving the Empire, we’re winning the war.” Kurt’s breathing became heavier as he tried to comprehend what was happening, they were moving through the camp. The thin wide eyed faces of the children looked at the well dressed German diplomat as his car passed. The men and women clinging to their final fiber of life reached outward, silently calling for help. “And you call yourselves human.” Kemal turned to the diplomat. “We are Freiherr; these animals are lower than human.” Kurt laughed, glaring at the Turk. “You call them animals? What you’re doing here is demonic; it defies the laws of God!” Kemal’s eyes filled with hatred at the German. “They have defied the laws of God Freiherr! You can go back to Berlin and tell your Kaiser about this but I’m afraid you’ll find that both the Germans and the Austrians know of our move to protect the Ottoman Empire. Now strongly suggest you keep quiet until we reach Baghdad.”

Kurt just turned back towards his window, trying to keep his eye on the sky, not the skeletal figures wandering inside the camp. How could Germany just let this happen? Even the allies, yes they were his enemies but they were as sophisticated as the Central Powers. As the car moved out of the camp and towards the sprawling city of Baghdad and Kurt couldn’t help but question his homeland and indeed himself.