“Turks and Azeris want us dead; we Armenians are defending Christianity”

… “From where I am, while I can hear the noise of gunfire and falling shells, I see just how huge is the pack of lies spread by the western media”

… “It isn’t true that hundreds of persons have died, but thousands; it isn’t true that we launched any attack, but Azerbaijan did; it isn’t true that under direct attack is Nagorno-Karabakh alone, but Armenia”

… yet newspapers are writing that Armenia with only 3 million inhabitants invaded the Azeri, who are backed by Turks and jihadists. This is ridiculous

… Armenia is the oldest Christian country. It is located between Turkey and Azerbaijan which consider us an obstacle to the pan Arabic dream

… One and a half million Armenians were exterminated with the most barbarous

… Azerbaijan, a state in existence only since 1921

… an entirely Armenian and Christian territory that has nothing to do with Turkish-Muslim Azerbaijan

… “If we die, we all die together, but before dying we have to have fought”

… “Mommy – he wrote – when someone dies, we say he’s going Home”. Muslims cut our throats, but we die with dignity

… if they converted to Islam, they would be saved, they would not have been tortured, and the children would not be slaughtered. . .but they preferred to die the death of martyrdom. If we Christian Armenians are still around it is thanks to this sacrifice; otherwise we would all be Muslims

                    Hyperallergic

      (exterminated) Trailer (min. 02:37)

                    United States Senate

                     United States House of Representatives

         Song of armenian soldiers on the front line

“The wounds of a stricken land allude to a place where there is a constant war … a young soldier nostalgically writes a letter that includes the memories of his paternal land … don’t cry mother, wait for me, I’ll be back …”.

At this point in the song, a companion covers his face with his hands and cries. “I love you dearly – continues the soldier – I miss you mother, I remember your words: ‘Love the Armenian land’. Yes, I remember your tears when you talked about the genocide, yes I remember my fatherland, our ancient poplar trees in the garden, the sound of the stream, where I used to play my child’s games … the young soldier leaps forward clutching the teeth, it is short the distance from the line of contact where the enemy is breaking into Armenian land, but how short are those peaceful steps compared to the endless steps required to defend Armenian existence … just as one thinks that the advance of the enemy has been arrested, (the soldier) is hit by a shot, holds the open and pierced letter in his hands, fallen under the open blue sky. He looked up at the blue sky, lingering over the memories of his paternal home and the aged poplar under which his mother awaits the letter … sunset approaches, the valley experiences an innocent silence, the gravely wounded lineage of the Armenian land lies gravely wounded. Waiting for imminent death. Oh if only I could fly home “

(Automatic translation)