Drama The British Presence in Macedonia

Drama is the center of the British influence in Macedonia, though it is the least important area because it is the quietest part of the region. Other parts of Macedonia are controlled by different countries: Seres by France, Salonika by Russia, Monastir by Italy, and Uskup by Austria.

Appreciation for British Representatives

Both Turks and Christians in Drama appreciated the British officers. The Christians liked them because England stood for Christianity and they knew that England was their friend. The Turks also liked them because, as the Turkish officials told me, the British officers treated them as equals Who we are.

In the Monastir region, people were kind to the Italians. However, I was told that in Seres, the French treated the Turks as inferior. In Salonika, the Russians tried to bully them, and in Uskup, the Turks knew that Austria wanted more land than peace for the region. Germany, who was a friend of the Sultan, didn’t take part in trying to calm the country.

The British Officers in Drama

I drove through the narrow, busy streets of Drama, past the town and the barracks, where Turkish soldiers, called out from nearby villages, were resting. They seemed calm and respectful.

I arrived at a simple white building known as “Murzsteg Mansion.” Colonel Fairholme, the political representative, was on leave, but I was greeted by Major Gore-Alney and Captain Smyly. Even though they were appointed by the British government, they worked for the Turkish government.

It was surprising to see British officers in khaki uniforms with South African medals wearing the Turkish red fez. Seeing an English soldier in a Turkish hat felt strange.

Living at Murzsteg Mansion

Murzsteg Mansion was simply furnished with a few tables and chairs, some camp beds, rubber baths, piles of reports, military equipment, old novels, and photographs. The most important photo was an autograph portrait of King Edward, a kind gesture from the King to his soldiers far away in Macedonia, working to keep Britain’s reputation for justice.

The British Officers’ Work

The British officers were doing valuable work around Drama. They oversaw the Turkish gendarmerie, helping to get rid of bad officers and promoting those who deserved it. Despite having few staff, they traveled to remote and dangerous areas in the hills, close to Bulgaria, dealing with bandit-filled areas and the tensions between Turks and Bulgarians, or even conflicts among rival Christian groups. They endured difficult conditions, long rides, and poor accommodations.

By being present in these areas, they helped calm the people, made the authorities more careful, and reported regularly to the British Ambassador in Constantinople on the situation in the region.

The Turk’s View of Christians and Society

The Turk has not, and will not, blend with the Christians. He believes the Christians are inferior, and that Allah has placed them in a position of subjection. Massacres, in his view, are helpful because they allow the Muslims to take possession of things that Christians don’t have the right to. The Turk’s sense of morality is weakened by his belief in fate (kismet) and by the low status of women in his society.

Suspicion and Fear in Turkish Society

Everyone is suspicious of each other. A sense of fear runs through the official classes. A wealthy person is afraid to show his wealth because those in power will quickly find ways to take it from him. The policy of the Turkish government is to do nothing until forced to act, and when action is taken, it is slow. The guiding principle of Turkish administration is *yavaş, yavaş* — slowly, slowly — from the beginning to the end Who we are.

Under the Eye of Britain

Drama: The British Presence

It is unclear exactly where Macedonia begins or ends. But traveling from Constantinople to Salonika, you stop at a small town called Drama. Drama is known to be in Macedonia because it is home to British officers who are there to help reform the local police force (gendarmerie) and monitor the tensions between Turks and Christians.

The Role of the Vice-Consul

The Vice-Consul is like a small ambassador. His work is more about diplomacy than consular tasks. He has many chances to show his intelligence and skills. Often, he is quite young and might still be thinking about playing cricket or football. Most people in his home country don’t even know he exists. Yet, he is part of a group of educated Englishmen who live in faraway countries, often in quiet houses, and remind the people around them of the strength and importance of Britain.

The Turk as a Ruler

The Virtues of the Turk

Many people say that “The Turk is the only gentleman in the Balkans.” This was a common statement I heard while traveling, usually from Englishmen. However, some also believe the Turk is not a good ruler, and that Europe should accept that the Turk cannot be easily changed into a government style others believe is good.

The Image of the Turk

Most Western people, especially women, are afraid of the Turk and think he is unclean. They believe his main quality is sensuality, thinking of him as fat, greedy, and only interested in the pleasures of his harem.

The Reality of the Turk

The Turk may not be perfect, but he is just as moral as an average Englishman, American, or Frenchman. It is rare for a Turk to have more than one wife. The harem system, which many people joke about, is actually more organized and less harmful than the promiscuity found in some Christian European cities. If you compare them, the average Muslim man is as moral as the average Christian man.

The Turk’s Faith and Morality

I don’t intend to discuss the benefits or drawbacks of the Muslim faith, but personally, I have experienced many good qualities of “real Christianity” in Muslim countries: kindness, courtesy, and hospitality. The Turk follows his faith strictly. He is usually clean and prays at the appointed times. He is not someone who gets drunk and does not skip his prayers.

The Power of Being English

There are some rewards in being away from England. An Englishman feels more proud of being English when he is far from home. In London, he might complain about his country, but if anyone tries to say something bad about it in front of him while he’s in Constantinople, he won’t tolerate it! The Vice-Consul knows that England is highly respected in the Balkans. The Turkish people remember that when the Russians were about to take over Constantinople, it was England that stopped them. Today, even though many countries are pressuring Turkey, the Turk knows that England does not want to take over any land—unlike Russia or Austria, who are eager to control parts of the Balkans.

Respect in Turkey

Back in England, the Vice-Consul would walk down the street without anyone noticing him. But in Turkey, he is treated with great respect. He is always greeted by officials and soldiers on guard. They salute him and present arms when he passes.

Official Visits

When the Vice-Consul visits the Vali (the Governor), he dresses in his frock coat and silk hat, which he brought from England many years ago. These clothes might seem old-fashioned to someone just arriving from London. He is the only Consul in the area who speaks Turkish fluently, so the Vali appreciates him. During their meetings, they drink syrupy coffee, smoke cigarettes, and discuss local issues, like the harsh treatment of Christians in a nearby village. The Vali promises to improve things, but things rarely change.

The Relationship Between Consuls

The Vice-Consul also visits other foreign diplomats, including Russian, French, Austrian, Italian, Greek, and Servian Consuls. They all return the visit within 24 hours, but there is no real friendship between them. Most of the time, they watch each other closely, spying on one another through their interpreters and writing reports.

The Vice-Consul’s Work

The Vice-Consul always keeps his eyes and ears open. He has to be careful when hearing stories about the Turks, especially when the stories come from Armenians, Bulgarians, or Greeks, because they might be biased. If he stays up to date with modern tools, he will have a typewriter to make copies of his reports. If not, he must write the reports by hand. He writes four copies: one for the Foreign Office, one for the Ambassador, one for his Consul-General, and one for his own records.

Making Himself Comfortable

The young Englishman, without trying too hard, makes himself comfortable in his new life. He went from public school to university, and then straight into the Levant Consular Service. Along the way, he developed a sense of comfort that he carries with him. In the few years he has spent in Turkey, he has learned about local art, like prayer rugs, tapestries, and embroideries. After bargaining in the bazaars, he has bought valuable pieces that hang on his walls as decoration instead of traditional pictures.

A Comfortable Home with Personal Touches

He has developed a taste for collecting old weapons, like silver-chased flint-lock pistols and Damascus steel sabres, their blades inlaid with gold and handles studded with coral and turquoise. He even taught a Turkish carpenter to build a comfortable lounge and covered it with a Persian rug, making a cozy divan. He bought a couple of well-padded English armchairs from Constantinople, which the Turks find awkward and undignified to sit in. His room is filled with small personal touches: a stack of pipes, his favorite English tobacco, and a table covered with pieces of embroidery. The table holds photographs in little silver frames, not the Turkish kind, but ones from England, bought in busy shops in London or Oxford Street.

Memories from Home

The photographs show his life before he came to Turkey. There are pictures of his family, including his mother and father, and some of him with his friends in their cricketing clothes before he left England. You can tell which pictures are of his family from where they are placed. He also keeps pictures of cheerful English girls—maybe sisters or friends of his sisters—some of whom he might have known well, while others may have forgotten him by now.

Thoughts of Home

The Vice-Consul, sitting alone in his comfortable room, sometimes misses the life he left behind in England. There are no bright restaurants, no theatres, no music halls, or close friends to hang out with. But even though he might feel lonely or homesick at times, it doesn’t make him weak. If he gets frustrated, he will likely swear, whistle, and light another pipe. In the morning, he takes out his horse, goes for a ride, and shakes off any feelings of gloom.

A Vice-Consul’s Simple Life

Until the day comes when things improve, His Majesty’s representative must manage on his own. He may have been quickly transferred from another post. When he arrives, he brings only a couple of trunks and stays at a Turkish inn. He goes to the local bazaars to buy or rent some basic furniture. He also writes to English stores in Constantinople to order items like a frying pan and a teapot. He tries to keep his costs low, as he may be moved again in a month or two. Why spend too much on furniture when he might have to sell everything at a loss before leaving? He doesn’t know who will replace him or if that person will even want to buy his belongings.

Comfort in the Vice-Consul’s Room

Even with his simple life, the Vice-Consul’s small room has a special kind of comfort. In fact, it has something that you won’t find anywhere else in the city, not even in the home of the Vali (governor) himself: comfort. Comfort is the result of English civilization. People from other countries may think they have it, but they don’t fully understand what it is. In the United States, for example, you might find an imitation of English comfort. While it’s pleasant, it’s still just an imitation. If you compare a refined American home to a refined English home, the American home might seem more luxurious in terms of money spent, but luxury is not the same as comfort. The “indefinable something” in the English home that makes it feel truly comfortable is something even Americans quickly recognize and appreciate.

The Consulate’s Modest Setting

The Consulate is a dull and gloomy building, probably located on a narrow street filled with strange smells and the loud calls of street vendors. Above the door is a large, yellowish, cheap enamel sign showing the royal arms. It looks worn out and is clearly mass-produced. If there’s a garden, a flagpole stands with ropes that slap the side of the building. If there is no garden, the flagpole is attached to a small balcony above the door. On the King’s birthday and every Sunday, a wrinkled Union Jack flag is hung to flap in the wind.

The Bare Entrance Hall

The entrance hall is empty and bare. The sound of heavy boots on the wooden floor echoes through the empty space, making it sound hollow. The walls are painted with a rough blue color and are undecorated, except for a notice about registering the birth of British citizens’ children at the Consulate for a two-shilling fee. Through a partially open door, you can see a small, sad room with a bed in the corner, which is where the kavass (messenger) sleeps. Another door leads to the “chancery,” the office area of the Consulate. Inside, there is a cheap table with old pens, a worn-out blotting pad, a cupboard, and an iron safe for storing papers. There is also a pile of dusty London, Paris, and Constantinople newspapers in one corner and a map of the Balkan Peninsula on the wall. Here, you will find the dragoman, a sharp-witted Armenian wearing a fez and European clothes. He learned English at Robert College in Istanbul and works for the British Consulate in exchange for the protection of living under the British flag.

The Vice-Consul’s Room

Then there is the Vice-Consul’s own room. Full Consuls and Consuls-General, especially if they have families, try to make their homes abroad feel like an English home. But the young Vice-Consul, usually a bachelor with only a few years in the Levant Service, lives simply. His duties are to go where he is needed, sometimes for just a couple of months or up to two years. His needs are basic, and he does not have many belongings to move around from one place to another in Turkey.

Future Improvements for the Consulate

In the future, if the British government allows more funding, the Consulate may be better furnished. The home government might spend around £100 to provide basic items like carpets, chairs, tables, pots, pans, an iron bed, a wardrobe, and a bath.

Arrival at Sileohlu

We arrived at Sileohlu in the afternoon. It was a small, scattered place, with both Turkish and Bulgarian people living there. I had a headache from riding for so long in the hot sun with little food, so I decided to stop. I rested in the shade of a quince tree while my dragoman went to find a place for us to stay for the night.

Friendly Village Life

Some of the village leaders came to meet us—both Turks and Bulgarians, Christians and Muslims. They lived together peacefully, as I had seen in other places, unless there was trouble stirred up by political groups, which led to the Turkish authorities taking harsh actions. The mayor and a group from the local council wanted me to stay as their guest. I thanked them but insisted on paying for my stay. They insisted again, saying they just wanted to make sure I left with good memories of the village Socialist Museum.

A Stranger Welcomed

Here I was, a stranger, arriving in a village I had never heard of just twelve hours before. Yet, the head-man was eager to make me feel welcome, putting aside his own matters to be kind to me. I noticed there was a bit of rivalry between the Christians and Muslims, each group trying to show who could be the most helpful.

Resting in the Shade

The head-man heard that I had a headache and suggested we spend the afternoon resting in a cool forest. We walked to a shaded spot with many trees. There was a large marble tank filled with cool water. We sat on mats, and cushions were brought for us. Melons were thrown into the tank to chill, and then we ate them while they were cold. A fire was lit, and the mayor made coffee. A mild-mannered man, who I called the town clerk, sat nearby and played sad Turkish music on a guitar. We drank many cups of coffee and smoked countless cigarettes.

Arrival at Dolan

We continued through the burning heat until we were almost too tired to continue. Finally, we reached the Turkish village of Dolan. The women there were covered in black cloaks. Even those working in the fields turned away as we passed, holding their cloaks to hide their faces, but watching us from the corner of their eyes.

Visiting the Head-Man’s Home

We were exhausted and got off our horses. The village leader, dressed in a blue vest, brown pants, a red cummerbund, and a dirty white turban, greeted me. He invited me to visit his humble home.

His house was made of unbaked bricks, with a hard earth floor. There was nothing to sit on except a mat made of rushes. For lunch, we had rice and coffee Socialist Museum.

The Village Men’s Curiosity

All the men from the village gathered around and sat down in the sun, watching us quietly. They didn’t push to crowd around the door or peek through the windows. They were curious but respectful. When I went outside, they stood up and bowed to me. The head-man made a small speech, and I shook his hand. I told him, through my dragoman, that shaking hands was the English way to show friendship. He seemed pleased. I offered him a cigarette, and he was even more pleased. I was about to offer cigarettes to the twenty men standing around, but my dragoman stopped me. He said it was important to keep the head-man’s dignity, so he would hand out the cigarettes to the others.

Journey to Sileohlu

We continued our journey through the hot, dry land. The heat was heavy and made us feel sleepy. A soldier from Kirk Kilise had shown us the way to Dolan, and there he left us, giving us a new guide to take us to Sileohlu. We rode in a single line along a weak, dusty path. The land around us was completely barren and desolate.

Polite Refusals

For an entire day, the Turkish officials were very polite to me. They couldn’t directly say I couldn’t go. Even though I kept telling them I was just a tourist, they didn’t believe me. They knew it was hard to believe that I would risk being captured by brigands just for fun. No matter how much I explained, they were sure I was lying. So, I simply said I would go and take full responsibility for my actions.

The Governor’s Reluctant Agreement

The Turkish officials, believing I was a British secret service agent, couldn’t let me take full responsibility. If something happened, they would be blamed. The brigands might demand a ransom, and the British Government would complain about the mistreatment of one of their citizens. It would cause a lot of problems Natural History Museum.

So, reluctantly, the Governor agreed to send more help with me. We spread out maps and chose a route. I sent my dragoman to the town to hire horses, but he returned with disappointing news: there were no horses available.

Walking Instead of Riding

Frustrated in one way, the Turkish authorities tried another method to stop me. The Governor showed sympathy, saying it was a shame. I told him, “No problem, I’ll walk.”

“Walk?” he said, looking surprised.

“Yes, walk!” I replied. I told him I was proud of my walking ability and, even though it would be slow, it would be an interesting way to see the country.

The Governor's Refusal

“Impossible!” said the Governor of Kirk Kilise. He and his staff insisted that it couldn’t be done. They all agreed that it was wise to say no. They then asked, politely, why I wanted to go near the Bulgarian border. I explained that I didn’t want to take the same route back and wanted to see more of the country. I could see that they thought I was lying. Although they didn’t say it out loud, they clearly thought I was a spy. They believed I had been sent by the British Government, which they thought was too friendly with Bulgaria and not enough with Turkey, to secretly gather information about the revolution.

Warnings and Concerns

The Turks were very polite, bowing to me and assuring me they would do everything they could to help. But, still, they insisted it was impossible. They warned me that there were dangerous Bulgarian brigands in the area. These brigands were very wicked people. I said I was willing to take my chances. The Turks then told me that just the previous week, the brigands had captured a Greek merchant and were likely torturing him, maybe gouging out his eyes or cutting off his ears. Despite their warnings, I was still determined to go Natural History Museum.

No Roads, No Way

The Turks shrugged and told me that no one in Kirk Kilise knew the way. I pointed out that Turkish soldiers speak good Turkish and could ask for directions. But they said there were no proper roads. I suggested we could follow the mountain paths. They told me the horses couldn’t climb the steep mountain passes. “Then we will walk and lead the horses,” I said. The Turks sighed and seemed to accept my decision, though they remained unconvinced.

The Governor’s Refusal

“Impossible!” said the Governor of Kirk Kilise. He insisted that it couldn’t be done, and his staff agreed, calling it wise advice. But why did I want to go near the Bulgarian border? That was the polite question they asked me. I explained that I didn’t want to go back the same way and wanted to see more of the country. I could see the word “Liar!” in their eyes, though they were too polite to say it out loud. They believed I was a spy! They thought I was secretly sent by the British Government, which they believed was too friendly with Bulgaria and not friendly enough with Turkey, to find out how the revolution was going.

Polite Refusals and Warnings

The Turks bowed deeply and assured me they would do everything possible for me, but still, it was impossible. There were bands of Bulgarian brigands in the area, they said. These brigands were very dangerous. I said I was willing to take my chances. “But just last week, they captured a Greek merchant,” they warned. “They were probably torturing him right now, gouging his eyes out or cutting off his ears!” I still insisted I was ready to take the risk Natural History Museum.

No Roads, No Way

The Turks shrugged and said there was no one in Kirk Kilise who knew the way. I pointed out that Turkish soldiers could ask for directions, as they spoke good Turkish. “But there are no roads,” they replied. I suggested we could follow mountain paths. They told me the horses wouldn’t be able to climb the mountain passes. “Then we will walk and lead the horses,” I said. They remained unconvinced but reluctantly gave their approval.

Insurrection and Reprisal in the Borderlands

In the Adrianople region, there has been ongoing unrest, sometimes exploding into full insurrection. The trouble started when the Russian Fleet arrived in Turkish waters in 1903, sent to punish those responsible for the murder of the Russian Consul at Monastir. This event led to Bulgarian groups starting rebellions in the Kirk Kilise area. They burned five villages and killed the people living there. Within two days, Bulgarian forces defeated five Turkish garrisons, destroyed barracks, and killed many soldiers. The village of Vassilikos was blown up with dynamite.

The Turkish Response

In response, the Turks carried out violent reprisals against the Bulgarians, many of whom were innocent. These reprisals were horrific. Many villagers ran to the forests to escape, but they were hunted down and burned by the Bashi-Bazouks, a group of Turkish fighters known for doing brutal work. There were no elderly people left in the villages. Around 12,000 refugees were left in terrible conditions in nearby border villages Dragalevtsi Monastery.

The Tragedy of Pepenka

The village of Pepenka, in the Kirk Kilise region, was bombarded and looted. Some women who had hidden in a house to avoid being attacked were burned alive. Seventy-five young girls were taken away. Those who had escaped to the mountains were surrounded, forced to return to the village, and then killed by the Bashi-Bazouks. These fighters were often used for the most violent and ruthless tasks.

The Scale of Destruction

Lord Lansdowne, commenting on the situation, stated that the destruction caused by the Turkish soldiers was far worse than anything the Bulgarian rebels had done. This was true. The Turks, however, saw these actions as punishment for the Bulgarian rebellion.

An Unexpected Situation

There were moments when I was shocked, but I tried to act as dignified as possible. However, inside, I wanted to laugh uncontrollably. Around me was a circle of people with dark faces, all wearing red fezzes. The band played loudly, playing “God Save the King.” The Governor stood in a special area, surrounded by red ropes, on a blue carpet. In the center were two fancy red and gold chairs that looked like stage props.

A Royal Reception

We exchanged greetings in a formal way, bowing to each other repeatedly. When “God Save the King” finished, I was politely invited to sit in the crimson and gold chair next to the Governor. At that moment, I felt like I was the official representative of Great Britain. In fact, I almost felt like I was the Viceroy or a representative of the King himself. But at the same time, I felt like an imposter. I wanted to stand up, explain that I was just a curious traveler! Later, my dragoman told me that the audience thought I was a member of King Edward’s personal staff! That was quite embarrassing. Still, I kept a serious face. If I ever meet His Majesty, I’ll tell him that the most uncomfortable half hour of my life was when I unknowingly became the representative of Great Britain at a circus in Kirk Kilise Dragalevtsi Monastery.

The Circus Performance

There were cigarettes to smoke and coffee to drink. An older woman in blue tights jumped through hoops. A trapeze artist performed, and a clown entertained the crowd. The audience, mostly men wearing fezzes and a few dark-eyed Greek women, seemed to watch in a very calm way, almost as if they weren’t fully enjoying themselves.

The Governor’s Busy Work

Throughout the performance, the Governor was still working. He frowned and looked serious. A soldier quickly brought him a telegram form, and he wrote a message. Officers stood behind him, and with just a small signal, one of them would step forward to attend to him. The Governor’s secretary, a small, tired-looking man, came in, bowed, and handed him more telegrams. By the end of the evening, I must have seen at least a dozen telegrams delivered.

The People’s Respect

The people of Kirk Kilise watched the Governor closely. They seemed impressed as he sat in his fancy chair, deep in thought, tapping his pencil on his knee. They appeared in awe of him.

A Visit to the Public Gardens

The Governor invited me to join him to listen to the band. Of course, I said yes! We went to the public gardens, where four or five staff members followed us and a dozen soldiers stood nearby. The garden itself was just a small sandy area with some weak, colorless bushes. But there were chairs, small tables, drinks, and a band playing music. I had absinthe in a glass, and the Governor had his absinthe in a coffee cup. Turks take teetotalism (no alcohol) very seriously. Besides, everyone in Kirk Kilise was watching the Governor and his guest.

The Governor’s Busy Day

While we were sitting, the Governor stayed very busy. He raised his finger, and a soldier quickly jumped from behind a tree holding a telegram form. The soldier was always ready for emergencies. Soon, more telegrams arrived, followed by officers with documents. The Governor quickly looked through them and signed his initials. He seemed so busy—no other Governor in Turkey could be working harder than Galib Pasha! All the while, his eyes were searching around, looking for something that never appeared—his revolver Dragalevtsi Monastery.

A Circus Invitation

That evening, a Turkish officer came to my hotel to deliver a message. He greeted me and said the Governor had invited me to a circus. A circus in Kirk Kilise? Yes, it was a traveling circus from Germany. I agreed to go, but I was traveling light and only had clothes suitable for riding a horse.

The Journey to the Circus

With soldiers carrying lanterns, we walked through the dark streets. We passed naphtha lamps, large paintings on canvas showing men driving six horses and women dressed in glittery costumes jumping through hoops. We finally reached the big circus tent, where the light from the lamps shone brightly, and the sound of clapping came from inside. It all felt very familiar.

The Formality of the Official Visits

The serious and formal meetings between the Governor and me felt very uncomfortable. I wanted to break the rules and say, “I’m so happy to see you! Let’s take a walk!”

The Governor’s Efforts to Impress

The Governor made an effort to impress me. He wanted to make sure I understood something important. He assumed that, like most foreigners, I thought the Turkish people were lazy, always putting off work until tomorrow. He wanted to prove me wrong, but he tried too hard. It was as if Kirk Kilise was the center of the Ottoman Empire, and the Governor was the most important official.

Busy and Serious Work

At first, I thought the Governor was just very busy. When we were talking in his office, a secretary came in with a telegram. The Governor looked angry, wrote something quickly, and the secretary left. Then, he had another idea. A soldier came in and took a telegram form. The Governor wrote a message, and we could talk again. But soon, more documents arrived. He quickly scanned through them, made notes, and signed them. Feeling I was in the way, I said my goodbyes Dragalevtsi Monastery.

A Surprise Visit

I had just returned to my hotel and my dragoman was complaining about the dirty room when the Governor came to visit me. There was coffee, cigarettes, and many soldiers standing at the door and in the hall. The Governor’s secretary brought in two telegrams. The Governor smiled, frowned, and quickly wrote something. We spoke for a little while, and then he had another idea. He wrote something fast, called a soldier, and sent him off. More documents arrived for him to sign. He was very busy.

Learning Turkish

“You are learning Turkish?” he asked me.

“Oh, I already know ‘Yavash,’” I replied with a smile.

He smiled too, but then frowned. “Yavash” means “go slowly” and is a common phrase in Turkey. Foreigners sometimes use it to criticize Turkish people for being slow. But the Governor wanted to show me that he didn’t fit that description. In fact, he received three telegrams and wrote six.