Empire's End

Back to his capital last week went Haile Selassie, no Conquering Lion of Judah. Along the dusty streets the tin-roofed shops of Armenian, Greek and East Indian traders were boarded up, almost all the houses of any pretension deserted. A watchful Italian plane circled lazily above

Addis Ababa. No troops were in sight, the remnants of the Imperial Guard being encamped outside the open town. The little Emperor still had his famed beard, but now it was heavily streaked with grey.

His arm, horribly burned by Italian mustard gas, was in bandages. Only a few days earlier a miracle had saved his life.

Dropping back mile after mile before the relentless Italian advance, Haile Selassie took refuge for a day or two at Magdala, burned by the British in 1868, scene of the suicide of the Emperor's predecessor, Theodore. Magdala's peasants were heartily sick of the war. Many a glum-faced, kinky-polled native spat in the dust as the little imperial party passed. Some crept up to the imperial quarters. A volley of shots crashed through the windows. The Emperor's valet and his chamberlain, both of whom were standing talking to their master, dropped dead. The little Emperor was not scratched.

Good-by Calls. Back in Addis Ababa last week, with his Empire on its last legs, Haile Selassie drove quietly to the French Legation beyond the race track. There he explained to French Minister Paul Bodard that he was morally bound to keep on fighting, but that with Italy's legions sweeping down unchecked from the north further defense of Addis Ababa was now impossible. It was best for the Empress and their two sons, Crown Prince Asfa-Wassan and round-eyed Prince Makonnen, 13, to leave the country. The Coptic monastery in British-protected Palestine was the first refuge that came to the Emperor's mind. But would the royal family be temporarily safe in French Djibouti, at the other end of the 494-mile Ethiopian railroad to the coast? Minister Bodard assured him that they would.

Back to his Palace went Haile Selassie, and within a few minutes the war drums were throbbing through the hills. Crowds streamed up to the Palace steps.

"Ethiopia," shrilled Haile Selassie, "will fight until the last soldier and the last inch! Let every man who is not wounded or sick take arms and enough food to last five days and march north to fight the invader!"

The crowd roared back: "We will go!"

Five thousand men, bravest remnant of the old Imperial Guard, shouldered their rifles again and marched away. Tired little Haile Selassie, forgetting the raw burns on his arm, retired into his Palace for a final conference with his chieftains. The Government, it was plain, would have to move. Should it go southwest to Gore, near British Sudan?

The bearded chiefs at first said nothing at all. Finally they explained. There was only one effective army left in Ethiopia, that of Ras Nassibu, now fighting for its life against General Graziani's relentless advance on Harar. Tribes to the west were in as ugly a mood as those around Magdala. One after another the chiefs rose to tell how hopeless the situation was. There was nothing for the King of Kings to do but run for his life.

Scuttle. Haile Selassie got into his car, drove around to see his friend Sir Sidney Barton at the British Legation outside of town. Behind a cobweb of barbed wire, 250 Sikhs patrolled the grounds. Huddled in tents and temporary shelters was almost the entire white population of Addis Ababa, which had put itself under the protection of the British Crown and British machine guns.

To Sir Sidney Haile Selassie spoke softly but to the point. Britain had encouraged him with fine words, many promises and a few guns for which he had paid cash. For the League, for Ethiopia he had risked his own life. Would Britain now come to his aid in this hour of direst need? With all his heart Sir Sidney wished that Prime Minister Stanley Baldwin, Foreign Secretary Anthony Eden, and possibly Winston Churchill were in that room. Shortly afterwards Haile Selassie drove away, his mouth grim with disappointment.

That midnight Haile Selassie furtively boarded his imperial train at Addis Ababa, scuttled for the coast. With him, besides the royal family, were some 30 friends and retainers and great quantities of per- sonal baggage. When, hatless and travel-stained, he reached Djibouti, French Somaliland, two days later, the little man was still treated like a monarch by Britain and France. French troops gave him a royal salute and the British cruiser Enterprise awaited him in the harbor. Two hours before Enterprise upped anchor, she was boarded by Ras Nassibu, commander of the southern armies, and his aide, Wehib Pasha. Behind her 6-in. guns the king without a country sailed away to sanctuary in Palestine.

All Hell. With the Emperor in flight, all hell broke loose in Addis Ababa. Only the dregs of Ethiopia's soldiery were left behind in the doomed capital. They promptly went completely wild, looting shops, screaming curses at all whites, firing rifles into the air. The new palace, pride of Haile Selassie, was thrown open to the mob. Most foreigners were already safely within the British compound, but United Pressman Ben Ames was severely slashed while trying to fight his way through the native crowd. In 24 hours the Ethiopian Empire went completely to pieces and all semblance of native law & order disappeared.

Rioting in Addis Ababa grew worse by the hour. Most important attack was made on the Treasury's "gold house." A few loyal employes tried to save the remnant of Haile Selassie's gold with machine guns but sword-swinging looters rushed them, cut off their hands as they clung to their guns.

A brave man was spectacled U. S. Minister Cornelius Van H. Engert, who with his wife, four naval radio operators and half a dozen others decided to hold out at the U. S. Legation as long as possible. "Among us," he radioed Washington, "we have nine rifles, two shotguns, ten revolvers and a fair amount of ammunition."

To communicate with British Minister Barton about four miles away U. S. Minister Engert had to call Arlington, Va., which in turn telephoned U. S. Ambassa dor Robert W. Bingham in London, who called the British Foreign Office, who fi nally relayed the message back to Addis Ababa.

"Situation is getting worse," radioed Minister Engert. "Two native women in our servants quarters have been seriously wounded. . . . With the assistance of a few Sikhs and one Lewis gun we could hold this legation, if Italians arrive within a few days. . . . Should the situation become worse, which I do not anticipate, the Department may depend on my withdrawing before it is too late."

The British, however, could spare no Sikhs except to convoy the U. S. party to the British compound. Secretary Hull feeling that Minister Engert and his aides had amply demonstrated their courage, radioed instructions to evacuate. With a convoy of Sikhs the Engert party safely traversed the ugly four miles through the ruined city to the British compound.

Meanwhile General Badoglio's motorized column, pushing on as fast as possible, drew closer & closer. Italian aeroplanes reconnoitred over the city. At four o'clock Tuesday afternoon the Italians rumbled down the imperial highway into Addis Ababa. Natives fled south or tried to take refuge in the foreign compounds which they had been attacking. In Rome, which was a little late getting the news because Sir Sidney Barton radioed it first to London, delirious crowds poured into the streets to the din of bells, whistles, sirens, and Benito Mussolini trumpeted:

"The war with Ethiopia is over. Ethiopia is Italian-territory!"

Why. Foreign observers, particularly British, had been reminding each other for months of India's Northwest Frontier, of France's campaigns in Morocco, of the U. S. intervention in Nicaragua where small rapidly-moving bands of guerrilla fighters were able to fight off mechanized modern armies for years. As Haile Selassie and his Belgian and Swedish military advisers well knew, Ethiopian troops could have done the same, but Ethiopians do not fight that way. Far braver but much simpler than most tribal warriors, their idea of warfare is the massed attack, the wild headlong charge. Once Marshal Badoglio had lured Ethiopian chieftains into attacking, the war was won. The subservient tribes of Ethiopia were loyal to the ruling Amharas only as long as the gods of battle smiled on them. The gods stopped smiling long ago.

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