CHAPTER XV

THE RUPTURE BETWEEN THE ALLIES

To those who knew the centuries-old hatred and race rivalry between

Greece and Servia and Bulgaria in the Balkan Peninsula, an alliance for

the purpose of liberating Macedonia seemed impossible. The Ottoman

Government had a sense of security which seemed to be justifiable.

They had known how to keep alive and intensify racial hatred in

European Turkey, and believed that they were immune from concerted

attack because the Balkan States would never be able to agree as to the

division of spoils after a successful war.

The history of the ten years of rivalry between bands, which had

nullified the efforts of the Powers to "reform" Macedonia by installing

a _gendarmerie_ under European control, had taught the diplomats that

they had working against the pacification of Macedonia not only the

Ottoman authorities, but also the native Christian population and the

neighbouring emancipated countries. They were ready to believe the

astute Hussein Hilmy pasha, Vali of Macedonia, when he said: "I am

ruling over an insane asylum. Were the Turkish flag withdrawn, {320}

they would fly at each other's throats, and instead of reform, you

would have anarchy."

If the Balkan States had realized how completely and how easily they

were going to overthrow the military power of Turkey, they probably

would not have attempted it. This seems paradoxical, but it is true

all the same.

The Allies did not anticipate more than the holding of the Ottoman

forces in check and the occupation of the frontiers and of the upper

valleys of the Vardar and Struma. Greece felt that she would be

rewarded by a slight rectification of boundary in Thessaly and Epirus,

if only the war would settle the status of Crete and result in an

autonomous _régime_ for the Ægean Islands. At the most, the Balkan

States hoped to force upon Turkey the autonomy of Macedonia under a

Christian governor. So jealous was each of the possibility of

another's gaining control of Macedonia that this solution would have

satisfied them more than the complete disappearance of Turkish rule.

Both hopes and fears as to Macedonia were envisaged rather in

connection with each other than in connection with the Turks.

Between Servia and Bulgaria there was a definite treaty, signed on

March 13, 1912, which defined future spheres of influence in upper

Macedonia. But Greece had no agreement either with Bulgaria or Servia.

The events of October, 1912, astonished the whole world. No such

sudden and complete collapse of the Ottoman power in Europe was dreamed

of. I {321} have already spoken of how fearful the European

Chancelleries were of an Ottoman victory. Had they not been so morally

certain of Turkey's triumph they would never have sent to the

belligerents their famous--and in the light of subsequent events

ridiculous--joint note concerning the _status quo_.

But if the Great Powers were unprepared for the succession of Balkan

triumphs, the allies were much more astonished at what they were able

to accomplish. Kirk Kilissé and Lulé Burgas gave Thrace to Bulgaria.

Kumanovo opened up the valley of the Vardar to the Servians, while the

Greeks marched straight to Salonika without serious opposition.

The victories of the Servians and Greeks, so easily won, were to the

Bulgarians a calamity which overshadowed their own striking military

successes. They had spilled much blood and wasted their strength in

the conquest of Thrace which they did not want, while their allies--but

rivals for all that--were in possession of Macedonia, the _Bulgaria

irredenta_. To be encircling Adrianople and besieging Constantinople,

cities in which they had only secondary interest, while the Servians

attacked Monastir and the Greeks were settling themselves comfortably

in Salonika, was the irony of fate for those who felt that others were

reaping the fruits for which they had made so great and so admirable a

sacrifice.

When we come to judge dispassionately the folly of Bulgaria in

provoking a war with her comrades in arms, and the seemingly amazing

greed for land which it revealed, we must remember that the Bulgarians

felt that they had accomplished everything {322} to receive nothing.

Salonika and not Adrianople was the city of their dreams. Macedonia

and not Thrace was the country which they had taken arms to liberate.

The Ægean Sea and not the extension of their Black Sea littoral formed

the substantial and logical economic background to the appeal of race

which led them to insist so strongly in gathering under their

sovereignty all the elements of the Bulgarian people. European writers

have not been able to understand how little importance the Bulgarians

attached to their territorial acquisitions in Thrace, and of how little

interest it was for them to acquire new possessions in which there were

so few Bulgarians.

Then, too, the powerful elements which had pushed Bulgaria into the war

with Turkey, and had contributed so greatly to her successes, were of

Macedonian origin. In Sofia, the Macedonians are numerically, as well

as financially and politically, very strong. I had a revelation of

this, such as the compilation of statistics cannot give, on the day

after the massacre of Kotchana. The newspapers called upon all the

Macedonians in Sofia to put out flags tied with crêpe. In the main

streets of the city, it seemed as if every second house was that of a

Macedonian. To these people, ardent and powerful patriots, Macedonia

was home. It had been the dream of their lives to unite the regions

from which they had come--once emancipated from the Turks--to the

mother country. From childhood, they had been taught to look towards

the Rhodope Mountains as the hills from which should come their help.

Is it any wonder then, that, after the striking victories {323} of

their arms, there should be a feeling of insanity--for it was

that--when they saw the dreams of a lifetime about to vanish?

But the mischief of the matter, as a Scotchman would say, was that

Greeks and Servians felt the same way about the same places.

Populations had been mixed for centuries. At some time or other in

past history each of the three peoples had had successful dynasties to

spread their sovereignty over exactly the same territories. Each then

could evoke the same historical memories, each the same past of

suffering, each the same present of hopes, and the same prayers of the

emancipated towards Sofia and Athens and Belgrade.

After the occupation of Salonika by the Greeks, the Bulgarian ambitions

to break the power of Turkey were not the same as they had been before.

Had Salonika been occupied two weeks earlier, there might not have been

a Lulé Burgas. An armistice was hurriedly concluded. During the

trying period of negotiations in London, and during the whole of the

second part of the war, the jealousies of the allies had been awakened

one against the other. Between Greeks and Bulgarians, it had been keen

since the very first moment that the Greek army entered Macedonia. The

crisis between Servia and Bulgaria did not become acute until Servia

saw her way blocked to the Adriatic by the absurd attempt to create a

free Albania. Then she naturally began to insist that the treaty of

partition which she had signed with Bulgaria could not be carried out

by her. In vain she appealed to the sense of justice of the

Bulgarians. {324} The treaty had been signed on the understanding that

Albania would fall under the sphere of Servian aggrandizement. Nor, on

the other hand, had it been contested that Thrace would belong to

Bulgaria. If the treaty were carried out, Bulgaria would get

everything and Servia nothing. Servia also reminded the Bulgarians of

the loyal aid that had been given them in the reduction of Adrianople.

But Bulgaria held to her pound of flesh.

Under the circumstances of the division of territory, Bulgaria's claim

to cross the Vardar and go as far as Monastir and Okrida, would not

only have given her possession of a fortress from which she could

dominate both Servia and Greece, but would have put another state

between Servia and Salonika. Bulgaria was, in fact, demanding

everything as far as Servia was concerned. Servia cannot be blamed

then for coming to an understanding with Greece, even if it were for

support in the violation of a treaty. For where does history give us

the example of a nation holding to a treaty when it was against her

interest to do so?

After their return from London, the Premiers Venizelos and Pasitch made

an offensive and defensive alliance for ten years against the Bulgarian

aspirations. In this alliance, concluded at Athens shortly after King

George's death, the frontiers were definitely settled. In the

negotiations, Greece showed the same desire to have everything for

herself which Bulgaria was displaying. Finally she agreed to allow

Servia to keep Monastir. Without this concession, Servia would have

fared as badly {325} at the hands of Greece as at the hands of

Bulgaria. It is only because Greece feared that Servia might be driven

to combine with Bulgaria against her, that the frontier in this

agreement was drawn south of Monastir. The Greek army officers opposed

strongly this concession, but Venizelos was wise enough to see that the

maintenance of Greek claims to Monastir might result in the loss of

Salonika. The Serbo-Greek alliance was not made public until the

middle of June. Bulgaria had also been making overtures to Greece, and

at the end of May had expressed her willingness to waive her claim to

Salonika in return for Greek support against Servia. Venizelos,

already bound to Servia, was honourable enough to refuse this

proposition.

But the military reputation of Bulgaria was still so strong in

Bulgarian diplomacy that Servia and Greece were anxious to arrive, if

possible, at an arrangement without war. Venizelos proposed a meeting

at Salonika. Bulgaria declined. Then Venizelos and Pasitch together

proposed the arbitration of the Czar. Bulgaria at the first seemed to

receive this proposition favourably, but stipulated that it would be

only for the disputed matter in her treaty with Servia. At this

moment, the Russian Czar sent a moving appeal to the Balkan States to

avoid the horrors of a fratricidal war. Bulgaria then agreed to send,

together with her Allies, delegates to a conference at Petrograd.

All the while, Premier Gueshoff of Bulgaria had been struggling for

peace against the pressure and the intrigues of the Macedonian party at

Sofia. {326} They looked upon the idea of a Petrograd conference as

the betrayal of Macedonians and Bulgarians by the mother country.

Unable to maintain his position, Gueshoff resigned. His withdrawal

ruined Bulgaria, for he was replaced by M. Daneff, who was heart and

soul with the Macedonian party. A period of waiting followed. But

from this moment war seemed inevitable to those who knew the feeling on

both sides. Daneff and his friends did not hesitate. They would not

listen to reason. They believed that they had the power to force

Greece and Servia to a peace very nearly on their own terms. Public

opinion was behind them, for news was continually coming to Sofia of

Greek and Servian oppression of Bulgarians in the region between

Monastir and Salonika. These stories of unspeakable cruelty, which

were afterwards established to be true by the Carnegie Commission, had

much to do with making possible the second war.

It was not difficult for the Macedonian party at Sofia to precipitate

hostilities. The Bulgarian general staff, in spite of the caution that

should have imposed itself upon them by the consideration of the

exhausting campaign in the winter, felt certain of their ability to

defeat the Servians and Greeks combined. Then, too, the army on the

frontiers, in which there was a large element--perhaps twenty per

cent.--of Macedonians, had already engaged in serious conflicts with

the Greeks.

In fact, frontier skirmishes had begun in April. The affair of Nigrita

was really a battle. After these outbreaks, Bulgarian and Greek

officers had {327} been compelled to establish a neutral zone in order

to prevent the new war from beginning of itself. At the end of May,

there had been fighting in the Panghaeon district, east of the river

Strymon. The Bulgarian staff had wanted to prevent the Greeks from

being in a position to cut the railway from Serres to Drama. In the

beginning of June, Bulgarian coast patrols had fired on the _Averoff_.

By the end of June, the Bulgarian outposts were not far from Salonika.

The first Bulgarian plan was to seize suddenly Salonika, which would

thus cut off the Greek army from its base of supplies and its

advantageous communication by sea with Greece. There were nearly one

thousand five hundred Bulgarian soldiers in Salonika under the command

of General Hassapsieff. How many _comitadjis_ had been introduced into

the city no one knows. I was there during the last week of June, and

saw many Bulgarian peasants, big strapping fellows, who seemed to have

no occupation. When I visited the Bulgarian company, which was

quartered in the historic mosque of St. Sophia, two days before their

destruction, they seemed to me to be absolutely sure of their position.

At this moment, the atmosphere among the few Bulgarians in Salonika was

that of complete confidence.

Among the Greeks, a spirit of excitement and of apprehension made them

realize the gravity and the dangers of the events which were so soon to

follow. Perfect confidence, while highly recommended by the theorists,

does not seem to win wars. Nervousness, {328} on the other hand, makes

an army alert, and ready to exert all the greater effort, from the fact

that it feels it needs that effort. In all the wars with which this

book deals this has been true,--Italian confidence in 1911, Turkish

confidence in 1912, Bulgarian confidence in 1913, and German confidence

in 1914.

On the 29th of June, when I left Salonika to go to Albania, it was the

opinion of the Greek officers in Salonika that the war--which they

viewed with apprehension--would be averted by the conference at

Petrograd. When I got on my steamship, the first man I met was

Sandansky, who had become famous a decade before by the capture of Miss

Stone, an American missionary. He had embarked on this Austrian Lloyd

steamer at Kavalla, with the expectation of slipping ashore at

Salonika, if possible, to prepare the way for the triumphal entry of

the Bulgarian army. But he was only able to look sorrowfully out on

the city, for the police were waiting to arrest him. What bitter

thoughts he must have had when he saw the Bulgarian flag, which he had

planted there with his own hands, waving from the minaret of St.

Sophia, and he unable to organize its defence! A week later I saw

Sandansky at a café in Valona. The war had then started, and he was

probably trying to persuade the Albanians to enter the struggle and to

take the Servians in the rear.

{330}

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