Transcriber’s Note
There is no page 244 in the book, as mentioned on the ‘Colonel Militch
on Diana’ illustration on Page 220.
The words Topolchar and Topolchor have been left as spelt.
The words wagons and waggons have been left as spelt.
[Illustration: COLONEL MILITCH, COMMANDANT OF THE SECOND REGIMENT (ON
THE LEFT) AND HIS CHIEF OF STAFF; WITH THE REGIMENTAL FLAG
_Frontispiece_]
An English
Woman-Sergeant
in the
Serbian Army
BY
FLORA SANDES
With an Introduction by
SLAVKO Y. GROUITCH
_Secrétaire-Général of the Serbian Ministry of
Foreign Affairs_
HODDER AND STOUGHTON
LONDON, NEW YORK, TORONTO
INTRODUCTION
Innumerable have been the manifestations of sympathy, generosity, and
of the sincere desire to help Serbia given by the British people to
their little Ally since the very beginning of the War. No words could
ever express the deep gratitude of the Serbian Nation for the splendid
services rendered by the many British Medical Missions, whose staffs,
men and women, have nursed the sick and wounded without a thought for
the hardships and dangers to which they have been personally exposed,
and which, especially during the typhus epidemic and, later on, during
the Great Retreat, were very serious indeed. British women, have played
a most prominent part in this humanitarian work of charity and mercy,
and some of them have even given their lives for the Cause.
When the history of their splendid achievements is written--as I hope
will be done some day--the name of Miss Flora Sandes will certainly
figure in it with a special acknowledgment. In the interesting
pages which follow she will herself give a vivid description of her
experiences during the Retreat in the ranks of the Serbian Army, in
which, I believe, she was the only foreign woman allowed to serve in
a fighting capacity. That in itself speaks very highly of the esteem
and confidence in which she is held in Serbia. But she only took to
a rifle when there was no more nursing to be done, as, owing to the
Army retreating, the wounded could not be picked up and had to be
left behind. Before that she had worked in Serbia for eighteen months
as a voluntary nurse, practically without interruption, having left
the country but twice, and that on a short visit to London to collect
funds and bring back with her dressings and other hospital supplies
which were badly wanted. During the typhus epidemic she volunteered
to go to Valjevo, which was the centre of the disease and where eight
Serbian doctors and many nurses had already succumbed. The same fate
very nearly overtook her, but fortunately she recovered and resumed
immediately her self-imposed duty.
Such examples of self-sacrifice, added to so many others given by
British men and women in Serbia, have implanted in the hearts of the
Serbians a deep love and admiration for Great Britain, who may well be
proud of such sons and daughters.
SLAVKO Y. GROUITCH,
_Secrétaire-Général of the_
_Serbian Ministry of Foreign Affairs_.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER I
PAGE
REJOINING THE SERBIANS, NOVEMBER, 1915--THE
SECOND REGIMENTAL AMBULANCE 1
CHAPTER II
A SERBIAN AMBULANCE AT WORK--WE START
TO RETREAT 22
CHAPTER III
A RIDE TO KALABAC AND A BATTLE IN THE
SNOW 46
CHAPTER IV
I MEET THE FOURTH COMPANY--A COLD
NIGHT RIDE 77
CHAPTER V
WE SAY GOOD-BYE TO SERBIA AND TAKE TO
THE ALBANIAN MOUNTAINS 104
CHAPTER VI
FIGHTING ON MOUNT CHUKUS 126
CHAPTER VII
ELBASAN--WE PUSH ON TOWARDS THE
COAST 148
CHAPTER VIII
SERBIAN CHRISTMAS DAY AT DURAZZO--AEROPLANE
RAIDS 170
CHAPTER IX
WE GO TO CORFU 192
CHAPTER X
THE “SLAVA DAY” OF THE SECOND REGIMENT 230
CHAPTER I
REJOINING THE SERBIANS, NOVEMBER, 1915--THE SECOND REGIMENTAL AMBULANCE
Events moved so rapidly in Serbia after the Bulgarians declared war
that when I reached Salonica last winter I found it full of nurses and
doctors who had been home on leave and who had gone out there to rejoin
their various British hospital units, only to find themselves unable to
get up into the country.
I had been home for a holiday after working in Serbian hospitals since
the very beginning of the war, but when things began to look so serious
again I hurried back to Serbia. We had rather an eventful voyage, as
the French boat I was on was carrying ammunition as well as passengers,
and the submarines seemed to make a dead set at us. At Malta we were
held up for three days, waiting for the coast to clear. The third
night I had been dining ashore, and on getting back to the boat, about
eleven, found the military police in charge, and the ship and all the
passengers being searched for a spy and some missing documents. We were
not allowed to go down to our cabins until they had been thoroughly
ransacked, but as nothing incriminating was found we eventually
proceeded on our way, with a torpedo-destroyer on either side of us as
an escort. The boats were always slung out in readiness, and we were
cautioned never to lose sight of our life-belts. We had to put in again
at Piræus, and again at Lemnos for a few days, so that it was November
3rd before we finally reached Salonica--having taken fourteen days from
Marseilles--only to find that the railway line had been cut, and there
was no possible way of getting up into Serbia.
My intention had been to go back into my old Serbian hospital at
Valjevo to work under the Serbian Red Cross as I did before; that was
out of the question now, of course, as Valjevo was already in the hands
of the Austrians, but I thought I might get up to Nish and get my
orders from the President of the Serbian Red Cross there. I inquired
from a Serbian officer staying at the hotel, who had just ridden down
from Prisren, if it would be possible to ride up into Serbia, but he
most strongly discouraged all idea of riding, saying that with every
facility at his disposal, and relays of fresh horses all along the
route, it had taken him ten days to ride from Prisren to Salonica,
and that during that time he had frequently been unable to obtain
food either for himself or his horses; that, furthermore, it was very
dangerous even with an escort, as part of the way was through hostile
Albania, and that all the horses were needed for the Army. I gave up
that idea, therefore, and set to work to find out where I could come
into touch with the Serbians, and finally found I could go to Monastir,
or, to call it by its Serbian name, Bitol. Accordingly, I, with four
other nurses and a doctor whose acquaintance I had made on the boat,
who also found themselves unable to reach their original destinations,
left for Bitol the next day.
Arrived at Bitol, I at once made inquiries about the next step farther,
and found that Prilip, about twenty-five miles farther on, was still
in the hands of the Serbians, though its evacuation was expected any
minute, and even now the road from Bitol to Prilip was not considered
safe on account of marauding Bulgarian comitadjes, or irregulars.
However, the English Consul had to go out there, and he said he would
take us with him to see how the land lay, and whether we were needed in
the hospital there.
I spent the afternoon prowling round Bitol, mostly in the Turkish
quarter.
The next day we went with the Consul to Prilip--though up to the last
moment I was afraid we should not go, as there was so much talk about
the road not being safe--some of us in the touring car and the rest in
a motor-lorry, with an escort of Serbian soldiers, all armed to the
teeth. I took my camp bed and blankets with me, on the off chance of
being able to stay at Prilip, as I was gradually edging my way up to
the Front, leaving the rest of my baggage in Bitol to be sent after me.
We got there without any mishap, keeping a sharp look-out for Bulgarian
patrols. We found a Serbian military hospital at Prilip, and I asked
the Upravnik or Director if I might stay and work there, to which he
consented, but added that he was afraid that it would not be for long,
as they were expecting to have to fly before the Bulgarians any day. I
accordingly got a room at the hotel, and the Consul left me an orderly
to look after me, named Joe, who could speak a little English. I was
very pleased at getting into a Serbian hospital again in spite of all
difficulties, as the opinion in Salonica seemed to be that it was
impossible; but I must say I felt rather lost when the cars went back
that evening and I was left alone, the only Englishwoman in Prilip.
The first thing I did was to turn all the furniture, including the bed,
out of the room in the tenth-rate pub., which was the best hotel that
Prilip boasted, and made Joe scrub the floor and put in my own camp bed.
I take the following extract out of my diary, written on my first
night in Prilip:
“Monday, 8th, 8.30 p.m.--I am sitting up in bed in my sleeping sack,
writing this in a very small room in S---- Hotel, Prilip. The room
contains (besides my camp bed) a rickety chair, and a small table with
my little rubber basin, a cracked mirror and my faithful tea-basket.
From the café below comes a deafening chorus of Serbian soldiers. I am
glad there is a good lock on the door, as someone is making a violent
effort to come in, and from the fierce altercation going on between
him and the boy-chambermaid, scraps of which I can understand, he is
apparently under the impression that I have taken his room--I may have
for all I know, but anyhow the proprietor gave it to me.
“The view from my window is not calculated to inspire confidence
either. It looks on to a stableyard full of pigs, donkeys and the most
villainous-looking Turks squatting about at their supper. These, I tell
myself, are the ones who will come in and cut my throat if Prilip is
taken to-night, as I don’t think any responsible person in the town
knows I am here. However, if I live through the night things will
probably look more cheery in the morning.”
In the middle of the night I was awakened by another fearful racket in
the passage. “That’s done it,” I thought, sitting up in bed with my
electric torch in one hand and my service revolver in the other, “it’s
like my rotten luck that the Bulgars should pitch on to-night to come
in and sack the town.” However, a very few minutes convinced me that
it was only two drunks coming up to bed, and, telling myself not to be
more of a fool than nature intended, I turned over and went to sleep
again.
I think my morbid reflections must have been brought on by the supper I
had had. Joe, my orderly, had, for reasons best known to himself, taken
me to a different restaurant to the one where we had been to lunch with
the Consul, assuring me that it was much better; it was not, very much
worse, in fact, though I should not have thought such a thing could be
possible. It was full of soldiers and comitadjes drinking. At first
I could get no food at all, and when it did come it was uneatable. I
had supper with an American doctor I met in the town next night, and
he informed me that food was so scarce and dear in Prilip that to get
anything of a meal you had to have your meat in one restaurant, your
potatoes in another, and your coffee in a third!
Next morning I went round to the hospital, and in the afternoon one of
the doctors took me round and introduced me to the Serbian Chief of
Police, who was most friendly and polite, got me a nice little room
close to the hospital, and apologised for not being able to ask me to
come to his house as his guest as his wife was ill. This is the sort
of courtesy that has always been extended to me in Serbia; they think
the best of everything they can offer is not too good for the stranger
within their gates, and I began to feel much cheered up.
There were not very many wounded in the hospital, but a great many
sick, and dysentery cases beginning to come in rapidly. I was soon
quite at home there, being used to the ways of Serbian hospitals. The
Director was going to Bitol for a few days, and I asked him to ask
the head of the Sanitary Department there, Dr. Nikotitch, if I might
join a regimental ambulance as nurse, as I heard that the ambulance of
the Second Regiment was some miles farther up the road, just behind
the Front. The Second and Fourteenth Regiments were then holding the
Baboona Pass, a very strongly fortified position in the mountains,
against the Bulgarians.
I stayed about a week in the hospital; there was plenty of work to
do--in fact, to have done it properly there would have been enough for
a dozen nurses, as dysentery was rapidly becoming an epidemic, and the
hospital was soon full up; we could take in no more. We were fearfully
short of everything, beds, bedding, drugs, and we simply had to do the
best we could with practically no kind of hospital appliances. Any kind
of proper nursing was impossible, most of the patients lying on the
floor in their muddy, trench-stained uniforms.
One afternoon two of the doctors motored out to the ambulance of
the Second Regiment and took me with them. We stopped first at the
ambulance of the Fourteenth, where we found twenty unfortunate
dysentery cases lying on the bare ground in two ragged tents groaning.
We had a long chat with the doctor of the Second Regimental ambulance,
and had coffee and cigarettes in his room--a loft over the stable.
That is to say, I did not do much of the talking as he was a Greek,
and besides his own language only talked Turkish and not very fluent
Serbian, although later on, strange to say, when I joined the same
ambulance, we used to carry on long conversations together in a kind of
mongrel lingo very largely helped out by signs.
[Illustration: FRENCH STEAMER WITH BOATS SLUNG OUT READY AND ESCORT
Page 2]
[Illustration: AMBULANCE OF SECOND REGIMENT. OX WAGGONS WHICH HAVE JUST
BROUGHT IN WOUNDED
Page 15]
We visited a large empty barracks on our way back, and made
arrangements for it to be turned into a dysentery hospital, as this
disease was beginning to assume serious proportions, and our
hospital was full up. This was never carried out, however, owing to
the Bulgarians’ rapid advance a few days later.
The next day the Director came back, and brought with him papers
whereby I was officially attached to the ambulance of the Second
Regiment; and it was part of my extraordinary luck to have just hit on
this particular regiment, which is acknowledged to be the finest in the
Serbian Army. Everybody was extremely kind to me in the hospital, and
all the doctors asked me to stay there and work, saying I could have no
idea of the hardships of ambulance life; but as I knew that it would
not be many days before we all had to clear out of Prilip before the
advancing Bulgarians, and that would mean my going back to Salonica,
and losing all chance of staying with the Serbians (whom I had grown
thoroughly attached to in my work among them for the last year and a
half), I adhered to my resolution to throw in my lot with the Army.
I always had my meals at the hospital now, and we had quite a merry
supper that night, and they all drank my health, declaring they would
see me back in three days, when I had been frozen out of my small tent
on the hills, where it was already bitterly cold. The next afternoon
I went all round the hospital and said good-bye to everyone; I was
very sorry to leave my patients, they are so affectionate, and always
so grateful for anything one does for them. One young soldier was my
special pet; he had been driven mad from the shock of a shell bursting
close to him, though he was not wounded. He was such a nice gentle
lad, and I used to spend a good bit of time with him, coaxing him to
swallow spoonfuls of milk, as he would not take anything from anyone
else, though the Bolnichars--hospital orderlies--were very kind to him.
I heard afterwards that he lived till the hospital was evacuated, but
died at Bitol. A good many of the men were from the Second Regiment,
and when they heard I was going to their ambulance we only said _au
revoir_. They assured me we should meet again when they were sent back
to their regiment, as they would come and see me directly they had the
smallest pain.
It was rather late in the day when Joe and I finally set out in a very
rickety carriage commandeered by martial law, with a very unwilling
driver, and a horse that could hardly crawl. The harness, which was
tied up with bits of string, kept coming to pieces, and the driver kept
stopping to repair it. Joe began to look very uneasy, and kept peering
round in the gathering dusk for any signs of wandering Bulgarian
patrols, or comitadjes, as it was a very lonely road. At last, after
what seemed an interminable time, we arrived at the ambulance, which
was on the grass by the side of the road. They were not expecting me
then as it was late, and the Serbians turn in soon after sunset. There
was apparently nowhere to sleep and nothing to eat. One of them took us
round to the doctor’s quarters, the same loft I had visited a few days
before, not far from the ambulance. He turned out full of apologies,
and said that he had had notice that I was coming that day, but that as
it was so late he had given me up.
It seemed a bit of a problem where I was to sleep, but eventually some
of the soldiers turned out of one of their small bivouac tents. These
tents are only a sort of little lean-to’s, which you crawl into, just
the height of a rifle, two of which can be used instead of poles. You
seem a bit cramped at first, but after I had lived in one for a couple
of months I did not notice it. All the tents were bunched up together,
touching each other, with four soldiers, or hospital orderlies, in
each. I insisted, to their great surprise, in having mine moved to a
clean spot about fifteen yards away from the others, and some more or
less clean hay put in to lie upon. There was a good deal of excitement
and confusion, the whole camp turning out and assisting. They could
not imagine why I wanted it moved, and declared that the Bulgarian
comitadjes would come down in the night and cut my throat before the
sentry knew they were there. Afterwards, when I was more used to war,
and accustomed to sleeping in the middle of a regiment, and to sleeping
when and where one could, in any amount of noise, I used to laugh at
my scruples then, and only wondered they were all as good-tempered
and patient as they were with what must have seemed to them my
extraordinary English ideas. The doctor sent me down some supper of
bread and cheese and eggs, and presently came down himself and sat on
the grass beside me as I ate it, and altogether they all did their
best to make me comfy, and were as amiable as only Serbians can be
when you rouse them out in the middle of the night and turn everything
upside down. It reminded me somewhat of my arrival in Valjevo, at the
beginning of the typhus epidemic, when owing to the vagaries of the
Serbian trains I was landed at the hospital at 3 a.m., after everyone
had given me up. After I had finished my supper I crawled into my tent,
tightly rolled myself up into the blankets as it was a very cold night,
and slept like a top on my bed of hay.