A RIDE TO KALABAC AND A BATTLE IN THE SNOW
It snowed hard in the night and most of the next day and was bitterly
cold, blowing a gale, but my wagon was a good bit snugger than the
tent. The Colonel and his staff had quarters in a loft over a little
café just along the road, and after lunch the Commander of the
division, who came with two English officers, took the Kid and me with
them in their cars some miles back along the road towards Prilip,
where we all walked about and inspected the new positions part of the
regiment was to take up. The Kid went back to Bitol in the car with
them that evening to fetch some clothes, and I never saw her again,
though I believe she did want to come back to us later on.
I used to sit over the camp fires in the evenings with the soldiers,
and we used to exchange cigarettes and discuss the war by the hour. I
was picking up a few more words of Serbian every day, and they used to
take endless trouble to make me understand, though our conversations
were very largely made up of signs, but I understood what they meant if
I couldn’t always understand what they said. It was heartbreaking the
way they used to ask me every evening, “Did I think the English were
coming to help them?” and “Would they send cannon?” The Bulgarians had
big guns, and we had nothing but some little old cannon about ten years
old, which were really only what the comitadjes used to use. If we had
had a few big guns we could have held the Baboona Pass practically for
any length of time, for it was an almost impregnable position. I used
to cheer them up as best I could, and said I was sure that some guns
would come, and that even if they did not they must not think that the
English had deserted them, as I supposed they had big plans in their
head that we knew nothing about, and that though we might have to
retreat now everything would come right in the end. It was touching the
faith they had in the English, whom they all described as going “slowly
but surely.” They were very much excited when they saw the two English
officers, as they were sure they had come to say some English troops
were coming.
One day, however, one thousand new English rifles did come, and there
was great rejoicing thereat.
With the courtesy which always distinguishes the Serbian peasant, they
used always to stand up and make room for me, and bring a box for me to
sit on in the most comfortable place by the fire, out of the smoke, and
I used to spend hours like this with them. Under happier circumstances
they would all have been singing their national songs and dancing, but,
though there were many fine singers among them, nothing would induce
them to sing: they were too broken-hearted at being driven back. One
man did start a song one night to please me, but he broke down in the
middle and said he knew I would understand why he could not sing.
There was deep snow on the ground, and it was bitterly cold, and the
men used to anxiously ask me if I managed to keep warm at night, as
they huddled up together, four in one tiny tent, for warmth, and seemed
to rather fear that they might find me frozen to death some morning in
my wagon, but I was really quite warm enough.
[Illustration: AN AMBULANCE FIELD KITCHEN
Page 26]
[Illustration: ROASTING THE PIG
Page 50]
The next day, while we were doing the dressings, a man came in who had
walked from Nish, twenty-two days’ tramp. He was a cheery soul, and
said he felt very fit, but he looked as thin as a rake. We all crowded
round him to hear the news. He said that the town of Nish was
evacuated and everyone gone to Krushavatz.
Commandant Militch told me he was sending for his second horse, so that
I could ride her. When she arrived she proved to be a very fine white
half-Arab, who could gallop like the wind, and I grew very fond of her.
She had a passion for sugar, and always expected a bit when she saw
me. The Commandant had moved his quarters a few miles farther up the
road towards Prilip to a small deserted hahn, or inn, consisting of two
small rooms by the roadside. It was close to the village of Topolchar.
I had been cautioned not to stray away from the camp by myself, as
it was very unsafe; only a few days before Bulgarian comitadjes had
swooped down and taken prisoner a Serbian soldier who had gone to
fetch some water not a quarter of a mile from his own camp. One bright
sunny morning, however, the hills looked so tempting that I went for
a stroll and wandered on farther than I intended. I was out of sight
of the camp, when suddenly I heard voices behind some trees, though I
could not see anybody, and I knew that none of our men were camping
near. Discretion conquering curiosity, I beat a dignified retreat at a
brisk walk, as I was quite unarmed at the time, and they told me when I
got back it was a good thing I did. I took no more constitutionals over
the hills while in that neighbourhood, anyhow, for I had no wish to cut
off my career with the Army by suddenly disappearing, as no one would
know what had become of me.
One day I rode over on Diana, my white mare, to see the Commandant
and his staff at the hahn. They all welcomed me most warmly, inviting
me to stop to supper, sleep there, and ride out next day with them
to the mountain of Kalabac, to visit the positions there. I accepted
joyfully. They said I could either sleep there near the stove or have
my wagon brought up, if I was not afraid of being too cold. I decided
in favour of the wagon, as the hahn was already pretty crowded; so they
telephoned for it, and in due course it arrived with my orderly. It was
a grey-covered wagon, and I had christened it “My little grey home in
the west.” A house on wheels is an ideal arrangement, as if you take
it into your head to sleep anywhere else you go off and your house
simply follows you. It was planted exactly opposite the door, with a
sentry to guard me.
The Commandant, in spite of all his troubles, was full of fun, and even
in the darkest and most anxious hours in the tragic weeks that followed
kept up everyone’s spirits and thought of everyone’s comfort before his
own. After a most hilarious supper I turned in, as we were to make an
early start next morning.
Next day the Commandant, his Adjutant and I, with four armed gendarmes,
rode off to Kalabac. It was a lovely day, and we had about two hours’
ride across country to the first line of trenches. The Commandant and I
used to have a race whenever we got to a good bit of ground. He was a
fine rider, and, as the horses were pretty well matched, we used to get
up a break-neck speed sometimes, and had some splendid gallops. About
a year before in Kragujewatz I was riding with a Serbian soldier who
had been sent with a horse for me, and he said: “What did I want to be
a nurse for?” and tried to persuade me not to go back to the hospital,
but to join the Army then and there, regardless of my poor patients
expecting me back.
The first line of trenches that we came to were little shallow trenches
dotted about on the hillside, with about a dozen men in each. We sat in
one of them and drank coffee, and I thought then that I should be able
to tell them at home that I had been in a real Serbian trench, little
thinking at the time that I was going to do it in good earnest later on
under different circumstances.
After that we went on up to another position right at the top of
Kalabac. It was a tremendous ride, and I could never have believed that
horses could have climbed such steep places, or have kept their feet on
some of the obstacles we went over, but these horses were trained to
it, and could get through or over anything. Just the last bit of the
way we all had to dismount, and, leaving the horses with the gendarmes,
did the rest on foot. There was no need for trenches there, as it was
very rocky, and there was plenty of natural cover. Major B---- and
another officer met us near the top, and he and the Commandant went
off to discuss things. It happened to be Captain Pesio’s “Slava” day.
This “Slava” day is an institution peculiar only to the Serbians, and
which they always keep most faithfully. Every family and every regiment
has one. It is the day of their particular patron saint, and is handed
down from father to son. It is kept up for three days with as much
jollification as circumstances permit, even in wartime. I have been
the guest at plenty of other Slava days in Serbia, but I never enjoyed
anything so much as I did that one. We sat round the fire on boxes or
logs of wood under the shelter of a big overhanging rock, with a most
gorgeous panorama of the country stretching for miles round, and had
a very festive lunch, and all drank Captain Pesio’s health. In the
middle of lunch I had my first sight of the enemy, a Bulgarian patrol
in the distance, and orders were promptly given to some of our men to
go down and head them off. The men all seemed to be in high spirits
up there, in spite of the cold, and some of them were roasting a pig,
although I suppose that was a “Slava” luxury for them, not to be had
every day.
It was evening by the time we left, and we slipped and slid down the
mountain again by moonlight. When we got back to the first trenches
which we had visited we made a short halt, and sat in an officer’s
little tent and drank tea. He had certainly not been at war for four
years without learning how to make himself comfortable under adverse
circumstances, and had brought it down to a fine art. He had a tiny
little tent, one side of which was pitched against a bank, and in the
bank there was a hole, with a large fire in it, and a sort of tunnel
leading up to the outer air for a chimney. His blanket was spread on
some boughs woven together for a bed, and he was as snug and warm
as a toast when he did get a chance to sleep in his tent, which was
apparently not very often. He was very popular with everyone, and the
Commandant spoke particularly of his bravery. We were quite sorry to
leave and turn out into the cold night air.
We had a long ride home, ending up with a hard gallop along the last
bit of road, and it was late when we got back to the hahn. There
was a big fire going in the iron stove, and we soon thawed out. The
Commandant sat down at his table and dictated endless despatches to
his Adjutant, while I dosed on his camp bed till about ten, when he
finished his work for the time being and we had supper. Every now and
then there would be a rap at the door, and an exhausted, half-frozen
rider would come in bearing a despatch from one of the outlying
positions on the hills.
I was very sorry afterwards that I had not taken my camera with me up
to the positions, but I was not sure at the time if they would like me
to, though afterwards they told me I might take it anywhere I liked.
There was another small ambulance here in charge of the proper
regimental doctor, and in the afternoon everyone was ordered to move
up into the village, Topolchor, and find rooms there. The soldiers were
all delighted at the prospect of getting under a roof of any kind,
though I felt quite sorry at leaving my Little Grey Home. The doctor
got me a nice big empty room in what was formerly the school. There
was a pile of desks and tables filling up one side of it, and a stove,
but otherwise no furniture. After my orderly had unpacked my camp bed
and lit the stove I had some visitors: three or four old native women,
who came up and inspected me and all my belongings closely, and seemed
deeply impressed with the extraordinary luxury in which an Englishwoman
lived, with a room to herself, a bed _and_ a rubber bath! I had been
making futile efforts, by the way, for the last few days to make use
of this same bath, in spite of my orderly’s repeated assurances that
you could _not_ have a bath in wartime, which I found afterwards to be
strictly true. I did not succeed even here, owing to the lack of water
and anything to carry it in.
The villagers themselves, those who had not already fled in terror,
seemed to live in the most abject poverty, huddled together in houses
no better than pigsties. The place was infested by enormous mongrel
dogs, which used to pursue me in gangs, barking and growling, but they
had a wholesome respect for a stone, and never came to close quarters.
Next morning I went for a long ride with the Commandant to inspect
some more of the positions. He had to hold an enormous front with only
two regiments, and, as we were outnumbered by the Bulgarians by more
than four to one, when the latter could not break through our lines
they simply made an encircling movement and walked round them, and, as
there were absolutely no reserves, every available man being already in
the fighting line, troops had to abandon some other position in order
to cut across and bar their route. Thus we were constantly being edged
back, and were very many times in great danger of being surrounded.
We were fighting a rear-guard action practically all the time for
the next six weeks--a mere handful of troops, worn out by weeks of
incessant fighting, hungry, sick, and with no big guns to back them
up, retreating slowly and in good order before overwhelming forces of
an enemy who was fresh, well equipped and with heavy artillery. It was
no use throwing men’s lives away by holding on to positions when no
purpose could be gained by it, though the Colonel felt it keenly that
the finest regiment in the Army should have to abandon position after
position, although contesting every inch, without having a chance of
going on the offensive. It was heartbreaking work for all concerned,
and the way they accomplished it is an everlasting credit to officers
and men alike.
My orderly told me he had heard we were going that evening, so he
packed up everything, camp bed included, and put it in my wagon. We
hung about all the evening expecting to get the order to go at any
moment, as the horses were always kept ready saddled in the stable, and
you simply had to “stand by” and wait until you were told to go, and
then be ready to get straight off. Eventually, however, the Commandant
came back and said we were not going that night, and we had a quiet
supper about ten o’clock and turned in, with a warning to be up early
in the morning. As my bed was packed up I rolled myself up in a blanket
on the floor, and my orderly did likewise at the other side of the
stove and kept the fire up. It was snowing hard and frightfully cold.
At daybreak we did move, but not very far, only to the little hahn
by the roadside; and there we stood about in the snow and listened
to a battle which was apparently going on quite close; although we
strained our eyes we could see nothing--there was such a frightful
blizzard. A company of reinforcements passed us and floundered off
through the deep snow drifts across the fields in the direction of the
firing. There was no artillery fire (I suppose they could not haul
the guns through the snow), but the crackle of the rifles got nearer
and nearer, and at last about midday they were so close that we could
hear the wild “Hourrah, Hourrahs” of the Bulgarians as they took our
trenches, and as the blizzard had stopped for a bit we could see them
coming streaking across the snow towards us, our little handful of men
retreating and reforming as they went. The Bulgarians always give the
most blood-curdling yells when they charge. The ambulance was already
gone, and there were only the Colonel and his staff, myself and the
doctor left. The horses were brought out, and the order came to go, but
only about three miles to where the big ambulance was camped with whom
I had been at first.
There was a river between the hahn and this ambulance, and the road
went over a bridge. This bridge was heavily mined and was to be
blown up as soon as our men were over, thus cutting off, or anyhow
considerably delaying, the Bulgarians, as the river was now a swollen
icy torrent. We sat round the fire of the ambulance and dried our feet.
Some of the men were soaking to the knees, having no boots, but only
opankis, leather sandals fastened on with a strap which winds round
the leg up to the knee. Later on some wounded were brought in, given a
very hurried dressing, and despatched at once to the base hospital. The
majority of them seemed to be hit in the right arm or wrist, but I am
afraid perhaps the worst wounded never reached us. One poor fellow who
was hit in the abdomen was, I am afraid, done for; he would hardly live
till he got to the hospital.
We heard no more firing till late in the afternoon, when all at once
it broke out again quite close, and with big guns as well this time.
We wondered how on earth they had been able to get them across the
river, but the explanation was forthcoming when we heard that the
bridge, although it had ten mines in it, had failed to blow up--the
mines would not explode; no one knew why. I floundered through the
snow up a little hill with some of the others to see if we could see
anything, but we could not see much through the winter twilight except
the flashes from the guns momentarily lighting up the snow banks, and
hear the noise of the shells as they whistled overhead.
This had been going on for a couple of hours now, and the Greek doctor
was getting into a regular funk because they had had no orders to move,
though it was all right as we had no wounded in the tent to be carried
away, and no one else was worrying about it; but he finally sent a
messenger up to the Commandant, as he seemed to think the ambulance
had been forgotten. A couple of days afterwards the men told me with
much scorn that that afternoon had been too much for him, and that he
did a retreat on his own and never came back to the ambulance again. I
was just thinking of looking round for something to eat, as I had had
neither breakfast nor lunch, and had been much too busy to think about
it, when the order arrived for the ambulance to pack up and move, and
the tents came down like lightning. The soldiers were all retreating
across the snow, and I never saw such a depressing sight. The grey
November twilight, the endless white expanse of snow, lit up every
moment by the flashes of the guns, and the long column of men trailing
away into the dusk wailing a sort of dismal dirge--I don’t know what it
was they were singing--something between a song and a sob, it sounded
like the cry of a Banshee. I have never heard it before or since, but
it was a most heartbreaking sound.
My saïs (groom) brought Diana round to me. I asked him if he had been
told to do so, and he said “No,” but that I “had better go now.” He
shook his head dubiously, murmuring, “Safer to go now,” when I told him
I was coming later on with the Commandant and his staff.
War always seems to turn out exactly the opposite to what you imagine
is going to happen. Such a great proportion of it consists of “an
everlastin’ waiting on an everlastin’ road,” as someone has already
written. Bairnsfather hits it off exactly in his picture of the young
officer with his new sword: how he pictures himself using it, charging
at the head of his company, and how he really does use it, toasting
bread over the camp fire! I had some wild visions in my head--as I knew
the Commandant would wait until the last moment--of a tremendous gallop
over the snow, hotly pursued by Bulgarian cavalry. I imagine I must
once have seen something like it on a cinematograph. What, however,
really did happen was that, having received permission to stop, I
sat for four hours in company with seven or eight officers who were
waiting for orders, on a hard bench in a freezing cold shed, which in
its palmier days might have been a cowhouse. I was ravenously hungry,
and sucked a few Horlick’s milk tablets I found in my pocket, but they
did not seem so satisfying as the advertisements would lead one to
suppose. However, presently the jolly little captain, whose tent I
described on Kalabac, came in, followed by his soldier servant bearing
a hot roast chicken wrapped up in a piece of paper! Where in the world
he got it I can’t think. We had no knives or forks, but we sat side
by side, and each took hold of a leg and pulled till something gave.
It tasted delicious! He shared it round with everybody, and I don’t
think had much left for himself. Although he came straight from the
trenches, where he had been fighting incessantly and had not slept for
three nights himself, he was full of spirits and livened us all up, and
we little thought that it was the last time we were to see him. I was
terribly sorry to hear a few days later of the tragic death of my gay
little friend.
The firing had ceased, as it usually does at night, and at last, about
nine o’clock, the Commandant appeared and the horses were brought out,
and instead of the wild cinema gallop I had pictured we had one of the
slowest, coldest rides you can imagine. There was a piercing blizzard
blowing across the snowy waste, blinding our eyes and filling our ears
with snow; our hands were numbed, and our feet so cold and wet we
could hardly feel the stirrups. We proceeded in dead silence, no one
feeling disposed to talk, and slowly threaded our way through crowds
of soldiers tramping along, with bent heads, as silently as phantoms,
the sound of their feet muffled by the snow. I pitied the poor fellows
from the bottom of my heart--they were so much colder and wearier even
than I was myself, and I wondered where the “glory” of war came in.
It was exactly like a nightmare, from which one might presently wake
up. My dreams of home fires and hot muffins were brought to an abrupt
termination by the Commandant suddenly breaking into a trot, when I
found my knees were “set fast” with the cold, and I had a very painful
five minutes till they loosened up.
After a long time we turned off the road across some snowy fields.
I followed close behind the Commandant, who always made a bee line
straight ahead through everything; and after our horses had slipped
and scrambled through a hedge, a couple of deep ditches and a stream
we eventually got to the village of Mogilee, I think it was called.
The soldiers bivouacked in some farm out-houses, and we were received
by some officers in a big loft. They had a huge stove going and supper
ready for us. We finished up the long day quite cheerily, even having
a bottle of champagne that a comitadje brought as a present to the
Commandant. We all slept that night in the loft on the floor, I being
given the place of honour on a wide bench near the stove, while the
other six or seven selected whichever particular board on the floor
took their fancy most, and spread their blankets on it. Turning in was
a simple matter, as you only have to take off your boots; and, though
the atmosphere got a bit thick, we all slept like tops.
[Illustration: THE TENT I SLEPT IN FOR TWO MONTHS
Page 24]
[Illustration: SERBIAN ARMY TRUDGING ALONG
Page 77]