We were surprised when we were told by one of our friends on the staff
of the Second Army that we must prepare to leave Prokuplje that very
evening.
"Why," we cried, "only a few hours ago we were told that the Bulgarians
have had a bad set-back!"
"So they have," was the quiet rejoinder. "The Bulgarians won't get here
in a hurry. But the Germans may."
Which goes to show that at this period the Serbian Army was putting up
a gallant fight against foes that were bearing down upon it from all
sides. What was the good of beating back the Bulgars when the crushing
force of the Austro-Germans, with their heavy artillery, had also to be
reckoned with? If it had been only the Bulgars!
As a matter of fact, the immediate source of danger was not so much
that Prokuplje would fall as that the road to Prishtina--the only
route open to the retreating army--might be cut. Koshumlja was
threatened, and if Koshumlja were to be taken we should all be caught
like rats in a trap.
We had come to Prokuplje from Nish, and all the time we were
there--over a week--there was heavy fighting. Had the promised
assistance come even then, at the eleventh hour, the tide might have
been stemmed, the tables turned, for the Serbian successes were by no
means to be despised. The famous Morava division of the Second Army
had covered itself with glory in a tough battle at Mramor, Lescovatz
had been retaken, and the Bulgarians had been driven out of Nish. The
latter victory, however, proved useless, for the Germans immediately
stepped in their place.
And in spite of all this, Prokuplje must be evacuated.
We liked Prokuplje--it is a pleasant little town very picturesquely
situated. Moreover, we had comfortable quarters in what we were
frequently told was the "finest room in the town."
We were always being envied our luck in finding accommodation.
Generally speaking, it was abominable beyond description, but the
man who sleeps in the open air will envy him who has a roof over his
head, and he who lies upon bare boards may be excused if he covets his
friend's mattress.
A friend of ours, coming to visit us at Scutari, was stopped by an
acquaintance in the street and asked where he was going. He mentioned
our name.
"Oh, those are the lucky people who did so well for themselves at
Plavnitza," was the grudging comment.
Had we been asked we should not have agreed that we did well for
ourselves at Plavnitza; indeed, the night we spent there was not far
off being the worst in all our varied experience.