LAST DAYS AT VRNTZE
Up till now Vrntze was undisturbed by the war; the fine ladies were
walking the streets much as usual, and were bringing pressure upon
Gaschitch, the commandant, to make us close one of our hospitals, so
that it might be reopened as a lodging-house. The chemist and Jan had an
amusing conversation about the uncle of Nicholas I. It seems he was a
great poet.
"Sir," said the chemist, earnestly, "I can assure you that he was one of
the greatest poets that ever has lived. Were Serbian a language as
universally spoken as is English, he would stand beside Shakespeare in
the world's estimation, if not before. The depth of his philosophy, sir,
it is astounding and so deep. There are passages in his poetry which I
have studied for weeks on end and never yet been able to understand."
The true explanation is that the great poet translated an old work of
German philosophy into Serbian, and very likely did not understand all
the original himself.
We got more letters urging us to return. Our studios in Paris and all
our work of the last eight years seemed in danger of being sold up. So
Jan went once more to the Chief. He asked us to stay until at least the
first batch of wounded arrived, for none of the others had had
experience of the receiving arrangements, and of the disinfecting. We
moved our beds and baggage to the school, which Jo was to take over as a
convalescent hospital.
By the way, one of our doctors had a queer soothsaying experience. She
was told that she was one day going to a foreign country with an S in
the name. She would be quite safe in her first job, but that she would
be offered a post in a large grey building from which if she accepted
she might not escape alive, but in any case would be flying for her
life, and that she and all her companions would suffer great hardships
and sleep on dirty straw in awful places. She was offered a job at the
Farmers' hospital in Belgrade. She refused. It is a great grey building,
and we now heard that Belgrade was being violently bombarded and all had
to escape. Rumours came of great German attacks on Shabatz and
Obrenovatz.
The next day Serbian refugees arrived from Belgrade itself: they said
that the town was in flames and that fierce fighting was taking place in
the streets. Posheravatz was deserted, and a great battle was raging
about its outskirts. There were reports that the King of Bulgaria had
abdicated and that the Germans at Chabatz had been defeated, leaving
8000 prisoners in Serbian hands. Neuhat came to Jan in great glee.
"We have captured a German major," he said, "and he says that never was
there a soldier like the Serb. He has fought English and French and
Russians, but he says our troops are the most wonderful of all."
"Jolly sensible chap," said Jan. "I'd say the same myself if I was a
prisoner."
Major Gaschitch told Dr. Berry that if the Serbian army retreated we
were to retreat with them. Blease and Jan got hard at work putting rope
handles to the packing-cases and labelling them for special purposes.
One of our lady doctors was valued in the morning. In the outpatient
department a question arose about marriage. A Serb patient said--
"I can marry any time I like. Pah! In Serbia one can get two maidens for
twopence, and three widows for a mariasch (1/2_d._)."
Everybody was now running about with maps, violently explaining the
situation to everybody else, and all explaining differently. Major
Gaschitch had fixed Novi Bazar as our probable haven, and Mr. Berry
borrowed our map to see if there were a direct road over Gotch mountain,
and suggested that Jan might get a horse and ride over to see. Alas,
only a fourth-class road was marked, and heaven knows what that may be
like: lots of country and choose for yourself probably. A woman was
brought in with what she said was a bullet through the breast; it
occurred during the celebration of the marriage ceremony, which lasted a
week. The girl was brought by her father, the bridegroom having rushed
off to the church to pray. The wound looked very like a dagger thrust.
The new slaughter-house was a fine erection. The walls were almost
finished and the roof was being assembled. One of the Austrian prisoners
had discovered a talent for stone carving, and Miss Dickenson was
designing a frieze for the door and on each side. There was a fine
ceremony--while we had been away--at the foundation, and Mr. Berry made
a speech in Serbian. The disinfector had also arrived and was soon got
into working order.
The news got better. The Austrians were now driven out of Belgrade with
immense slaughter, the whole line of the Danube and of the Save had
been reoccupied by the Serbs. Blease and Jan wondered if it were
necessary to go on with the rope handles. Our first wounded man arrived
in the evening, a non-commissioned officer, with a slightly wounded
thumb. He had arrived by train, asked in the town which was the most
comfortable hospital, and had walked up. We represented that we weren't
looking for thumbs, but had to put him up for the night; this meant the
whole business of washing, shaving, and disinfecting his clothes.
We heard that the French and English had arrived in Nish, 70,000 men,
and that they had been greeted with the wildest enthusiasm; but against
that was set the fact that Belgrade after all was not quite clear of
Austrians, in fact, they still held half the town, but that the "Swobs"
were not getting on at Chabatz. "Swobs" in Serbian are any of a Germanic
country, while in Austria it is a term of opprobrium, meaning "German."
One of our "Czech" orderlies said to Jo, pathetically--
"I never thought that I should be called a 'Swob.'"
Next day came a warning that two hundred wounded, serious cases, were to
be expected, so everything and everybody was in a rush. The bathrooms to
be cleaned, disinfecting-room and bags to be got ready, wards cleared
as much as was possible.
The wounded did not come, and the next day they did not come. The
chemist said that all the Austrians had been driven back, but that the
Bulgars had at last attacked. Mr. Berry thought the news rather serious,
and told us that Gaschitch had said that we must be prepared to move at
twenty-four hours' notice; so back we went to the work on the boxes.
Next day news was brought that the Bulgars had drawn back, and had said
that the Serbs had attacked them first, that the Powers had declared war
on Bulgaria, and that the Russians had bombarded Varna.
At last we got news that the wounded were really coming. We hurried into
our disinfecting garments--looking like pantaloons,--and scissors were
served out to all the assistants. It was dark before the first motor
load came.
The undressing-room was a large white-stone floored room with four long
plank beds covered with mackintosh; behind was the bathroom. The first
wounded man was pushed in through the window on a stretcher, a brown
crumpled heap of misery, and groaning. We laid him carefully on the bed
while the doctor searched for the wound. While she was examining him a
second was handed in. No need to examine this one. Bloody head bandage
and great blue swollen eyelids told plainly where his wound was. We
stripped the clothes as carefully as was possible from the poor fellows.
Those who were too bad to go to the bathroom were washed where they lay.
One orderly with soap and razors shaved every hair from each; and
several plied clippers on the matted heads. Outside was one electric
lamp which threw strong lights and darker shadows, making a veritable
Rembrandt of the scene, lighting up the white clad forms of the
assistants who were drawing out the stretchers, the big square end of
the ambulance car, and picking out from the gloom of the garden a rose
tree which bore one white rose.
The wounded were indescribably dirty, and their clothes in a shocking
state, all stiff with blood. Jo took charge of the clothes bags, seeing
that no man's clothes were mixed with any others. The men all seemed
dazed, each soldier seemed to have the same protest upon his mind. "This
wasn't the idea at all, I was not to be wounded. Why am I here?" One
suddenly felt the brutal inanity of modern warfare; one felt that if the
ones who had started this war could only be forced to spend three months
in a war hospital, receiving and undressing the fruits of their plots,
they would have a different view of the glory and honour of battle.
Each man had sewn in his belt some talisman to protect him from
danger--small brass or lead image or medal, bought from the village
priest.
There was confusion at first, for almost all were new to their tasks;
the barbers were carrying stretchers when they ought to have been
barbering; the clippers were scrubbing instead of doing their proper
work; but, nevertheless, it was marvellously rapid. The motor tore back
to the station, and by the time it had returned its first load had been
washed, shaved, arrayed in clean pyjamas, and either lay in bed in the
ward, or were waiting their turn outside the operating theatre.
Mr. Berry was hard at work: there were several cases shot through the
brain, one through the lungs, one through the heart, and one through the
spine; this latter was paralysed.
Some wounded came in carriages; it was very difficult to get them on to
the stretchers without giving them unnecessary pain, because of the
shape of the "fiacres." At last all were passed through.
Do not think us heartless if we rubbed our hands and said, "Some very
good cases, what!" for emotional pity can be separated from professional
pleasure, and if these things had to be we were pleased that the serious
ones had come to us; had not gone to a Serbian hospital.
Next day we sorted clothes. Every uniform had to be taken from its bag,
tabulated, searched for money or food, and repacked. They were swarming
with vermin, but we wore mackintosh overalls which are supposed to be
anathema to the beasties. More operations. One of the men had been hit
in the cerebellum, and was quite blind. The boy who had been hit in the
lungs prayed for a cigarette and an apple, he felt sure they would do
him good. We sorted more clothes. One of the men had a pocket full of
scissors--evidently regimental barber; another's pockets were crammed
with onions; a third had a half-eaten apple, as though the fight had
surprised him in the middle of his dessert. The cerebellum man wanted
his purse. We could not find it; after exhaustive inquiry found that the
lung youth had stolen it. Another patient claimed he had lost thirty-six
francs; so down we had to go once more, search his package--the
smelliest of the lot--and at last found the money pinned into the lining
of his coat, also a watch. Jan took them back to him, wound up the watch
and set it. The grateful owner said that the watch was an ornament, but
that he could not read it.
The French were never in Nish at all--all lies; but Austrian aeroplanes
had bombed it and killed several people. The Bulgarian comitaj cut the
line at Vranja, but had been badly beaten in a battle near Zaichar. The
flight over Gotch degenerated into a joke, and Jo was commissioned to do
a caricature of it.
Suddenly a refugee turned up, the hostess of the rest house in Nish. She
was very worried about the loss of her fifteen trunks, which she had had
to leave, and which contained all her family mementoes and miniatures.
She hoped that the scare would only last a few days. The Bulgars had
occupied Veles though, which was bad news. Another refugee lady from
Belgrade came in. More patients. Forty-nine for the "Merkur" hospital.
Lots of running about, but at last all were bedded.
A Serbian comitaj girl came in in the afternoon, looking for a lady
doctor. She was a fine upstanding creature with a strong, almost fierce,
face. There had been six of her, she said, but one had been killed. The
bombardment of Varna turned out to be a lie, but they said that all the
Bulgars at Vrnja had been surrounded. Major Gaschitch also said that if
Serbia could hold out till the 10th, something wonderful was going to
happen.
Our visitors had rather a hard time. One of them was trotting into the
little sitting-room of the hospital. She opened the door and started
back aghast. There was a man within clad in nothing but a large pair of
moustaches. She fled. Mr. Berry having nowhere to examine a stray
patient had occupied the room at an unlucky moment. More wounded were
expected, so we got into our war paint, and they arrived five hours
later than we had expected them. They came in "fiacres," and climbed off
very easily. We inquired, "Where wounded?" "Belgrade." "When?" "Three
months ago." Not a serious case amongst them, and we had heard that the
badly equipped hospitals at Krusevatz were crowded with the most
frightful cases. We were furious. A lot more wounded came to the "State"
café. None seriously hurt, and after examination one man had no wound to
show at all, nor shock, nor anything. He had simply run away. There were
several hand cases, some blackened with powder, proving that the poor
devils had shot themselves to get out of it. One man would not have his
hair cut because he said that he was in mourning for his brother, and
his hat was decorated with a crown of black lace. At the same time some
serious cases came to the main hospital; one man seemed to have been
shot the whole length of his body, the bullet entering at the shoulder
and emerging behind the hip. A small boy sat scratching. Jo said to him,
"Why dost thou scratch?" He answered with a shout of fatuous content,
"I have lice, I have lice," and scratched once more.
The disinfector was working overtime, clothes were poured upon us from
all the other hospitals. Another alarm that wounded were coming, but
they never came. In their place an English clergyman arrived from Krag.
News came of the fall of Uskub, and that Lady Paget had been captured
with all her staff. Next day the wounded came, many more than had been
expected. Jan got rather strong signs of inflammatory rheumatism
threatening, so he went to bed for a couple of days with salicylate.
The Serbian authorities were beginning to lose their heads. In the
morning they said that the "State" was to be made into a hospital for
officers, and chased all the patients out; in the afternoon they decided
that it was not, and chased back the patients--who had been divided
amongst the other hospitals. Thus they kept us busy and accomplished
nothing. In the evening another batch of wounded came in.
Nearly all the reports of the previous week were now confessed to be
lies. A Serbian minister had been dying in the town, and the good
stories were made up to keep him cheerful. Now he was dead the truth
leaked out. The Austrians and Germans were advancing on every side, the
Serbs making no resistance since Belgrade. The Bulgars had occupied the
whole of the line south of Nish. The French and English were advancing
with extreme difficulty. The Farmers' unit trailed into the town, no
conveyance having been arranged for them from the station. The Scottish
women were already here, having come in the night; they had to sleep
twelve or fifteen in a room. Next day a small contingent of the wounded
Allies arrived.
Sir Ralph Paget arrived in a whirl. Leaders of units appeared from all
sides, and a hurried conference was held.
Mr. Berry called a meeting at two. He said Paget had announced that the
game was up; that all members of units should have the option of going
home, and that he (Paget) was going to Kralievo to see about transports.
Jan got to work on the map, and decided that the best route out would be
one to Novi Bazar, and thence by tracks to Berane. There were villages
marked in the mountains which did not seem so high as those by Ipek,
also the road, if there were one, would be at least two days shorter.
Sir Ralph came back next day, and knowing that we had but lately
returned from Montenegro, he asked Jan a lot of questions about the
road, etc. Sir Ralph's latest decision was that all men of military
age--not doctors--should attempt to cross the mountains into Montenegro.
He could not say if any transport could be provided, or if there would
be any means of escaping from Montenegro, and in consequence he advised
no women to move, as they would be better where they were, than in
facing the risks of the mountains; they would not be in the same danger
as the orderlies, for whom internment was to be expected. Dr. Holmes
decided to accompany us, as he said he wasn't going to doctor Germans,
and he might be useful to the retreating Serbian army. Ellis also said
that he would come and would bring his car, which would help us at least
some of the way. Sir Ralph asked Jan to take charge of the party of the
English Red Cross, and we went back to our rooms to repack, for Jo had
already arranged things for internment, Mr. Blease decided to come with
us. Nobody knew what the dangers would be, or where the Austrians and
Germans were, and many doubted if it were possible to get through. The
season was getting late, and snow was daily to be expected. Some
imaginative people enlarged on "the brigands" and "wolves," but we did
not think that they counted for much. The chief problems were, if we
could get shelter each night, and could we carry enough food to support
us in case we could get none, which seemed very possible.
We got an order from Gaschitch for bread from the Serbian authorities.
We were going off into country, the real conditions of which nobody
knew, and our friends took leave of us, many expecting to see us back in
a few days. The Austrian prisoners were very sad at our going.
The station was dark and gloomy, the little gimcrack Turkish kiosk--like
a bit of the White City--was filled with Red Cross stoves and beds. Two
trains came in, but neither was for Kralievo; one was Red Cross and the
other for Krusevatz. A lot of boys, in uniform, clambered on board and
shouting out, "Sbogom Vrntze," were borne off into the night. Our
spirits fell lower and lower. We thought of the friends we were leaving
behind us, and of what we had before us. The reaction had set in,
intensified by the gloom and cold of the station.
Hours later the train arrived. The only third-class carriage was filled
to overflowing, people were standing on the platform and sitting on the
steps. We tried the trucks. All were crammed so full that the doors
could not be opened.
"You'd better go to-morrow," said the station-master.
"We're not going through that a second time," we said. "Can't we climb
on to the roof?"
We scrambled up. There were other men there, lying in brown heaps. We
made some of them move up a little, stowed our blankets and knapsacks,
and sat amongst them.
"Are you all right?" shouted the station-master.
"Yes."
"Good-bye, then. Lie down when you come to the bridges, or you'll get
your heads knocked off."
We lay down at once, taking no risks, not knowing when the bridges were
coming. Luckily the wind was with us, and the night was warm. The engine
showered sparks into the air, which fell little hot touches on to our
faces and hands. Later a little rain fell.
Kralievo at three a.m. We did not know the town so Jo stormed the
telegraph office. The officials tried to shut the door, but she got her
foot into it.
"When I ask you a polite question you might answer it," she said.
"You can get shelter next door," said one grumpily.
We tried next door. It was crowded, and the heat within was unbearable.
We saw a door in the opposite wall and opened it--back into the
telegraph office. There were people sleeping there already, so without
asking permission we dumped our baggage and lay down on the floor. The
officials said nothing.
After a while two French generals (or somethings) came in. They were
refused as we were, but they took no notice, unpacked their blankets and
lay down under the great central table. With them was a wife, she sat
miserably on a chair. The room got so stuffy when the door was shut that
she wished it opened; the draught was so bad when the door was open that
she immediately wished it shut. Unfortunately she got mixed: the Serbian
for open is very like the word for shut, and she used them reversed.
There was much confusion. Just as the officials were getting used to her
inversions, she corrected herself. More confusion. An English girl came
in, pushed aside the papers on the big table, and began to brew cocoa on
a Primus stove which she had brought with her. The officials looked
helplessly at each other. Jan recognized her as one of the Stobart unit
from Krag: she had got astray from her band, but was now rejoining them.
[Illustration]