SORE FEET.
Bosnia and Herzegovina were under Austrian protection and were supplying a new contingent of infantry to the Austrian army. This force was said to have most marvellous powers of marching and endurance, something hitherto unheard of among European nations. I was told off to ascertain how great these powers might be and what was the secret of their success.
I visited them in their own country. But before I arrived there I had passed through Montenegro, and I had there received reports from Montenegrins, which to some extent discounted the high praise given to them. When I asked a Montenegrin his opinion of his neighbours in the matter of marching and hill climbing, he could only contemptuously spit. And then he explained to me that any fool can go uphill, but a Montenegrin is the only man who can go downhill.
He pointed to the round tower in Cettinje, and told me within it lay several piles of Turks' head, for the reason that every Montenegrin who could show a heap of nine Turks' heads gathered by himself was entitled to a gold medal from the Prince.
Their method of gaining Turks' heads was this:
A party of them would make a raid into Turkish territory and get a few cattle or women. They would then be pursued by the Turks into the mountains, and they would make their way hurriedly up the mountain side just sufficiently far ahead to lead the Turks on to pursue them eagerly. When the Turks had become well strung out in the pursuit, the Montenegrins would suddenly turn on them and charge down the mountain side.
There was no escape for the Turks. They were only ordinary mortals, and could not run downhill. And he showed me his great bare knee, and slapping it with pride, he said: "That is what takes you downhill, and no other nation has a knee like the Montenegrins. And as for the Bosnians—" then he spat!
However, as the Bosnians were reported to be doing such great things in the marching line for the Austrian army, my next step was to visit the Austrian manoeuvres and watch them.
It is usual for a military attaché to be sent officially to watch such manoeuvres, and he is the guest of the Government concerned. But in that position, it is very difficult for him to see behind the scenes. He is only shown what they want him to see. My duty was to go behind the scenes as much as possible and get other points of view.
I accordingly attached myself to a squad of infantry, with whom I spent a couple of days and nights. I had come to a certain town, and could find no room in the place where I could sleep. The hotels were crammed, and even in the shops men were billeted to sleep on and under the counters, as also in every garret and archway in the place.
Finally, I went to the station and asked the stationmaster if I could sleep in a railway carriage. He informed me that all these were filled with troops; but one of the railway men who came from the signal-box a short way down the line took pity on me, and told me if I liked there was his cabin, which I could share with his brother, who was a corporal, and his squad of men, and that I might find room to lie down there.
I gladly climbed the steps into the signal-box, and was made welcome by the corporal and his men in sharing their supplies, and after supper and a chat I bedded down amongst them.
It was interesting to see how conscientiously this little party did its work. At every hour during the night the corporal went out and inspected his sentry, just as if on active service, and patrols were frequent and reports handed in, although no officer ever came near the place.
During the next two days we had plenty of experience of marching and counter-marching, firing and charging; but going along in the rear of the immense mass of troops one soon realised what enormous wastage there is in stragglers, and especially those with sore feet. So much so was this the case that wagons came along, picked up the sore-footed men, and carried them back to the railway, where every evening a special train was in attendance to convey them back to their garrison.
A few that were missed out by this operation on the field were collected into their field hospitals, and thus the numbers shown every day to the general staff of men admitted to hospital for sore feet was very small indeed compared with the number that were actually put out of action from that cause.
It was soon quite evident that my friend the Montenegrin had not spat without reason, and that the Bosnians were no harder in their feet than the other nationalities in that variegated army.