"Heroes, you have taken two oaths—one to me, your King, and the other to your country. I am an old, broken man, on the edge of the grave,[181] and I release you from your oath to me. From your other oath no one can release you. If you feel you cannot go on, go to your homes, and I pledge my word that after the war, if we come out of it, nothing shall happen to you. But I and my sons stay here."
Every Serbian feels himself uplifted by the noble words of his leader; not a man leaves the ranks; all are ready to do and die with their king. The weary and ragged soldiers pledge their faith anew, and steel their hearts to sweep the cruel hordes of invaders from the soil which they have profaned.
At sunrise on 3rd December the two centre divisions of the Serbian army begin to advance across the bare, sharp ridges, now thinly powdered with snow. Fog hides them from the Austrian battalions which are descending from the plateau which they occupy to attack the Rudnik ridge. The sun shines out and dissipates the fog. Suddenly the Serbian guns, which have been dumb for many days, begin to speak, and the soldiers, fired with new courage, dash forward. So fierce is the onset that the Austrians, unable to deploy, fall into confusion. Panic seizes them, and they fly back a terrified mob to the plateau from which they advanced a few minutes ago full of confidence.
Fresh Austrian troops are hurried up, and for three days the battle rages fiercely. On the afternoon of 5th December the left centre breaks, and crowds of discomfited men stream northward down the Lig valley. The fugitives think only of their own safety; they fling away arms and equipment, and on the mountain roads and in the deep ravines abandon their artillery and baggage. Then the Austrian centre suffers the same fate, and the road to Valjevo is crowded with beaten troops hurrying into safety. There is good news, too, from the Serbian left, where a great victory has been won, and the enemy is in full retreat along the head waters of the Kolubara. By the dawn of the 6th the Austrian centre and right have everywhere given way, and the routed enemy is a mere panic-stricken mob, hot-foot for the frontier.
The Serbians follow up the pursuit with great vigour, and sweep the Austrians over the Drina and the Save with fearful slaughter and the capture of thousands of prisoners and many guns. The Austrian left tries to make a stand, but all to no purpose. It is thrust back to a position already prepared on the crescent of hills to the south of Belgrade. Here it holds out till the 13th, when it, too, is broken, and its remnants strew the streets of Belgrade with rifles and equipment, and stampede wildly over the Danube bridges whipped by the merciless flail of the Serbian guns. A rearguard sacrifices itself in the northern suburbs to cover the retreat, but all is over; and on the 15th old King Peter is on his knees in the cathedral, giving thanks for the great victory vouchsafed to his arms. A few days later, and the Serbians are able to boast that not a single armed Austrian remains on their soil.
