Serbia: A Sketch

by Helen Leah Reed

"The barbarous methods of warfare of the German Allies, the object of which is to annihilate other nations and their culture, have inflicted on us, as well as on the Belgians, bloody and incurable wounds. Whole crowds of our best and noblest Serbs, who as non-combatants peacefully received the Austrian army, have been killed with a cruelty of which even savages would be ashamed. Men and women, old men and innocent children have been murdered by terrible tortures, by arms, and by fire. Many have been locked up in school buildings and other houses and burnt alive. All the churches to which the Austrians got access have been desecrated, robbed, and destroyed. The schools and the best houses have fared in the same way. Belgrade, the beautiful capital of Serbia, its churches, its educational and humanitarian institutions, have been destroyed. The university, the national library, the museum, and scientific collections, have been ruined. For those who have escaped, and for the orphans of the fallen, speedy help is most necessary."

Said Madame Grouitch an eye witness of these depredations, "Imagine the farming districts of our Middle States charred and trampled, and everything killed. This would give you a faint idea of Serbia after the Austrians first entered it." When they approached Belgrade at the very beginning of the war, within six hours they were shelling the city and killing women and children. In other cities, as at Shabats, for example, they did many things from what seemed a mere spirit of wantonness, emptying the contents of shops into the streets and carrying away property that could hardly have been of use to them. But while they devastated the country they had entered and terrified the non-combatants, they had few engagements with the Serbian soldiers worthy the name of battle.

It was during this second invasion that King Peter especially endeared himself to his men. In one instance where they were growing disheartened, he entered the trenches and discharging his rifle as a signal, led them to victory. The Serbs from the beginning of the war felt confidence in their leaders—the Crown Prince, Putnik, Misich, Pasich, the king.

The Serbian soldiers were gathering strength. The world knew before this that they were brave fighters; since that autumn of 1914 they have known that they are unsurpassed. Facing an enemy that outnumbered them three to one, they did not flinch, and by the 20th of December the Austrians were driven out of Serbia—not to return for nearly a year. During that year, however, the Austrians from the other side of the Danube were constantly bombarding Belgrade, while the inhabitants for the most part went about their business as usual. The army, which had early been ordered out of the city in a vain effort to save Belgrade from bombardment, was now putting itself in good condition. The return of the invaders was certain, the time less sure. All that Serbia could do was to spare no effort to put herself in the best condition to meet the inevitable attacks of the foe. The hospitals were full of wounded and Serbian women and nurses from outside were doing their best for the Serbian soldiers and for the many sick Austrian soldiers, when the dreadful typhus broke out.

But for famine and disease during their fatal six months Serbia might still be on her feet. Her tragic condition interested the whole world, unwilling to see the women relatives of a million fighters suffering, aye, even dying. The first invasion resulted in taking away from their home the majority of the peasants who had remained behind to provide food. The invaders did not even respect the hospitals—they cut off the water supplies so that the nurses could not even provide for the sick.

During those months of disease the black flag hung over hundreds of houses in every Serbian town. The whole country was demoralized, for many officials had lost their lives. The fever was so virulent that it may be said that no country has ever suffered so severely. The typhus that broke out in the early part of 1915 came from the bad sanitary condition of the Austrian prison camps, and Serbia, weakened by war, was in no condition to resist. Several thousands a day died in the early months of that year. In six of the most fertile districts, more than half of the children died—of hunger, cold, and exposure as well as of disease—and it was not until the Red Cross physicians and others from various countries took hold, that the disease abated.

Meanwhile, men of Serbia were fighting bravely and hopefully until an advancing wave of Teutons swept over the country and the populace fled. It had been wiser, perhaps, if non-combatants had stayed in their homes, but so fearful were the atrocities reported, the atrocities committed by the German armies in Belgium and elsewhere, that retreat seemed wisest. Many Serbian soldiers, however, wished to stay and face the invader until they could fight no longer. But they would have had to fight with three against their one. The hordes rushing on were beyond belief—Germans, Austrians, and Bulgarians. The humbler people might with less danger have stayed behind, but the Government, naturally, could not remain in its capital and there were many others upon whom a price was set. When once the retreat began it rolled up by tens of thousands, and this human flood could not be stopped. It was a spectacular flight. All the private vehicles that the Government could get together; all the motor trucks which could be collected; all in one great procession, peasants carrying their household goods in bundles over their shoulders—chiefly old men and women, for the young men were in the army; young women carrying babies in their arms with little children clinging to their skirts were following close behind. Those in motor vehicles did not have a painless journey. Often their cars broke down; they were thrown into the mud from which they were with difficulty rescued. Sometimes a car and its occupants fell from the precipice into the foaming river below. They went over mountains as high as our Alleghanies and as wild as our Rockies. Sometimes they passed feudal castles on steep rocks; sometimes they went through dangerous passes and slept in the open, fearing attacks from the murderous Albanians, who were certainly to be dreaded. For not a few of the poor pilgrims met death at the hands of these cut-throats. For days and days, they moved on in the drenching rain, cold and starving! And it was not only the animals that succumbed to the horror of the march; old men and women, children, and soldiers who once had been strong at last had to give up and lie down in death. Constantly they were in dread of the approaching enemy, whose guns after a while they could hear rumbling in the distance. But they kept moving on toward the sea, where they expected ships to take them to a safer country.

The wraith of an army reached the sea and the wraith of an army of non-combatants,—all of this suffering merely to find a haven from the advancing Teutonic armies! Perhaps those men were right who had refused to retreat, who had begged for death by a comrade's gun rather than have the dishonor of turning backs to the enemy. Though they saw that the conquest of Serbia was inevitable, it was hard to admit that they were beaten. At last, after all this hardship, when the poor Serbians reached the Adriatic, they found no food! Transports loaded with food had been sunk in the harbors! Weary, starving, they must wait a little longer.

Was there ever before such a flight? The retreat of one civilized Nation before another; the flight of a whole people, Government, soldiers, non-combatants, and all because of the rumors of the terrors the pursuer would inflict if he caught his prey! At the sea they breathed more freely—they could look across the water and there, far, far beyond, lay the lands where for centuries the weaker had not been sorely oppressed.