Under Fire For Servia

by James Fiske

And in the morning, indeed, Dick and Stepan were present when King Peter, his snowy hair bared to the wind, rode before his troops.

"The time has come, my children!" said the old king. "The time has come for us to drive the invader from Servian soil! We have had to retreat, and it has been hard! But now—now we can strike! This is the dawn of Servia's greatest day, in victory or defeat! Your old king has come now to see you conquer—or to die among you!"

What a cheer there was as the king spoke! What a roar greeted him! With what eagerness did the troops hail the order to advance!

Already the cannon were thundering. Soon now rifle fire in sullen, crackling volleys broke upon the air. And that day the Austrians learned that they had walked into a trap; that Servia's army had retreated, not because it was beaten, not because it was afraid, but that it might fight, when the time for battle came, on its own chosen ground. From the east came the army that had guarded Belgrade for so long, striking at the Austrian flank. And once more an Austrian defeat became a rout. Once more the Servians pursued.

Dick and Stepan could see only a little of the great struggle. But that little was enough to teach them that they were looking upon history in the making. The battle was one of those crushing, decisive struggles that seldom occur. With defeat the last hope of a successful Austrian invasion of little Servia seemed to be shattered and when the sun went down there was no longer any doubt of the issue.

The Austrians had fought well and bravely, but the Servians had fought with the courage of despair and the cool precision of trained soldiers used to victory, as well. The stars that night looked down upon the abject flight of the Austrian army, split in two parts, scattering its arms, its equipment, everything that would retard the search for safety from the furious pursuit of the Servians.

"We let them have Belgrade—for a few days!" said Stepan, drunk with happiness. "But now we want it for ourselves—our capital is the place to celebrate a victory!"

And so it proved. Two divisions of the beaten Austrians were caught at the Danube, where Servian guns had smashed to pieces a bridge of boats cunningly contrived for retreat. And while they were making their last feeble resistance, a brigade of Servians marched into Belgrade. Flags flew everywhere and the people hailed the return of their own troops deliriously. When the king himself rode in, disdaining the carriage that had been provided for his use on account of his age, the city seemed to go mad. The thunder of the guns to the east died away; the Austrians who had been cut off had had enough of fighting and had surrendered. The Servians were the victors.

"It is wonderful! It will surprise the world!" said Dick. "Why, Mr. Hampton said that everyone believed Servia had lost her last chance, and that the country was about to be overrun, like Belgium!"

Dick met General Dushan, Steve's father. And it was the general, his eyes filled with tears of pride over the exploits of his son, who told them of a great honor that awaited them.