We went back to the camp with the news.
Colonel G—— came up and tried to wipe out the impression which he had made the evening before. He repeated that Uskub must certainly fall within the week, and that we should be very silly to go off to Novi Bazar, which we could never reach because the bridge had been washed away.
All the hill behind was crowded with Austrian prisoners. They had received one loaf between every three men, and said that it had to last three days. They did not know where they were going. Blease went through their lines, and at last found an old servant—a Hungarian. He was a stoic.
"One lives till one is dead," said he.
The hospital was doing a brisk trade in wounded: sisters and doctors both hard at work. The "Stobarts" were resting, and had built a camp fire outside the door of their hovel. We got lunch ready, ruining recklessly another biscuit tin. While we were eating it a Serb came near.
"I am starving," he said.
We gave him some curry and rice. He devoured it.
"To-morrow," he said, "I go back to commando."
We pointed to his hand, which was bound in dirty linen.
"But?"