Just beyond Vodena is Vladovo, a large Bulgarian village, after which the road ascends a broad, fresh, green valley, the sides of which, in spite of the ruthless destruction, are still clad with forests of high trees and thick undergrowth. The forest of Kindrovo had been assigned to our army, and it was there that timber was cut for trench and barbed wire supports, and firewood for the bakeries and heating. There was plenty of raw material, but every now and then a breakdown occurred on the railway and for a time no more wood could be transported; and then every expedient had to be resorted to to procure the indispensable fuel.
The scenery now becomes less smiling, and soon after we emerge into the arid basin of Ostrovo with its pretty blue lake amid high bare mountains. We are now in a rocky, mountainous region, without a tree or a house; at every turn we have a fresh glimpse of the Lake of Ostrovo, whose irregular bays penetrate into the folds of the mountains, and then further off we see the silvery surface of Lake Petrsko. Gornichevo, at the top of the pass, is a gloomy, forbidding village, of primitive houses of rough stone, swept by icy winds in winter. Here were fought fierce combats between Serbs and Bulgars in the summer of 1916, and here the former held up the advance of the enemy who, if they had reached the lake, would have had an open road before them to Vodena, and perhaps even to Salonica.
THE BAND OF THE 35TH DIVISION PLAYING IN THE PLACE DE LA LIBERTÉ AT SALONICA.
GENERAL GUILLAUMAT VISITS GENERAL MOMBELLI AT TEPAVCI.
From Gornichevo the road descends by a series of hairpin bends into the vast plain of Florina, which merges insensibly into that of Monastir and Prilep. We pass through Vrbeni, a picturesque village, which still bears the traces of the fighting in 1916, and close by are the vast French and Italian dumps and depot of Sakulevo; here begins a décauville which goes to Brod and beyond, and is used by the Italians, the I Serbian Army and two French divisions. Just beyond is Hasan Oba, where there is the Italian M.T. park. Here reigned my good friend Major Anziani, famous throughout Macedonia for his exceptional efficiency and cordial hospitality; he had made of his unit a model of its kind, and indeed the Italian M.T. services in Macedonia, although far less richly endowed than those of the other Allies, always worked admirably, and in spite of the fearful strain to which they were subjected, never broke down.
A few kilometres from Hasan Oba we pass the Græco-Bulgarian frontier, but without noticing it because it is war time, and this is the Zone des Armées, where only the writ of the inter-Allied Command runs. The Serbs, however, clung to this, the first tract of their fatherland to be reconquered, and although the civilian population was still very scanty—the area was too near the front—the Serbian Government had instituted prefects, sub-prefects and mayors, and even a military-agricultural commission to introduce scientific improvements in local farming. The first Serbian village is Batch, where the Crown Prince often stayed, his H.Q. being the local school. Close by was our aviation camp, with a flight commanded by Captain Aimone, a very gallant officer, many times decorated for valour and a perfect fanatic of flying, who, together with other Italian airmen, had occasion to distinguish themselves several times during the campaign. Here, too, but on the Greek side of the frontier, was one of the Scottish Women’s hospitals, where, I believe, occurred the celebrated incident of the Russian soldier, knocked down and injured by an Italian lorry, conveyed in a French ambulance to a Scotch hospital in Greek territory which looked after the Serbian wounded; there he was attended to by a Canadian doctor, and the only language in which the two could converse was German! This gives one some idea of the mixed conditions of the Macedonian campaign.
After leaving Batch we reach Brod on the Cerna, where the décauville divides into two branches, one going to the front of the I Serbian Army and the other to the Italian lines. The Cerna, which is crossed here by several military bridges, is a slow, muddy, winding river; it makes a vast loop in the Monastir plain and amid the mountains west of the Vardar, within which the whole of the Italian sector, as well as those of the 16th and 17th French Colonial Divisions were comprised. A good road, built by Italian soldiers, leads to Tepavci, which for twenty-two months was our H.Q.
