The Flaming Sword in Serbia and Elsewhere

by M. A. Stobart

It was 9 p.m. when, cold and hungry, we sighted the picturesque town of Prishtina, with its square-roofed houses and narrow streets. At the entrance there was bad congestion—a phalanx of wagons were all struggling to pass through a narrow alley, and whilst waiting our turn, one of our men, who had gone on with the cars in advance, gave me a shock. He told me that our two women doctors, and the nurses, were all in a Turkish harem. It was true, and they much enjoyed the hospitality of a kindly old Turkish gentleman.

The only possible site for the wagons for the night was in a muddy square. I slept, as always, in the car, in one of the side streets, but not till our faithful cook had given me some much-needed supper, as we sat on little stools in the mud, round a fire which the soldier-cook, Demetrius, had lighted for us in the street.

Next morning, early, a camping-site must be found, and I rode with Vooitch along the Prizrend road. Very soon we saw, on our left, a large hospital building, with an open grass space between it and the road. This was the military hospital; we went in and asked the commandant to allow us to encamp in the garden. He agreed, and he also kindly gave us a room in the hospital for sleeping quarters for the doctors and nurses, and in the garden a round summer house, which could be used as kitchen, dining-room and sleeping-room for some of the men.

At Prishtina we were now, as I understood, at the parting of the ways. If there was still hope of our joining the Allies, the Army would continue on its southward journey, via Prizrend, and we noticed, on our arrival at the hospital site, that all the convoys were passing along this road, in front of our camp, and that was a good sign. But if this hope must be abandoned, then all hope of victory and all hope of saving Serbia was at an end, and the only aspiration would be to save the Army; for this there was only one road of salvation open—over the mountains of Montenegro and Albania to the coast. This road, which branched off from the Prizrend road, nearly opposite our camp, was at present lifeless, and that was good.

In the town we met, to our astonishment, our Doctor MacMillan and Mr. Rodgers. They gave us the news that Nurse Clifton had been accidentally shot (as before mentioned). She was now lying ill at Mitrovitza, and they had been to Prishtina for stores, and were now on their way gallantly to rejoin her and Doctor Iles, and Nurse Bainbridge, with the certainty of being taken prisoners by the Austrians, as "Ginger," though better, was too ill to be moved. (They returned safely to London in February, 1916.)

Next day a young German officer strolled into our mess hut. He was a prisoner, but the only restraint upon him was that he must report himself at the military station every night. During the day he was as free as we were, and he came and took meals with us several times. His views upon the military position were interesting: the war had been brought on by England; France had been the first to violate Belgian territory; and the war would be finished in a month; there was no chance at all for the Allies; we could not win; the Germans had practically won already. Our hospital party would certainly be taken prisoners in a few days. We told him that some of us had enjoyed one experience of being prisoners in German hands, and that, though we had no intention of being taken prisoners by anybody, we would rather fall into the hands of the Bulgarians, the Turks, or the Austrians, than of the Germans. We told him of our devil-major at Tongres, and he replied, "Ah! you'll find you will be much better treated this time; you mark my words." We have marked them ever since.

Other visitors were two blue-jackets from Admiral Trowbridge's unit, which had done such fine work on the Danube. They were now, with their guns, also in the general retreat, and were encamped near Prishtina.

But all day long, columns were still passing along the road in front of us, towards Prizrend. "Terrai! Ide! Desno! Levo!" ("Get on! Make a move! To the right! To the left!") was in our ears all day and all night.

The difficulty of getting hay for the animals became greater every day. I found this evening, when I went my round, that nothing had been provided for the oxen, or the horses, for the night, or for the next morning. So I routed Sandford out of his slumbers, and sent him to neighbouring villages to search for fodder. He must have hated me. But I have never wished to be popular; popularity is a drag on the wheel of effort.

Prishtina was, of course, in process of being evacuated, and though we were too late for food stores, we secured for the soldiers, from the Red Cross depôt, a number of under-garments which were much needed. There were, unfortunately, no boots, and the men's footgear was deplorable.