We were disappointed to find that the cars had not arrived, but we discovered that the road which they had been told to take did not come to Dreznik; we should, however, we were assured, find them at Petch (Ypek). The continued lack of rugs and baggage seemed of little consequence, for there never was time or opportunity for playing with such relics of past civilisation.
But at Dreznik we had a lovely dry camping ground, near a farmhouse, and we slept in a tent, on beds, for the first time and the last for many weeks. The night was cold but dry, and we had a real supper round the camp fire. Our kindly Captain (a barrister in the reserve) bivouacked in the field next to us, and joined us for supper, and we arranged to start together at daybreak the next morning. We knew that there would be difficulty in getting into the line, as myriads of wagons were already blocking our road of entrance. I hoped that Captain W. would do the fierce-eye business, and secure a place in the line, but he thought melting-eye business would be more effective, and he asked me to make the arrangements. So I rode on to see the lie of the land, as we were encamped away from the main road (I had sent Vooitch with the motors and the staff, and I was, meantime, without interpreter, as G. was useless). It was sometimes a little difficult to carry on in a language which one only understood imperfectly, but everything in Nature and this world is in a language which one doesn't understand, and we have to carry on. A big munition column of 200 wagons was the next in order of progression; I found the officer in charge, who, as usual, could talk German and French, and I asked him to let us follow immediately after him, and he cheerfully agreed. This was great luck, as oxen and horse wagons—all struggling and fighting for places—were clustered like bees before swarming-time, at every angle of the entrance to the narrow road of flight, and Captain W. was mightily pleased at the quick success. A snow blizzard began whilst we were waiting, and continued all through the day.
OUR CARTLESS COLUMN OF PACK PONIES AND OXEN HALTING
Discarded Shells in foreground
"I DIDN'T MISS MY SUNRISE, AFTER ALL"
The word "road" is a euphemism for the river of mud into which we immediately plunged; indeed, all day long we met no road, but journeyed over ploughed fields, bogs, now covered with snow, rivers, mud banks, and stick-hills. My horse was continually over its knees in mud, and was growing weaker every hour; but it was necessary to ride up and down the column, through the slough of mud, whenever this was possible without getting legs broken against the wagons and hard wooden packs, to watch that when a wagon stuck or broke, and had to be left, that the load was not thrown away, but was distributed amongst other wagons, whose drivers strongly resented extra burdens.
Horses fell, and their riders were thrown into the slush; wagons overturned, and were then, with their contents, destroyed as the quickest remedy; the road was one long pandemonium. At one bridge, over the River Drin, the scrimmage was even worse than usual. The bridge was so narrow that passage could only be effected in single file, and an officer near me estimated that 5,000 wagons were, at one moment, struggling at the entrance for places in the line. The loud voices of officers on horseback, shouting, and sometimes quarrelling, and of drivers urging their weary oxen, was like the noise of a thousand furious football crowds. Then suddenly above the din I heard my name, and an officer, wishing to expedite our column, shouted a dramatically worded biography, as an appeal to the soldiers to let us pass. But while we were still waiting to cross, I saw one desperate soldier, who was angry because an officer would not let him pass, seize the officer by the arm, with the intent to strike him. Promptly the officer took out his revolver and aimed it at the man. Fortunately the weapon was not loaded, so the officer, thwarted, turned round and seized a rifle from a soldier standing near. The culprit fled. The officer dismounted and pursued, caught up the man, whanged him on the head with the butt end, and was evidently intending to shoot. It was a horrible moment, but the man pleaded, others intervened, and the man was led away. Everyone's nerves were overwrought, and suffering and discomfort were so universal, that I don't believe that one death, more or less, would have seemed a great thing to those who were watching.
But once across the bridge, and on the tramp, all was again silent, except for the monotonous and automatic cries of the drivers to their oxen: "Terrai! Chovai! Ide! Napred!" The route all day was roadless, through sloughs of mud, and unbroken scrub, and over boulders, and everywhere it was strewn with the dead bodies of oxen and of horses.