Uskub is a picturesque, straggling place, and at that time of the year, swamped as it was in melting snow, an incredibly dirty place, situated between a mountain and the river Vardar. Like all Turkish towns, it is ill-paved, or rather not paved at all, and full of mud. It is—or was—largely inhabited by Albanian Mohammedans. As the headquarters of the Servian Army, it was full of officers and soldiers; there was not much food, and still less wood. Here were the war correspondents. They had not been allowed to go any farther; but the order went out that they could, if they liked, go on to Kuprulu, a little farther down the line, whence it was impossible to telegraph. A stay at Uskub, as it was then, would afford a tourist a taste of all the discomforts of war without any of its excitement. The principal distraction of the people at Uskub was having their boots cleaned; and as the streets were full of large lakes of water and high mounds of slush, the effect of the cleaning was not permanent. Matthew Arnold was once asked to walk home after dinner on a wet night in London. “No,” he said; “I can’t get my feet wet. It would spoil my style.” Matthew Arnold’s style would have been annihilated at Uskub.
The stories told by eye-witnesses of the events immediately preceding the occupation of Uskub by the Serbians were tragicomic in a high degree. In the first place, the population of the place never for one moment thought that the Turks could possibly be beaten by the Servians. Suddenly, in the midst of their serene confidence, came the cry: “The Giaours are upon us.” Every Turkish official and officer in the place lost his head, with the exception of the Vali (head of the district), who was the only man possessing an active mind. Otherwise the Turkish officers fled to the Consulates and took refuge there, trembling and quaking with terror.
The two problems which called for immediate solution were: (a) to prevent further fighting taking place in the town; (b) to prevent a general massacre of the Christians before the Servians entered the town. To prevent fighting in the town, the Turkish troops had to be persuaded to get out of it. This was done. The only hope of solving both these problems lay in the Vali. All the Consuls, as I said, agreed that the Vali’s conduct on this occasion shone amidst the encircling cowardice of the other officers and officials. Already before the news of the battle of Kumanovo had reached the town about two hundred Christians had been arrested on suspicion and put in prison. They were not of the criminal class, but just ordinary people—priests, shopmen, and women. About three hundred Mohammedans were already in the prison. News came to the Russian Consul-General, M. Kalnikoff, that these prisoners had had nothing to eat for two days. He went at once to the prison and demanded to be let in. He heard shots being fired inside. Some of the Albanians were firing into the air. He asked the Governor of the prison whether it was true that the prisoners had had no food for two days, and the Governor said it was perfectly true, and that the reason was that there was no bread to be had in the town.
“In that case,” said the Consul-General, “you must let all these prisoners out.”
“But if I let them out,” said the Governor, “the Mohammedans will kill the Christians.”
Finally it was settled that the prisoners should be let out a few at a time, the Christians first, and the Mohammedans afterwards, through a hedge of soldiers; and this was accomplished successfully. M. Kalnikoff told me that among the prisoners were many people he knew.
Then came the question of giving up the town to the Servians without incurring a massacre. I am not certain of the chronology of the events, and all this was told me in one hurried and interrupted interview, but the Vali took the matter in hand, and as he was driving to the Russian Consulate a man in the crowd shot him through the arm and killed the coachman. This man was said to be mad.
In the meantime, the various Consulates were crowded with refugees, and in the French Consulate a Turkish officer fainted from apprehension, and another officer insisted on disguising himself as a kavass. The Servians, who were outside the city, at some considerable distance, thought that the Turks meant to offer further resistance in the town.
It was arranged that the various Consuls and the Vali (in their uniforms) should set out for the Servian headquarters and deliver up the town. This was done. They drove out until they met Servian troops. Then they were blindfolded and marched between a cordon of soldiers through the deep mud until they reached those in authority. They explained matters, and the Servian cavalry rode into the town, just in time to prevent a massacre of the Christian population. As it was, the Albanians had already done a good deal of looting. That there was no fighting in the town, and consequently no massacre, was probably due to the prompt action of the Vali.
When the Turkish and Albanian soldiers retired south from Kumanovo they were apparently completely panic-stricken. At Uskub, horses belonging to batteries were put in trains, while the guns were left behind. There is not the slightest doubt that the troops massacred any Christians they came across. At the military hospital at Nish I saw a woman who was terribly cut and mutilated. She told the following story: Her house, in which were her husband, her brother, his son-in-law, and her two sons, was suddenly occupied by Arnaut refugees. These were Albanians from the north, who were fighting with the Turks. The Arnauts demanded weapons, which they were given. They then set fire to the house, killed the woman’s husband and everyone else who was there, and no doubt thought that they had killed her also. But she was found still breathing, and taken to the hospital. The doctor said that she might recover. Stories such as these, and far worse, one heard on all sides. The Arnauts were an absolutely uncompromising people. They gave and expected no quarter. In the hospitals they bit the doctors who tried to help them. They fought and struck as long as there was a breath left in their bodies.