The Austrians holding Valievo had carefully prepared for its defense, for this town they were reluctant to give up. The approach by the main road had been heavily intrenched and the guns were in position. But the main force of the Serbians circled around in the hills and flanked the position of the Austrians, taking them completely by surprise. They broke and ran, and while the fugitives hurried off toward Loznitza and Shabatz, a rear guard of Hungarians on the hills to the northwest put up a rather indifferent fight before they, too, fled in mad disorder. The last of them were caught by the Serbian artillery and, while running over a stretch of rising ground, over a hundred were shot to pieces by shrapnel. When the Serbians arrived the ground was literally covered with mangled forms; here and there sat a few wounded.
The Third Army likewise shared in the general triumph. It reached the Kolubara, at its junction with the Lyg. Throwing out one of its divisions eastward, it threatened the right flank of the enemy on Cooka, then permitted the Second Army to carry that position. By this movement the Serbians succeeded in driving in a wedge and completely cut off the three beaten and fleeing corps in the south from the two in the north, which were still showing some disposition to hold their ground.
The operations in the west and northwest now resolved themselves into a wild, scrambling foot race for the frontier. The worst of the fighting was now over; indeed, the Austrians now fought only when cornered. Most of them were by this time unarmed, thinking of nothing but how to reach the frontier before the first of the pursuing Serbians.
Only a powerful literary pen could paint such a picture as was now spread over the land of Serbia. Wounded warriors, now resolving themselves into helpless, suffering farmers, simple tillers of the soil, save for the tatters of their blue and gray uniforms which alone indicated what they had been, lay by the roadsides and along mountain trails, abandoned by their comrades. Others lay mangled, their forms beaten out of all recognition. Scattered over all, wherever road or trail passed, lay guns and cartridges, sometimes in heaps, where they had been dumped out of the fleeing wagons. And further on lay the wagons themselves, some thrown over on their sides, where the drivers had cut the traces and continued their flight on the backs of their horses.
Later in the day, December 8, 1914, the scenes along the highways took on a different character. The main columns of the pursuing Serbians had passed on, but straggling files of those too tired or too weak to be in the fore of the chase still continued onward. More slowly followed a steady stream of returning refugees, their oxen, in various stages of life and death, yoked up to every conceivable manner of springless vehicle, piled high with odds and ends of furniture and bedding which had been snatched up in the mad hurry of flight. On top of the bundles lay sick and starving children, wan with want and exposure. Beside the wagon walked weary women or old men, urging their animals on with weird cries and curses, returning to the devastated remains of what had once been their homes.
Later still, from opposite directions, came processions of Austrian prisoners, sometimes thousands of them, guarded by a handful of Third Ban Serbian soldiers, still wearing their peasant costumes. Among the prisoners were smooth-faced youths and old men, some in the uniforms of soldiers, or of Landwehr, or Landsturm. All types of that hodge-podge of nationalities and races which the flag of Austria-Hungary represents were there; Germans, Magyars, Croats, Czechs, Moravians, Slovaks, Rumanians, Lithuanians, and Bosnian Musselmans.
In between the convoys straggled men of the Serbian army who had fallen out of the chase by the way, most of them Third Ban men, too advanced in years to keep up the pace set by the younger men. Nowhere moved anything but suffering, bleeding humanity.
On this scene the sun, a glowing disc of copper, finally set, and the struggling figures merged into the deepening dusk, and presently only black, halting shadows were creeping along the dark trails and roads.[Back to Contents]
CHAPTER LVII
THE FATE OF BELGRADE