Probably not since the crossing of the Alps by Napoleon has such a military expedition been undertaken as the traversing of the Albanian Mountains by the headquarters staff and the remains of the Serbian army.
The sight presented by Lium Koula on the eve of departure was unique. On the mountain side for miles nothing could be seen but endless fires. They were made by thousands of ox wagons, unable to go further, as the road for vehicles ceases there. Fortunately the snowstorm ended and was followed by brilliant sunshine.
Next day at 9 o'clock the headquarters staff set out. It included 300 persons and 400 pack animals. The road wound along the banks of the Drin, which had to be crossed twice by means of picturesque old single-span Turkish bridges, since destroyed to impede the Bulgarian advance.
The first mistake was that of transporting the sedan chair of Field Marshal Putnik at the head of the procession. Every time it halted to change bearers, which was every fifteen minutes, the whole two-mile-long procession, following in single file, had to stop also. As a result, instead of reaching Spas before sundown, we only reached the base of the mountain after darkness had fallen.
Here a long council was held as to whether we should bivouac in the village below or undertake the mountain climb in the dark. The latter course was decided upon. It was one of the most extraordinary adventures ever undertaken. A narrow path, about four feet across, covered with ice and snow, winds corkscrew fashion up the face of the cliff. On one hand is a rocky wall and on the other a sheer drop into the Drin.
VI—OVER THE MOUNTAIN SIDE WITH GENERAL PUTNIK
This road winds and twists in all sorts of angles, and it was up this that we started in the black darkness, with the sedan chair of General Putnik still heading the procession. Every time it reached a corner it was a matter of endless difficulty to manoeuver it around.
On one occasion we stood for thirty-five minutes in an icy wind listening to the roar of the Drin, invisible in the black gulf 500 feet below. Horses slipped and fell at every instant, and every now and then one would go crashing into the gulf below.
It was 10 o'clock when, tired, hungry and half frozen, we reached bivouac at Spas. Here we found that though dinner had been ready since 3 o'clock it could not be served because all the plates and spoons were on the pack animals, which remained in the village below. Neither had the tents arrived, and as Spas contains only five or six peasant houses accommodation was at a premium. Colonel Mitrovitz, head of the mess, told me I would find room in a farmhouse a quarter of a mile away.
The house really was two hours distant, over fields deep in snow. When I got there at midnight I discovered that there were already nearly a score of occupants; but at least I was able to sleep in some straw near the fireside, instead of in the snow outside.