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W4YNE S. VUC1N1CH /

GEfSa LIBRARY

UNwasmr of California san wsgq

IA JOLLA, CALIFORNIA

Digitized by the Internet Archive

in 2008 with funding from

Microsoft Corporation

http://www.archive.org/details/experiencesofwomOOmatt

EXPERIENCES OF A WOMAN DOCTOR IN SERBIA

MY SIBERIAN YEAR

By M. A. Czaplicka. With 32 Illustrations. Demy 8vo. Ios. 6d. net.

Times. — " Miss Czaplicka's contribution to our knowledge is very valuable."

Scotsman. — " Always interesting."

Daily Graphic. — "A volume of singular fascination."

Daily Chronicle. — " Miss Czaplicka writes with observation, insight, and, in the result, considered knowledge."

JOFFRE AND HIS ARMY

By Charles Dawbarn. Crown 8vo. 2s. 6d. net.

Pall Mall Gazette. — "A most agreeable addition to the volumes in which Mr. Dawbarn has already portrayed the features of France at War."

Times. — " It is a useful book, and good reading."

Morning Post. — " It should be widely read."

FRANCE AT BAY

By Charles Dawbarn. Crown 8vo. 2s. 6d. net.

Daily News. — " Deeply interesting."

Times. — " A brilliant book — just what is wanted."

MY RUSSIAN YEAR

By Rothay Reynolds. "With 28 Illustrations. Demy 8vo. Second Edition, Ios. 6d. net. Also Popular Edition, 2s. 6d. net.

Punch. — " It is the best work of its kind I have seen for years."

MILLS & BOON, Ltd., 49 Rupert Street, London, W.

CAROLINE MATTHEWS. M.B., Ch B.

tew.

EXPERIENCES^ OF

A WOMAN DOCTOR

IN SERBIA

BY

DR. CAROLINE MATTHEWS

MILLS & BOON, LIMITED 49 RUPERT STREET

LONDON, W.

Published 1 916

DEDICATED

IN LOVE AND GRATITUDE

TO

AMY M. JOHNS,

A FRIEND IN A THOUSAND

FOREWORD

A woman child. She dreanTd the dreams of men.

Of fiery purposes, and battle's din.

She left her dolls to play with soldier toys

And glow'd in enterprise of heroes bold.

Such child —

Grown to the kingdom of her woman's heart,

Goes forth with joy beneath her country's Hag.

Gives of her skill to those who call for aid.

She faces death in many a cruel guise,

Holding life cheap, for honour and her King.

A. M. Johns.

PROLOGUE

" Come over and help us ! "

It was impossible in those days to take up a newspaper without reading the passionate appeal from brave little Serbia.

I volunteered to go out at my own expense and with my own equipment for service with the Serbian Army Field Unit. One knows the diffi- culties raised with regard to such work for women but it was not the first time I had worked under the Red Cross with a foreign army. My offer was gratefully accepted at the Serbian Legation in London. The Secretary, with cour- teous kindness, discussed almost every detail of kit and equipment.

Before I left I was asked to sign a paper — Should evil befall me in my mission, if I were killed or wounded, or if — and the possibility seemed very remote in those days — if I should be taken prisoner, the Serbian Government should be exonerated from all responsibility.

I

ENDORSEMENTS

.j 7707V VE SERBTE. / pour se rendre en Serhie

Londres, U...(.Zt:..J. 19l£. VtrdrtluMMttr*

Jfa£jL£» -7 L

Endorsement on the passport of Dr. Caroline Matthews by the Secretary of the Serbian Legation, London.

EXPERIENCES OF

A WOMAN DOCTOR IN SERBIA

L

CHAPTER I

Forty-eight members of the Scottish Women's Unit, a Civilian Engineer, a couple of Orderlies, and I — we stood on the deck of H.M. Transport Ceramic, strangers all, but bound together by the Cry which had found a response in each of our hearts.

A group of home folk was gathered on shore — the sisters and mothers, brothers and fathers of the doctors and nurses.

Loneliness is as we make it. The world is too full of all sorts and conditions of men for a gregarious soul to be forced into a solitary path, unless it be by his own desire. It never occurred to me that I stood there alone — that there was no one to say " Farewell." Each of us who started on that journey felt the magical comfort of a warm " God-speed." There were simple, kindly hearts on land, for dockers and Tommies felt the Bond of the Blood! They stood there together, a fine manly group. Their fellow-

2 A WOMAN DOCTOR IN SERBIA

countrywomen were sailing to a foreign land, midst the perils of War, for Britain's greater glory — this they knew, and again and again their manly voices rose in cadence, infinitely touching. In many a homely phrase they sent good wishes after us and then, as the great boat slowly steamed away, there fell the hush of a strange stillness which descended on the chatter- ing Red Cross women. Suddenly the silence was broken by the lads on shore. Grimy labourer, spruce young soldier, each unconsciously braced his shoulders while the Great Prayer of Britons sped across the Space, and then the women's shriller trebles, from the ship's deck, joined in unison. We have stood in churches and in a variety of places in honour to our King, but there was a reality never marked before in the prayer of our hearts — " Send him victorious — ! " " Your King and your country need you ! " We had heard the call, each in our several ways ! We women could not give our lives for Britain in the same manner which is open to our brothers, but war brings more in its train than the carnage of the battlefields, more than the pillage and atrocities of inhuman hearts. The Angel of Death spreads forth his Right Arm and takes his toll by the aid of every mechanical contrivance suggested to man for the destruction of human life. His gaunt Left Hand smites heavily with disease, scattering

A WOMAN DOCTOR IN SERBIA 3

germs broadcast in the wake of armies, while Pestilence and Famine sweep clean the territory demoralised by shrapnel.

Thank God, we women can " do our bit " — beneath the Red Cross — for the Crosses of St. George, St. Andrew, St. Patrick and St. David !

The Ceramic was no longer the cosy ocean home of pleasure-seeking tourists. The smoke- room, the saloons on deck, told their own pitiful tale ; stripped of carpets, they were filled with white-painted bunks, each one destined to carry again its quotient of suffering humanity. All useless decoration, all unnecessary hangings, everything which could form a nidus for infec- tion, had been moved and our cabins reeked of white paint and disinfectants. We were not flying the Red Cross, we were not a hospital ship. Down in the holds we were carrying explosives and ammunition. Were we to fall foul of the Enemy it was scarcely likely quarter would be given ! The officers were vigilant, alert, facing the danger of submarine craft with every pre- cautionary measure within their power. The boats were swung out ready for immediate use. Two five-inch guns (besides which we carried maxims) at our stern were manned day and night by men of the Naval Reserve. Sometimes the position of these guns would be changed, whilst during the whole of the voyage Doctor and Purser

4 A WOMAN DOCTOR IN SERBIA

wore the only officers in evidence — facts which told their own tale !

We were chased by a submarine !

We knew a marconigram had been received giving warning of the under-water enemy — we knew that we were steering out of our course, keeping up full speed, due west, but it was not until we reached Malta that our suspicions were known to be certainties.

The weather clerk excelled himself. In the daytime the porpoises played and gambolled round the ship, chasing and racing each other in the glorious sunshine.

War for a few hours might seem very far away whilst the pure air of God's heaven fanned our cheeks and the firmament above was rich in the glow of Aurora's light. At times the deep blue waters reflected the tiny fluffy cloudlets and in the Beauty of Space there was apparent Peace.

But out on the Seas Highway, again and again, we were brought to realise the Menace to the World. Now a German wireless message would be intercepted, now the gaunt hulk of a British or French cruiser would bear down on us — silent testimony of a ceaseless watch — a proof of our supremacy upon the seas.

We arrived at Malta one evening just as the sun was setting. The " married quarters " of the Barracks — the Camerata — opposite the Military Hospital — were placed at our disposal by the

A WOMAN DOCTOR IN SERBIA 5

Admiralty. Each flat consisted of two rooms, small kitchen, convenience, and was provided with certain cupboards, chairs, saucepans and things which a paternal government considers essential for the welfare of Tommy's family.

Until the Great Upheaval, until Europe's War stirred the heart of the Empire, the majority of the Scottish Women had been guarded by a kindly Fate within the confines of the British Isles, and to these home-bred lasses the sight of those flats was a revelation.

" Roughing it " is a comparative term depen- dent upon the adventurous spirit of the indi- vidual. Besides, it makes a very great difference whether the " roughing it " be undertaken by one's own free will and choice, or enforced by circumstances beyond one's control. Many of the Unit were to learn this lesson before ever again they were to see the shores of England.

Each room was a wilderness, howling aloud for the attention of some domestically inclined brawny arm. The mattresses had the appear- ance of having seen much service with all sorts and conditions of troopers. The sheets were clean and newly washed, more or less damp. About the room and on the dark brown, be-arrowed blankets was spread a quantity of Napthalin. The Officer who assigned us our quarters assured me with most courteous gravity that wc need have no fear of pediculi.

6 A WOMAN DOCTOR IN SERBIA

M But from bugs — well, doctor, I cannot promise absolute immunity"; then his look of concern gave place to hope, to encouragement, and he added, " But even if you are bitten, after all it will not be dangerous ! "

There did not seem a great deal to cheer one in his words ! The idea of providing entertain- ment for either of these pests is sufficiently unpleasant to outweigh the consideration that the one is a Typhus carrier and the other is not. We might think gladly of this fact later, but at the time the mere fact of the presence of vermin is quite enough to tackle.

Those of us who were old campaigners were wise after our generation. We drew the bed- steads from the walls, piled the great Army rugs into the furthermost possible corner of the room, and slept in the sheets with coats and skirts above us and piles of Keating's powder scattered with the Napthalin on mattresses and floor.

In that part of Malta one is awakened at dawn and it is impossible for the most fatigued to court sleep after the sun has risen in the heavens. Pandemonium reigns. Chaos arises from the peace which envelops the night. Church bells vie with each other in clashing their loudest, and surely never in any town of any Isle are there so many churches with so many bells quite so close together. Street vendors ply their wares, their raucous voices in mongrel dialect rise

A WOMAN DOCTOR IN SERBIA 7

above the din. In all the world there is no place quite like Malta with its touch of the East — like the faint aroma of some far-distant perfume — and withal the fact of its essential Britishness. With the cling-clang of numerous bells flocks of goats pass up and down the streets, herd meeting herd, mingling together, until it seems impossible to the uninitiated that the animals can ever sort themselves into their original groups. Every now and then the lad in charge picks out a beast and, squatting on his haunches, supplies the housewife at her door.

The Government take stringent precautions against the scourge of Mediterranean Fever. Certain rules are posted in the Camerata, a copy in every flat :

No goats' milk may be purchased by His Majesty's troops. Each member of the family must wash their hands before meals in a solution of Potassium rermanganate. There are certain rules concerning the family larder. All drinking water must be boiled, — a fresh supply each day. All meat kept overnight must be re-cooked and eaten hot. Vegetables and fruit must always be boiled.

One night of the Camerata was sufficient for the two men of the Ceramic party. The next morning they migrated, but even at the Hotel they chose they did not find conditions much improved — if we were to judge from their tales

8 A WOMAN DOCTOR IN SERBIA

of woe! Perhaps they enjoyed paying the accounts presented by the proprietor instead of being guests of the Admiralty. For my own part had I had the choice of all the places in the Lsland none could have pleased me better than those assigned to us. There were drawbacks, certainly, but one great fact far outweighed such small considerations. . . .

When the members of the Scottish Women's Unit lay behind locked doors and the ancient Hospice was bathed in the stillness of the night, some invisible hand seemed to draw me from my quarters and I would walk the worn flags of the corridors, pace the piazzas in the moonlight, and pass up and down the great stone steps.

Peace reigned, the world of Malta slumbered in the bosom of the Night — but old Mclitus lived !

The shades of the Crusaders visited their earthly habitation. The moon rose, filling all the world with beautiful soft radiance, the new doors were closed and the quiet breathing of the sleeping suffragettes failed to break the stillness. A rat scurried across the courtyard into the further shade. Many were the noiseless foot- steps round me. Many the voiceless " I re- members," breathed with no necessity of uttered sound. Silence reigned.

A light quick step is heard. A mortal, this, who falls into line with an old Crusader. The

A WOMAN DOCTOR IN SERBIA 9

invulnerable veil of mortality is drawn across her eyes but her spirit is in touch with the Spirit of the Past, and is linked by Understanding across the Sea of Time. . . .

I could not see the forms around me, but the blind can picture the features of their friends with amazing accuracy — so intuitive is real sympathy. . . .

On Sunday I attended service at the old Church of St. John. We knelt above the human remains of those stout hearts which faced the rigours of the Crusades. They lay at my feet, those men, their trial over, — men who once had had our hopes, endeavours, passions. Those who failed, those who won, those accepted by the world as saintly, those condemned by man. Perhaps of these latter, some found the palm branch waiting at the Veiled Gate, whilst the honoured and renowned could not pass within. They bore the Master's symbol, bore it nobly and well — the white cross on the red ground. — Inexplicably my attention was drawn to the badge on my arm. . . .

The Red Cross on its white ground !

A time was to come when this indescribable inlluencc, which at the moment set me dreaming of what might be, was to play a very real part in strengthening courage weakened by the strain of physical needs.

CHAPTER II

The Scottish Women's Unit was commandeered by Lord Methuen, the Governor of Malta. The wounded from the Dardanelles were pouring in and nurses were at a premium. The khaki-clad trio — that is the Civil Engineer, the Orderly and I — proceeded by a Messageries Maritimes liner. The contrast between the precautions taken on board the English transport and the lack of any apparent measure on the French ship was markedly evident. The boats were all tucked up and snug, the davits looked as if they would require some handling in case of emergency. In the evenings the decks were bright with the usual lights. Many of the passengers were Russian, some French, others Greek and Italian, the great majority were women and children. The First Officer stood by the rails with his inevitable cigarette and discussed the situation.

To take the same precautions as were deemed necessary on board the British boat would be to create a terrible panic among the passengers. " Besides," he added, with a shrug of his shoulders, " probably nothing will happen ! "

We spent two days at Piraeus — a treat to those

10

,,\,vjfu.t,_

ENDORSEMENTS

iU- A- "/'7 ^ ^/r

0'

Greek and Bulgarian endorsements on passport.

A WOMAN DOCTOR IN SERBIA 11

who saw the land of the Athenian for the first time. Early in the morning I landed with a Belgian Sister, revelling in the history of the past. Midday came and we lunched in the town at a pleasant little restaurant. By the time basins of delicious sheep's milk were placed before us we were on terms of good comradeship with a couple of officers at a neighbouring table. We had all seen active service. These new friends had fought in the Balkan War and this was a link between us. According to their account, we women represented nations with whom were all their sympathies. French was the vade mecum to acquaintance.

" Three weeks and we will be with you," said

Captain , a typical Greek, whose well-cut

features betrayed the fact that he was one who had been in the front of Life's battle and had received the world's hard blows.

Now, all these months later, time has proved the part that Greece has taken in the European crisis, but in May, 1915, those two officers voiced the popular opinion. We heard almost the identical words again and again, from soldiers and sailors, and several civilians.

" All the country awaits the new elections. If the king hesitates we will force him to step aside," the people told us.

A young lady overheard one of our attempts to make a passer-by understand and direct us

12 A WOMAN DOCTOR IN SERBIA

on our way. She came up and with easy Southern grace offered the needed explanation. She had none of the insipid prcttincss of an English girl. She was a beautiful woman with features delicately chiselled. One could well imagine that she might have stood as model to one of the ancient masters. Her eyes flashed, her lips were firmly set when she spoke of Germany.

" We love the English," she said, " we are with you ! " . . .

It was Saint George's Day and we entered the Church of the Patron Saint — as we came out the little lady begged our names and addresses and saw us on our way.

That evening I went into a shop to make necessary purchases. The proprietor of the stores took great pains to match some buttons, but when it came to paying the bill (a few odd shillings) his manner and tone were deferential :

" You are English," he said, " there is nothing to pay " — and then he repeated the words we had heard so often, " We will soon be with you ! "

The same thing happened at a chemist's — the purchases were given into our hands with the explanation, " No, we cannot take your money. You are English, you are doing a great work ! "

In the streets, in the shops the men saluted us. I only heard one dissentient voice. In the train

A WOMAN DOCTOR IN SERBIA 13

from Piraeus we were speaking somewhat freely, not for a moment thinking we were understood by our third-class companions. A man on my right suddenly addressed me in facile English. Without knowing why, I felt the change of atmosphere — in spite of his beaming smile.

" You are not a Greek," I stated with con- viction. He had been talking to my companion, now he turned to me and claimed to be Italian with a rough Calabrian accent. The man was persuasively friendly. He claimed to have fought with us during the Boer War — but as he made the statement a peculiar expression gleamed for the fraction of a second — a look which faded from his eyes almost as soon as it flashed from his mind.

For once I read correctly.

" In spite of your words you are no friend to us," I said distinctly. After a moment I leant over :

" You were with de Wet, we know your sort — made in Germany ! "

The mask fell. A stream of abuse followed, only half intelligible, and in accents which brought vividly to mind memories of past days among the unrestful people of Calabria.

Very different was the tall young soldier by whose side we stood a moment.

" Isn't he a splendid chap," I saitf to my friend. " He makes mc feel a very little atom ! "

14 A WOMAN DOCTOR IN SERBIA

To our amusement the lad saluted.

" Mademoiselle, I know you make fun of my height. But it will make a good target in the battlefield ! "

I assured him we appreciate such physique in England. He smiled. " Shortly you will see, Mademoiselle, — we will be fighting by your side ! "

Then he saw us into our train ; and the last glimpse we had of ancient Athens was that tall young officer saluting us with a very friendly smile. He must have felt the long of it — I certainly had felt the short of it, as we walked along the street.

Now our knowledge of Greek was nil, and before leaving Pirseus we wanted to buy some fruit for our friends on board. We stopped at a shop up a little side street in the seaport town ... by no means an aristocratic quarter. French, German, and Italian proved equally inadequate. A crowd collected, the men were determined to help us. At last a sailor was pushed in front of his fellows. Yes, he knew a few words of Italian. The business settled, he took our purchases. Tell us our way ? Not he, but he would act as our escort and then, with the swift, generous courtesy of the Southerner, he walked on a few steps ahead. As we embarked in a rowing boat he stood at the water's edge, cap in hand, to wish us " God speed."

A WOMAN DOCTOR IN SERBIA 15

The contemptible habit of using a fiacre at every turn does not appeal to the really enquir- ing mind. Pacing the streets one learns to know one's fellow-man. We asked our way to the Musee. Several gentlemen as they passed tried to assist, one stopping the other and making voluble explanations. If the Athenians of to-day inherit their ancestors' spirit and rejoice in seeing and learning new things, then they should, like our fellow Islanders, learn first the value of strange tongues.

Neither French nor Italian helped us, and no- body suggested the language of the Fatherland. Suddenly we heard right good English words, and soon we were chatting like lifelong friends with a typical upper-class Greek. Our acquaintance was a doctor, he had studied in " Auld Reekie." Strangers ? Did we not both claim the old Alma Mater ? The overshadowing power of the old 'Varsity reaches to the earth's very confines and when her children meet on far-distant paths she draws them together in the invisible, inexplicable bond of brotherhood. " Soon to be brothers in arms ! " cried the surgeon. Exchanging names, we smiled. Matro the Beige, Matris the Greek, and Matthews the Britisher !

Another quaint incident occurred while we wen sf ill in Athens. I was walking in the clouds ; Phaedo, Crito, Critobuhus and the Great Master 1m ing more real than the passers-by, whilst the

16 A WOMAN DOCTOR IN SERBIA

characters of Raphael's School of Athens peopled their old haunts. The modern street had faded from my view, I was pacing a path which ran by the edge of a stream, by the side of a man whose well-worn tunic might have been regal purple, so dignified his mien, so filled with power the face which lacked all symmetry of feature. . . .

My reverie was broken by the voice of the Beige ; she was making enquiries with regard to our tram and a stranger woman had voluntarily come to our assistance.

" Are you French ? " we asked, for she spoke the language with precision and wonderful facility.

" Mais non," cried the lady, shutting her mouth like a rat-trap.

The Beige was not observant, she hoped to find a compatriot. The stranger evidently did not wish to claim her nationality — well, it was no business of mine ! I changed the subject, and for a few minutes we spoke of other matters, then our weird companion gave us a tremendous surprise.

" Ich bin Deutsche," she said, without pre- amble, in a low, frightened voice.

Now we had not accosted this person, she had come to us of her own free will, nor had we felt " sympatica," and it was she who persisted in walking by our side.

The Beige was nonplussed for the moment.

A WOMAN DOCTOR IN SERBIA 17

It was not as if the woman's statement with regard to her nationality had been given as a simple fact, she hung her head, her whole appear- ance suggested shame.

The Southerner is to be envied who, by very nature of his temperament, is able to extract himself from a mauvais pas, or kindred difficulty, with that ready, facile courtesy unfamiliar to the rougher Northern character.

But for once I rose to the occasion.

I spoke, impelled by a desire for civility, not certainly by veracity.

" I have many German friends, Madame. This war is hard on women. We suffer greatly."

I had spoken in my natural tone. We British have not learnt to dread free speech.

" Pray be careful," whispered the German lady, " do not speak aloud."

Her hands were trembling, she looked a piti- able creature. The amazed Beige bade her not to be afraid, no one would hurt her ! The assurance only served to make the woman more nervous, more pitiable. Was she possessed by some imaginary phantasy ? Her hunted look, her furtive glances round attracted some attention among the passers-by. She looked guilty, but of what ? " Spy," whispered the Beige in my ear — but the Kaiser's servants do not suffer from excessive self-consciousness.

We stopped by the tramway station. The

18 A WOMAN DOCTOR IN SERBIA

stranger was professedly a German subject, but she had come to our assistance — and we were both in uniform, British and Beige, obviously enemies of her country. Because of this I held out my hand at parting. Very rudely she turned on me. She did not speak, but her face and manner were more eloquent than any words ! It is not, as a rule, given to crustacean, insular British to act with ready savoir-faire. Some good angel prompted me that day.

" Madame," I said, still frankly extending my hand, " we British do not make war on women and children, we deal only with your men. . . . Besides, I work for humanity," and I pointed to the symbol on my arm.

Our strange acquaintance abruptly turned her back and swiftly walked away, leaving us both standing in the road gazing after her retreating figure, lost in sheer amazement.

" Mais comme elle est drole," laughed the Belgian Sister at last.

Cook's office is opposite the tramway station at Athens. We looked at it and we looked at each other. Much knocking about the world along unbeaten tracks leaves one shy of tourists and their agents — even the best — but we wanted money changed and this time at least the old familiar sign was hailed with joy.

There was the latest news of the war to be learned, and as we came down the steps we were

A WOMAN DOCTOR IN SERBIA 19

chatting of the countries so dear to our hearts, and of the battlefields in Flanders.

M Madame, come, come for a minute I pray you"; we started at the sound of the voice, for the moment the German lady had not been in our thoughts — but there she was again like some uncanny spectre. As we stood irresolute she seized the Sister's arm with a shaking hand and drew her a step apart — not so far but that I could hear their conversation.

" Madame, I have done something for you," cried the Hun woman, in a plaintive falsetto voice, " I came to direct you on your way — and

you — will you do a little thing for me ? If

that English creature ever comes across wounded German soldiers will you prevent her practising those cruelties her people always love to commit upon the helpless ? Save our poor men, for humanity's sake, from ever falling into her hands."

Then the Beige let out. She was no longer the same woman. Insane or sane the German had said too much. Recollections of gallant little Belgium's suffering stirred the Sister's blood. Scene after scene of cruel crime, heartless brutality, many an unspeakable Frightfulness committed in the name of Kultur before her very eyes, lay bared in memory and — her country's wrongs were her wrongs.

44 I'd love to treat your Kaiser as your men

20 A WOMAN DOCTOR IN SERBIA

have i rented us. ... If I tortured him by inches— if I cooked and roasted him it would be a thousand times too good. . . . Your German soldiers — wait till I sec some — make them suffer ? As they've made others ? ... If your wounded fall into my hands. ..."

As I have said the Belgian was roused — her tongue ran away with her, she could not speak quickly enough. . . .

It was with difficulty I drew her away.

We left the German lady standing by Cook's office, looking more scared, more woebegone — if that "were possible — than even when she first had tackled us.

CHAPTER III

Sitting by our cosy English firesides we read all about the bombardment of Belgrade, but how many of us grasped what it really meant — especially in those earlier days of the gigantic struggle ?

We read of war, read of it in the beauty of Britain's Peace, with Nature's gifts scattered richly round us, and on every side the luxury contrived by a prosperous people.

We know to-day that all we hold most dear is hanging in the balance, we are giving our sons and fathers that they may die and suffer for the cause of Right and Freedom, and although we know that it is War — War to the bitter end, yet the realization of what it really means is not within our grasp !

Thank God, our country lanes have not yet heard the squeal of man as cold steel enters his quivering flesh r The rocks have not re-echoed to the thundering of the guns, and the crack of rifles. Britain's fields have not been swamped with human blood, nor have her hill-sides embraced stiff, inert figures of her sons, their white drawn faces turned towards the sky ! We cannot fully realize what we have not known

21

22 A WOMAN DOCTOR IN SERBIA

but our hearts are wrung with pity for our friends to whom the pandemonium of war, at their very doors, was and is a reality stern and awful. Yes, we read all about the war which raged in Serbia — we have read and heard of more since then. We are becoming war-wise and the significance of the words — " The Government has moved to Nish " — was not lost upon us. But the term " Second Capital " portrayed to our fancy the shops and people of an ordinary European street. As we discovered on our arrival imagination plays grotesque pranks with reality ! Streets and shops and people ? Yes, they were all there, but of a kind, quality, and quantity which we by no means associate with a country's second largest city.

An English carriage would have soon been knocked to pieces on the roads at Nish. The public vehicle which plied for hire was a type of small springless victoria generally drawn by a pair of weedy horses. To venture on a drive was to enter adventure in itself. At every step the carriage might plunge into great uneven holes, filled with mud and slush — unless the sun's rays had baked it into clay. The cobble stones were large and woefully uneven — it was not a town for dainty shoes, high heels, and bewitching little feet. The small, narrow-shaped bullock carts were eminently fitted as carriers of farm produce or merchandise under such conditions.

A WOMAN DOCTOR IN SERBIA 23

The Serbians, with the aid of the British and the Allies, made brave attempts to stem the tide of Typhus. We found that the cafes and public refreshment places were closed by law for certain hours a day, during such intervals the cleansing of the rooms being made imperative. This order was strongly enforced although the method of cleansing left much to be desired to Western minds. Only those who have travelled in the Near East can realize what a " cafe " means in the Balkans. They are in every street, and with all their drawbacks are a thousand times more wholesome — from one point of view — than our British " Pubs."

Customers with their glass of wine — red or white — sitting at the little tables in the street, hail their friends and talk awhile. Peasants coming in from the surrounding villages stop for a cup of excellent coffee, and to hear the latest news and discuss the interests of the day. " Rakiya " is taken in a tiny measure — it is the native spirit distilled from plums, fiery and strong with a peculiar taste that would require practice for appreciation.

Cleanliness in the culinary art is surely a matter of paramount importance to a fastidious person. But one must eat and drink to keep fit, and in the Balkan States, as in many another country, it is better to do so without a question. It is very well to shun uncooked vegetables and

24 A WOMAN DOCTOR IN SERBIA

fruit, and unboiled water— that is, when it is possible to do so. The time came when one was too glad to obtain any water to question its source. Sometimes one would sec a great Serbian officer disinfect his bread with burning spirit — a wise precaution doubtless enough, but when one considers the sanitary conditions of the town, and the extraordinary prevalence of vermin, it seemed utterly inadequate to set a guard at one gate only. When dangers lie on every hand it is perfectly useless playing the ostrich — " what- ever is to be, is written on the forehead " — in hopping out of one danger zone as we see the shell descending, we may run blindly into the path of another life-smashing contrivance. When fever and pestilence are raging round, stem the tide by every available method, use every possible means to prevent the spread, and exert to the utmost every faculty to minimise the public peril, but having done all within human power, in the conditions presented to us, — then rest content. Hundreds of others are breathing the same atmosphere, others are exposed to the same evil. Walk along with calm mien, looking at the situation with that fearlessness which is our great heritage. The heart that falters is the one which lays his body exposed to the flying shafts of fever. A possibility premeditated materializes into stern reality.

The first thing that struck me at Nish was the

A WOMAN DOCTOR IN SERBIA 25

number of prisoners of war. There were hosts of Austrians about, gangs were working on the railway, one saw them mending the roads, and even driving bullock carts in from the country where certain of the men were portioned out to help the farmers. The hospitals were full of prisoners— patients, doctors, and attendants. Everywhere one saw the light blue uniform. Moreover, these men looked happy and well. They worked cheerily, they went about their business with light-hearted countenance. One of the most extraordinary pictures which memories of those days conjure forth is the vivid contrast that there was between the conqueror and prisoner.

By nature the Serb is far from being morose. Those years of oppression beneath the Crescent would have crushed all hope out of a less resilient, happy nature.

For four hundred years, under brutalities un- speakable, under indignities inconceivable, there burnt a flame of poetry and the spark which animates all joyous feeling. With all their faults we must admire the Serb when we realize how love of country lived during those dark centuries beneatli a master's tyrannical power, lived in spite of circumstances seemingly so hopeless — With the deliverance of their beloved land hidden in an unknown future. This past strain, added to the present, made a grievous burden, and

26 A WOMAN DOCTOR IN SERBIA

while his prisoner bore a smiling face the Serbs showed traces of the wear of four years' ceaseless warfare. Maybe a foreboding of the future, of their fair country trampled once again under the foot of the Conqueror, played an unconscious part in the development of that unmistakably sad expression.

The Austrians on their persons still bore visible traces of the wear and tear of battle. Uniforms which had seen service on the fields were cut by sabre or shrapnel, covering the scars of wounds. In nearly every case the clothes worn when taken prisoner are a man's sole asset.

Servants of the Dual Monarchy, many of the men I saw at Nish were Slav by birth, by love and hope. Many thousands of Bohemians and Moravians preferred death to dishonour. These heroes refused to fight against their brother Slav, refused to obey the call to arms, refused to answer to the call which ordered their people to support the force of Might, in their would-be vengeance on the adherents of Freedom and Justice. And these Czech lads were shot by the exponents of Kultur — shot by the score.

Their countrymen who fell into the hands of the Serb were content that it was so. In hospital and without they did their duty manfully. Food was not plentiful, but these men did not grumble.

" Our rations are the same as the Serbian soldier," they said to me. " There might be

A WOMAN DOCTOR IN SERBIA 27

more and it might be better but it is the best they've got to give."

But there are hardships in Serbia for prisoners of war which it is difficult to realize in England. Great Britain is a prosperous Island and with her generous heart she wraps her fallen foe in the lap of luxury. Some of us may criticize our methods but there is something fine in such treatment of an enemy, to whom the meaning of generosity is unknown. After all, it is the outcome of the teaching of our public schools — and in spite of all that we may say, we, as a nation, would not wish to be less chivalrous, we women would not have our men less manly. Serbia was war-stained, a little nation just awakening from a fiendish grip which would have throttled the spirit of a less hardy people. The prisoners were quartered and roughed it under the same conditions as a Serbian warrior. He had his straw as a rule — he had his soup, he had his portion of black bread. The lot of a gentleman ranker is not enviable as prisoner of war. The clothes of a young doctor of law were literally threadbare. Extraordinary patches and various attempts at mending — as understood by the masculine turn of mind — showed a natural fastidiousness but at the same time gave rather a quaint effect. However, work and plain though ample fare (luckily for the lad he was attached to a military hospital) had agreed with

28 A WOMAN DOCTOR IN SERBIA

him and he was a picture of rare health. A doctor, who in peace time is a specialist in Diseases of Children, was then physician to an internment camp. He was a very dapper little man and, in spite of all difficulties, always contrived to have an appearance particularly comme il faut. With money sent from his friends he had a new uniform made at Nish near enough to Austrian colour, and the soldierly, trim little figure stood out in contrast to his war- worn and torn brothers-in-arms. He had lost his sword the first day in an engagement.

" And it was very lucky — I was glad to get rid of it— I didn't look for it," he told me with a smile.

Many of the prisoners, both officers and men, told me that they had never fired a shot.

The moral ?

Men who are made to serve beneath the strong hand of an alien can be forced into the ranks but their hearts are their own and when no spon- taneous call of duty has stirred them to the effort they are better left at home.

Mortality from Typhus, as all the world knows, had been unparalleled in Serbia, but at the time of our arrival the scourge had lessened its grip on the land, the united efforts of the Allies had stemmed the course of its tide.

The 2nd Reserve Military Hospital at Nish gave hospitality to many Red Cross Workers

A WOMAN DOCTOR IN SERBIA 29

from Allied Countries. It was Head-quarters on arrival, it was the refuge of the traveller. Later, a Rest House was opened for British workers where board and bed could be obtained at a reasonable charge. Hotels, such as they are in the Balkans, were generally full — they had their complement of officers and men.

The C.M.O., a genial courteous Serb, was the right man in the right place. The food was good and plentiful. One large table ran the length of the dining-room, with others at either end which were used when required by an extra inflow of guests. Sheets played the parts of tablecloths and they could have been cleaner. In the mornings there were great basins of boiling milk, large jugs of fragrant coffee, and brown cakes of palatable bread. We used thick white cups without saucers and the majority of men and women present would place their wet spoons straight upon the table.

At supper we would sit down the most cosmo- politan party, officers, nurses and medical men and women. Serb, French, Russian, Brazilian, Greek, a couple of Czech doctors (one a prisoner who had escaped from Bohemia), an Austrian prisoner, and then there was a retired R.A.M.C. Captain (an Anglo-Indian), who sat next to me and with whom I had travelled from Salonikn.

The languages spoken were ;is varied in tone as in quality and kind. Occasionally we were

30 A WOMAN DOCTOR IN SERBIA

given a treat. After coffee a young Czech doctor (a prisoner) would produce a violin and silence would reign. He was past-master of his Art, and his instrument would vibrate to the passionate cry of the exiled heart. He pictured the scenes which stained his memory — scenes of fields of blood, the death shrieks of his comrades, and then the notes would trail into a touching prayer of thankfulness, to the glory of the Reigning Spirit, which had led him from the fierce cruelties of war to be sheltered by a kindly foe, away from the unspeakable horrors which had torn his very soul.

It was a touching sight to see the lad as he stood with his instrument in hand, his blue eyes gazing into space, seeing far beyond that great bare, whitewashed room. His uniform was torn and battle-stained — ripped open where he had been wounded on the arm — and rents were held together by man-made, ill-assorted stitches.

He would stand there — holding captive the hearts of those who held him prisoner. He could play upon our feelings, and was for the nonce our master, as he led us away from the horrors of war and the filth and the poverty of our courageous little Ally.

It was a most interesting sight to visit the Privilista (room for dressings) at the 2nd Reserve.

About eight o'clock in the morning Austrian prisoners brought the patients down from the

A WOMAN DOCTOR IN SERBIA 31

wards on stretchers. It was a large room some fifty feet long with tables placed down the centre for the reception of the wounded.

When work was in full swing one saw the cruel side of warfare. It was a picture with nothing to relieve its intense ugliness. Nothing did I say ? Nothing apparent perhaps at the first moment of entrance, but in a few minutes' time one grasped the scene in all its fulness and realized that the atmosphere was rendered beautiful by the wondrous fortitude, and the uncomplaining, noble courage of those shattered Serbian soldiers.

Orderlies, Serbian and Austrian, removed dressings, as at each table a surgeon examined the injured limb. Here were exposed huge gaping wounds in the quivering flesh, there a leg lay bared with muscles and vessels veritably dissected out from knee to ankle — the stench abominable — (a case of post-typhus gangrene). The lcss-severely wounded, seated on forms round the room, were dressed at the selfsame time.

There were tilings done in that room without an anaesthetic which one could never see in England. Serbia's greatest enemy cannot truth- fully ignore the fact that they arc an extra- ordinarily courageous people. It was rarely one heard a groan, I have seen more than one man biting his teeth on a folded bandage, sweat

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pouring from his forehead with intensity of suffering — but the moment his mauvais quart d'heure is past a smile is on his lips, and if it is belied by the look of cruel pain, wrung from tell- tale eyes, all the more did one feel real reverence for such unselfish heroism.

Human suffering sanctified that place, and entering one was constrained to step softly, wondering the while at such marvellous people.

At Nish I received one of the surprises of my life. At the Serbian Legation, in London, I had been accepted for work under the Red Cross in the dressing-stations at the actual front — with the Serbian Field Army Unit. I had been sent out by the courtesy of the British Admiralty — certainly not expecting the reception received at Nish.

At the War Office I was told that no woman would be accepted for such work. I urged that my services had already been accepted by his Excellency, the Serbian Ambassador.

The reply amazed me.

" They have exceeded their orders at the Legation," I was told by an official.

" If one of our Ambassadors," I reasoned with them, " passes his official word, it is Britain's word and Britain's word stands good."

Such arguments were seemingly of no avail.

Finally I was sent to a large military hospital at Skopye.

A WOMAN DOCTOR IN SERBIA 33

Later, having the opportunity of being attached to a unit, under canvas, I worked among the civilian population and learnt, during the long quiet summer, more of the inner life of these people and became better acquainted with their likeness and unlikeness to the Western nations.

CHAPTER IV

Valjevo is situated in one of the most beautiful parts of Serbia. During the long summer evenings of 1915 the sun went gloriously to bed, shedding a marvellous radiance over all the earth, throwing into deep relief the outline of the hills and radiating with celestial beauty in deep tones of crimson, ruby, and many bright, golden yellows far across the heavens. In the autumn great juicy blackberries ripened in wild profusion, plums hung overhead and fields of maize were seen on every side.

The streets of the little town are fairly broad, and good bridges span the river. In the early morning at the water's side the peasants coming in fresh from the country offered their wares for sale — it was the Market. The cattle market was held immediately across the river. On the days when there were fairs it was well to stop by the bridge and add one's mite to the little pile of coins in front of Serbia's historian — the Gusler player. The instrument is very primitive, some- thing like a guitar with a single string. The Serbs are essentially a poetical folk, and for centuries the raconteurs of the brave deeds of

34

A WOMAN DOCTOR IN SERBIA 35

Kraleovitch Marko — the great national hero — have been welcome at every gathering, in every house, in every hut, throughout the land. There never has been a written history — yet the Nation's story is fuller and more in detail than that of many a country with parchment and book to command. The wandering minstrel passed from village to village, chanting the deeds of their heroes, the valour of their soldiers. The mother sang the poems to her babe, the youth hummed them as he tilled the ground — till the history of the nation was indelibly written on the hearts of the people.

On the little bridge, by which we entered the* village on our way from camp, stood an old peasant sentry — all along the railway lines one saw such guards, one saw similar shelters, too, such as this man had — a few sticks, a little tarpaulin, a few sacks — anything to act as buffer against the wind or cold at night. The Balkan folk are adepts at making shelters with the leafy branches of trees intertwined.

Sometimes I would tramp into the village, down the hill-side — often enough beneath a broiling sun — across the little bridge, with a word to the sentry, down past the Church and bearing to the left round by the " Grand Hotel," into a quaint little shop, low-roofed and cool.

The soldiers and peasants who patronized the tiny place soon became good comrades, and we

3G A WOMAN DOCTOR IN SERBIA

would chatter over our great platters of soured milk and share the proprietor's pride in the drawings which his soldier son had made at school— wonderful they seemed to the illiterate old man and wonderful they were indeed.

Along the roadsides and in the hills one came across many a cemetery. Alas, pestilence and war had added so great a number to God's Acres that many an extra field shows its harvest of small wooden crosses — a harvest of men who had passed beyond in the turmoil of battle or gripped by the hand of fever. Whichever the route, these heroes took the journey pro Patria.

They were in rows, those small wooden crosses — hundreds and hundreds — many to an " Un- known Soldier." Somewhere weary hearts were longing for the face that they would never see.

The farmer ploughed around the new field which bore its human harvest. No line, no fences stretched in demarcation. By now, perhaps, the furrow of the plough extends to where the bones of the Brave lie rotting.

Serbia lives on her pigs. Their great, un- wieldy hideous forms were everywhere. After the great Austrian set-back, these animals fed on the tremendous army of dead — friend and foe. There was no time to bury so great a number at a wholesome depth. Rambling in a cemetery on a hill-side overlooking Valjevo, one summer evening, I came across a dog crunching

A WOMAN DOCTOR IN SERBIA 37

a human bone. I took that Fibula, and then was face to face with the problem of what to do with it. Finally I took it back to my tent.

There is something peculiarly pathetic in the number of headstones bearing the likeness of Serbia's sons. The uniformed lads looked at us, happy and proud, dreams of great deeds, heroic and unselfish, transfiguring their faces, their sweethearts' kisses fresh upon their lips — we saw the Slav man thus. Hard it was indeed to realize that those that day so keen, so full of life, lay beneath our feet — from Dust, to Dust returned.

At Nish during the Typhus Epidemic the doctors of the Army of the Dual Monarchy struggled with their Serbian compeers to stem the tide of devastation. They worked heroically and fell at their posts. Deaths most glorious. They gave their lives for the sick in an enemy's country. They had started out in all the bitter- ness of Enmity. They died for the symbol of the Cross beneath which they did their life-work.

The Serbians are grateful. Two little granite crosses mark their resting-place. The cemetery is wild and overgrown with wild flowers, oxen stray about. Some old tombstones are almost hidden by the luxurious advancement of rich vegetation. Like so many others, this Acre of God's Land had proved too small for the havoc of these days.

Dr. Bubel was not forgotten. The Serbs are

38 A WOMAN DOCTOR IN SERBIA

not vindictive. Flowers lay upon his grave, plucked by some loving heart either Austrian or Slav — maybe it was in grateful remembrance.

It was a beautiful spot. There was silence save for the hum of insects and the lowing of cattle. Far away the hills rise to the sky, some with their snowclad heights hidden in the clouds. There was peace. Those which lay beneath our feet had done with the toil and pain of life. Suddenly the notes of a bugle rang through the air !

It was War, not Peace, and its hazards and its meaning were brought to our consciousness by very contrast.

One saw strange things on the graves of the newly dead in Serbia. Books, money, plums, bread and water, sometimes a small fire, or the ashes of one which had been. I asked many people for an explanation. The majority did not know or would not tell the reason why, and from others I learnt completely contradictory facts. Some claimed the symbolical significance, others declared that it was a custom in aid of the poor who thus knew where to find money and food. Others again solemnly averred that the articles were placed there for their friend's sustenance during his journey through the Infinite to the final Valhalla.

Our Tommies can keep more or less in touch with their friends, but postal arrangements in

A WOMAN DOCTOR IN SERBIA 39

Serbia, especially in war-time, are not the same as in the West, and, besides, even if they were, a large majority of peasants cannot read or write. A man might be away in the wars for many years without being able to communicate with his wife.

It is impossible not to appreciate the Serbian soldier. His grit, his pluck, his wonderful courage and power of endurance are equalled by few. They are a fine set of fellows, these Slavs, with their splendid physique and rugged, brown, wholesome faces. Among the regiments I saw, there was none of that spick-and-spanness so distinctive of our Army. The men were often in rags and tatters with little enough of uniform left, many were clad in peasants' dress with soldiers' cap. Some had boots but most had well-worn sandals. In spite of their outside appearance, in spite of their dilapidated gar- ments, these men were every inch soldiers — and fine ones at that.

The Serbian people have their obvious faults. They are faults which arc. glaringly perceptible. After so many centuries beneath the dominant Crescent, how can we be surprised that their dictionary did not contain the equivalent to parole aVhonneur ? They arc not a treacherous people — far from it, but they cannot speak the truth. They arc anxious to please their friends and in their anxiety will state as a definite fact that which they desire l<> be.

40 A WOMAN DOCTOR IN SERBIA

The Turkish yoke brought the influence of Islam into play, and Islam and Christianity are better far apart. Each is good of its kind, but they cannot amalgamate. The habit of Truth requires Freedom for its growth, it is banished on the precincts of Fear and Slavery.

See a regiment start for the front. The men often carried a bundle of bread and onions put up in a handkerchief by sweetheart and wife. The troop trains were garlanded with flowers and branches of trees, they dance the kola at the stopping-places, footing it gaily to the gypsy's fiddle, for these great fellows have in their hearts that which Rockefeller, with all his riches, cannot buy.

It is the Spirit of a country which is Young. It is the Spirit of Immortality.

Now, for the moment, Serbia is crushed beneath the heel of Europe's enemy. Crushed but not dead ! She has a vitality all her own. She was not submerged in the past, not with all the pressure brought to bear upon her by alien masters — alien in religion, in thought and in deed — and she will rise again in the future to a glorious destiny, a wonderful Life. . . .

The dress of the peasant girl is picturesque, and when she goes to market she carries a coarse canvas bag, very brightly coloured, filled with farm produce — or if homeward bound — with certain purchases — upon her back.

A WOMAN DOCTOR IN SERBIA 41

It was impossible to buy these treasures at a shop. The only thing was to tackle the women, and they were very loth to part with the envied article ! Serbia's merchandise, like that of the Allies, suffered from the stress of the War.

But it was a time when in Britain every woman, who was prevented by age, duty or infirmity from serving the Empire in a more direct method, had at least a great ball of soft warm wool and a half-knitted scarf within her fingers — at such a time, those bags of the Serbian peasantry appealed to me as gifts for certain ladies in that magical land we call " home ! "

I stopped the country people in the market- place but it was difficult to find an easy prey. No reasonable price seemed high enough to tempt. I met a man leading a pack-horse and on that horse were strung some bags, and one of those bags was a glorious colour, new and fresh.

Have that bag I would ! So I went into the middle of the road and quietly stopped the mare.

Now, I had had too many rebuffs in life to risk jumping straight at the subject.

The man seemed amazed and rather inclined to resent being brought peremptorily to a stand- still.

On a beautiful day, in a beautiful country, it

42 A WOMAN DOCTOR IN SERBIA

takes more than a small matter to discourage one !

I launched forth, in very halting Serbian, on the weather, on the pony, — and then out came my cigarette-case — and we were friends !

" Only one of the mad English ! " I suppose the fellow thought. He was a slow-witted son of the soil.

To be stopped in that way by a stranger was very strange to him, but then he was not accustomed to the ways of foreigners. — I took the situation as a matter of course and the Serb is adaptable !

The moment was ripe ! I raised the bag, emptied the parcels on to the saddle and, placing some money beside them, looked at the man in a friendly way. He smiled. " A new kind of game," he thought. Without a word I held out my hand.

In Serbia, when a bargain is concluded in the selling of a horse or cattle, the men shake hands and so make the bargain legal. It is quite a little ceremonial !

My new friend took my hand ! The deed was done ! The bag was mine ! . . . That day I felt rich beyond the dreams of avarice.

One day whilst at Valjevo I awoke to the fact that the tents of the Scottish Women's Unit were pitched on a neighbouring hill.

It was the Unit in command of Dr. Alice

A WOMAN DOCTOR IN SERBIA 43

Hutcheson, the same one which had sailed from England in the White Star Liner Transport and which had been commandeered at Malta by Lord Methuen.

Those of us who were privileged to see that camp were filled with a feeling of pride, pride in what our women were proving themselves capable of doing.

Before the final fiasco, when the devastating storm of battle again burst over the country- side, I was, for a short time, a guest of the S.W.H. Their good plain meals, wholesome and nutritious, came as a saving grace, their large bath-tent, with its little curtained cubicles, gave one daily pleasure.

From our tents we could see a beautiful vista of mountains. Every hour portrayed a pano- rama of fresh distinctive beauty.

In the warm haze of the sun, ever-changing cloudlets capped the mountain-peaks, while in fierce frowning aspects wind and rain showed Nature cruel, relentless, stern — and yet, withal, great and free and wonderful.

The picture was never the same, and yet in its varying guise it was ever restful. It always gave its message — to those who could read with understanding.

Sometimes some of my fellow-countrywomen from the camp on the hill would dine with me at the Grand Hotel. It was a mild dissipation,

44 A WOMAN DOCTOR IN SERBIA

still it had its interest. The restaurant was patronized by all the well-to-do inhabitants, and every evening by eight o'clock the large bare room, with its rows of tables, covered with coarse and much-soiled napery, was full to overflowing. Ventilation was a negative quality and the air grew more and more vitiated, denser and denser with the smoke as the hours passed by.

A string band started to play regularly at seven-thirty and it would continue with short intervals until after the bewitching hour of midnight. There was no comparison between the music offered in similar places of entertain- ment here in Britain and that in which we used to revel in the town of Valjevo.

Give a true-born gypsy, who has the musician's soul, his favourite instrument and he is second to none, and the artistes at the Grand Hotel were Zingali born and bred.

The menu might be what an Englishman would call restricted, but the food was very fair in quality and not ill-cooked. Of course, a Serbian cuisine differs from our own : garlic and peprika are not as a rule grateful to the British palate, nor, indeed, is the sour kimak, nor the skimmed-milk leathery cheese. Never- theless, we often did get fair rice, excellent young chicken, and what was to us a great treat in those days — pancakes, minus lemon, of course, but pancakes were to be had for the asking !

A WOMAN DOCTOR IN SERBIA 45

Were I a dog my mouth would water with recollections of those delicious cups of coffee ! It is a beverage we cannot make in England : we neither grind it fine enough, nor roast it freshly. Go into the smallest mountain dwelling in the Balkans and one can revel in the little cups of nectar. It is coffee, pure unadulterated coffee, which the peasant drinks — chicory is left to grow in the fields !

At night when the mists rose in the valley and the dew made all things damp a most repugnant odour crept into the atmosphere, pervading the tents. Sometimes, probably according to the direction of the wind, the stench would become almost unsupportable and the reason why was only too apparent. To dig the ground deeper than an inch or so was to court disaster. The whole hill-side was one great charnel house. Friend and foe lay side by side in their shallow graves. In our rambles we came upon the skeletons of men and beasts, laid bare by the inclemency of wind or rain, or by the aid of pig or dog. Pieces of Austrian uniform were gradually being brought to light. One of my friends falling into a ditch found herself lying on a skeleton. . . .

From the Dining-tcnt one could see a Serbian Hospital. On several occasions about breakfast- tim< we saw men carrying stretchers and on those stretch* re were long white forms. Sin low

46 A WOMAN DOCTOR IN SERBIA

holes wore dug a few yards from the building and the things which the men had carried out would be hastily tipped in, the soil shovelled quickly over and the hole filled up.

Inference is obvious. Albeit the Serbian officer in command denied that this was the method of burying their dead. Why should stretchers be used to carry refuse ? Besides, the shape of the burdens carried out was peculiarly significant. One cannot doubt the evidence of one's senses.

CHAPTER V

One day business took me to Mladinovatz. All trains in Serbia seem to arrive in the middle of the night. Ours certainly did on this occasion ! Now the weather clerk had taken it into his head to see how badly he could manage affairs. The rain came down in torrents and the dark- ness was oppressive.

I tackled the stationmaster with regard to some habitation in which to pass my time till daylight. His wits were not equal to the occasion, but he did what he could and ordered a clerk to accompany me and find quarters at one of the various possible places — but he did not seem sanguine !

We tried the one and only Inn. It was over- whelmingly full. Even in the great dining-room there were scores of soldiers, some drinking and singing, some sleeping on and under the tables and in every possible nook and corner.

Could I have a chair ? Anything, anywhere, out of the rain 1 But the proprietor was firm. He could not, or he would not come to the rescue.

Matters were looking serious. Wc had been

47

48 A WOMAN DOCTOR IN SERBIA

to several gast-hauses and even to private houses, and at last we were still out in the street drenched to the skin, absolutely no nearer to find- ing a dry nook than we had been an hour before. In utter despair we stopped groups of soldiers who, like ourselves, were floating about looking for quarters. On fine nights we frequently saw the men sleeping by the road-side but in such a storm this procedure was utterly impracticable.

At last, a fellow answered hopefully. His words were almost unintelligible to me but I understood the gist. Somebody — somewhere — could take me in, only . . . ! I was far too tired and too damp to try to ascertain wherefore the qualification. If some kindly soul would but give me the right to sit under a roof, it was all for which I begged.

The railway employe wished me good luck and disappeared into the darkness. My new friend hastened forward. We splashed away through mud and water, and I wondered what I would have done had I been clad in the customary skirt of civilization. It was bad enough as things were — a little more, draggling wet petticoats, I would have sat down in the mud and howled !

Finally my guide led the way up a tiny entrance where there was room to walk just single file. Suddenly he stopped and I heard, though I could not see, that he knocked at a

A WOMAN DOCTOR IN SERBIA 49

door. A light flickered at the window and in another minute a woman stood on the step. She was fully dressed, save for her feet, for in Serbia it is the custom, certainly of the peasants, to go to bed in their day clothes. I have seen it repeatedly, even among those accredited as fairly well-to-do. Serbia is a country of many surprises !

The man explained, and in another moment I was standing in one of the rooms of a two- roomed cottage listening to the retreating foot- steps of my erstwhile friend as he stamped away, well pleased with a tip and honestly far better pleased because I was glad to have achieved our object.

My hostess opened a door into a room the size of a cupboard. I noticed two trestle beds, one at either side ; on that to the left lay a pile of clothes — at least what I took to be clothes, but we barely glanced into the den before the little lamp flickered and went suddenly out. I had seen enough. I groped my way to the empty bunk, spread my great-coat, wet as it was, to lie on and prepared to make the best of things.

It was obvious that there was no ventilation, and the vitiated atmosphere was appalling after the sweet wet air of night.

The presence of vermin is always distasteful. It seems to be one of those conditions in which our power of adaptability fails. Close and frequent acquaintanceship docs not lessen the

50 A WOMAN DOCTOR IN SERBIA

horror. . . . Surely there was something — some- thing breathing ! I held my breath and listened. — Yes, there was someone in the room. I sup- posed it to be a peasant woman, and rightly judged that the sounds proceeded from what I had taken to be a pile of clothes. Suddenly there was an unmistakable snort, a snort that could not have come from other than strong masculine apparatus. I thought of the weather outside, and I realized that without absolute necessity the climatic conditions were such as decided the question of what was to be done. Rain beat against the window-panes, pattered on the roof, wind whistled shrilly round neigh- bouring buildings. I would wait, remain awake, but, at least, beneath a roof, and make off early in the morning before the unconscious sleeper awoke to the world's realities.

I must have dropped asleep, thus do needs of nature overcome the will. Perhaps I moved, at any rate I suddenly awoke with every conscious faculty alert, not half drowsily as might have been the case considering my fatigue.

There was an unmistakable sound of the handling of a box of matches. One might have done many things, but under extraordinary conditions one does not always balance pros and cons with nicety. I would lie quiet, pretend to be asleep— such was the only solution which presented itself.

A WOMAN DOCTOR IN SERBIA 51

A light shone out, nickered a moment, then made good.

" Mon . . . Dieu ! . . ."

Whoever my neighbour was he had gone to sleep in a room shared by none. He awoke in the night to find a khaki-clad figure stretched out as if asleep — a figure with long hair, obviously a British Red Cross woman.

It must have been an amazing wakening, but I played the part of Brer Fox and lay low.

Morpheus must have rocked us both in her gentle arms, for the next thing I remembered was being startled out of sleep by martial music, which crashed into the stillness of the night. It sounded so loud, so close as to resemble some infernal instrument. It was no use pretending to sleep. In the utter quietness of that hour the clashing noise continued.

"QuYst-ce que vous faites, Madame?" came from the darkness in a musical educated voir- .

" But it's you, Monsieur, not I ! What are you doing ? " I replied in the same language.

We both laughed. The situation was irre- sistible to those with a sense of humour.

Still that wretched march rang out. My friend of the matches lit up and then he turned to me.

11 Madame, I think it is thai clock over there. II" you will be so kind as . . . to get it . . . it

52 A WOMAN DOCTOR IN SERBIA

will waken nil our neighbours . . . and I . . . am . . . I . . . I . . . can't . . . get out ! "

I jumped up, stopping my laughter by a great effort of will, and seized the wretched article. It was a large metallic clock, an infernal cheap- jack German contrivance. I put it under my straw.

Then the light went out and again a manly voice spoke from the darkness,

" I will get some clothes on, Madame. ... It must ... be three o'clock and time for me to join my regiment."

My companion was a Serbian Doctor who had studied in Paris. With infinite tact and truest courtesy he made light of the quaint situation.

44 It is the fortune of War, Madame."

And it was ! In normal times, in normal places, such a strange experience could never have occurred.

Presently the candle was again lighted and the woman came in with a jug of water and a basin. The doctor washed in the manner peculiar to his countrymen. Our hostess stood and poured water into his hands with which he bathed his face, that was all.

Then the officer turned to me. " What a lot of luggage you have ! " there was a merry boyish twinkle in his eyes but his tone was very plaintive. Luggage ? I had my top-coat, a handkerchief and comb !

A WOMAN DOCTOR IN SERBIA 53

Upon the latter envious looks were cast.

" May I ? "

I gladly gave consent and when the short thick hair had been smoothed into order I took the comb and breaking it in two handed him a piece. The little gift was accepted with real gratitude. A minute later and the door was closed and we could hear the tread of our friend passing up the narrow alley, into the darkness beyond.

Bugs or fleas, I determined to sleep, but we too often plan out a course of action only to find that a very different fate is written on our fore- head.

Before six o'clock the woman was in the room again. She gave me no peace, and I could barely understand the drift of all she said.

Someone was ill, someone who had slept in the room in which we were the very night before and she wanted me to go and see the person.

The woman did not mean to let me sleep, so there was nothing for it but to go.

It was not far away. One could stretch one's arm from the window of my den across the narrow alley down which my guide had led me, and touch the side of the room wherein the sick lad lay.

One glance was sufficient ! The patient, a boy of sixteen, lay there, on what was a fearsome apology for a straw-filled mattress. By his side

54 A WOMAN DOCTOR IN SERBIA

slept another child, and his mother rose from the bed as I entered.

The lad was unconscious.

It was Typhus.

That day, as soon as my back was turned, neighbours flocked in and out. Towards night it was very obvious that the end was drawing near. I absolutely forbade any of the family to occupy the same bed. Certainly the mattress was a poor thing, filthy and odorous, and very far from restful, but it was the only one they had.

I made it plain to the parents that the child would certainly die before daybreak. They understood but seemed absolutely indifferent to the fact, nor did the mother suggest that they should wait to speed the little chap upon the Long Lone Trek.

Parents and children disappeared, my land- lady hospitably giving them shelter. In every land the poor help the poor and give freely of their little to distressful neighbours.

There was really nothing to be done. The lad lay there, uncared for, neglected, unconscious of all that was passing. Those who had given him birth left him to his fate. To British thoughts there is something in such an action which is incomprehensively callous.

I opened the little window and the door and I sat down to a lonely vigil.

A WOMAN DOCTOR IN SERBIA 55

That side of the Balkan character which deals with love, with affection, and friendship, is not developed in the same way as it is with us. It has been stunted in its growth. The elements are there. The Serb is intended to be all that is natural to men born poets, born with the smell of Mother Earth in their nostrils and the song of the mountain woodlands in their ears.

Circumstances have forced the nation into a shell of iron. Past generations have dealt hardly with the people, all natural feeling has been driven in until their hearts have become en- crusted with a shell, and it is possible that to some of us the Serb may seem a heartless man. In the Future for which we are fighting, the Future of Europe's Freedom, the Serbian will become a new man, and all his greater self will radiate, and the shell which has become so hardened and hammered as to be at times impenetrable will be broken asunder.

The true man will appear in the rebirth of the Nation.

Towards midnight I called the father, but the boy rallied and the man went off, grumbling a little at having been disturbed !

Let us draw a veil over the death-bed of that youth. It was not a pretty scene. Delirious and fearful, he saw apparitions invisible to me, Tenor laid hold of his soul, his bright eyes seemed to see Further than my eyes, at first he

56 A WOMAN DOCTOR IN SERBIA

cowered and trembled at the Awful Something which he saw, and then as the Horror approached (to judge from his eyes) with one frantic scream the poor child tried to fling himself out of bed. — He was a well-grown muscular boy though weakened by disease and it took all my force to hold him.

Later he suddenly grew less restless — suddenly his eyes changed. It seemed as if there was recognition, gratitude — just one look, and so, without a word, he died.

The mother had left the child in his need, now she came. Inured as one gets to the wailing of the women, that woman's shrieks made me squirm. Her lungs and vocal apparatus were unquestionably strong. The greater the noise she made the more grateful did her husband look. She was a wife of whom to be proud !

The heart of a stranger entering then would have been touched, tears would have filled his eyes at the picture of the mother overcome, hysterical with sorrow, extravagantly kissing the shoes the lad had worn, whilst neighbours dressed the corpse, a process which the women began with almost indecent haste as soon as they entered the room.

When I went in again a few hours later the place had been tidied. The lad's body lay in state, completely dressed. Neighbours were coming and going, gazing their fill, the children

A WOMAN DOCTOR IN SERBIA 57

ran in and out. Across the alley my hostess was preparing the bread cakes for the funeral.

I lit the candles I had bought, placing them at the head and at the feet of the corpse. It is the custom in Serbia immediately a person dies to light a candle so that light may be given to the spirit on its journey through the mists. Generally the candles used for this purpose are of yellow beeswax but I have seen ordinary white candles used in emergency, even the little bit of one which a man might happen to have in his pocket.

CHAPTER VI

It was not until September that Serbia realized the clouds that were hovering near, the mighty forces of the Dual Monarchy, the one hundred thousand Germans ready to invade their land.

Rumours began to develop, the little news- papers were eagerly scanned by crowds of excited men. The faces of the women ceased to smile. They knew what it meant to have their homesteads crumbling over their heads, to see their fields dyed with the heart's blood of their bravest and best.

There is very little glamour in the hard reality of war. Heroic deeds are done as a matter of course in the way of duty. No one sees them, no one is there to record them. War spells the grim fierce struggle of a man for life, or the wholesale slaughter in the battlefields where the Fight is raging and Might is foe to Right.

At Valjevo a cottage stands in the fields which, if its stones could speak, would tell a tale of indescribable horror, but through the story there would run a song of purest beauty, a melody of what is the greatest and the best of all things upon earth. It would tell of noble-hearted

58

A WOMAN DOCTOR IN SERBIA 59

women who laid down their lives for the land which gave them birth.

It was an incident of the Austrian punitive expedition and a battle was raging round the little homestead.

Shells were bursting overhead, the awful din of mitrailleuse, of rifles rent the air. Hell was loose, everywhere horror and everywhere death.

From the cottage two young women saw the dreadful carnage, they saw the Serbian soldiers making their brave stand, they saw them driven back, falling, stricken unto death, and they saw the wounded mutilated, deeds diabolical done in the name of God.

A couple of old guns hung in the place and these were used by those daughters of a warlike people. Barricading themselves in they sniped methodically, swiftly, and sent to their rest a very creditable number of their Austrian foe. It was an unequal combat. Two lonely peasant women and the victorious Austrian forces, their own men, the gallant Serbs, hard pressed, beaten and forced back, unable to render them help.

The cottage was stormed and taken. Outside one sees where the plaster was chipped by bullets, the whole place shows signs of that unequal struggle. The Austrians were seen to enter. The women were never seen again.

By every rule of warfare their lives were justly forfeited.

60 A WOMAN DOCTOR IN SERBIA

This war is showing us the blackest side of Civilization. There was a time when Civilization was not so great a power, when Chivalry tempered an enemy's thirst for vengeance and knightly spurs were won by glorious deeds of Charity.

Those peasant girls were fighting for hearth and home in a very literal sense. They were only doing what Nature prompts in the breast of all who are unselfish. Had the officer in command of those Austrian soldiers given these heroines life and freedom, let them pass through their ranks untouched in chivalrous acknowledgment of their wondrous bravery, then the Recording Angel would have written his deed in letters of gold.

CHAPTER VII

Colonel N , the most popular soldier in

Serbia, had given me his word of honour as an Officer and Serb that when hostilities com- menced I should be attached to the 1st Regiment of the Morava Division, for Red Cross work in the Field, in recognition of some work which I had done for Serbia. It had been dangerous work and by no means that which one would have chosen, but to serve our Ally was to serve Great Britain.

In those last days when war-clouds were gathering, and the whole atmosphere was charged with ominous dread, still the people clung unconsciously to hope. They would be pressed down by the foreboding, circumstances forced upon them, then suddenly the gloom would vanish and a bright look radiate from saddened eyes. " Oh, but the English are coming," they cried, " all will be well." . . . Bulgaria had sent her ultimatum ! . . .

The last scene of the Third Act had begun.

I went to report myself to Colonel N

It was not an easy matter to get a railway pass from Valjevo to Mladinovatz. The General

ni

62 A WOMAN DOCTOR IN SERBIA

had left his bureau, the Colonel refused it, but at last I had the necessary papers, and then I literally raced to the station.

Two V.A.D.'s of the S.W.II. were waiting on the platform. They had brought my rucksack, kitbag, and equipment. Just a handshake, a word of farewell, and I was off. . . .

At Mladinovatz Colonel N assured me

that all which he had promised should come to pass. I was to report myself at Kragujevatz, where I would get my military papers at Head- quarters, and then join the regiment he had named — the 1st of his own Division. . . .

The trains were crowded with troops. Horse- boxes and ordinary goods-waggons were used for the soldiers. I travelled with officers in a third-class compartment. At dinner I was their guest. It was a picture fitted for the pen of an artist. The bare long carriage with its wooden seats facing the engine on either side, and the crowd of fine young Serbs — young men with all Life's vital blood coursing through their veins, on their way to what might be, must be for many, sudden or a lingering, painful, lonely death. Rugs were placed on a seat, we shared knives and forks as occasion demanded. At every station (halts were long and frequent) we heard the stirring sound of gypsy music. There, on the lines, by the side of the train the young fellows ranged themselves side by side, joined hands

JI. ^.£^JLs&l^s

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Serbian endorsement on pai port

A WOMAN DOCTOR IN SERBIA 63

and stepped out to the strain of the kola, the great national dance. The gypsy scampered along in front, scraping his fiddle ever faster and faster, followed by the Leader of the kola whilst the long line of spurred warriors capered after.

The gaiety was not mere bravado. Come what might these men were going out to do their duty, and a Serb does not know the meaning of physical fear. The officers thought of their men, they shielded them from any shadow of foreboding and sent them out with a happy lilt ringing in their ears.

I had to spend the night at a little wayside station. It was chilly sitting in the open on my rucksack, but soon the dawn broke through the misty night and only one pale star was left in the luminous sky.

I was happy. The dream of my childhood was coming true — that is, unless the word of an officer and gentleman held no better than the Kaiser's own.

It is not mere sentiment that sets one's heart responding to the Call of the Wild, to the invisible attraction of the Unknown, Unbeaten Tracks. The Fear of Life is born of loneliness ;iikI the dread conceived is greater than the terror of the Fathomless Plunge.

(.iv< ii the choice, " Will thou have an <;<sy life or hard? A fight or a tranquil existence?"

64, A WOMAN DOCTOR IN SERBIA

Given a free choice, the Recording Angel knows I would have said — " the harder — for the Fight ! "

As I sat in the cold biting air of an early Balkan dawn all the pain of Life seemed worth the price if it would come to pass that I might be of service — bring succour to the wounded — though beneath an alien Flag, it would be for Britain !

A human soul is peculiarly detached from its fellows. Not another nor a million others will be allowed to make reply. When the Roll Call is made we each must give our own separate answer and show our own method of deduction, the way in which we ourselves have solved Life's Problem.

Men are calling out in agony to-day, the whole world runs in blood — then dared one, who is fitted by nature, experience and inclination, stand aside ?

God may spell " Success " quite differently. The world must have its failures, else, did all touch the line, there would be no sport in the Race.

At Kragujevatz I knocked on a stone wall. Colonel Gentitch opened the papers that I took and worked himself into a rage. To begin with, it was addressed not to him but to Colonel Micheliavitch, and the Officer in Command of the Army Medical Department explained very

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curtly that he and he alone was almighty with regard to such arrangements.

There had been no time at Mladinovatz to get a railway pass, but the envelope I bore

from Colonel N proved open Sesame, and

satisfied officials. Now Colonel Gentitch de- manded my pass and questioned me as to the method by which I had reached Kragujevatz. I told him.

" Well, you have managed to get to Kragu- jevatz and now you can get out of it. I wash my hands of the whole affair ! "

Later, he asked if I would go to the Bosnian Frontier, and it was there where I experienced perhaps the most extraordinary time of a varied

life.

CHAPTER VIII

The wards were large and airy in the Military Hospital, Uzsitsi, and there were broad good corridors running the whole length of the build- ing. The great fault of the place lay in its want of sanitation. Above all things Serbian hospital methods in this direction left much to be desired. Cats frisked about the kitchen with their young, crawling under the feet of those who went to pay the cook a visit. Untidy orderlies ate at the tables, soldiers broke the great pyramidal blocks of Russian sugar with a hatchet on the far from cleanly floor. When one remembered the many feet which passed and repassed, and the ever- lasting untrained kittens everywhere, it made one smile ! . . .

On October 15th, 1915, the order came from head-quarters to evacuate the town and trek for Montenegro. All was in commotion. The hospital staff at that moment consisted of two Serbian, a Macedonian and I, the British doctor- woman. Orders were given, men were hurrying here and there, bullock carts were ploughing their way into the courtyard through the mud.

We had known that the order would come.

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A WOMAN DOCTOR IN SERBIA 67

Already some weeks previously the great Military Hospital had been all but emptied of its sick and wounded, only to receive again an influx of tired and stricken men.

The officers' wives packed their personal belongings, they packed their furniture and household goods, bullock cart after bullock cart creaked its way to the station, laden with chairs and tables, pianos and beds.

There was transport for all lares et penates but — the wounded and the sick were to be left behind. There was no transport for them ! Orders from head-quarters were concise. The more slightly wounded and those who were able were bidden to make for their homesteads in the hills, or to trek to Chachak, the next garrison town.

A pitiful queue of men dragged themselves from beneath the great Red Cross into the Unknown. There was room for inanimate tables and chairs but there was no transport at all for these great homely heroes. Some started on their weary trek only to be caught by inexorable Fate which pursues stricken men in war- famished lands. Many of the poor lads must have laid down by the road-side chilled to the bone by the winds and want of food — never to rise again. Some retraced their steps and staggered up to me a few days later, shadows of men, grateful and relieved to find medical aid still procurable.

68 A WOMAN DOCTOR IN SERBIA

It is almost impossible for an insular British mind to realize the conditions and how matters stood in Uzsitsi. In an English village, under the same stress, our farmers' daughters would do their best to struggle with emergency. There is scarcely a village here where St. John Ambulance classes have not been held, our young people have some idea of First Aid work. Our people would tackle such a situation with kindly sympathy and common sense : they have been taught to think for themselves. The Serbs are a wonderful people ; but education is only just beginning to make headway and it is common to find men and women unable to read or write.

Their ideas are primitive. They have not come much into touch with the greater world. Their railways do not compare favourably with those of larger, richer countries. The women are carriers of children and tillers of the soil, books and art have no place in their lives, and in contradiction they have a poet's soul.

The wounded to be left ? Left without medical aid until the enemy entered ? And then ? . . . the world has learnt to know that nothing is sacred to German Kultur.

Our C.M.O. was a humane man. He inter- viewed a doctor who had been working for some months among the civilian population. This gentleman was the subject of a neutral

A WOMAN DOCTOR IN SERBIA 69

country. At the moment he was far from strong. He had been ill but was now conva- lescent. I had made his food and nursed him for some time to the best of my ability. It seemed a sine qua non that he, of a non-belli- gerent nation, would elect to stay, more especially since he was only convalescent and scarcely fit to travel.

The C.M.O. spoke to the man, never doubting that he would stand by the wounded.

But the doctor was married, the ties of home are strong, he hadn't come out to be killed, and since the town was in the line of the Austro- German advance, it certainly was impossible to guarantee what might happen.

Ghastly stories reached us from the zone of battle. The women and children were slaugh- tered at Shabatz, cruelties incredible had been part of the programme.

The man of the non-belligerent nation was decisive. The Germans were coming and he would depart.

For once I was glad to be a woman. Had I been a man my life would have been of value to the Empire — a very infinitesimal value, no doubt, but still the fact remains, one man one bayonet, and, with luck, one German the less.

There are times in warfare when, to save the majority of soldiers fit to fight again, the wounded and dying must be left to the mercy

70 A WOMAN DOCTOR IN SERBIA

of the foe. But I had seen those long lines of bullock carts laden with furniture — and there was no transport for the wounded.

Could I have looked the world in the face again if I left those men ? — men who even with regular attention, regular dressing, lay on the Borderland — Death on the one side — Life on the other. Many were lying where neglect would spell a future worse than Death.

What was left but to face the music and try to cope with the work as far as one unaided Doctor could ?

Major Popovitch, our C.M.O., was a tall Montenegrin with very gentle voice. Busy as he was that day, he spared time to see that my papers were in order, and just before he left, he turned to me.

" I don't like to leave you," he said. " What will Sir Ralph Paget say ? Will you change your mind ? It is not too late."

My answer was to write a short note addressed to the British Commissioner explaining that since the Serbians were ordered to evacuate the town and were leaving their sick and wounded, I considered it my duty to stay by the latter. This letter I gave to Major Popovitch and he promised to see that it reached Sir Ralph Paget's hands if ever he were able.

I did not know what had happened to all the British units which were known to be in Serbia.

fl.P

. * &,

^/^jT. /;

Document given (o Dr. Matthews by the Serbian C.M.O. at Uzsitsi. It states (in French) that Dr. Matthews stayed by her own free will to succour the wounded who were left behind by the Serbs on evacuation of the town ; that she is entitled to the rights of the Geneva Convention ; and it calls upon all in authority to aid her in all circumstances.

A WOMAN DOCTOR IN SERBIA 71

Rumour reached us that the Scottish had trekked to Montenegro and that all the Allies' Red Cross people were safely out of the country. I had no idea that a great number of doctors and sisters had chosen to remain by their patients.

CHAPTER IX

It was a peculiar position for a woman. I wondered what would happen — we are not ignorant of the peculiar methods of Kultur. But I was filled with a deep contentment, and with it came a realization of what love of one's country really means.

There are hearts which vibrate to the Call of the Wild, they smash the chains of Convention asunder, Civilization appals them, they breathe the vast atmosphere of unbeaten tracks, growing greater of soul the while. They see the Great Crossed Flag waving in the breeze from Pole to Pole, and they know it and love it as stay-at- homers cannot do.

War has come to us and the man at home has learnt that he is Britain's and Britain his, but his brother Ishmael never had to learn the lesson which was unconsciously imbibed beneath the Silence of the Stars.

Life was worth living in those days — when the wounded poured in, the sick, the frozen and the dying. I was glad I stayed ! Looking back I know it was worth it all — for what would those men have done ? Many must have died, many

72

A WOMAN DOCTOR IN SERBIA 73

did die. One was up against odds, long odds, but the little done was better than nothing done at all. I was alone ... as far as I knew the only Britisher in Serbia. Alone in a strange country without a single friend with whom to speak. It was the complete isolation which made the situation so quaint. I never dreamt that the peasants themselves would stand aloof, but previous to the Austro-German occupation not a woman called, save the sick and needy. They knew an English woman doctor had remained behind and that I was alone. I re- membered how the peasant women in Calabria had come to the only woman, working with the soldiers, and served her in many little ways, they found and gave her of their little. We must, however, remember that the Serbians are not unintelligent — and they knew, that to the War Lord's legions, the sight of a Britisher is like a red rag to a bull !

Perhaps they not only realized that discretion is the better part of valour, but they may have thought that since I had stayed by my own free will I might be left to get out of the scrape as best I might.

The Military Hospital was situated some little distance outside the village. In the event of being fired upon, or things going badly, when the Austrians came, it seemed wiser to remove the patients to the Civil Hospital, a ramshackle

74 A WOMAN DOCTOR IN SERBIA

building in I he heart of the little town. It was a wretched place, incredibly behind the times. The lack of sanitary measures was indescribable. Nursing arrangements, as managed by a couple of peasants and an untrained orderly (Bol- nitza), were extremely primitive.

There were a few drugs, plenty of corrosive sublimate, for the rest — practically everything that would not be needed, but luckily there was my English R.A.M.C. pattern Tabloid Case on which to rely. I took a fair supply of cotton- wool from the Military Hospital. This, together with the compressed gauze, bandages and wool which I had taken out from England, constituted my stock-in-trade. Of instruments I had my own and the Serbians left a very fair supply.

Cockroaches have always been my bugbear. There at Uzsitsi they invaded every room, they invaded the food, they crawled here and paddled about there. The little brown ones flew to the light, flew over the room, flew into one's hair. They creeped between one's blankets, they tickled one's feet, they bit. It was no use being fastidious. They were all over the saucepans, they ran over the plates, they slept in the mugs.

One had to eat — or starve, and whether or no there was very little food at all. At first I made attempts always to wash my plate, but such precautions were of no avail.

There is a side to travelling on the vessels

A WOMAN DOCTOR IN SERBIA 75

which ply the Syrian coasts which used to cause me hours of distress and moments of horror and pathos, but when beetles and beasties of that ilk ran over my blankets and bit my face and flavoured my food in Serbia I sometimes smiled when I thought of the acute physical suffering it really had once meant. Custom teaches a man to be content under strange conditions.

A large barrel of water stood by the kitchen door, often its contents were covered with ice and underneath lay the drowned bodies of various forms of insectivorse.

Costa was a broad-shouldered son of the soil. He wore the national costume, which well became him — a suit of heavy, coarse, brown cloth, trimmed with black braid, with wonder- fully knitted socks of many colours and sandals with their narrow straps which were twisted several times a little higher than the ankle. He stood well over six feet, a fine physique, well proportioned, but one had only to look at the poor fellow's face. It told its own tale — of a pathological heart preventing the man from taking part in any strenuous work which might call for endurance and task the strength of the strong. I have never met a better-hearted fellow than this great Serb. On the Bosnian Frontier the people seemed a different breed from the Serb whom I had learnt to love, there was a different atmosphere. It often cheered one's

76 A WOMAN DOCTOR IN SERBIA

soul to see Costa with his great rough hands trying with all the force of his big humane nature to be gentle with the fractured limb. It was Costa who slept in a ward and who would rush for me at night and then we would fight together over some poor wreck of a fellow with the waiting Angel of Death. Very, very often I could not regret that we were vanquished, that a brave soldier went to his rest, under such appalling conditions ; with the dark future looming ahead one could not wish their lives to be prolonged. It was Costa who was always willing, who did what he could, who helped me all he knew how.

Pero was the water-carrier and wood-hewer, incidentally nurse and orderly. A strange old man who, when he heard that his brother was forced to work in the bullock transport service for the Austro-Germans, wept like a child for many days. There was something dignified in his grief, as standing, shame-faced, he half turned his back, his head bowed.

It was a speaking picture of unadulterated peasant grief !

After a few moments we would see his shoulders heave and not all the most persuasive words, not all the most ingenuous comfort, served to cheer his saddened heart. Pero played his part, when the time came, with more courage than I could have expected, but with

A WOMAN DOCTOR IN SERBIA 77

an ignorance and touch of callous indifference very typical of those who have seen so little of the lighter side of life, to whom death is an everyday fact.

There were other people who seemed to make the hospital their home. What they were doing I could not imagine. They would not go, and as they were harmless and did odd jobs — if they fancied the doing — they stayed.

Milan was the man who had been left behind as my right hand. He was a soldier who, having been ill, had drifted into the ranks of Bolnitzas (equivalent to untrained orderlies). He had worked in hospitals for some time and had an indefinite idea of what was required. He was accustomed to cleaning instruments and could speak German as fluently as Serbian. One day I met Costa leaving the hospital with a great parcel under his arm. His furtive looks betrayed him.

What prompted me to stop the man and question as to the contents of his burden ? It just seemed to be one of the things that had to be done, nor did I expect anything but some simple answer.

Milan came, Michel came, Angela and her satellites came and they all gathered round. Such a clatter and a fuss, but as I did not under- stand it did not matter what they said.

It was evident that there was trouble in the wind.

78 A WOMAN DOCTOR IN SERBIA

Milan showed his teeth, thrust out his jaw, and made himself nasty. A quick temper is sometimes desirable, but under conditions similar to those described, when pandemonium reigns amongst ignorant, vulgar people, then it is time to exercise self-command and playing them as puppets make yourself their master.

I was one, and they were many. There was no one to enforce obedience to my will — except myself. They were angry beyond measure, for they saw fading from their grasp a sum of money which meant riches in their eyes.

I undid the parcel.

There were pounds' worth of surgical instru- ments, each one clean and bright and neatly folded up in paper. Costa's intelligence never could have risen to such packing !

It was Milan with whom I had to deal ! That fact was evident.

Of course, he was ready with a tale of lies. Since I had caught Costa at the front door, on his way to the village, it was estimating my intelligence at a very low par to inform me that he was then on his way to my room in order to give me the instruments. Of course, there was no attempt to explain why they were so carefully packed !

I took the matter in hand — straight. Told Milan not to weary his imagination, told him he would have very little chance of thieving again,

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and made him there and then bring every single instrument in the place to my room.

Costa explained matters later. He had been told to take the packet to some man in the town — a shopkeeper, to whom Milan had sold the instruments — many of them my own, which I had brought out from England ! However, the Bolnitza and his friend were done out of their golden egg and I had enemies within the camp.

My room was a curious place. I wanted it cleaned and the women brushed it out, but the use of soap and water was not comprehensible to them. I was offered a bed — straw which had seen much service, putrid and filthy from many discharges. There was a long low seat in the room made of boards — I took that as my sleeping-place. It could be washed ! For nearly four months I never knew the luxury of a straw- filled mattress, and it was not easy to smile when the boards were hard ! There was no basin to wash in, but on the walls hung a metal box, in it a little water which dribbled slowly through a tap into a very filthy tray attached to the contrivance.

One's ablutions had to be made according to possibilities. I hunted for a bucket. The only two to be found were those used for the soiled dressings in the operating theatre. Every day I combed my hair and brushed it with a solution of corrosive sublimate, at first, when we had it,

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with lysol ridiculously inadequate, and the only thing to be done was to face what was and eat. At first it gave one a feeling of nausea, but habit is second nature. If one is unable to adapt one- self to circumstances my advice to all women — is to keep from the war zone.

Angela was a typical, fat, kindly Serbian peasant. She did the cooking and never once did I ever see a clean, or even fairly clean, rag in her hands. A small filthy piece of roughly made towelling was generally tucked round her portly waist and on it she wiped her large greasy hands or the half-washed plates. Sometimes she had another use for it. The peasants do not carry and rarely use a handkerchief.

CHAPTER X

For the first few days after the " Militaire " had left, the little operating theatre used to be full to overflowing. I call it " theatre," but do not compare it with such as we have in civilized hospitals. Still, I have seen worse, for there was an old-fashioned operating-table, a wash- stand and cupboard. It was the only place in which to do dressings. The soldiers, worn and weary, came into the hall, one helped the other into the little theatre.

When would the Germans come ? One said ' To-morrow," another said " Not for a week," but no one knew anything for certain. We only knew that the Enemy would come !

It was my great desire to get all the wounded away who were capable of going. As the slighter cases were dressed they started on their tramp to Chachak, those who had friends made for the homesteads in the mountains.

Milan soon showed his true colours. Working day and night did not please him. The man grew impertinent and rude. I settled the question and forbade him to enter the theatre. Then things went along more smoothly. The

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wounded helped each other. The man who had had his wound dressed gave chloroform to a comrade in a worse plight. When an operation had to be done the fellows cleared out into the yard and patiently awaited their turn. Every- one was brave, everyone unselfish. It was splendid to see those Serbs. They were a different type from the people in the village ; they were the men I knew the Serbians to be — simple and honest, brave and courteous.

There was no time for meals. Angela would pop her head in at the door and hand in a basin of coffee or soup and a slice of black bread.

One dared not pause to realize the work to be faced. It was impossible for one pair of hands to do everything, one just had to dress and dress the cases, until one acted almost automatically.

Then one day there were fewer out-patients, and on the next none at all, and I wondered whether they would get a good start or if they would be captured on their way. There was plenty to be done. Some of the patients were in a desperate condition. The abdominal cases for the most part I left almost to nature, they died or managed — (a very small percentage) — to survive. It was not lack of will, but some- thing had to be left, and abdominal operations, done under such circumstances, without the necessary nursing were almost certain to be a

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failure. Leg cases greatly preponderated over others. One man had half his foot blown off by a dum-dum bullet. Several lads lay on the hard, unyielding, lumpy straw with compound frac- tures of the femur, refusing amputation yet in such a septic condition as to prelude the one inevitable end.

Life was worth living in those days f I dared not realize the overwhelming quantity of work, dared not face the things left undone because there was neither means nor time to do them — and yet men's lives depended on the doing. I could only just do what I could, and then, when sheer fatigue became one's master, sleep as best I could, knowing a man can only play his own part in the battle.

Food got very scarce. They were good days when we were able to give a little loaf to each sick man. It was black bread and dirty, and its nutrient properties infinitesimal, but, such as it was, it was the staple food. Angela, the fat Serbian woman, when she brought me my breacT and soup would kiss the former — her fat and none too cleanly lips smacking it with gusto. I would have preferred an unkissed piece, but it seemed a kind of almost sacred ceremonial with the woman, and remembering the veneration of the country folks in Palestine with regard to bread, one could not hurt her feelings. It was quaint to see Costa accept an apple. " Falla,

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Doctor " (thank you), and the great fellow would kiss it as simply as any child.

The dead lay in an outhouse. I had given orders for their burial as each one passed away. But it was no one's business to bury the men. I did what I could short of going and seeing that the graves were dug. Unmourncd and unburied they lay there, the rats scuttled away as I entered . . . the atmosphere around about told its own awful story.

We could not have held out much longer. In the town diphtheria was raging, there was scarcely one single house without the dreaded white flag hanging from the window (sign of death). Here and there one saw a black flag — the signal of a death from typhus. The women brought the children to me, but it was all a very hopeless business. The local apotaker's little stock of serum was very soon exhausted. There were children dying all around, but I could not cut myself into several people--and my first duty 4ay to the wounded.

One did one's best those days and did not pause to think of all that still was needed.

The little town looked deserted. All the better-class farmers had left. Tales drifted in from the villages beyond the valley, tales of the enemy's brutal deeds, tales of the suffering of the Serbs. Then many of the inhabitants were to be seen no more. Houses were locked up, shutters

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nailed into place and the streets looked deserted. The peasants no longer came down from the hills, bullock carts no longer rumbled along the roads. One day two women were brought in, both suffering from gunshot wounds. One was hit in the arm, the other in the thigh, and the shots had apparently been fired from fairly close quarters. The woman with the hip- wound showed wonderful pluck. She would not take chloroform and was a perfect stoic when I cut down and extracted the bullet. As I put the last turn to the bandages and said a cheering word in recognition of her fortitude, she seized my hand and kissed it, in gratitude, forgetful of her pain.

I did not know much Serbian, and for long explanations was dependent on Milan, whose German was curiously perfect.

As far as I could gather from these patients they had been fired upon by a man when some little distance from the town.

As the women were taken into a ward Milan further explained that they were coming in to market and were a mile or so away, when they heard a shot and a peasant who was some yards in front of them fell — hit by an unseen shooter.

They ran to help him, and in their turn were fired upon — the one as she went after the other, just as they reached the man.

Other peasants appeared, but anyone who

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attempted to move towards the wounded man immediately received attention from the hidden sniper. None had dared to go, as he lay in the road, moaning at long intervals.

// is well to have a temper. Milan saw a little of mine that day !

Why had he not told me at once, and why had he not gone to help the man ? As long as he thought I would force him to accompany me this rabbit-hearted Bolnitza refused to tell, he said he didn't know where the tragedy had taken place.

However, when I bade him attend to some work in the hospital he condescended to tell me the direction. Then the women, when they understood my determination, tried forcibly to detain me.

I am a pretty good walker, but the strain and the want of nourishment were beginning to tell. I climbed the hills that day hurriedly and out of breath.

I had passed the stream, passed the bridge, and was away out in the country. I wondered if I had mistaken the place when I saw something lying on the road — the body of a man. The place was apparently deserted — but I remem- bered the unseen sniper. The two women and others had reached the man safely. The worst of it was I did not know from which side the shots had come. The road wound up the hill — to the

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right, above, were bushes, thick enough to hide many men, below to the left were bushes and rocks — the murderer might be on either side.

The women had been coming towards the town ; I had left it behind me. The one had been wounded in her right arm, the other — and the shot apparently from much closer quarters — in her left hip.

From these factors Sherlock Holmes might have deducted the precise spot where crouched the shooter.

For my part I could make no deduction at all. There is only one thing to be done under such circumstances and that is — take one's chance.

To try and cover both sides of the road — to keep a look-out all round would very likely end in being sniped. From their wounds I judged that the women had probably been fired on from above. The sharpshooter might have changed his hiding-place, and it was a toss up as to the side in which danger lay, but, at any rate, I determined to keep a close look-out on the right side and take my chance from the left !

If anyone could see me I took care that he could see I was armed — and on the qui vive.

Nothing happened.

I reached the body which lay on the road. The man had evidently fallen on his face and had then turned half round, perhaps he had tried to rise. He was dead when I found him, and there

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wire several wounds. Not for a moment did I relax my vigilance — it was a long lonely stretch of road and the sun was casting its last rays of reddish orange over the grey hill-tops in the distance. There was nothing more to be done. I had come too late. As I turned to go a bullock waggon came round the corner in the distance and I waited. The driver was a stolid, cross- grained old man, nothing appeared to surprise him. I went to meet him and told him he must bring the body into the village on his waggon : it seemed too ghastly to leave it there, alone, with night closing in. The great beasts splashed their way through the mud. We stopped near the murdered man.

As my new friend stooped to see if he could recognize the fellow a shot whizzed over our heads, far enough out of range. In spite of any precautions I was taken by surprise and had not the vaguest idea of the direction from which it came. All the same, it was well to teach our unseen foe a lesson and I fired two shots in succession, aiming at random. The owner of the cart scrambled to his cattle, taking what cover he could. Two or three shots quickly followed mine. They seemed to come from a certain clump of bushes and I retaliated, hoping for luck. Then there was silence — and the gloom of the evening descended like a pall.

The old farmer came out of his shelter, looking

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fearfully around. Together we lifted the body on to the cart.

We were not going to leave the place without making an attempt to bring the fellow to book whoever he might be. The old Serb played the game.

With far more agility than one would have expected from his appearance he sprang up the hill-side. I followed. Once I thought there was something moving to the left and fired. We reached the bushes, but if anyone had been sheltered there they had moved away. I glanced round, it was getting too dark to be pleasant. The peasant's eyes in spite of his age were quicker than mine, he stooped down — and handed me a cartridge-case.

Later, closer inspection showed it to be Turkish, and a bullet extracted from the murdered man exactly fitted it.

I was never able to get the right end of this story. The peasants all gave different versions. One and all agreed that the deed had been done by a Serb, a neighbour, out of revenge. It was not the only case of violence and murder which occurred in the district during those days before the German advance.

The woman with the wounded arm left soon after, preferring to risk the pain and difficulty of a neglected injury to facing the trouble which might arise in the village in the enemy's hands.

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Her friend could not be moved — for some days her life hung in the balance, but gradually, in what would seem an incredibly short space of time to a general practitioner in an English practice, the inflammation subsided, her tempera- ture fell and the woman was out of danger. She was grateful and had a wonderfully brave patient spirit. We became good friends. The day before the enemy entered she determined to leave. It was a dangerous business — and I could not answer for the result of a long trek up to her little homestead. Still, there was no knowing what evils might be in store for those of us who remained in the village and so one could scarcely persuade her to stay. Neither bullock cart nor beast of any description could be got to convey her, and she left leaning on the arm of a friend, with a parcel of bandages and dressings and a word of hearty goodwill.

CHAPTER XI

The army of the Central Powers entered about the end of October.

A woman rushed into the ward.

" The Patrol ! " she gasped.

No need to ask which !

I ran to my room, slipped my pistol into my breeches pocket, a second magazine ready in the other and went back to my patients. It was a weird time. A man told me 500 men had entered and were going from street to street and house to house.

There were peremptory knocks on the door.

I signed to Costa — he didn't look very happy, but with Angela peering over his shoulder he very reluctantly opened it.

Several Austrian soldiers marched into the building, bayonets fixed. Then an officer came in.

This was my first experience of the enemy and I wondered why I was not frightened.

Meanwhile Costa was being cross-questioned. I went out to them.

There was silence. The officer looked at me as if he did not believe the evidence of his own senses, then he saluted.

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'* Are you the English officer who is in com- mand ? " he asked courteously.

I told him ii was so.

lie bowed again, saluting, and held out his hand, introducing himself.

He had certainly not expected to sec a British woman, though he had learnt that an English doctor had been left in charge.

I shook hands. He was a well-bred man and behaved as if we had met under very different circumstances.

Then we came to business.

" How many British soldiers had I in the place ? How many Serb ? What guns, ammu- nition, etc.? "

I explained that I was the only Britisher in the town, that the only soldiers I had were wounded, he might search the place but would find no weapons, that I was a non-combatant and working under the Red Cross.

Then I insisted that he should accompany me into one of the wards (his men were already rampaging round the hospital) and I took him to one or two of my Hungarian patients.

When the town was evacuated we had several Hungarians and Roumanian wounded — they happened too to be some of the most serious cases. I put them among the Serbs, thinking that by their presence they might prove some safeguard to the former. None of us could

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understand them, but they were grateful for all I did and bore their pain and great discomfort with heroism not second to that of the Serbs themselves.

Before the officer went he gave me certain orders. I was to see that the people were all in their houses before six o'clock in the evenings. If a shot should be fired or if anyone should interfere with the soldiers, then the whole village would have to pay the penalty !

I wondered whether any revengeful heart lurked behind the apparently closed bars and shutters of the deserted homes !

There were a few more bows and salutes and the soldiers filed out.

Well, so far things seemed quiet enough, and certainly it was a very interesting experience — but what would the future bring ?

The next day the main army entered. During the morning a peasant woman caught me by my coat as I went into a ward. Her boy was ill, his leg was injured — would I go with her to see him ? How many of those calls I used to get ! Calls which I could not answer. If a patient could not come to me, very often it was im- possible to find the time to make my way to them. I told the mother she must bring the lad to me — or wait. She was determined. With tears streaming down her face she button-holed me on my way to the operating theatre. When

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Angela broughl me some coffee her face appeared

round the door, " Oh, doctor, doctor, come. He will surely die ! "

One could bear it no longer. There were a hundred and fifty things to be done — but late in the afternoon I determined to go. The toes I was to have amputated must take their chance till the morrow, a couple of the serious cases must go undressed — unless they could be managed later. Milan had disappeared. Costa would do his ignorant best. However, if the lad's life was in the balance, and his home lay just across the village, I could not refuse the mother's piteous entreaties. I could only do the next thing which lay to hand. It would have made me desperate to pause and think of all the things which I was forced by circumstances to leave undone.

The house was not far. The room was neat and clean, and there were even luxuries — luxuries for Serbia — cushions and a proper bedstead showed that the people were fairly well-to-do for that part of the world.

In the low sunny room a lad of fifteen, partially dressed, lay on the bed propped up with many pillows — great fat pillows filled with feathers, not with the usual straw. Besides, these were covered with hand-made linen much be- worked.

A tubercular knee — of some months' standing

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— this was the urgent case ! Work was waiting at the hospital, the doing of which meant relief to the sufferers. This lad had been seen by the Serbian C.M.O. before he left and the mother had not been content with the diagnosis.

In her love for the child the woman had been utterly callous of the needs of others.

The disease might have yielded to treatment — - in England. Such a course was utterly out of the question under the conditions. I told the woman she must bring him to hospital. But she knew better than I. The child only needed medicine to cure it. I gave her some iodine and left the house — washing my hands of the business.

Cavalry was swinging down the main street. The whole village was full of Austro-German troops.

I hastened along — annoyed that I had left my post, hoping nothing had occurred during my absence.

It was near the time of sunset, and the glorious rich bright light threw up in strong relief the mounted men as they came down the mountain side. Infantry, cavalry, artillery — right away in the distance one could see columns streaming down the track.

I passed along, walking as quickly as I could without appearing to be unnecessarily hurried. The officers regarded me curiously.

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The young man's courtesy when the patrol called had given me a hopeful impression, but some of these officers, evidently of high rank, were of a different calibre. The looks I received arc hard to define. It was not an enemy's contempt of his foe. There was something fiendish, something horribly suggestive of the most evil side of human character in the bold looks directed at me. The evil was so real, so vivid as to feel almost like a blow in my face, and, as if after a blow, I felt sick and stunned.

I scuttled to my quarters with the instinct of a sorely wounded animal. My brain felt numbed — frozen. I began to realize what I had done ! / had of my own free will elected to face the enemy !

The penalty might be no sinecure !

One cannot live a life full of changing pictures, full of varied human interest, without it becom- ing second nature to analyse the facial expres- sions of strangers in the street.

I have seen evil spirits look out from men's eyes, I have seen the fire of a hundred raging storms, seen the cunning of the red-stained hand, the snarling threat of the cad at bay — matched, checked and outwitted ! I have seen the desire for human blood — my blood, and the lust of a human which makes man lower than the beasts, but I had never met before such peculiarly fiendish expressions of absolute hatred

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as were directed towards me by those Teutonic officers.

Thank God it is generally given to our sisters and mothers to walk on paths where the love and tenderness of stronger arms shield and cherish them, and see their garments never reach the mud.

There is beauty in life, look where we will, if man desires to see it, but there is so much of the seamy side, so much of what is sordid, that often enough all that is lovely is hidden from view. A thousand voices may deny this fact, deny it because they have only seen one side or even many sides, but not all sides of life's picture.

In many a strange experience, in the unbeaten paths of little-known lands, among peoples still without the fetters civilization has placed on ourselves, never once have I seen such souls look out from the human countenance !

I was face to face, for the first time in my life, with the undisguised, unbalanced German hatred of my race. The uniforms with which I was to become familiar were more or less strange to me that day, but of one thing I felt sure, those officers were surely not servants of the Dual Monarchy. (In those days I still had to learn how German Kultur has pervaded the Austrian character.)

When I tucked my Hungarian patients up that night I told them of the incident, and

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.1. scribed the uniforms, and then learnt for a fad that which 1 had intuitively surmised^ — those men from whose eyes (lashed something loath- some, whose souls looked out with such curious, evil, unadulterated hatred, were " Schwabe " officers. Like a flashlight on a picture it made all things comprehensible.

Early next morning I went to the gymnasium, which the enemy had turned into their head- quarters, and demanded to see the Hungarian Commander. I was taken to the Oberst, a middle-aged Hungarian. I explained that I had been left in charge of the wounded and sick and showed the papers which Major Popovitch had given me, pointing out at the same time that I was his prisoner and that I claimed all the rights endorsed by the Geneva Convention.

Also I reported the existence of several wounded, erstwhile prisoners of the Serbs, Hungarians, Magyars and Roumanians, who had fallen into my hands with the wounded Slavs, and I did not think it would improve my prospects with the enemy if one of them should die before their presence was made known to the right official.

Later on, the Hungarian C.M.O., Dr. Elk, came to the hospital. He seemed to be a favourite among his fellows. The great difficulty we experienced was an inability to understand each other. Hungarian was his native language.

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I did not know a single word. He spoke what he was pleased to call " German," but his speech was so disguised by dialectic accent that even short sentences were almost unintelligible to me. He understood fairly well what I said, but this very fact aggravated him, the more when he found that his words were almost incompre- hensible to me ! Nevertheless, he was a good fellow and by no means disposed to look un- kindly upon the one odd Britisher.

He showed his appreciation of what I had done for his fellow-countrymen. He realized that I had done what I could and that they had shared the same as the Serbians. No difference had been made, though both foe and friend had known what it was to be hungry, what it was to suffer unspeakable agony — suffering intensified by the need of adequate nursing.

Dr. Elk was courteous and suave. He thanked me in the name of his compatriots and asked if I would stay and help them for three or four weeks, promising at the end of that time to send me back to England.

By the C.M.O.'s orders meals were sent in daily to the Hungarians, and twice a day an Austrian sergeant brought me my rations from the officers' mess. It was a vast improvement. The food was plain but good enough both in quality and quantity. Besides, there was enough for one or two of the worst wounded to share, and

L i

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t ho glass of Rhenish wine was a great boon to some of the stricken men. Besides, the Serbian rations which would otherwise have been doled out to the Hungarians now were shared by the other men in their wards. They had got on well enough, enemy and foe, as they lay and suffered there, companions in misfortune.

On the second day of the occupation I wanted to speak to the " Apotaker." His wife was in the dusty, musty little shop trying to supply various peasants with their needs, flustering here and there, too excited to measure out the powder in her hand. The woman looked haggard and scared. The night before her husband had been taken to the school. All the men of the village had been marshalled there and she had not seen him since. The women had not dared to inter- fere, nor had they attempted to find out what was in progress.

Now, it was very necessary for me to consult the man, and, besides, the idea of all the men having been taken away, the women and children left unprotected, did not lead to a feeling of security. We have heard too often from Belgium of such measures — and their sequelae.

I determined to see for myself, and if there should be foul play one or two Germans at least should " cross over " with the Serbs — just as many as I might have time to send. I went to the place, passing beneath the curious looks

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of the blue-coated men who swarmed here, there and everywhere. The enemy were bivou- acking in the large market-square. And in the vicinity were drawn up deep lines of Serbians, old men and young boys. The majority looked sullen, but while their eyes alone told of an inward fear, their demeanour was utterly non- chalant. I did not recognize the Apotaker and was passing along, as close to their ranks as I dared, when I heard his voice speaking very low.

" Be quick. Take no notice. Get back to hospital ! "

I passed on obediently, not daring to turn my head lest the wrath of the guard should be aroused. It went horribly against the grain to leave those furrowed, anxious faces, but to stay might have only precipitated matters.

I did not return at once to the hospital. I went to the man's wife and tried to reassure her. The house was nearer to the square than the ram- shackle place from which hung the Red Cross flag. The whole time my ears were on the alert, presently I feared there might be firing and . . . but that day passed quietly.

For three nights and days the men were kept prisoners. I never learnt what was said or done to them, but from that moment the spirit of the little community, without leaders to help them, was definitely broken.

If a Serb had been asked to lie down in the

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road and be trampled upon, the mere request from a soldier would have sufficed. He would have done so, at that time, without any demur.

One day a woman came to me crying bitterly. Soldiers had entered her home late one evening. They had been friendly enough for a while and had started to play with one of her children — a little girl aged about ten. Later, the fellows took the child away and she had not come back.

Hers was not the first case which came to my knowledge, but peasant girls in that district were not conspicuous for modesty. Later on, when I was thrown into the police cell at Belgrade, I found there two little girls, thirteen and ten, and one a few years older who had followed the army of their own free will and had been left stranded.

Nevertheless, I knew that children were enticed from their homes, sometimes they re- turned the next day, sometimes they were not seen again.

I laid a formal complaint before the Hungarian Kommando.

" If the peasants could bring a definite charge against a particular soldier that man should be punished." This was the gist of that official's answer.

But how was the distraught mother to differ- entiate between one uniformed figure and

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another ? And if she did, she could not identify him among the hosts of his fellows.

To interfere with a soldier was to be shot — at sight. This intimation was posted with a number of other regulations, in the form of a notice, on the walls of the town.

The women had no redress. Meanwhile the Kaiser's soldiers had to be fed with all the best before either the Serbian sick or the Serbian children might have their daily rations. Often there was no bread, and all that I could give my poor friends was a little soup, and perhaps with luck some beans.

One day the C.M.O. came and he did not send his men away empty-handed. Of the large quantity of Red Cross supplies and woollen blankets sent to Serbia by France and England, a few had drifted even so far as this little frontier hospital. They were British blankets, some still retaining an originally white appearance, some were discoloured and stained, but they were all good fleecy ones. It made one furiously indignant to see those blankets seized by the Austrians, the Serbian wounded simply left without cover- ing at all, and with the exception of a few very aged rags the whole consignment carted off to the buildings which were hastily being im- provised into hospitals beneath the black and yellow flag.

For a month I worked with Dr. Elk, then he

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was ordered to the front, and another C.M.O. came in his place.

Then trouble loomed.

This new man had his prejudices. I think he must have sung the " Hymn of Hate " when lying in his cradle. He was a coward and a bully.

What that man was by nature — that to which he had allowed himself gradually to become, was written on the ill-formed features of his face.

In the Germans' intense hatred for the British Empire lies a tiny film of patriotism. They are jealous of our Greatness, jealous for their Father- land. But Dr. Goldener's ingrained hatred of our nation and of all things pertaining to it, was secondary in his selfish nature to all that per- tained solely and wholly to himself.

I was a woman, albeit an Englishwoman, and, with the exception of the peasants, there were no others in the place. His methods were worthy of the man. My rations had not been sent for a few days, and food had become a matter of difficulty. Dr. Goldencr rectified the trouble instantly, in several ways. He busied himself in seeing to my comfort.

For months past it had been impossible to get leather. I had the boots I stood in, and not only were no others procurable, but the old ones could not be patched. Even before I left Valjevo a man who had previously made me a

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most serviceable pair had been unable to repeat the order. Leather was not to be got for money.

Now my riding -boots had seen extremely heavy wear since the early days of summer — and were showing the result of hard service.

There came a day when one could not be worn without too great discomfort. However, it was war and I made the best of things, hopping about in a pair of native sandals.

The new C.M.O. found it necessary to make frequent calls with regard to my footwear ! His servant was sent off with the riding-boots and a capital job the Austrian repairer made of them. Then the doctor was obliged to see them on, to feel if they fitted well, and so on, and so on.

He would call in the evening and sit in my room— studying the great map one of the Scottish had given me — a capital map of the Balkan States, printed in Germany, which, bought in Salonica, had, in happier days, graced the dining-tent of the S.W.H. Great was the wailing when it disappeared — a gift to their guest by the Head of the Laundry — the erst- while owner of the treasure.

One day the C.M.O. told me that Serbia had fallen, that all the nation held was a little bit of country parallel to Albania.

The officer of the Kaiser might be telling the truth — of course, it was possible, but that Serbia

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was losl ? It seemed incredible. What had become of the brave lads I had seen on their way to the front ?

Serbia lost ? In so short a time ? I felt that the man spoke the truth but could not grasp its import.

I asked if many English had been taken, but he assured me that I was the only Britisher in Serbia !

All the various units, so he told me, had trekked for Albania or Montenegro. Once he said that some of their regiments had passed through Valjevo, that Kragujcvatz had fallen into their hands, that Skopye and Nish were theirs — there remained to the Serbian people only that territory near the Albanian frontier from Sjenica, Novibazar, Mitrovitza, Prishtina. They still held Prishtina and Monastir. Taking my map he drew a pencilled line — and left me to digest the news.

The next day I saw the Oberst who corrobor- ated this, more especially did they persist in the statement that I was the only British prisoner taken by the Central Powers in Serbia.

Evidently a lie with intention !

Since Dr. Elk left there had been very little said about my returning to England. At first I had hoped that the Austro-Germanic occupa- tion of Uzsitsi would only be a temporary affair, now I began to realize that to get into the enemy's hands is easier than to get out of them.

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It was disheartening news, but, knowing that the veracity of the enemy is not always to be trusted, I hoped against hope.

I was told by more than one officer of the Central Powers that there was little done to harass them on their advance throughout Serbia. Personally I cannot give an opinion. I know that iron bridges were destroyed in face of the Austrian advance twelve months previously, but the wooden erections built to take their place by the Serbs were left intact during those dark days of 1915.

At the railways and at various depots a large number of shells and ammunition were left. The Germans came in for a very good haul. Some of the stacks of shells I saw myself.

At Uzsitsi railway station there were trucks and coal ready for the enemy; in some towns, so they told me, the engines were in the station coaled and ready. Perhaps the Serbians were dis- heartened. There can be no question of their extraordinary courage : their faithfulness to their ideal, to the nation, to their race, has been proved during a period of almost half a thousand years. They never thought that they would have to stand alone — their talcs of the one hundred thousand Germans massing on the northern frontier were discredited by the Allied Powers.

When the storm broke — Serbia was stunned.

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The one hundred thousand Germans crossed the northern frontier right enough, but where were the British troops ? Where the army of the French Republic ? Austrians poured across the west, Bulgars pressed them on the east — the Huns came down like a mailed fist.

" The Germans ! "

They were an enemy of untried quality. The little State, worn out with a series of hard- fought wars — wars for freedom — almost blotted out by the ravages of fever — was standing up against the greatest military power of Europe — was up against a machine-made, war-infected, iron-governed enemy, an enemy fighting hand- in-hand, striking at the same moment with Serbia's own old personal foes — the Austrian, Hungarian and Bulgar.

CHAPTER XII

According to the enemy I was the only Britisher they had seized in Serbia. It took me a little time to digest the fact, and, curiously enough, I believed it to be the truth. I knew that the Scottish units both at Mladinovatz and at Valjevo had been prepared to evacuate at a moment's notice. What more likely than that they had escaped and reached a neutral or a friendly country ?

I shall never feel a nonentity again ! With the knowledge that I was the only British prisoner of war, at least in that area, with the realization of all that this meant — alone in the hands of the Central Powers' — came also another thought. I am English. A very insignificant unit of the Empire — but I was all there was of it out there ! I stood for England, Scotland and Ireland and the Dominions beyond the Seas !

People have often said, since my return to the dear old Homeland, " Were you not frightened ? " " I don't know how you pulled through it."

Well, I think it was this realization of my nationality that upheld me. Fear ? One could

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The one hundred thousand Germans crossed the northern frontier right enough, but where were the British troops ? Where the army of the French Republic ? Austrians poured across the west, Bulgars pressed them on the east — the Huns came down like a mailed fist.

" The Germans ! "

They were an enemy of untried quality. The little State, worn out with a series of hard- fought wars — wars for freedom — almost blotted out by the ravages of fever — was standing up against the greatest military power of Europe — was up against a machine-made, war-infected, iron-governed enemy, an enemy fighting hand- in-hand, striking at the same moment with Serbia's own old personal foes — the Austrian, Hungarian and Bulgar.

CHAPTER XII

According to the enemy I was the only Britisher they had seized in Serbia. It took me a little time to digest the fact, and, curiously enough, I believed it to be the truth. I knew that the Scottish units both at Mladinovatz and at Valjevo had been prepared to evacuate at a moment's notice. What more likely than that they had escaped and reached a neutral or a friendly country ?

I shall never feel a nonentity again ! With the knowledge that I was the only British prisoner of war, at least in that area, with the realization of all that this meant — alone in the hands of the Central Powers' — came also another thought. I am English. A very insignificant unit of the Empire — but I was all there was of it out there I I stood for England, Scotland and Ireland and the Dominions beyond the Seas !

People have often said, since my return to the dear old Homeland, " Were you not frightened ? " " I don't know how you pulled through it."

Well, I think it was this realization of my nationality that upheld me. Fear ? One could

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not show the white feather to Britain's foe. Afraid of the enemy who would tear down our Bag — by foul means, when they cannot by fair play ? A thousand times — No !

To some of us who have heard the " Call of the Wild," who have chummed with strange peoples, and walked along untrodden paths and seen the glory of the Infinite untouched by man, to us is given the real valuation of the British Flag. We have learnt what the Empire means and our love for our King is a very real and a personal matter.

Dr. Goldencr tried in every way to show him- self in a pleasant light, but he was one of those men whose character is written on his face. Moreover, those qualities which we have come to associate with the Germanic mind were very prominent in his nature. He was a coward and a bully, a man whose lower nature governed his life, whose germ of the higher Self, which is inherent in every human being, even the worst, had never been allowed to grow, base thoughts and animal propensities had hopelessly checked its finer development. This was the man with whom as the C.M.O. I was bound to come in almost daily contact, under whose direction the prisoner doctor had to work.

Milan, the Bolnitza whom I have mentioned, was a thoroughgoing rascal. He was a Serbian soldier. I had destroyed his uniform and sworn

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that he was a peasant lad, that I had no able- bodied soldiers in the hospital.

The first day, when the patrol came, we had been ordered to give up all arms and ammunition under pain of death. The next day notices were posted about the town that anyone found with a knife, rifle, revolver, any firearm or weapon, would be shot at sight (as usual) — and, as well as the culprit, all the people in the house would suffer the same penalty — men, women and children !

Now, my pistol— a Salvage automatic — was in my pocket when I showed the patrol round. I had taken it to Serbia for self-defence, not to give quietly up to the Germans as a kind of free gift for them to use upon our friends.

When the enemy came it seemed like a friend, a very trusty one at that. At any moment I knew they might see red, the once peaceful little village might be the scene of brutal slaughter — and, if that should happen, what could one do better than to die, accounting for as many of the Kaiser's men as Fate in her kindness might permit ?

As days went on I knew that I was carrying my life literally in my hand. In those days I slept in my shirt and breeches, it was impossible to know when soldiers might enter my room, when the C.M.O. might come with some pretext. The pistol never left my pocket. Day or night it was there — and often enough the mere fact

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gave me a vast feeling of security. The C.M.O. was not a pleasant gentleman to tackle — but to my hand lay the key which could open the rrate — if the worst came to the worst. Sometimes my fingers ached — and the gate was almost pressed open. Many a time that man stood nearer the precipice than ever he had a suspicion.

All the same, I knew, if it were found, it was not I alone who would suffer. The obvious device was to get rid of it.

But an automatic Salvage — a -38 calibre — is not a thing which one can easily hide. It was impossible to bury it. There were soldiers every- where, someone would sec me.

With the exception of Costa there was not a Serb I could trust. There may have been fine men and good in the village, but they had kept out of my way and it was very obvious since the Occupation that fear would prevent any inhabi- tant from running the ghost of a risk. Costa was game and we consulted together. He would have taken the pistol and hidden it safely, so he said, but the dear fellow's intelligence was not of the kind to pitch against a German's. The leather holster and pouch he slipped into his shirt and went off to a friend, a shoemaker, with whom I had spoken in happier days.

On the morrow Costa's sandals had nice new patches of English leather— necessary patches, for the man was almost bare-footed.

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The best way to hide anything is to do it openly. People often do not believe the evidence of their own senses ! I stood on the little bridge which spanned the river late one afternoon, when the light was failing, and it was time by regulations to hasten indoors. I stood there, in a pensive mood, idly throwing in stones. A soldier passed and stopped for a crack with the sentry. It was then or never. Without changing my position, without a moment's hesitation, in went the breech of my pistol and splash ! a stone followed and still another with rhythmic precision.

Finally I yawned, passed a word with the soldier on duty and went on my way through the hospital gate.

I felt very pleased with life that night ! If my weapon did fall into the hands of the Huns, at least it was rendered utterly useless, and I slept the sleep of the just.

Of course, the Serbians knew I had possessed a revolver. They had seen it on me the day the two women had come in shot, they had seen me wearing it once or twice when obliged to tramp into the country.

Milan was a Serb, at least he claimed to be. I wonder if he was J? He spoke German exceed- ingly well, and was a very great favourite with the enemy ! Dr. Goldener and he were very friendly, a most suitable friendship, for they were birds of a feather.

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Dr. Elk, before lie left, had, at my express desire, taken Milan away from the hospital. His impertinence was inconceivable, his laziness incorrigible. Before the enemy came, after grumbling in the morning he would depart for the day. The first enemy C.M.O. was a well- bred man, I laid the matter before him and told him of the attempt made to steal my instruments, of the man's extreme rudeness and disobedience. Dr. Elk at once gave the order — and Milan had been drafted to some other Red Cross work. When Dr. Goldener came on the scene I woke up one morning to find Milan in his old place. It was more than aggravating, it was one of the German's cultured methods of putting on the thumbscrew.

However, I realized I was at their mercy, that there was nothing that would better please the medical officer and incidentally the orderly, than to be made aware of the fact that they had succeeded in making life unbearable. I just would not give them so much satisfaction !

" Back again, Milan ? There's plenty to do," was all the remark I made.

Now, Milan had a big bill against me. He determined to retaliate for being called to order. One day he went to the authorities and told them that the foreign doctor, who had stayed by his comrades when their own officers forsook them, was armed with a service revolver.

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Late one night I was wakened — four soldiers and an officer were in my room.

" Where is your pistol ? "

The game was up and I knew it ! Sometimes one must bow to the inevitable. It had come, and it is always well to fall in gracefully with whatever next must be.

Lamb-like and with an innocent expression I handed the weapon over. It must have been a quaint picture. The bear garden of a room, the little figure in breeches and bare feet — giving the pistol up as if it were a pencil, full well know- ing what was written on those placards in the town. The officer took the little gun — he bowed, then he looked at it — and saw ! He swore.

" You know the penalty, Frau Doctor ? "

I bowed and put on my boots. It was the fortune of war !

Caught out !

Well, it was worth it ! One woman, more or less, what did it matter ? A decent automatic pistol in the hands of the Germans might account for brave English lives. At least mine would never do that !

I was content to pay the penalty, but the Oberst was Hungarian. He had not yet become so saturated with the lust of blood as to take a pleasure in killing women.

I think at heart he did not dislike the way in

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which a woman had defied them. I told him that in my place he would have done the same.

" When the war is over," I asked, " will you tell them in England that a Serbian soldier betrayed me."

I don't think that the Obcrst himself was aware of the identity of my accuser. If his looks did not belie him it was not a trick which had his sympathy. Perhaps this influenced him to act humanely.

Certainly had I been taken out to be shot I would not have felt the penalty unjust. We had been warned — I knew the order, and it had been in my own hands — I had defied the Central Powers, fully aware of what it might mean ! . . . But I was sent back to the hospital. Apparently no further notice was taken of the affair, and yet from that hour I was closely watched.

CHAPTER XIII

One day some Austrian stretcher-bearers entered the ward with a patient. One glance at the fellow was sufficient. I looked at the Red Cross man in charge. He spoke tersely, anxious to be rid of his burden.

" Cholera ! "

So it had come at last.

Several suspected cases had been sent to me — but this time there could be no doubt about the diagnosis. What is good for the goose is good for the gander. The fellow had been brought straight into a ward full of Serbs. In a moment I had him whisked out and into another room — the only place where there could be some attempt made at isolation. It was the ward given over to Austrian patients. Very quickly these latter were bundled into a room adjoining the Serbian ward.

The Red Cross men went, leaving the infected stretcher and glad to get away.

Whether to fight the cholera or let the infec- tion spread. That was the question.

Had I known Serbia was lost I might have been less keen on playing the part I did. The

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I own was full of troops. Cholera, left to its own devices, might considerably weaken the enemy forces. But the Serbs ? What if they won their way back ? I had no means of knowing the real significance of the Great Retreat.

There had been whispers, before the evacua- tion, of the British being at Nish — of fighting at Monastir. These rumours decided me. The cholera had to he fought.

I spoke to Costa, Milan, Michel and the women, but the Serbian is ignorant, he is also stubborn. They had learnt their lesson about typhus sufficiently well to have some dread of the scourge, but the word "cholera" held no mean- ing to them. It was an illness. Well, there were doctors to see to it, it was none of their business.

I saw the fight was going to be a stiff one. Soon the C.M.O. arrived. By his orders all the Austrian cases save the new-comer were removed to an emergency hospital prepared in the town. Dr. Goldener did not enter the ward, he stood in the corridor, once or twice looked in at the door and shouted out his orders.

In the evening he called again. I reported that Milan and Co. were spreading infection as fast as they could. In absolute defiance of the order given they had been out and about in town, and peasants had come into the building.

The C.M.O. called up the offenders, they were placed in a row and soldiers with fixed bayonets

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stood on guard. The officer did not speak Serbian, but that did not matter. He made Milan translate whilst gestures and voice sufficed for the rest. The wretched little man literally danced. He seized a bayonet, pointed it at Pero. I thought he only meant to scare the man, but if mischief occurred I was ready. The women were harangued. If anyone went out of the hospital into the town they would be arrested and shot. If anyone was allowed to enter the building, the man or woman responsible for them coming in would be taken by the soldiers and bayoneted — and so on.

We talked matters over. Stringent precau- tions must be taken if infection was to be stayed, Pero alone must attend to the wants of the man and he must not leave the room, food would be taken to the door, and so on.

But if the Serb is ignorant his stubbornness is colossal. Threats were no good, orders were disobeyed. Children were to be found hidden in cupboards, neighbours sneaked in, our folks sneaked out. I was left to tackle the emergency as best I could, knowing full well that as soon as I turned my back every order would be dis- regarded. I determined to lock Pero and the cholera patients up in their room.

Easier said than done. Michel refused to put the lock on the door. It was the first time a Serb had flatly refused to obey me.

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I put the lock on the door myself, and abso- lutely ignored the man from that moment until the very day I left. It was useless to order him out of the place, I was no longer in command. To complain to the C.M.O. would be to give him satisfaction. Besides, the conduct of this officer was not such as would be likely to urge the people to be their better selves. He called occasionally to see how matters were progressing. He would stand in the hall, but he never entered the cholera ward further than putting his head round the door, sucking lozenges the while, and gruffly ordering me to feel this man's pulse or show him that man's hand. He was frightened, utterly frightened, of infection. When I walked towards him he retreated waving me off. It was worthy of the Germans to put a prisoner at the post of danger, to leave the only woman in the infected house.

The building was absolutely the last place which should have been used for infectious fevers, the lack of adequate sanitation, the diffi- culty of ventilation, the overcrowded wards, everything was against one.

The cholera did not spread ; that it did not was almost enough to make one believe in an in- explicable Fate. It must have been ordained, for every circumstance tended to fan the evil onward.

Word came to me that Persa, the woman who had been wounded in the hip, was in desperate

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straits. Neglect had done its work. There was nothing for it but to go to her home- stead, away in the hills. To get a pass from the enemy was another matter.

I determined to go without.

It was a great tramp. Past the spot where the tragedy had taken place. Here and there I was challenged by the sentries, but I played my part, and the Red Cross on my sleeve did the rest. Right across snow-white fields, along mountain tracks, where one had to climb with goat-like tread — a slip and the end might be messy far below. I had been in the same direction once before, but it was before the great white mantle had descended from the heavens, obliterating landmarks. On that occasion I had notched a tree here and there as I cut my way through hedges — now I was dependent on those marks . The condition of the ground retarded pro- gress and it was late before I saw the little hovel. Daylight had given place to sunset, sunset to an emerald blue — and everywhere above the stars were peeping forth. Complete silence encom- passed all the earth. One took big breaths, and, just as the snow-clad hills around were merging into shadows, I seemed drawn into a perfect oneness with the beauty of the scene. . . .

What a welcome there was on arrival at my destination ! A home ? Yes, a wooden shanty divided into two compartments.

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In the one a lire burnt on the ground and the smoke of damp wood caused painful irritation, one's eyes streamed, one's throat contracted. Outside it was bitterly, bitterly cold — so that it was a question whether to face discomfort for i lie luxury of warmth ! There was no furniture, a pile of logs lay on the earth, and fowls, roosting where they could, were disturbed by our entrance. The inner room was bedroom, living-room and every other room. A fire from the first room projected into the second, under an oven. The atmosphere was dank, fetid, a mixture of a thousand most unpleasant smells. In one corner was a raised shelf, about seven feet long and six feet broad, covered with straw and a blanket. Here my patient lay, and her welcome made the journey well worth while. As I dressed the wound and made her as comfortable as circum- stances permitted a neighbour bustled in and out.

I had brought a piece of candle, for the peasants are poor, and when the light fails that must suffice which comes from the fire — that is if they possess such a luxury. There were two small wooden windows, mere slits in the wall, but they were better than nothing. I opened them in spite of the remonstrances of " Zime, gospo- dgjer " (Cold, lady).

A number of neighbours began to arrive, they came in at the door and stood in a couple of lines,

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boys and girls in front, women working with the distaffs at their back, the eyes of all turned towards the foreigner. Not a smile on a single face. The woman who had been busy making preparations brought in the quaintest table on which I ever set my eyes. It was a round slice of wood sawn from the trunk of some great tree, raised from the ground by three short legs, about a foot in height. It was placed on the floor and a tiny roughly made stool was given me for my accommodation. I squatted down feeling like a monkey in a circus.

The oven was open and an odour of hot maize pervaded the room. A huge loaf was planked on the festive board. Half a dozen little eggs, hard boiled, shelless, and a curious concoction of jam (a mixture of plum, apple and any other avail- able fruit all cooked together and pomaded into a gelatinous mass) were put on the table.

Eleven pairs of eyes solemnly followed my every movement. It was an appreciative audience. In the middle my host came in, plus a big bottle of rakiya — the native spirit, very strong but not unpalatable. The man had already partaken freely, now he pressed a glass on me, and, as I refused, drank it himself plus another one to keep the balance even, then a few minutes later he would smilingly hand me another little measure full, for all the world just as if the idea had only just occurred

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to him — and the same pantomime, the same performance would be gone through once again !

I tried to talk to the women with my halting Serbian words, but they wrere painfully shy, and conversation did not flourish.

When, finally, I got up to go the kindly people would not listen to me. They blocked my way.

It was not safe. I must stay the night, they said.

I was firm. I had come without a pass and the sooner back the better. The moon was bright and I rather looked forward to the long lonely walk across the hills. Gradually the neighbours dispersed, I gave a few last directions to my patients and to a woman who promised to dress the wound to the best of her ability. The man was out of the room, we three were together, and suddenly Persa's manner changed ; with real concern she begged me not to leave ; she held my hand, kissing it the while. It was dangerous, I would never arrive at Uzsitsi alive, so moaned the poor woman.

I reassured her. I told her that the enemy would respect the Red Cross. Then, to my surprise, she burst out with the fact that it was not the Germans nor the Austrians she feared that night for me. I knew, none better, how she herself had received her wounds . . . there were men about in the hills who were not to be trusted . . . not the enemy . . . just then her husband came and I had to deduce what I could.

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The women were honestly distressed. It seemed to me that there was mischief afoot in the district and they knew more than they dared to say.

It is all very well to face certain death, but I had no desire to be badly wounded or to be maltreated in the hills. Discretion after all sometimes is the better part of valour ! I decided to remain the night. The people were obviously much relieved at my decision. The neighbour flung her arms round my neck and kissed me on the cheek. A place on the bed was offered me, but I preferred to sleep in a shed outside ! But it would be cold; besides, the young cow was there. I would stay in this warm room, they begged. It was kindly meant, but I was adamant and, of course, I got my way.

It was a particularly cold frosty night. The shed was so constructed as to let the air whistle through between the logs. I nestled down into the not particularly clean straw in Service coat, riding-boots and all. I was thankful for my Trench sleeping-cap, which, when pulled down, became a helmet serving two purposes — a pre- ventive against the chance invasion of beasties and as a protection against the sharp-biting frost. During the night the cold grew more and more intense, but sheer fatigue closed my eyes from time to time. A rat would come out perhaps with a comrade to take stock of the

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strange invader — only to scamper away as, realizing their presence, I used a little dainty English.

With daylight I arose to find my friends were already astir. They did not have much difficulty with regard to toilet — they shook themselves, and presto ! they were ready for another day.

I looked at the neighbour's face in the clearer light of the day and wondered what she would look like if a few layers of the very obvious dirt were removed. I remembered her kiss of the previous evening !

On the way back, on the bridge before entering the town, I was tackled by the sentry. He was Hungarian. Not having any authority for being out I thought it best to make friends with the men. I joined them at the fire and found that the fellow's two companions were Roumanians. — The Hungarian, even after I had wasted a lot of breath, still persisted in wanting to see my pass. Luckily the idea came that though he could speak a little German, in all probability he could neither read German nor Serbian, and, indeed, maybe not Hungarian. He looked an illiterate sort of fellow. Very quietly I searched in my pockets and withdrew one of the papers given me by Major Popovitch.

I showed it just as if it were a military pass and all in order.

Rather to my surprise the man took it. If he

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could read German then the fat was in the fire, for this paper was inscribed in French and had, of course, nothing whatever to do with the circumstance.

That sentry played his part right well ! Very critically he looked over the certificate, appar- ently digesting every word — only, he held it upside down ! Seriously enough he handed it back with a nod, and bade me report myself immediately at the Stadt Kommando. With a word of thanks for the moment's warmth, returning their salute, I passed along my way, breathing freely once again. It was impossible to knock at the hospital door, my hands were frozen with the cold — but Costa was on the look- out and during the next hour he patiently tended to them and tried to restore circulation. I learnt in a little measure the awful agony of frostbite.

CHAPTER XIV

One evening 1 returned about eight o'clock from seeing a patient in the village. Milan was at the hospital and I wondered for a moment what his leering expression might portend. Angela and Pero were standing together; they looked half frightened and scurried into the kitchen. The reason was apparent when I reached my door. I had locked it when I left, now it stood open, the lock broken.

There was no need to ask questions. A large box of instruments had disappeared. I thought of some money which I had in a suit-case. The case had been prized open, the money was gone.

These were German methods.

There was nothing to do but grin and bear it. One realized very forcibly those days what it meant to be alone in the hands of the Germans. The " little Sea-girt Island " seemed very, very far away.

The town doctor had disappeared with the Serbian Army. He was an old man of sixty years or more, cutting a quaint bent-backed figure in his soldier's uniform. He left with his comrades, but was taken prisoner at Chachak.

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The Austrians, wanting help at Uzsitsi, sent him back — and one day he appeared, in mufti and apparently perfectly happy under the new regime. He told me that Major Popovitch with his staff had trekked for Montenegro, and later he said that he had had certain news of their safe arrival.

Whether it was true I never knew nor did I ever learn how it was that this Serbian medical man came to be taken. Perhaps he could not keep up with his comrades, certainly he was far from being robust.

At any rate, he was sent back to Uzsitsi and again life seemed to go on pretty much the same for him, with his wife and children, in their home.

When he appeared on the scene I felt vastly relieved. In him I would find a colleague and a friend. He knew I had done what I could for the Serbs, that I had stayed by their wounded at no little personal risk when he himself had left with his comrades, stayed when a man, belonging to a neutral country, thought of his wife and saved his skin. Yes, the old Serb doctor would surely be an ally and a friend 1 One cannot realize the strange twists which can exist in human character until it has been studied under every conceivable condition.

I felt a little disappointed that his manner lacked some of that warmth which under the circumstances one almost expected.

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Mine was a peculiarly isolated position for a woman and he knew it.

But this gentleman was a wise man in his generation. On the one hand, there were the conquerors of his country. It was their policy to treat him well — if he behaved as they desired he should. On the other hand, there was a stranger, a mere doctor woman, a prisoner of war. He had all to lose and nothing to gain should he befriend a Britisher and he decided on the wiser course.

If Milan was in the hospital he was placed there by the Austrians and the matter was wholly in their hands.

The Serb doctor could not and would not interfere — he, too, was at the mercy of the Army of Occupation, so he said. One piece of advice he gave me — and that was, that I had better give in and do what might be the will of the Germans and Austrians.

One day, when in one of the tiny shops which were still opened to the public, I saw a wooden box such as one sees with penny bars of chocolate. On the inside of the lid was the picture of a Union Jack with the name of a firm of sweet- meat manufacturers printed across. The very sight of it did me good. A few words with the salesman and the deed was done. I left the place with that wooden lid beneath my arm.

What spirit of mischief entered into me ?

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Life was not running very smoothly, I might have thought that to irritate our captors could only lead to trouble. But sometimes when a bully would intimidate he rouses his victim to action.

In pure defiance, in sheer delight, I nailed that badly drawn specimen of the old Flag on my door !

If the picture should be insulted — what was I to do ? Then one would feel that one's in- discretion had allowed the Flag to be dishonoured — a nasty feeling to contemplate. But a curious thing happened.

That picture of our Flag was never touched. It met the eyes of the officers of the Kaiser's army every time they passed my door. Serb or German, Austrian or Hungarian, every man soon became familiar with the quaint device. England seemed very far away, but every time I caught sight of the Red, White and Blue it encouraged me and gave me a feeling of strength.

If I suffered our men were suffering things a thousand times still rougher — and it was worth going through it all — for the Empire and the King.

My rations from the officers' mess had fallen off. Sometimes I got food, sometimes I did not. Always it was poor in quality and very small in quantity.

I have spoken about the diphtheria epidemic. A few days before Christmas I sickened. There was scarcely any need to look at my throat ! There is no mistaking that horrible feeling of

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constriction. It was painful and, what was worse, I felt very, very ill.

For weeks I had seen children sicken and die. One little girl had coughed in my face — it was not strange that I should fall a victim.

To ask a favour from the C.M.O. was beyond me, it was useless to hope for help from any Serbian left in the vicinity. I looked round the wretched, dirty room1 — and wondered if the end had come at last.

It was no use giving in. I crawled round the wards. Infection was not a matter of serious consideration. The wounded had been taken out of my hands some weeks previously and the place was full of civilians. Men, women and children. Of the latter practically all had had the disease. Certainly there was no one in Uzsitsi who had not come into very close contact with it.

On Christmas Day my usual rations were not sent. I could not have eaten had an English re- past been forthcoming, but as it was I was given no opportunity to have a meal even had I so desired.

I did have just one little treat. My tabloid tea-box was not quite empty — a little tepid water, a couple of the little dark pellets and lo, I had a beverage fit for the gods ! In the after- noon I played with some of my little patients. There were a few apples, given me by a patient. I had those to give at least.

CHAPTER XV

The wounded Serbs had long ago been taken out of my charge. There was good reason that it should be so, the building was very far from being a satisfactory place for the treatment of serious surgical cases. In the village one of the school buildings had been whitewashed and turned into a temporary hospital — a decided improvement on the old Serbian one. The Austrian and German Red Cross arrangements appeared to me to be excellent, that is, absolutely the best obtainable under the circumstances and condition of the country. Once I managed to go in ostensibly to see one of my Austrian patients, in reality to get a sight, if possible, of some of the Serbs.

The patients were comfortable and the whole place clean, but I did not see my friends. The Austrians who had passed through my hands seemed glad to see me, and grateful for what I had done. One fellow had left me with tears in his eyes, and when he saw me he said that no matter how excruciating the pain might be that any man might suffer no narcotic was ever given by their doctors, and the long weary nights of

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suffering were hours of agonizing tortures, the dread of which shook their courage and kept them full of horrible foreboding the livelong day.

One night I had already curled up on my boards and gone to sleep when I was roused by the tramp of men. Two officers and four soldiers entered my room, without so much as "by your leave."

The C.M.O. was evidently in one of his un- pleasant after-dinner moods. I preferred him in such a state than in the condition in which he used too often to appear — at first, when he played his cards to try and fascinate. The subaltern looked ashamed of himself and ashamed of his errand, he was a lad of about nineteen with a boyish face and kindly eyes. We had seen each other once or twice in the street and he had always saluted me with grave courtesy. Now it was his duty to be the witness of things which, done in the name of the Kaiser, made him feel not only not proud of his Vaterland but ashamed and degraded.

I was held between two soldiers, while their fellows, at the instigation of the C.M.O., ran- sacked the room. Tables and chairs were flung on one side. Instruments, dressings and personal clothing were cast into canvas bags. Dr. Goldener was in his element, to rob a defenceless woman — and in such a manner — delighted his

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small, mean soul. A certain Army tabloid case was not forthcoming and the envious soul of that medical man longed for its possession. With a bayonet held to my chest I was roughly sworn at and told to say where I had hidden the case.

Now it happened that day I had been to see a patient in the village and in a moment of forget- fulness the tabloid box had been left behind. However, I had no intention of letting the Germans think that they could force me to do their will and I told that little worm of a doctor that I would give him no information on the subject.

Every moment I expected his temper would outweigh discretion, and the bare cold steel do more than merely prick my skin.

There was nothing for it but to set my teeth and smile. If they meant to kill they must !

Whatever is ... is written on the forehead. I was tasting a little of the enemy's methods that night.

It was no use demanding fair play. I was pushed this way, dragged that, threatened and bullied. I told them how interesting it was to see German culture.

If they had imagined what that little piece of wood, nailed on my door, stood for to me, it certainly would not have been allowed to remain

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another minute ! They had not noticed or they had not grasped its import.

I looked at it, at the representation of our Flag, and I knew that though I stood there at the mercy of those men, that I had the better part.

I was shivering, standing bare-footed in my breeches (I never dared undress those days).

" So you thieves are afraid, afraid of one small British woman," I said, and I added meditatively, that I wondered how many of them it would take to tackle a whole British man.

Those weeks had been good training ! To set their Rightfulness at defiance, to laugh at their brutality (when practised on oneself) as at something contemptible, low and beneath one's notice, and above all, never to give them the satisfaction of seeing one cowed and trembling ; to ignore their power, to disdain their methods, these were the ways which from first to last were the ones with which I determined to counter the intimidatory attacks of the Hun.

I had a fellow feeling those days with Fuzzy- Wuzzy, and, like that dear fellow, thought, if possible, they should not get a " ha'poth change off me."

I smiled as I went into the wards next day. Underneath a sick man's head lay a rucksack of mine — his only pillow. That at least was left me. I complained at Headquarters of the bare-

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faced robbery, demanding a receipt for my surgical appliances. The Oberst was courteous but firm. He could not or would not interfere.

I think he — a Hungarian — dared not interfere with the Austro-German element.

I reminded him that such treatment was not in accordance with the Geneva Convention.

His reply was characteristic :

I was told to remember " There is no Geneva Convention now."

Another Scrap of Paper set aside !

CHAPTER XVI

Of course there had been cholera, and I had had from time to time Serbian or enemy wounded, but, for the most part, since the Occupation, my hospital had been full of civilian patients — men, women and children. Among these I had worked contentedly enough. Then came a day when a different class of patient presented them- selves. Men, the riff-raff of the Army of Occupa- tion— evil, diseased men, were sent to me. It was a mean underhand trick against a woman prisoner. It was not until the second day that I grasped the evil ingenuity of this Kultur trick. And since no power on earth would make me clean up the filthiness of the German -Austrian Army, I sat in my room and refused to work.

Each day relations between the C.M.O. and myself became more and more strained. My mascot, on the door, often served to cheer me. It encouraged me, and things sometimes looked very, very black, but that silly little advertise- ment often gave me courage !

Alone ? At the mercy of fiends ? But I stood there — for England. And " England ex- pects . . ."

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It sounds melodramatic now, but it was a very real thing then.

How was it all going to end ?

I dared not pause to think. I had not a friend in the place. Death was the least of possible evils.

Again I went to the Kommando and held him to the promise — made soon after his arrival — a promise that I should be allowed to return to England after the first pressure of work was over.

I scarcely expected any result, and certainly I never foresaw that which came to pass !

At five o'clock next morning, it seemed like the middle of the night, there was a commotion in the hall. Now, there was one page in my diary in which I had written, shortly, things which might do me no good if they fell into the hands of the enemy. Certainly the words were hard to decipher, but one knows that there is nothing like the ingenuity of the devil — and I did not doubt his spawn would find a way to read the meaning of certain hieroglyphics !

There is a wonderful power which, under the right conditions, becomes strangely developed in some individuals. It is the sense of personal danger. A sudden fore-knowledge that death is lurking by one's elbow, albeit quite invisible, and while, to all appearances, life is proceeding in its usual way.

I was often disturbed at night. Sudden calls to fight for someone's life, or wakened to face

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the strange malignancy of German Kultur, but through all alarms the same strange premonition had never yet assailed me. In a second, I had seized the book, torn out the page, soaked it in the last remaining drop of ether, pushed it in the stove — a match — and soldiers entered !

The stove door was closed, I was yawning sleepily. The N.C. Officer ordered me to dress. I scrambled into boots and collar — he held out my coat. There was a bullock cart at the door drawn by a pair of stout Hungarian horses. I was marched down to it and told to sit on the floor. Two men with bayonets fixed mounted as well. The sergeant sat on the driver's seat facing his prisoner, the other gathered the reins and we started off.

All day long we drove across the snow-clad mountains. It grew bitterly cold. As far as the eye could reach was a region of virgin whiteness, untouched for the most part by foot of man or beast. Across the hills came the shrill blasts of icy winds, cutting into our human flesh with the nicety of fine sharp knives. The intense silence of a Polar winter was unbroken save for the rumbling of our ungainly vehicle, the shouting of the driver and the straining of the cattle.

The road was in a desperate condition. It had never been much more than a mountain track. It had seen the passage of armies and had borne the heavy weight of much artillery. Trees had

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been felled to fill up great gaps — here and there some forest monarch had been blown across our path, but after much struggling, much swearing of the men, and some exertion we seemed to over- come such difficulties and still be ploughing onward.

About midday we stopped on the ledge of a beautiful plateau to rest and breathe the horses. The men descended and soon were bivouacking round a fire warming their little tins of bully- beef and preparing their rations of bread.

As far as I was concerned not a scrap of food was forthcoming and not a drop of coffee had passed my lips that morning.

To move was agony, but I knew the best thing was to try and restore the circulation. I half scrambled, half rolled out of the vehicle, crawled to my knees, got on my feet and began to stamp along. It was a painful business and all one's nature called out to get back, lie down and die.

However, it had to be done, and I stamped a few yards further.

Whiz ! — A bullet almost grazed my head.

Whiz ! — another ploughed a furrow in the snow two inches from my feet. This was no joke.

I wheeled round, holding up my hands. The men had just become aware that I was out of the cart. They had had their orders — and told me that / must stay where I was put and must not move. If I attempted to do so — they would shoot.

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I told them to aim straight another time. The sergeant was a kindly little man. Hungarian like his fellows. He explained that they were to lame me, not to kill, if I attempted to move out of their sight. He said I was charged with espionage^ — a fact which I did not believe.

Soon we were on our way again. The cold grew more and more intense. The great service coat seemed as if it were lifted off my shoulders by invisible hands ; the wind Cut through each layer of clothes unhampered by material, biting, nipping, at first making one's flesh shiver, tingling and burning, then to grow numb, dead, until one was gripped with the iron hand of indescribable cold, every muscle drawn with cramp and, seemingly, the heart's blood frozen solid in one's veins. Icy fingers gripped one's ears, my feet were frozen logs of wood.

The pain grew almost beyond bearing. From time to time the men descended to run or walk or to extract us from some perilous position.

During that long day the monotony was broken once.

We were wending our way slowly up a great precipitous hillside track when we came upon two figures sitting by the roadside. They were Russian soldiers — extraordinary apparitions to be seen there, alone and so far from everywhere. They were unarmed, that told its own tale. But it is not usual for prisoners to be floating about

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the country on their own. My escort stopped. One Russian, a fine-looking fellow, wearing his battle-worn uniform with an air that proved him to be no mere peasant, turned to the sergeant before the slow brains of the latter had grasped the situation.

" How far is it to Pozega ? "

But the young man had to answer questions, not to ask them !

The Russian spoke German fluently and well. He explained his presence there to the satisfac- tion of the sergeant.

" Sir," he said, pointing up the sharp narrow mountain track, " there my comrades come and our escort. We two were allowed to cut across the hill. There are five hundred Russian prisoners." Then having convinced my guard he turned to me, " English ? "

It was a handshake which meant something ! We were brethren in distress. He was going to a life worse than a political exile's in Siberia, he had a black, hopeless, weary future — away from friends, away from those he loved, with the coarsest food at a premium, with a daily round of uncongenial, hard, manual labour. These five hundred Russian prisoners were on their way to Pozega, to be set to work upon the roads and much-needed sanitation.

Prisoner, unless an exchange were effected, until the end of the war ! — That many a thousand

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are in like case does not make the fact more easy for oneself.

We had never seen each other before. Like ships that pass in the night we met, and spoke, and passed on our different ways, but we did not meet as strangers. His face clouded as he looked at me and he spoke with real concern.

" Are you wounded ? "

With few words I put him in possession of such facts as I knew myself. Espionage ? He looked grave.

But the escort were impatient. We had spoken loud enough for them to hear each word and in German. Now the waggon creaked and swayed. We were off.

" God be with you," said the lad, and our hands met in one firm grasp. His friend took my other . . . then suddenly they raised them to their lips. Slowly we wound up the hill. Looking down we could see my friends where we had left them. Now they were joined by several of their comrades and two or three of their Austrian guard. The Russians were gesticulating and were looking up towards us. We had to breathe the horses and stopped a minute. Up from below came a mighty shout, " Vive English ! Bravo Lady ! Vive la Russie ! "

And I called back, " Vive la Russie ! " but the little sergeant was angry, and the sentence tailed off as my shoulders were roughly shaken.

ENDORSEMENTS

c. u '4

\

5^ /^^ f/, /f ^

Signature on Dr. Matthews' passport of the Hungarian Commander at Uzsitsi, authorising her journey to Belgrade.

CHAPTER XVII

Now, the bottom of a peasant's bullock cart is not the cosiest place in the world, and it was six o'clock before we drew up at a village.

The Stadt Kommando was ill and he inter- viewed me from his bed. A great burly man, he was not unkindly but, rather, seemed annoyed at having anything to do with the business. It was in his room that I learnt officially for the first time that I was being sent to Belgrade, to Graf von Salis, the Governor, being charged with espionage. While the old man glanced at me in a kindly ferocious manner, an officer entered and reported that a telegram had been received from Uzsitsi with reference to the English spy. Then, to my great chagrin, at a sign from his chief the young man delivered the rest of the message in Hungarian and I was none the wiser.

The room allotted me was at the inn and indescribably filthy, the bed matched the room and had seen much service. The window would not open and the smell was worse than that of a merely fetid atmosphere.

An officer entered, introducing himself with well-bred courtesy.

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" Doctor Count von , Fraulcin."

He was a soldier and he had his orders, but he was an Austrian gentleman, too well bred to have been influenced by German Kultur, and he did not like his errand. In the telegram, which had been received from Uzsitsi, it was urged that I should be sent on with a stronger escort, that I was an important capture and must be searched to the skin !

I was an enemy, but I was a woman, and the little officer expressed his regret that a colleague should be in such dire straits. . . .

That night about eleven o'clock he came again. The awful cold had done its work. I was ill, with rigors, sickness and very considerable pain. Food was out of the question, save for a cup of warm milk.

The Oberst and this little C.M.O., both of them Hungarians, were honourable, courteous foes. They forbade my removal. Cold and want of food will play havoc with the toughest. I lay all day on that wretched pallet, too collapsed to care whether the army of bugs and lice made me their happy hunting-ground or not.

The little Count strode up and down the room, biting his moustache. It went against his conscience to send a colleague — and that a woman — to such a fate. He and the Oberst had paid me a visit and we had discussed the situation.

Did they believe me to be a spy ?

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Neither would commit himself, but they told me that there was not a doubt in the charge laid against me, and that the position in which I stood was very perilous. Would I have to pay the penalty ?

The Oberst gave me one of his keen looks. 4 There will be no hope in Belgrade."

I thanked him, and since they were both distressed I begged them believe that the news was not wholly unpleasant.

At least, they argued, we might put off the evil day. I might remain there — for a few days — ill.

But I did not fall in with this kindly plot. Would they not rather face bullets than the hordes of vermin in that room ? Besides, I reminded them, they must make their report to Uzsitsi, and not for worlds would I have it hinted that perhaps I was malingering and was afraid.

I thanked them. A good, honest, honourable enemy is not to be despised.

Even if the Germans knew the meaning of that word " honour " this war might still con- tinue, but oh, the difference it would make in the world ! A fair, straight fight, without the bitter- ness engendered, without the deeds which have stained the name of " man."

The next day we started again on what seemed like an interminable journey. This time the lumbering cart was drawn by four great horses and my escort was increased to six.

CHAPTER XVIII

We had nearly