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iJjLXJL 


SALONICA  AND  AFTER 

THE    SIDESHOW    THAT 
ENDED    THE  WAR 


BY 

H.    COLLINSON    OWEN 

Editor  of  The  Balkan  News,  and  Official  Correspondent 
in  the  Near  East 


With  a  Foreword  by 

GENERAL  SIR  GEORGE  MILNE,  G.C.M.G.,  K.C.B. 

Commander-in-Chief  of  the 

British  Sai^onica  Force 


HODDER    AND    STOUGHTON 

LONDON   NEW  YORK   TORONTO 
MCMXIX. 


J5^? 


.^ 


0? 


TO   ALL  RANKS  OP 

THK   BRITISH    SALONICA   FORCES 

AND   TO  THE   MEMORY    OP   THEIR    COMRADES 

WHO   FELL  IN   MACEDONIA. 


These  men  in  our  Eastern  Armies  have  had    the  dust 
and  toil,  without  the  laurel,  of  the  race  to  victory." 

—Th4  Times. 


FOREWORD 

This  book,  written  by  the  only  member  of  the 
British  Press  who  has  devoted  his  whole  time  to 
the  Macedonian  Front,  will  be  welcomed  by  the 
friends  and  relatives  of  all  ranks  of  the  British 
Salonica  Army,  and  of  those  who  have  laid  down 
their  lives  for  their  country  in  a  little  known 
part  of  the  Balkans. 

It  will  help  to  lift  the  veil  of  mystery  which 
hung  over  the  doings  of  the  Army,  due  to  the  lack 
of  publicity  given  to  those  events  in  Macedonia 
which  ultimately  led  to  the  defeat  in  the  field  of 
the  Bulgarian  Army,  worn  out  by  three  years  of 
constant  and  harassing  warfare. 

The  chapters  dealing  with  the  attacks  on  the 
Doiran  position  summarise  the  great  difficulties 
which  had  to  be  surmounted  by  men  whose 
strength  was  being  slowly  sapped  by  prolonged 
residence  in  the  most  unhealthy  portion  of  Europe, 


^■4C7;jj 


but  whose  esprit  de  corps  was  of  the  highest  and 
whose  faith  in  ultimate  victory  never  faltered. 

This  book  may  help  some  to  see  in  proper  per- 
spective  how  the  crowning  achievement  of  long 
and  weary  vigil  in  a  secondary  theatre  of  opera- 
tions struck  at  the  Achilles  heel  of  the  Central 
Powers  and  materially  aided  in  their  rapid  collapse 
during  the  dramatic  Autumn  of  191 8. 


-^^srv  h^^-^^-*-^ 


General, 


Advanced  General  Headquarters, 
Guvesne,  Macedonia. 


AUTHOR'S    NOTE. 

The  publication  of  this  book,  which  was  written  in  the 
earher  part  of  the  present  year,  was  delayed  for  some 
months  owing  to  the  Author  being  abroad.  But  this 
proves  to  have  been  a  happy  thing,  as  in  the  meantime 
Ludendorff  has  given  us  his  Memoirs,  and  these  support  in 
signal  fashion  all  that  is  here  claimed  for  the  Balkan  Front, 
and  show  that  the  sub-title,  "  The  Sideshow  that  Ended 
the  War,"  is  in  no  sense  an  exaggeration,  but  is  a  plain 
statement  of  military  fact. 

Had  the  book  been  published  earlier  in  the  year,  no  doubt 
many  people  would  have  taken  exception  to  this  description, 
and  said  that  the  Author  was  too  easily  carried  away  by  his 
enthusiasm  for  his  subject.  But  if  anybody  knows  exactly 
why  our  enemies  crumbled  up  so  suddenly  and  dramatically 
Ludendorff  should.  We  will  examine  very  briefly  what  he 
says  on  the  subject  of  the  break-through  on  the  Balkan 
Front  in  September,  1918. 

Writing  of  the  Allied  1918  offensive  on  the  Western 
Front,  Ludendorff  says  {Times,  August  22nd,  1918)  : — 
"  August  8  was  the  black  day  of  the  German  Army  in  the 
history  of  this  war.  This  was  the  worst  experience  that  I 
had  to  go  through  except  for  the  events  that,  from  Septem- 
ber 15  onwards,  took  place  on  the  Bulgarian  Front  and 
sealed  the  fate  of  the  Quadruple  Alliance,'^ 

The  comment  of  the  Times  on  Ludendorff 's  own  descrip- 
tion of  the  march  of  events  on  the  Western  Front  is  as 
follows  : — 

"  The  other  fact  that  stands  out  was  the  defeat  of  the 


Bulgarian  Army,  a  fact  which  in  Ludendorii's  mind  seems 
completely  to  have  overshadowed  the  sensational  victory 
of  the  British  Army  at  Cambrai  at  the  end  of  September.'* 
Another  Press  comment  on  the  same  point  was  :  *'  When 
Bulgaria,  too,  went,  he  threw  up  the  sponge,  and  even 
the  tremendous  British  victory  in  forcing  the  Hindenburg 
Line  is  dismissed  in  a  few  words  as  a  mere  incident  in  the 
general  ruin.** 

LudMidorff  himself  continues  : — "  It  very  soon  became 
clear  that  from  Bulgaria  nothing  more  was  to  be  expected. 
.  .  .  .  The  position  in  the  field  could  only  become 
decidedly  worse.  It  was  impossible  to  tell  whether  this 
process  would  be  slow  or  precipitate.  The  probability  was 
that  events  would  come  to  a  head  within  a  measurable  time, 
as  indeed  actually  happened  in  the  Balkan  Peninsula  and 
on  the  Austro-Hungarian  Front  in  Italy. 

*'  In  this  situation  I  felt  incumbent  upon  me  the  heavy 
responsibility  of  hastening  the  end  of  the  war  and  of  pro- 
moting decisive  action  on  the  part  of  the  Government.** 

The  British  Salonica  Force  could  not  desire  a  more 
striking  tribute  to  its  long  devotion  and  ultimate  triumphal 
success  than  these  few  plain  words  from  Ludendorff. 
Together  with  the  famous  letter  from  Hindenburg  in  which, 
speaking  of  the  Bulgarian  collapse,  he  said,  **  It  is  no  longer 
possible  for  us  to  resist;  we  must  ask  for  an  armistice,'* 
they  demolish  all  that  was  ever  said  in  criticism  of  the  value 
of  the  Salonica  Army  and  at  the  same  time  lift  that  Force 
to  its  rightful  place  in  the  history  of  the  Great  War. 

H.  C.  O. 

London,  August,  1919. 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER  ^^^ 

X. — Getting  there 1 

II.— When  the  B.S.F.  was  Young           ...  12 

III. — Salonica  Nights           27 

IV.— A  Day  IN  Town 40 

v.— The  "B.N." 60 

VI. — Friends  up  Country 68 

VII.—"  The  Coveted  City  " 78 

Vm.— The  Fire             90 

IX. — Two  Balkan  Days — January  and 

July  ... 105 

X. — The  Balkan  Stage        117 

XI. — Ourselves  AND  OUR  Allies     128 

XII. — The  Army  from  Without     144 

XIII. — The  Conversion  of  Greece 157 

XIV. — Mud  and  Malaria          174 

XV. — Home  on  Leave            189 

XVI. — The  Allied  Operations         200 

XVII.— DoiRAN      216 

XVIIL— Victory    288 

XIX.— The  Pursuit       260 

XX. — .     .     .     .     And  After             269 

Appendix  I. — Work  of  the  16th  Wing, 

R.A.F 279 

Appendix  II. — A  Note  on  Malaria 289 

Index       291 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

PAGE 

General  Sir  George  Milne,  G.C.M.G.,  K.C.B.,  at  a  Horse  Show 

at  Guvesne Frontispiece 

Salonica  in  the  days  of  the  Turk:  a  photograph  taken  in  1911. 
It  is  interesting  as  showing  the  crenellated  walls  round  the 
White  Tower  which  still  existed  at  that  time         ...         16 
Salonica  in   the   days   of   the  Allies.     A  section  of  the   crowd 

listening  to  the  French  Band  in  the  Place  de  la  Liberte     .        46 
Some  of   the    Comitadjis   who   worked   for  the   British  in   the 

Struma    Valley 4«5 

A  scene  in  Jean,  Tchimiski  Street,  December,  1916    ...         60 

The  Limonadji,  or  street  lemonade  seller 60 

Macedonian  shepherd   on   the  summit  of  Mount    Kotos    (4,000 

feet)  overlooking  Salonica  Harbour 75 

Salonica  the  day  after  the  fire 96 

British  Transport  in  Macedonia :   A  typical  road  on  a  summer 

day 112 

Our  Balkan  Allies :  Serbs  at  Mikra,  after  landing  from  Corfu, 

1916 128 

Evzones  of  the  Venizelist  Army  leaving  for  the  Front,  1917     .       128 
Macedonian  mud  :  Serbian  Artillery  horses  rescuing  a  Ford  car      176 

The  Pass  Road  from  Bralo  down  to  Itea 194 

Macedonian  **  Ladies  "  breaking  stones  for  road-making  .  .  194 
The  British  Balkan  Front  from  Gjevgjeli  to  Orfano  .  .  .  208 
Doiran,  showing  Tortoise  Hill,  Jumeaux  Ravine  and  Petit 
Couronn^  on  the  left  just  above  the  lake.  From  here  the 
hills  rise  upwards,  over  Doiran  Town,  to  Grand  Couronne, 
with  its  scarred  crest.  Dominating  Grand  Couronne  is 
seen  the  undulating  Pip  Ridge,  and  beyond  this  again  the 

snow-clad    mountains   of    Serbia 224 

The   British  Fleet   passing  up  the  Dardanelles.       Photo  taken 
from  the  Flagship  Superb,  showing  Temeraire,  Lord  Nelson 

and  Agamemnon  astern 272 

A  map  of  the  Balkan  Front    .        .        .  .        .        End  paper 

viii. 


CHAPTER  I. 

Getting  There. 

*'  Whoever  would  have  dreamed  of  coming  to 
Salonica?"  sighed  a  melancholy  and  homesick  young 
captain  from  up  the  line.  We  were  sitting  in  the 
famous  cafe  of  Floca — famous  not  for  any  startling 
merits  on  the  part  of  Floca  Freres,  but  just  because  it 
was  our  premier  cafe,  and  the  rendezvous  of  every- 
body in  general — and  the  world  must  have  a  rendez- 
vous, even  in  Salonica.  Outside,  through  the  newly 
glazed  windows,  we  looked  upon  the  charred  skeletons 
of  the  buildings  destroyed  in  the  great  fire — a  conflagra- 
tion which  should  really  be  referred  to  as  the  Great  Fire, 
and  will  always  so  be  thought  of  by  those  who  saw  it. 
And  inside  the  flies  were  buzzing  merrily — or  fiercely — 
for  the  heat  had  come  early,  and  they  were  in  the  first 
flush  of  their  spring  ardour.  They  settled  on  our  hands, 
heads  and  faces,  tickling,  biting  and  enraging  us.  They 
buzzed  round  in  clouds  exploring  milk  jugs,  beer  pots, 
sticky  cakes  on  plates  {gateaux  mouches,  as  somebody 
wittily  called  them)  and  generally  behaving  as  all  flies 
in  the  Near  East  do,  as  if  to  make  up  by  their  extrava- 
gance of  vigour  for  the  natural  indolence  of  the  inhabi- 
tants. And  the  flies  were  merely  the  sauce  piquant e,  so 
to  speak,  to  the  general  boredom  and  weariness  of  men 
who  had  been  living  for  years  without  leave  in  a  dis- 
tressing country  which  they  heartily  disliked.  The 
captain  from  up  the  line — like  many  others — had  not 
seen  home  for  over  two  and  a  half  years.     He  was 

1  B 


SALONICA    AND    AFTER 

weary  of  Macedonia,  and  his  heart  longed  fiercely  for 
home — "Blighty"  on  a  wet  evening  if  you  like,  with 
the  lights  turned  low  and  all  the  theatres  showing  their 
"House  Full"  boards,  but  "Blighty"  under  any  con- 
ditions if  the  impossible  could  only  happen.  And  the 
sigh  that  welled  up  from  him  de  Profundis,  "Whoever 
would  have  dreamed  of  coming  to  Salonica?"  spoke 
volumes. 

But  to  pass  from  his  melancholy,  which  was  a  very 
common  symptom  in  Macedonia,  whoever  would  have 
dreamed  of  coming  to  Salonica  ?  True  it  is  now  a 
household  name,  like  "  Plugstreet,"  Mesopotamia,  and 
many  other  blessed  words.  But  before  the  war  who 
could  have  taken  his  atlas  and,  putting  down  his  finger, 
said  triumphantly,  "There  is  Salonica!"  True,  we 
knew  it  existed  somewhere,  like  Syracuse  or  Antanan- 
arivo. But  very  few  people  in  our  world  knew  anything 
more  of  it  than  its  bare  existence.  St.  Paul,  we  might 
remember,  once  wrote  an  epistle  to  the  Thessalonians. 
But  very  few  people,  again,  ever  dreamed  of  connect- 
ing, however  distantly,  "  certain  lewd  fellows  of  the 
baser  sort"  with  the  people  of  the  modern  city  where 
Jew  meets  Greek  in  a  perpetual  tug  of  war.  England, 
in  short,  never  had  any  business  with  Salonica,  and 
never  expected  to  have  any.  It  was  as  far  removed 
from  our  ken  as  any  place  on  the  map  could  be.  Bel- 
gium had  been  swallowed  up ;  Paris  had  been  menaced 
and  saved ;  the  battle  of  Loos  had  been  fought  and  lost ; 
Gallipoli  had  flared  up  with  heroic  glory  and  died  down 
into  a  smoulder  of  forlorn  hopes,  and  some  people  were 
already  talking  of  "  war  weariness  " — and  still  we  had 
not  heard  of  Salonica.  And  then  there  came  a  sudden 
and  unexpected  turn  in  the  wheel  of  war.  A  new  name 
appeared  in  the  newspaper  headlines — Salonica — and 
the  convenient  maps  that  accompanied  the  news  of 

2 


GETTING   THERE 

our  men  landing  there  showed  exactly  where  it  lay. 
The  military  critics  told  us  exactly  what  the  new  ex- 
pedition meant,  and  all  it  was  going  to  do.  Torres 
Vedras  was  mentioned,  and  what  Wellington  did.  The 
public  was  much  excited  and  waited  eagerly  for  the 
glad  news  that  history  had  repeated  itself.  (It  came 
indeed,  but  after  how  many  delays  and  doubts  and 
grumblings  ?)  The  amateur  strategist  played  joyfully 
with  the  latest  idea,  and  trotted  happily  up  and  down 
a  new  country  which  looked  delightfully  small  and  easy 
on  the  map.  The  first  exchange  of  shots  was  opened 
which  developed  into  the  long-drawn  battle  between 
Easterners  and  Westerners.  The  immediate  doom  of 
the  Turk  was  announced.  People  said,  "By  the  way, 
is  it  Saloneeka  or  SalZonika  or  Salon^/ker?"  And  so 
the  new  word — in  various  disguises — passed  into  the 
language. 

And  there  it  will  remain.  The  many  thousands  of 
men  of  the  British  Armies  who  passed  through  it  into 
Macedonia,  and  carried  the  Old  Flag  into  lands  where 
it  had  never  been  seen  before ;  or  who  trod  its  uneven 
cobbles  on  very  occasional  leave ;  or  lay  weak  with  fever 
or  wounds  in  the  great  hospitals  that  ringed  it  round, 
will  see  to  that.  They  may  have  loathed  Salonica  as 
they  loathed,  in  earlier  days,  the  six  o'clock  hooter  on 
a  Monday  morning.  But  in  their  minds  it  stands  for 
Victory.  And  they  will  not  let  it  be  forgotten.  When 
to-morrow's  children  are  listening  to  stories  of  Ypres 
and  Cambrai  and  Neuve  Chapelle  a  great  many  others 
will  be  listening  to  what  happened  in  Salonica  and 
beyond. 

The  new  name  had  not  yet  lost  its  first  flush  of  popular- 
ity at  home  when  the  writer  received  an  intimation  that 
his  humble  services  might  be  useful  to  the  British  Army 

8 


SALONICA   AND    AFTER 

out  there.  The  Army  in  and  around  Salonica,  cut  off 
from  all  that  was  good  for  it,  needed  a  daily  newspaper, 
and  it  was  suggested  that  one  used  to  newspapers 
should  be  sent  out  to  produce  it.  By  all  the  rules  of 
war  (if  all  the  stories  we  have  heard  be  true)  a  dentist 
or  a  stockbroker  should  have  been  selected.  But  in  this 
detail,  at  least,  the  Great  War  was  quite  rationally 
organised,  and  one  familiar  with  big  newspapers  was 
sent  to  see  about  the  production  of  a  little  one. 

It  meant  saying  good-bye  to  certain  cherished  hopes 
of  continuing  indefinitely  a  brief  spell  of  work  as  cor- 
respondent on  the  Western  Front.  But  the  new  idea 
had  it's  own  particular  appeal.  A  recently  published 
account  of  Salonica,  written  on  the  spot,  gave  the  im- 
pression that  it  was  a  very  "one  horse"  place  indeed, 
with  one  cafe  and  one  cinema.  No  doubt  the  editor 
would  sit  on  a  biscuit  box  and  learn  to  give  orders  to 
the  office  boy  in  Turkish.  The  general  idea  was  that 
aerial  bombardments  occurred  on  most  days  of  the 
week.  It  was,  in  fact,  a  plunge  into  the  unknown  which 
promised  to  be  interesting  and  moderately  exciting. 
You  may  run  a  war  in  a  wilderness.    But  a  newspaper  ! 

However,  after  a  number  of  interviews  at  that  for- 
bidding place  of  interminable  corridors  in  Whitehall, 
where  the  idea  of  a  newspaper  for  an  army  was  treated 
a  little  gingerly,  rather  as  a  small  dog  approaches  its 
first  hedgehog,  a  start  was  made.  It  was  an  itinerary 
that  was  then  rather  novel  during  the  war,  but  has 
since  become  familiar  to  many  thousands.  Havre 
(raining  heavily  and  very  melancholy) ;  Paris  (begin- 
ning to  look  almost  normal  again) ;  Rome  (quite  normal, 
except  for  many  officers  and  soldiers  walking  about  in 
neat  uniforms  as  yet  unstained  by  war),  and  so  down 
to  Messina,  where  a  Greek  steamer  was  due  to  sail 
for  the  Piraeus.    And  after  a  very  hot,  dusty  and  tiring 

4 


GETTING   THERE 

afternoon  walking  about  the  ruined  city  in  quest  of 
various  visas  and  permits,  I  boarded  the  s.s. 
Nafgratoussa, 

We  sat  down  to  an  early  dinner.  There  were  about 
twenty  of  us  in  the  little  saloon;  a  mixed  company, 
with  Greeks  predominating,  but  everybody  spoke 
French.  We  included  a  rough-cut  old  Greek  merchant 
skipper  who  did  not  seem  worth  more  than  five  pounds. 
But  during  dinner  he  told  me  something  of  his  affairs. 
He  owned  a  steamer  which,  before  the  war,  was  worth 
£40,000  and  which  was  now  worth  £120,000.  From  his 
blue  serge  coat  he  produced  a  document  showing  that 
he  had  just  paid  £4,666  10s.  war  risks  insurance  for  one 
three  months'  voyage  of  his  precious  barque.  He  had 
been  to  London  with  £50,000  to  try  and  buy  another 
steamer,  but  had  not  been  successful.  *'It  is  difficult 
to  buy  steamers  now,"  he  remarked  casually,  much  as 
one  might  say  that  the  price  of  boots  was  high. 

There    was     also    an     elegantly     whiskered     Greek 
merchant  of  thirty-five  or  so,  from  Marseilles,  who  had 
a  very  lively  eye,  and  immediately  set  it,  and  his  con- 
versation, at  a  very  pleasant  and  quiet  little  French 
woman.    She  easily  kept  his  advances  at  arms'  length, 
and  later  mentioned  that  she  was  proceeding  to  visit  her 
husband,  who  was  an  officer  at  Salonica.    The  visit,  one 
gathered,  was  sub  rosa ;  it  was  essential  that  the  mili- 
tary authorities    should    not   hear    of  it.     How  M.  le 
Capitaine  X.  had  arranged  it  we  were  not  told.     "We 
have  not  seen  each  other  for  nearly  eight  months,"  she 
said,  impressively.     It  seemed  a  dreadfully  long  time 
then.     But  Salonica  altered  that  point  of  view.     And 
there  was  Mr.    S.,    an    elderly   Englishman,  lately  of 
Smyrna,  engaged  in  the  liquorice  trade;  one  of  that 
large  number  of  Englishmen  whose  families  have  been 
attached  to  the  Near  East  for  generations  past,  and  who 

5 


SALONICA  AND  AFTER 

see  very  little  of  England,  and  of  whom  the  home 
Englishman  never  hears.  One  learned  that  liquorice 
was  used  almost  entirely  for  the  tobacco  trade,  and 
that  only  round  Smyrna  will  it  grow  really  properly, 
as  liquorice  should.  It  is  only  on  trains  and  steamers 
that  one  learns  this  sort  of  thing. 

It  was  a  pleasant  trip  across  the  Ionian  Sea  (with 
some  little  concern  as  to  submarines,  which  we  under- 
stood occasionally  stopped  and  searched  Greek  ships), 
and  so  up  through  the  picturesque  and  storied  Gulf  of 
Corinth,  with  the  rugged  mountains  of  the  Peloponnesus 
looking  across  the  narrow  waters  to  the  high  crest  of  old 
Parnassus;  past  ancient  Corinth — a  tight  squeeze 
through  the  narrow  canal  in  its  rock  cutting — and  so  to 
the  bare  headlands  which  are  the  gates  to  the  harbour 
of  Piraeus. 

A  feeling  of  the  keenest  disillusion  came  over  me  at 
the  sight  of  the  parched  and  brown  earth  surrounding 
it.  This  such  classic  ground  !  And  that  utterly  com- 
monplace huddle  of  buildings  Piraeus !  One  had 
imagined — well,  all  sorts  of  things  infinitely  more 
gracious  and  pleasing.  And  as  we  steamed  into  the 
harbour  a  wave  of  torrid  air  that  might  have  come  from 
the  fires  of  Hades  swept  past  the  ship.  Piraeus  seemed 
a  mean,  uncomfortable  and  scorched  sort  of  place, 
utterly  unworthy  to  be  the  gateway  to  Athens.  The 
crowd  of  noisy  boatmen  who  suddenly  surrounded  the 
ship,  swarmed  on  deck  like  pirates  and  descended, 
shouting  and  quarrelling,  on  the  luggage,  did  nothing 
to  soften  the  brutal  first  impression  of  their  native 
place. 

Fortunately,  a  young  Greek  from  Athens,  who  had 
been  deputed  to  meet  Madame,  appeared  at  the  same 
moment  as  the  pirates  and  proved  to  be  most  useful 
in  piloting  us  to  the  shore,  through  the  customs,  and 

6 


GETTING   THERE 

so  on  the  light  railway  up  to  Athens,  and  there  to  a 
hotel.  It  was  an  oppressively  hot  day,  and  the  services 
and  activities  of  this  excellent  young  man  were  beyond 
all  price.  After  learning  that  Madame  was  en  route 
for  Salonica  I  had  offered  to  be  of  any  service  I  could 
during  the  journey.  It  was  thus  that  I  found  myself 
also  sheltering  under  the  wing  of  Mr.  Achilles  Leon- 
dopoulos,  and  listening  to  his  views  on  the  latest  phase  of 
the  political  situation  at  Athens,  and  on  what  the  Allies 
ought  to  do  in  the  conflict  of  wills  proceeding  between 
Constantine  and  Venizelos.  From  what  I  remember  of 
it  he  uttered  a  lot  of  sound  common  sense.  Firmness 
on  the  part  of  the  Allies  was  necessary,  he  said.  It  was 
a  long  time  before  we  employed  it. 

In  those  days  the  railway  was  not  completed  between 
Athens  and  Salonica,  and  Mr.  Leondopoulos  "charged 
himself"  with  the  mission  of  finding  out  when  the  next 
boat  was  sailing.  Two  days  later  we  returned  to 
Piraeus  and  pushed  off  into  the  busy  harbour.  It  was  a 
beautiful  evening,  and  the  idea  of  a  two  days'  voyage 
to  Salonica  was  pleasant  to  dwell  upon. 

'*  There  is  the  Helda,^^  said  Leondopoulos,  after  a 
little  while,  and  pointed  to  a  small  steamer.  "I  am 
afraid  it  is  a  little  crowded." 

I  looked,  and  my  heart  fell  at  what  I  saw.  Madame 
looked — and  received  the  blow  extremely  well. 

The  Helda  was  a  very  small  boat,  and  we  were  near 
enough  to  see  that  it  was  packed  from  stem  to  stern 
with  human  beings.  As  we  drew  still  nearer  we  saw 
that  numerous  cattle  and  a  general  cargo  were  crowded 
higgledy-piggledy  in  the  waist. 

"Ce  n^est  pas  eocactement  une  transatlantique,^^  mur- 
mured Madame. 

"There  are  cabins  for  ladies,"  said  Leondopoulos, 
brightly,  and  I  wondered  what  they  were  like.  (Madame 


SALONICA   AND    AFTER 

told  me  later.)     The  noise  of  the  chattering  multitude 
on  the  ship  came  to  our  ears.     We  boarded  her,  and 
climbed  on  the  after  deck.    To  gain  a  footing  there  was 
like  forcing  oneself  into  the  main  street  during  a  village 
fair.     We  were  surrounded  by  a  mob  of  unclean  in- 
dividuals including,  apparently,  bandits  and  cut-throats 
of  all  sorts;  Greek  soldiers;    one    pretty  French  girl, 
assiduously  waited  on  by  a  young  Greek  with  a  very 
English    manner;    commercial    people    from    Athens, 
Salonica  and  Kavalla ;  a  score  of  long-haired  and  untidy 
Greek  priests  and,  as  I  afterwards  found,  many  Greek 
refugees  from  Asia  Minor.    And  still  boats  came,  bring- 
ing  further   pilgrims.      I   sought  out   the   captain   on 
Madame 's  behalf.     He  promised  to  do  what  he  could, 
and  said  that  if  she  liked  she  might  sit  in  a  chair  on 
the  bridge  whenever  she  wished.    We  sat  in  the  saloon 
a  little  later,  making  the  best  of  dinner.     It  was  hot 
and  crowded  and  noisy.    Opposite  sat  the  pretty  French 
girl  with  her  ardent  Greek  cavalier,  who  dropped  collo- 
quial English  phrases  now  and  again  to  show  that  his 
clothes  were  not  the  only  thing  he  had  acquired  in 
London.      Madame    was    all    attention    to   the   little 
romance  proceeding  before  us,  and  watched  the  pretty 
girl  with  great  attention.     ''Elle  n^est  pas  serieuse,^* 
Madame   announced  finally   and  decisively.     But  the 
young  lady  was  undeniably  attractive,  and  the  exquisite 
from  Athens  was  making  the  most  of  his  chances.     (I 
saw  him  a  year  or  more  later,  by  the  way,  in  a  Salonica 
tram,  and  he  had  become  a  private  in  the  Greek  Army.) 
The  Helda   was   most   decidedly   badly   overloaded. 
She  also  had  a  considerable  list  on  her.     I  wondered 
what  would  happen  to  her  if  there  were  any  sea  on. 
But  morning  found  us  anchored  off  Chalcis.     The  day 
was  hot  but  beautiful,  the  coast  of  Euboea  most  pic- 
turesque, and  the  Helda  mercifully  at  rest.     Only  the 

8 


GETTING  THERE! 

crowded  unwashed  refugees,  still  stretched  out  where 
they  had  originally  staked  their  claims,  spoiled  the 
beauty  of  the  morning.  A  brisk  trade  in  olives  and 
goat's  milk  cheese  was  proceeding  from  boats  alongside. 
And  a  little  old  man  came  up  the  side  with  a  case  of 
books.  He  proved  to  be  a  colporteur  of  the  British 
and  Foreign  Bible  Society.  He  passed  round  the  decks 
selling  here  and  there  small  religious  pamphlets,  talking 
goodness  knows  how  many  languages  and  dialect's.  He 
halted  before  me.  "I  have  books  in  all  tongues,"  he 
said,  in  English.  "I  have  your  Bible."  I  bought  a 
small  Bible  from  him,  beautifully  bound  and  finished 
for  drachmae  2.25,  or  a  little  less  than  two  shillings, 
and  he  passed  on,  through  the  lowing  cattle  amidships, 
to  continue  his  work  amidst  the  people  thickly  crowded 
in  the  forward  part  of  the  ship.  It  was  a  scene  Borrow 
himself  might  have  conjured  up. 

That  day,  on  the  hot  crowded  decks,  seemed  as  long 
as  twenty.  Fortunately  we  were  in  beautifully  calm 
water,  between  Euboea  and  the  mainland,  and  there 
was  no  fear  as  to  the  behaviour  of  the  Helda,  who  strug- 
gled gamely  along,  like  a  duck  with  a  broken  wing. 

Evening  brought  us  into  the  pretty  little  port  of  Volo, 
nestling  under  the  slopes  of  Pelion.  Day  was  just  turn- 
ing into  dusk,  the  lights  on  shore  were  beginning  to 
twinkle.  It  was  a  pleasant  prospect.  Suddenly  a 
rumour  ran  round  the  ship.  We  were  taking  on  still 
more  cargo !  There  was  much  excitement,  and  the 
heated  conversations  on  every  hand  gradually  resolved 
themselves  into  a  sort  of  meeting  of  outraged  passengers 
in  the  saloon.  Were  we  all  to  be  drowned  just  to  satisfy 
the  greed  of  the  captain  and  his  owners  !  Two  hundred 
and  fifty  cases  of  cheese  were  even  now  being  trans- 
ferred from  boats  !  We  should  sink  under  the  extra 
weight !     The  meeting  became   extremely  heated.     It 

9 


SALONlCA  AND  AFTER 

was  decided  to  send  a  deputation  of  eight  to  the  Capi- 
taine  du  Port  to  lodge  a  vehement  protest.  As  the  only 
Englishman  present  I  was  pressed  to  join. 

We  crowded  into  a  boat  and  the  mob  on  board  bid 
us  good  luck  and  success  in  their  various  tongues.  We 
consisted  chiefly  of  Jewish  and  Greek  tobacco  mer- 
chants from  Salonica  and  Kavalla.  The  house  of  the 
Captain  of  the  Port  was  found  after  a  little  delay.  He 
received  us  in  his  office,  and  though  very  short  and 
plump,  looked  competent.  There  was  an  excited  con- 
versation in  Greek.  The  Capitaine  du  Port  finally  sug- 
gested that  we  should  return  immediately  to  the  ship, 
as  otherwise  we  might  find  it  gone  without  us.  He 
would  come  aboard  immediately  in  his  own  boat  and 
look  into  the  matter. 

The  scene  that  followed  on  board  with  the  captain 
of  the  ship,  the  Capitaine  du  Port,  and  the  deputation, 
with  various  other  people  intervening,  cannot  be 
described.  The  saloon  rang  and  trembled  with  noise. 
The  ship's  captain,  a  slim  and  resolute  looking  man  of 
about  thirty,  stuck  to  his  guns  and  was  even  said  to  be 
prepared  to  use  one.  He  would  do  as  he  liked  with  his 
own  ship.  True  she  might  list  a  bit,  but  that  didn't 
matter.  She  had  done  the  same  thing  many  a  time 
before.  The  cheese  was  now  on  board  and  he  was  going 
to  take  it  to  Salonica.  The  Greek  and  Jewish  tobacco 
merchants  waved  their  arms  at  him  and  called  him  a 
potential  assassin. 

Finally  the  Capitaine  du  Port  gave  a  ruling.  It  was 
true  that  more  cargo  had  been  taken  on.  But  on  the 
other  hand  a  goodly  number  of  passengers  had  dis- 
embarked. Consequently  there  were  45  tons  less  weight 
on  the  ship  than  there  had  been  before.  Nobody 
believed  him,  but  the  Capitaine  du  Port  departed  in  his 
boat.     The  captain  went  back  to  his  bridge  and  left 

10 


GETTING   THERE 

the  deputation  still  talking.  We  put  out  of  Volo,  the 
Helda  feeling  just  about  as  springy  and  lifelike  as  a 
Thames  coal  lighter. 

And  even  this  voyage  came  to  an  end.  Early  after- 
noon next  day  found  us  off  Salonica,  looking  a  fairy 
place,  with  its  hundreds  of  caiques  in  the  harbour,  the 
steeply  sloping  and  picturesque  town  going  up  to  the 
hills  beyond,  and  the  long  front  appearing  to  be  deli- 
cately resting  on  the  water.  It  is  the  eternal  mirage 
and  illusion  of  the  East,  which  from  afar  promises  so 
much  and  on  closer  acquaintance  gives  so  little. 
Salonica  smiled  her  best  welcome.  I  little  dreamed  how 
Jong  I  and  so  many  others  would  be  there,  and  how 
much  we  should  long  to  see  the  last  of  her. 

A  plain  clothes  French  police  officer  came  off  to  meet 
Madame.  He  was  not  an  optimistic  or  cheerful  person. 
*'l7ne  sale  ville,^^  he  said,  when  we  were  settled  in  the 
boat.  '*Four  months  have  I  been  here  already.  And 
apparently  one  is  going  to  be  here  all  one's  life."  Then 
the  worrying  douane.  And  finally  plump  into  the  main 
street  of  Salonica  with  its  noise;  its  crowded  trams; 
its  polygot  and  multi-coloured  population ;  its  rattling, 
springless  carts;  its  buffalo  waggons;  its  innumerable 
loustros,  or  bootblacks ;  its  soldiers  of  half  a  dozen 
nations — and  all  the  other  things  we  got  to  know  so 
well,  and  loathed,  tolerated  or  liked,  according  to  our 
temperaments. 

A  little  later  I  met  Madame's  husband,  M.  le  Capi- 
taine  X.  He  was  forty-five  or  more,  rotund  and  bald, 
and  a  very  matter-of-fact  personage  indeed.  But,  all 
the  same,  I  am  sure  that  for  him  Madame  would  have 
undertaken  that  horrible  voyage  ten  times  over.  Such 
is  the  wayward  power  of  love  ! 

11 


CHAPTER  II. 

When  the  B.S.F.  was  Young. 

Once  upon  a  time  it  was  difficult  to  write  for  the 
world  in  general  about  Salonica  and  its  Army.  One 
had  to  explain;  to  apologise  almost  for  its  existence; 
to  show  what  an  important  link  were  the  British  and 
Allied  forces  in  Macedonia  in  the  chain  that  surrounded 
our  enemies,  and  how  some  day  their  role  would  be  tre- 
mendously important.  And  with  all  the  explanation 
one  knew  that  the  world  at  large  was  only  half  con- 
vinced, or  not  convinced  at  all.  But  the  task  now  is 
easy.  The  work  of  the  Salonica  Army  is  done,  and  well 
done.  Its  vital  share  in  the  great  victory  is  already 
clear,  and  when  the  historian  takes  up  the  story  it  may 
be  that  it  will  stand  out  in  even  greater  relief  than  it 
does  to  us ;  or,  at  any  rate,  it  is  certain  that  he  will 
realise  from  the  outset  of  his  labours  what  most  people 
during  the  war  only  appreciated  after  years  of  mis- 
conception. But  already,  without  waiting  for  the  his- 
torian, the  extreme  value  of  the  Macedonian  campaign 
is  striking  and  decisive  enough.  The  Balkan  Armies 
made  the  first  real  breach  in  the  enemy  ring,  which 
resulted  in  the  capitulation  of  Bulgaria,  and  brought 
Turkey,  Austria-Hungary,  and  finally  Germany  herself, 
tumbling  down  in  ruin. 

For  the  moment  we  will  talk  of  Salonica  of  the  old 
days,  when  the  war  threatened  to  be  interminable,  and 
men  settled  down  to  exile  with  as  good  a  grace  as 
possible.  A  distinguished  supply  officer,  who  was  one 
of  the  first  of  our  army  to  set  foot  there,  has  put  down 

12 


WHEN  THE    B.S.F.    WAS    YOUNG 

some  of  his  impressions  of  that  time.  *'It  is  difficult," 
he  says,  "to  treat  seriously  the  situation  in  Salonica  in 
the  beginning  of  October,  1915.  The  setting  of  the 
Place  de  la  Liberte,  with  its  cafes  spread  along  each 
side  of  the  brilliantly  lighted  square,  where  the  Greek 
officers  during  the  first  mobilisation  disported  them- 
selves in  brilliant  uniforms  with  their  smartly  dressed 
women-folk,  was  suggestive  of  the  opening  scene  of  a 
Balkan  comic  opera,  and  this  atmosphere  was  intensi- 
fied by  the  general  topsi-turviness  of  the  situation. 

"Imagine  a  British  Army  landing  in  a  neutl'al 
country,  supposedly  friendly,  but  actually  engaged  in 
active  and  organised  opposition,  of  the  passive  resist- 
ance variety.  Imagine  the  German  and  Austrian 
Consuls  in  a  town  containing  more  than  a  sprinkling  of 
their  own  nationalities,  of  Turks,  Bulgarians,  and  other 
enemies,  counting  each  British  soldier  and  gun  as  they 
passed  the  dock  gates,  and  concocting  in  the  evening 
their  daily  telegram  sent  by  Greek  wireless  to  Berlin. 
Imagine  the  mail  train  passing  through  the  British 
Base  up  the  British  Lines  of  Communication,  to  the 
British  Railhead  at  Doiran,  with  its  daily  freight  of 
spies  and  alien  enemies,  bound  for  the  hostile  capital 
of  Constantinople,  and  returning  thence  without  let  or 
hindrance.  Imagine  all  these  things,  and  you  have  a 
fairly  accurate  picture  of  early  days  in  Salonica.  A 
situation  which  would  doubtless  have  appealed  to  the 
librettist,  but  which  did  not  argue  well  for  serious 
military  operations. 

"The  first  forlorn  little  party  of  Allies  to  land  in 
Salonica  consisted  of  a  military  mission  of  seven  British 
and  two  French  officers.  Spirited  away  from  Mudros 
harbour  in  the  middle  of  the  night  of  September  29th, 
in  a  destroyer  under  sealed  orders,  they  were  pushed 
unceremoniously  ashore  between  the  White  Tower  and 

18 


SALONICA   AND    AFTER 

the  Marble  Steps,  and  made  a  somewhat  pitiful  picture 
with  their  baggage  and  their  batmen,  and  nowhere 
particular  to  go  to.  Our  instructions,  opened  during 
the  passage  from  Mudros,  were  somewhat  vague.  We 
were  told  to  prepare  for  the  possible  arrival  of  five 
divisions,  and  that  fuller  instructions  would  await  us 
at  the  British  Consulate.  We  therefore  repaired  thither, 
leaving  two  clerks,  the  batmen  and  the  baggage  as  the 
centre  of  a  curious  crowd  on  the  beach.  The  Consul- 
General  was  on  leave,  but  we  were  received  by  the  Vice- 
Consul,  who  appeared  to  be  somewhat  embarrassed  by 
our  arrival." 

The  Vice-Consul  had  only  heard  of  the  probable 
arrival  of  the  party  half  an  hour  before,  and  was  quite 
unable  to  help. 

"There  was  little  more  to  be  done  for  that  day  but  to 
dispose  of  ourselves  and  our  belongings.  The  French 
officers  wisely  got  into  mufti  and  became  civilians,  but 
the  British  continued  to  render  themselves  subject  to 
summary  internment  by  remaining  in  uniform  in  a 
neutral  country  in  war  time. 

"The  next  few  days  were  spent  in  reconnaissance  of 
the  harbour,  railway  and  local  topography,  and  in 
entering  into  various  agreements  and  purchases,  most 
of  which  were  subsequently  annulled  by  the  action  of 
the  Greek  Government,  which  stepped  in  and  requisi- 
tioned nearly  the  whole  of  the  articles  purchased  and 
the  buildings  hired.  We  managed  to  borrow  a  set  of 
maps  from  the  Standard  Oil  Company,  which  proved 
to  be  invaluable,  as  none  were  obtainable  elsewhere. 
Two  of  us  were  arrested  for  making  a  reconnaissance 
of  the  Croisement  Militaire,  but  fortunately  the  subal- 
tern commanding  the  guard  had  been  an  engineer  in 
Belgium  before  the  war  and  had  pro-entente  sympathies. 
He  was  easily  persuaded  to  let  us  go  again. 

14 


WHEN   THE    B.S.F.    WAS    YOUNG 

'*0n  October  2nd  a  wire  was  received  from  the  British 
Minister  in  Athens  saying  that  our  arrival  was  unexpec- 
ted, that  it  was  causing  poHtical  embarrassment,  and 
that  we  ought  to  return  whence  we  came.  This  was 
rather  a  blow,  but  we  replied  that  we  were  sent  out 
under  War  Office  instructions,  and  could  not  leave  with- 
out orders  from  the  same  source,  and  asked  the  Minister 
to  repeat  both  cables  home.  The  political  situation 
certainly  was  delicate,  and  to  judge  by  the  local  papers 
our  arrival  had  occasioned  considerable  consternation. 
There  were  stormy  scenes  in  the  Greek  Parliament,  and 
in  the  end  the  Greek  Government  protested  against  the 
landing,  but  did  not  take  any  active  military  steps  to 
prevent  it. 

'*At  9  p.m.  on  the  night  of  the  2nd  we  heard  through 
French  sources  that  our  position  was  being  officially 
recognised,  and  this  was  confirmed  at  11  p.m.  by  the 
Greek  authorities.  This  removed  the  danger  of  intern- 
ment for  the  time  being,  but  did  not  have  much  practi- 
cal effect  in  reducing  our  difficulties.  We  found  our- 
selves blocked  at  every  turn  by  a  solid  phalanx  of  Greek 
obstructionists.  We  found  that  everything  that  we 
wanted  could  only  be  obtained  by  referring  to  half  a 
dozen  different  officials,  each  of  whom  did  his  best  to 
delay  matters,  but  the  whole  business  was  so  insidious 
and  so  cleverly  manoeuvred  that  I  do  not  think  any  of 
us  suspected  hostile  intent  until  months  afterwards." 

Such  was  the  beginning  of  the  Allied  campaign  in 
Macedonia,  and  our  difficulties,  due  to  local  obstruc- 
tion, went  on  at  an  increasing  rate  for  many  months. 
I  arrived  in  Salonica  just  as  the  Serbs  were  beginning 
to  come  in  after  being  reconstituted  at  Corfu,  following 
their  terrible  winter  retreat  through  Albania.  King 
Constantine  and  his  friends  the  enemy  had  been  nicely 

15 


SALONICA   AND    AFTER 

bluffed.  He  had  refused  to  allow  the  passage  of  the 
Serbian  troops  over  the  railways  of  Greece,  and  while 
the  wrangle  was  proceeding  the  British  and  French 
Naval  forces  had  made  their  preparations,  and  the 
Serbs  were  brought  by  sea  to  Salonica  without  the  loss 
of  a  single  man,  in  spite  of  the  submarines  that  lurked 
round  the  friendly  shores  of  Const antine's  kingdom. 
Some  day  a  historian  may  tabulate  and  compare  the 
various  instances  of  Allied  and  enemy  bluff  during  the 
war.  I  think  it  will  be  found  that  we  easily  proved  his 
superior  in  this  respect,  as  in  most  others. 

The  Serbs,  then,  came  to  add  their  share  to  the 
already  varied  aspect  of  life  in  Salonica.  The  French 
and  British  had  already  been  there  for  nearly  six 
months.  They  had  made  the  unsuccessful  advance  up 
into  Bulgaria  in  order  to  try  and  rescue  the  Serbian 
Armies  at  the  last  moment.  It  was  a  courageous  and 
hopeless  attempt  which  failed,  as  we  can  now  see  it 
was  bound  to  do,  but  it  was  by  no  means  labour  lost. 
The  Serbian  Army  was  destined  to  play  a  great  part  in 
reclaiming  the  Balkans.  The  help  of  1915  had  been 
sent  too  late,  but  the  Serbians  knew  that  it  had  been 
sent,  and  that  they  were  by  no  means  entirely  friend- 
less. And  from  that  Allied  expedition  up  to  Bulgaria 
really  dates  the  re-birth  of  the  Serbian  nation,  even 
though  it  seemed  to  them,  at  the  time,  that  all  was 
lost. 

Under  conditions  of  the  greatest  difficulty,  with  mud, 
snow,  rain,  and  the  worst  of  communications  to  contend 
with — not  to  mention  Greek  hostility — the  Allies  re- 
treated through  the  mountainous  country  beyond  Lake 
Doiran,  punishing  the  Bulgars  severely  all  the  way,  and 
leaving  them  sufficiently  exhausted  not  to  be  able  to 
follow  us  on  to  Salonica.  Had  they  done  so  the  story 
might  have  been  very  different,  to  our  disadvantage. 

16 


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3       CO       ^ 

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^    t^    ^ 

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>-i       u, 

c/5    .«  H 

!=^"^  ^ 

c^    *i    2i 

^.•^ 

^-.     t-l     <u 

CJ     C    c 

u  •-    5 

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G    C    «- 

o   <u   « 

;^^l 

WHEN  THE    B.S.F.    WAS    YOUNG 

On  the  other  hand  it  might  have  turned  out  badly  for 
the  enemy.  Had  the  Bulgar  pushed  on  to  Salonica, 
and  had  we  held  him  there  on  the  strong  line  of  hills, 
lakes  and  marshes  that  run  round  the  city  (the  line 
known  to  the  British  as  the  "Birdcage"),  he  would  have 
greatly  lengthened  his  communications  and  would  have 
had  to  undertake  an  enormous  amount  of  organisation 
and  pioneer  work,  chiefly  in  the  way  of  road  making, 
which  later  fell  to  the  lot  of  the  Allies,  and  principally 
to  the  British.  Also,  he  would  not  have  been  so  strongly 
entrenched  on  the  formidable  line  of  mountains  up- 
country  which  afterwards  resisted  so  many  Allied 
assaults,  and  which  were  finally  only  carried  in  the 
victorious  offensive  of  September,  1918.  It  is  a  pretty 
speculation,  and  one  which,  perhaps,  it  is  profitless  to 
pursue  further  now. 

After  the  Allied  retreat  on  to  Salonica,  in  which  a 
great  part  was  played  by  the  10th  (Irish)  Division, 
General  Sarrail  at  once  set  about  the  organisation  of 
the  "Birdcage,"  and  British  and  French  dug  and  wired 
feverishly.  It  was  quite  expected  that  the  Bulgars 
would  attack,  and  in  the  meantime  the  correspondents 
on  the  spot  were  allowed  to  announce  to  the  world  that 
the  Allies  now  found  themselves  in  one  of  the  strongest 
"entrenched  camps"  ever  made.  It  was  no  doubt 
largely  true.  But  here  again  it  is  possible  that  the 
element  of  bluff  played  a  part.  The  Allies  were  by  no 
means  organised  properly  as  yet  for  resistance  to  a 
serious  attempt,  backed  possibly  by  heavy  German 
support,  to  capture  the  great  Mgean  seaport,  on  which 
the  whole  of  our  Balkan  campaign  rested.  And  it  was  a 
very  good  thing  indeed,  just  then,  to  let  the  enemy 
know  some  of  the  difficulties  that  lay  before  him,  and 
even  exaggerate  them.  Allied  reinforcements  were  only 
just  beginning  to  arrive,  and  we  needed  time  to  take 
breath.  17  c 


SALONICA   AND    AFTER 

The  Bulgar  never  came  down,  and  the  Allies  set  them- 
selves to  the  task  of  reinforcement  and  organisation. 
French  and  British  troops  poured  in,  and  our  men  as 
they  landed  expected  immediate  fighting.  They  had 
to  camp,  in  most  unhospitable  weather,  on  barren  and 
muddy  tracts  of  ground  to  the  west  of  the  old  city, 
which  later  were  to  become  organised  camps  on  a  huge 
scale,  but  which  at  that  time  were  regarded  merely 
as  temporary  halting  places.  Many  of  them  landed  in 
an  appalling  blizzard — the  worst  known  in  Macedonia 
for  years  past.  (But  we  had  plenty  later  on.)  The  British 
sent  some  splendid  divisions,  and  it  was  well  that  they 
did,  for  only  the  best  of  troops  could  have  "stuck"  the 
long  monotony  and  discouragement  of  the  Balkan  cam- 
paign, with  its  unpleasant  mixture  of  difficult  fighting, 
fever  and  boredom.  Following  the  10th  Division,  the 
22nd,  28th,  26th,  and  27th  Divisions  came,  in  the  order 
named,  and  what  most  of  them  thought  at  the  time 
was  to  be  a  quick  and  short  campaign  away  from  the 
main  theatre  of  war,  developed  into  the  three-years 
long  vigil,  which  was  not  to  bring  its  final  success  until 
the  Autumn  of  1918.  Both  Corps  headquarters  were 
installed  within  a  few  miles  of  the  city ;  the  12th  on  a 
huge  mound  near  Lembet,  supposed  to  be  the  site  of 
ancient  fortified  villages;  and  the  16th  on  the  pictur- 
esque little  village  of  Kiredjkeui,  on  the  hilly  road  run- 
ning up  to  the  mountainous  region  of  Hortiach ;  quite  a 
charming  little  place  with  a  narrow,  winding  main 
street  that  always  remained  a  great  problem  for  traffic. 

It  was,  until  quite  recent  times,  a  retreat  for  brigands 
and  comitadjis,  who  used  occasionally  to  descend  from 
there  into  the  city,  some  five  or  six  miles  over  the  hills, 
and  carry  off  a  plump  bourgeois  for  ransom.  A  few 
years  before  the  war  a  member  of  an  English  family 
who  lived  in  Salonica  was  captured  one  evening  just 

18 


WHEN   THE    B.S.F.    WAS    YOUNG 

as  he  stepped  off  the  tram  and  walked  into  his  front 
garden  on  the  main  boulevard  of  the  city.  A  heavy 
ransom  was  exacted  for  his  return,  and  this  was  paid 
by  the  Turkish  Government.  The  whole  immediate 
region  round  the  city,  which  was  for  so  long  covered 
with  Allied  camps  was,  until  the  troops  came,  a  no- 
man's-land  for  the  inhabitants  of  Salonica.  The  Greeks, 
after  their  arrival  in  1912,  in  the  first  Balkan  War,  had 
done  a  considerable  amount  of  good  police  work,  but 
Macedonia  still  remained  Macedonia,  and  there  were 
many  thousands  of  Saloniciens  who  had  never  stirred 
outside  the  limits  of  their  city. 

The  hard  winter  of  1915,  then,  and  the  opening 
months  of  1916  was  a  period  of  feverish  activity  on  the 
part  of  the  Allies.  The  great  transports  that  came  into 
the  splendid  bay  discharged  troops  or  munitions  daily. 
There  were  docks,  camps,  offices,  transport,  telephones, 
dumps,  hospitals — a  thousand  and  one  things  to  be  or- 
ganised. Salonica  was  only  a  corner  of  the  Great  War, 
but  it  immediately  became  a  base  for  a  campaign  on  a 
very  large  scale — a  campaign  of  much  greater  propor- 
tions, for  instance,  than  the  South  African  War.  The 
period  was  full  of  incident  and  excitement,  although  for 
the  time  being  there  was  no  fighting.  The  Allied 
cavalry  patrols,  far  out  up-country,  beyond  the  line  of 
the  "Birdcage,"  kept  a  watchful  eye  on  the  Bulgar, 
who,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  was  digging  himself  into  the 
positions  which  he  was  to  hold  for  three  years.  The 
Royalist  Greek  troops  quartered  round  Salonica  were, 
throughout  these  first  months,  a  source  of  much  worry 
and  anxiety  to  the  Allied  commanders.  Ex-King  Con- 
stantine  was  just  beginning  his  really  sinister  work. 
He  seems  an  inconsiderable  figure  now  that  he  is 
merely  a  deposed  monarch  inhabiting  a  Swiss  villa, 
but  he  had  great  potentialities  for  mischief  then,  and  for 

19 


SALONICA   AND    AFTER 

long  afterwards.  There  came  the  day  in  May,  1916, 
when,  by  his  orders,  Rupel  Pass,  the  gateway  from 
Bulgaria  into  Macedonia,  was  surrendered  to  the 
enemy.  The  Greek  army  corps  of  Colonel  Hadjopoulos 
surrendered  to  the  Bulgars  at  Kavalla,  and  the  enemy 
occupied  that  region  and  established  themselves  on  the 
great  mountain  ranges  (through  which  the  Rupel  Pass 
is  the  only  gateway)  which  later  marked  the  whole 
length  of  the  British  front.  General  Sarrail  had  already 
turned  out  the  enemy  consuls.  He  now,  by  a  minor 
coup  d'etat,  occupied  the  Greek  post  and  telegraph 
offices.  There  had  been  a  good  deal  of  leakage  of  in- 
formation on  the  wires,  and  it  was  high  time  to  stop 
it.  And,  as  a  minor  detail,  the  staff  of  the  British  Base 
Commandant  were  turned  out  of  their  offices  by  certain 
smaller  denizens  of  Salonica,  whose  blood-thirstiness 
and  vigour  in  attack  were  to  become  a  byword  to  us  all. 
And  so  the  summer  of  1916  opened — that  terrible 
summer  which  cost  the  British  forces  more  dearly  than 
many  a  minor  campaign  which  has  added  great  tracts 
of  territory  to  the  Empire.  Salonica  was  now  probably 
the  most  crowded  city  in  the  universe.  The  Serbs  had 
arrived,  and  a  little  later  came  the  Italians  and  the 
Russians.  The  streets,  the  restaurants,  the  cafes,  and 
the  cinemas  all  held  far  more  people  than  was  safe  or 
comfortable.  May  opened  with  very  hot  weather,  and 
the  speckless  blue  sky  that  overhung  the  noisy,  swelter- 
ing city  was  hardly  clouded  until  late  autumn.  This 
was  long  before  the  Great  Fire,  which  reduced  nearly 
a  square  mile  of  central  Salonica  to  a  mass  of  ruins. 
Every  street  rang  and  echoed  with  the  noise  of  rattling 
carts,  clanging  trams,  rumbling  lorries  or  trumpeting 
automobiles.  For  those  who  lived  or  worked  in  the 
centre  of  the  town  the  noise,  the  crow^ds,  and  the  heat 
became  a  constant  and  normal  misery,  like  toothache 

20 


WHEN  THE    B.S.F.    WAS    YOUNG 

indefinitely  prolonged.  After  a  time  it  produced  a  kind 
of  stupor.  A  month  seemed  a  year.  By  the  time  the 
summer  was  half  through,  one  seemed  to  have  been 
scorched  and  jostled  and  deafened  for  ever  in  Salonica, 
and  the  twenty  or  thirty  or  forty  years  one  had  pre- 
viously lived  in  England  or  elsewhere  seemed  to  have 
shrunk  to  the  dimensions  of  a  pleasant  incident. 

The  Place  de  la  Liberte  was  the  centre  of  all  life  in 
those  days.  It  had  cafes  on  both  sides  of  it,  and  save 
for  the  hottest  part  of  the  afternoon  it  was  certainly 
the  most  crowded  and  cosmopolitan  spot  in  the 
universe.  Looking  down  on  it  from  the  balcony  of  the 
Cercle  des  Etrangers — an  excellent  club  founded  years 
ago  by  a  British  Consul-General,  and  in  many  ways  the 
pleasantest  interior  in  Salonica — one  realised  for  the 
first  time  the  real  meaning  of  such  words  as  ''cosmopoli- 
tan," "polyglot,"  and  "crowded."  There  were  officers 
and  soldiers  of  the  five  Allies ;  Turks,  Albanians,  Greeks 
(soldiers  and  otherwise),  sailors  from  half  a  dozen 
navies;  Allied  "native"  soldiers^ — Algerians,  Indians, 
Annamites,  and  ugly  Senegalese ;  Balkan  peasants  in 
their  rough  frieze  dresses,  with  bright  waist-bands ;  and 
the  innumerable  all-pervading  Spanish  Jews  and  Jew- 
esses of  Salonica.  The  buzz  of  their  continuous  con- 
versation, in  half  the  languages  of  Europe,  rose  like 
the  noise  of  surf  on  a  beach.  And  in  the  cooler  hours, 
when  the  populace  came  forth  en  masse  from  their  villas 
and  apartement  houses  and  warrens,  one  might  have 
waltzed  on  their  heads. 

Here,  too,  the  military  bands  used  to  play,  and  those 
afternoons  were  the  happiest  in  the  life  of  the  city. 
The  British  figured  very  little  in  this.  I  remember 
seeing  the  band  of  the  7th  Wiltshires  once,  but  it  went 
up-country  with  its  battalion,  and  British  music  was 
heard  no  more.     The  French  do  these  joyous  and  im- 

21 


SALONICA    AND    AFTER 

pressive  things  with  much  greater  appetite  and  success 
than  we  do.  They  had  a  band  which  was  largely  com- 
posed of  trumpeters,  and  their  music  was  of  a  most 
martial  and  inspiring  kind,  though  a  little  too  vibrant 
for  all  tastes.  But  to  see  the  trumpeters  lower  their 
instruments  with  a  flourish,  and  a  twist  of  the  gaily 
decorated  banners  that  hung  from  them ;  or  to  hear  the 
band  play  the  Sambre  et  Meuse,  was  very  thrilling  and 
exciting.  The  crowd  never  failed  to  applaud  frantic- 
ally, with  long  rolls  of  hand-clapping.  The  Italians, 
too,  brought  a  band,  which  was  of  a  quieter  nature. 
Life  is  not  all  trumpets.  And  when  Constantine  went 
and  the  star  of  Venizelos  was  in  the  ascendant  again, 
the  Greeks  produced  a  very  good  band  and  took  their 
turn  in  the  concerts  of  the  week. 

And  over  the  way  at  Floca's,  now  by  general  consent 
the  chic  cafe  of  the  city,  the  officers  and  soldiers  of  the 
Allies,  and  the  better  class  residents  of  the  city,  sat 
jammed  elbow  to  elbow  at  the  round  tables  and  drank 
tea,  coffee  or  light  beer,  and  ate  large  quantities  of 
excellent  and  expensive  cakes.  The  hospitals  had 
settled  down,  and  many  English  sisters  and  nurses  were 
often  to  be  seen.  It  was  one  of  our  few  consolations  that 
with  the  whole  world  at  war  almost  the  best  chocolates 
of  the  time  could  be  bought  at  this  cafe.  The  industrious 
brothers  who  presided  over  it  never  (by  some  miracle) 
ran  short  of  sugar  during  the  greatest  dearth.  The 
cakes  were  the  equal  of  those  of  a  patisserie  on  the 
Boulevard  des  Capucines.  And  there  everybody  met  to 
talk  about  the  war  and  the  heat  and  the  flies ;  cursing 
all  three  impartially  and  wondering  if  we  were  ever  to 
be  delivered  from  any  of  them.  Dusty  and  sweating 
officers  came  in  from  up-country — the  nearer  up-country 
of  those  days — and  told  terrific  tales  of  the  heat  and 
discomforts  in  the  camps  in  the  outer  marches  of  the 


WHEN   THE    B.S.F.    WAS    YOUNG 

"Birdcage."  They  were  full  of  stories  of  their  shopping 
experiences  in  town ;  of  the  poor  quality  of  the  mer- 
chandise; the  impossibility  of  finding  anything  they 
really  wanted ;  the  tricks  of  the  local  Greeks  and  Jews, 
and  the  exactions  of  the  larger  shops,  who  put  on  all 
the  airs  of  great  departmental  stores,  but  provided  very 
little  for  a  lot  of  money.  Subalterns  said,  "Damn  these 
confounded  drachmas ;  I  haven't  got  the  hang  of  them 
yet."  All  our  lives  we  had  lived  in  a  gold  country,  and 
it  was  hard  to  realise  that  these  wisps  of  paper,  many 
of  them  extremely  dirty,  really  represented  money. 
Partly,  but  not  entirely,  for  this  reason,  they  were 
thrown  about  with  a  negligent  air,  and  the  local  shop- 
keepers benefited  accordingly.  A  pound  Greek  note 
was  spent  with  less  than  half  the  concern  with  which 
a  golden  sovereign  would  have  been  disbursed,  and  five 
drachmae,  or  a  little  over  four  shillings,  became  the  unit 
of  exchange.  It  was  hard  to  imagine  a  purchase  costing 
less  than  that.  And  in  this  atmosphere  of  fluttering 
notes  and  the  smoke  from  a  thousand  cigarettes,  w^ith 
the  long  ventilator  propellers  revolving  monotonously 
overhead,  the  Greek  waiters  wormed  their  way  tirelessly 
in  and  out  of  the  serried  ranks  of  customers,  summoned 
by  impatient  and  insistent  "  psss-ss-ts  "  and  answering 
with  cries  of  "  all  right,  sair."  There  were  lavish  tips 
on  the  tables,  and  money  to  be  made  out  of  these 
hot  British  officers,  who  had  the  curious  habit  of  drink- 
ing tea,  or  sitting  round  ices  like  schoolboys  in  a  tuck 
shop. 

Everything  that  happened  in  Macedonia  (and  a  good 
many  things  that  didn't  happen)  was  discussed  in 
Floca's.  It  was  the  only  common  meeting-place,  the 
Forum  of  the  Allied  Armies.  Secret  agents  sat  there, 
and  spies — an  excellent  arrangement  for  the  hunters 
and  the  hunted  to  be  in  easy  touch.    There  were  bluff 


SALONICA   AND    AFTER 

skippers  from  trawlers  and  mine-sweepers,  destroyer 
commanders  back  from  convoy  to  Alexandria  or  else- 
where ;  navy  men  of  all  degrees ;  padres  who  looked  like 
warriors,  and  occasional  warriors  who  looked  like 
padres.  One  heard  stories  of  submarine  encounters,  and 
other  matters  of  palpitating  interest.  And  yet,  looking 
back  on  it  all,  it  is  extraordinary  how  little  that  really 
mattered  was  said.  The  British  officer,  naval  or  mili- 
tary, is  an  extremely  close  person  about  his  job.  You 
may  know  him  extremely  well,  but  he  talks  of  little  or 
nothing  beyond  generalities.  I  often  used  to  wonder 
how  the  poor  spies  managed  to  get  along,  and  where 
they  got  their  information.  It  must  be  dreadfully 
annoying  to  sit  in  a  cafe,  buzzing  with  hundreds  of 
interesting  conversations,  all  jumbled  up  like  a  great 
jig-saw  puzzle,  and  to  be  able  to  seize  nothing  from  the 
mass.  But  of  course  messieurs  les  espions  had  their  own 
methods,  and  Salonica,  with  its  mixture  of  races,  was  a 
particularly  favourable  town  for  their  operations.  They 
were  of  all  classes  and  grades,  and  in  the  earlier  days 
German  agents  of  all  kinds  moved  freely  amongst  us. 
We  had  to  employ  a  good  deal  of  native  labour,  of  every 
nationality,  and  at  the  docks,  where  the  ships  came  in 
with  their  cargoes  of  lorries,  aeroplanes,  guns,  and  every 
kind  of  material  of  war,  the  enemy  agents  of  the  smaller 
calibres  swarmed.  Towards  the  end  of  1916,  owing  to 
the  increasingly  dubious  attitude  of  King  Const antine, 
we  had  to  send  a  brigade  down  the  coast  to  Ekaterini 
to  guard  against  a  possible  attack  in  the  rear.  The 
troops  were  not  sufficient  for  the  purpose  if  Constantine 
had  really  launched  his  Army,  but  something  had  to  be 
done,  and  there  was  a  good  deal  in  showing  that  you 
are  alert  to  a  possible  danger.  I  remember  the  remarks 
of  an  officer  at  the  docks  on  this  embarkation.  '* Those 
ruddy  old  spies  were  absolutely  tumbling  over  each 

34 


WHEN   THE    B.S.F.    WAS    YOUNG 

other,"  he  said.  ''It  made  me  laugh  to  see  them  at 
work ;  they  hadn't  had  a  tit-bit  like  this  since  we  came 
to  Salonica.  We  didn't  worry.  We  let  them  get  on 
with  it.  They  reported  that  two  British  divisions  were 
being  sent  down  the  coast,  and  that  suited  us  all 
right."  I  suppose  that  so  long  as  a  spy  may  be  made  to 
work  for  you  like  this  he  should  be  tolerated  and  even 
cherished.* 

There  was  always  somebody  to  see  and  talk  to  at 
Floca's,  providing  you  could  squeeze  in.  But  one  soon 
found  that  the  struggle  to  obtain  a  cup  of  tea  at  the 
cafe  was  too  exhausting  to  be  made  a  daily  task. 
Gradually  the  tea  habit  was  introduced  at  the  club.  It 
was  a  relief  to  escape  from  the  grilling  office  or  the 
crowded  streets  for  an  hour,  and  to  sit  in  its  cool,  big 
room,  with  the  comfortable  easy  chairs  made  in  Eng- 
land. How  many  subalterns,  after  a  spell  of  three  or 
four  months  in  the  heat  of  tents  or  dug-outs  up-country, 
have  I  seen  sink  into  those  deep  easy  chairs  with  a 
luxurious,  "By  Gad,  this  is  comfort  again."  Blessed 
be  the  British  habit  of  founding  clubs.  The  most  melan- 
choly thing  about  the  Great  Fire  was  that  it  destroyed 
this  haven,  along  with  so  much  else. 

The  memory  of  dinner  on  the  first  night  I  arrived  in 
Salonica  will  never  fade.  With  a  friend  I  went  to  the 
Olympos  Restaurant.  The  big  room  was  full;  people 
were  shouting,  "pssst-sst-ing"  and  clapping  hands  at 
the  waiters.  It  was  almost  like  dining  in  a  menagerie. 
And  in  the  midst  of  the  tumult  my  friend  bent  over  and 
shouted  in  my  ear,  "You  see  that  dark,  handsome  man 
at  the  next  table,  with  the  strong,  hawk-like  profile  ? 
That's  the  feller  who  assassinated  Mahmoud  Shefket 
Pasha." 

Oh  the  intense  joy  of  it !     I  was  a  little  hazy  as  to 

*  See  Note  at  end  of  Chapter. 


SALONICA    AND    AFTER 

how  Mahmoud  Shefket  Pasha  had  been  done  to  death, 
but  the  point  was  that  I  was  in  Salonica  where  notorious 
and  handsome  assassins  moved  about  unmolested  and 
sat  at  the  next  table.  This  was  romance  and  adventure 
if  ever  there  was  !  I  saw  the  handsome  assassin  every 
day,  in  the  club  playing  backgammon,  or  elsewhere.  In 
a  week  I  was  pointing  him  out  proudly  to  newcomers 
who  were  duly  impressed  with  my  intimate  knowledge 
of  the  sinister  life  of  the  Near  East.  And  then,  after 
a  while,  I  became  used  to  the  assassin,  and  ceased  to 
take  any  notice  of  him.  Shortly  afterwards  he  disap- 
peared from  circulation  and  was  seen  no  more.  But 
whether  he  really  was  the  assassin  of  Mahmoud  Shefket 
Pasha  I  never  knew. 

Note. — As  the  campaign  wore  on  our  counter-espionage  work,  which 
was  run  by  the  Intelligence  Branch  of  the  General  Staff,  developed 
greatly,  and  became  extremely  efficient.  Owing  to  the  rugged  nature 
of  Macedonia,  and  to  the  large  tracts  of  wild  country  which  existed 
behind  our  lines,  it  was  for  a  long  time  a  comparatively  easy  matter 
for  enemy  agents  to  cross  from  the  Bulgar  territory  to  our  own,  and 
back  again.  They  posed  as  peasants  and  shepherds,  or  perhaps  really 
were  peasants  or  shepherds,  and  could  be  Turk,  Greek  or  Bulgar  at 
will.  From  Salonica,  up  through  our  own  country,  and  into  Bulgaria, 
these  chains  of  spies  ran.  Conditions  were  extremely  favourable  to 
them,  but  although  we  may  never  have  stamped  the  organisation  out 
absolutely  it  became  a  very  difficult  and  dangerous  business  for  the 
spy.  Occasionally  there  would  be  an  execution,  somewhere  behind  the 
Struma,  and  a  grim  procession  would  start  out  on  a  long  journey, 
the  Corps  A. P.M.  and  his  mounted  policemen  in  attendance  taking 
a  white-faced  Turk  (sitting  in  a  mule  limber  or  a  Ford  car)  to  his 
native  village,  there  to  be  shot  before  the  head-man  and  all  the  rest 
of  the  village  who  cared  to  attend — and  most  of  them  did.  The 
chief  routes  used  by  these  enemy  agents  were  across  or  near  the 
Butkova  and  Tahinos  Lakes,  in  the  Struma  Valley,  and  over  the 
valley  which  was  bounded  on  our  side  by  the  Krusha  Balkans  and 
on  the  enemy  side  by  the  Beles  or  Belashitza  range.  As  one  way  of 
preventing  this  traffic  we  organised  several  comitadji  bands  of  our 
own,  composed  of  picturesque  creatures  swathed  in  cartridge  belts, 
who  loved  their  rifles  as  a  mother  loves  her  baby.  They  were  swash- 
buckling individuals  who  hated  shell  fire,  but  were  fairly  efficient  at 
the  class  of  work  they  were  intended  for.  Some  of  them  could  not 
drop  their  ingrained  habits,  even  when  working  under  the  British 
flag,  an(^  were  quite  capable  of  extracting  money  from  a  well-to-do 
Turkish  farmer  under  the  threat  of  denouncing  him  as  a  spy.  Btit 
on  the  whole  they  did  their  work  fairly  well,  and  earned  the  rations 
and  the  pay  we  provided  for  them. 

26 


CHAPTER  III. 

Salonica  Nights. 

Following  on  the  first  advance  up  to  Serbia,  and  the 
subsequent  retreat,  there  came  the  long  lull  of  prepara- 
tion, and  it  was  not  until  the  burning  months  of  June 
and  July  that  the  Allied  Armies  moved  out  from  the 
line  of  the  "Birdcage"  to  get  in  closer  touch  with  the 
Bulgars,  who  were  by  now  well  established  on  their 
formidable  line  of  mountains,  at  no  place  nearer  than 
forty-five  or  fifty  miles  from  the  metropolis  of  Mace- 
donia. On  one  of  the  last  days  of  May,  1916,  I  hap- 
pened to  be  a  short  distance  up-country  along  the 
Langaza  Valley.  One  of  the  battalions  which  had  been 
holding  the  line  of  hills  there,  some  eight  or  ten  miles 
outside  of  Salonica,  had  organised  an  assault-at-arms, 
and  I  was  invited  to  see  the  fun.  There  was  a  marquee 
with  refreshments,  and  everything  went  off  splendidly. 
But  in  the  middle  of  the  sports  the  10th  Division  began 
to  file  past,  on  their  way  to  take  up  the  line  on  the  far 
Struma.  It  was  a  blistering  hot  day,  and  the  men  with 
their  heavy  packs  had  marched  down  from  the  high 
plateau  just  under  Mount  Hortiach.  They  marched 
slowly  past  in  a  cloud  of  dust,  every  man  looking  at  the 
trim  enclosure  of  the  sports  ground,  with  its  marquee 
and  chairs  and  general  look  of  happiness.  The  Tenth 
had  come  from  Gallipoli,  and  already  had  experience  of 
what  a  Balkan  winter  could  be.  And  as  they  walked 
past  now,  beads  of  sweat  hanging  big  on  the  face  of 
every  man  and  the  dust  swirling  about  their  feet,  they 

27 


SALONICA    AND    AFTER 

gave  us  the  first  real  hint  of  what  campaigning  in  a 
Balkan  summer  was  likely  to  be.  It  was  a  strange 
contrast;  the  happy  and  comparatively  cool  battalion 
at  play  and  the  baked  and  dusty  men  of  the  Division 
on  the  march. 

In  the  succeeding  weeks  and  months  the  British  took 
up  their  general  line  on  the  right,  or  east,  of  the  front 
along  the  malarial  Struma  Valley  to  the  sea ;  and  with 
the  French  had  some  brisk  hill  fighting  in  the  region  of 
Doiran,  where  the  Allies  wrested  a  series  of  important 
positions  from  the  enemy.  The  French  occupied  the 
centre,  from  the  Vardar  westwards,  and  the  Serbs  took 
up  the  line  from  the  left  of  the  French  on  towards  Mon- 
astir.  And  on  July  30th  the  first  of  the  Russians  came. 
That  was  a  wonderful  morning.  They  marched  up  the 
Place  de  la  LibertS  eight  abreast,  their  bayonets  on  their 
long  rifles ;  magnificent  looking  men,  whose  firm  tread, 
in  their  heavy  boots,  seemed  to  make  the  earth  shake. 
Here,  one  felt,  was  the  might  of  the  Czar,  with  his  in- 
exhaustible legions.  Here  was  Great  Russia,  with  her 
boundless  primitive  strength  allied  to  the  civilisation  of 
the  West.  As  the  men  marched  they  occasionally  broke 
out  into  wonderful  and  inspiring  chants.  The  Balkan 
campaign  promised  well  as  they  tramped  past.  These, 
no  doubt,  were  but  the  forerunners  of  many  more. 
Roumania  was  coming  in  from  the  north.  The  enemy 
would  be  pinched  like  a  nut  between  crackers.  .  .  . 
Alas,  that  the  tragedy  of  the  Romanoffs  was  to  dash 
these  and  many  greater  hopes,  and  the  Balkan  Front 
was  to  have  its  echo  of  the  melancholy  collapse  of  the 
Russian  giant,  so  that  good  soldiers  suddenly  became 
worthless,  and  the  local  newspaper  in  Russian,  which 
had  been  started  for  the  troops,  gently  appealed  to  the 
men  to  salute  their  officers  again,  as  they  had  done 
before ! 

28 


SALONICA   NIGHTS 

Twelve  days  later  the  first  of  the  Italians  arrived, 
Alpini  and  Bersaglieri  amongst  them — fine  looking 
troops  who  drove  the  Italian  inhabitants  mad  with 
joy.  And  gradually,  in  the  never-ceasing  heat  and  dust, 
the  line  of  the  Allies  was  formed  far  away  beyond  the 
line  of  the  "Birdcage" — French,  British,  Serbs, 
Italians  and  Russians  taking  up  their  posts  over  moun- 
tain and  valley  in  a  continuous  trench  line  across  more 
than  half  of  the  Balkan  Peninsula. 

And  while  this  was  being  done,  and  the  men  of  so 
many  nations  were  scratching  out  their  temporary 
homes  amid  the  wastes  of  Macedonia,  the  capital  pur- 
sued its  life  of  feverish  activity;  a  city  of  merchants 
and  shopkeepers  exacting  all  the  profits  they  could 
from  the  opportunity  the  great  occasion  presented,  and 
a  city  of  soldiers  working  and  organising  ceaselessly  for 
the  men  up  at  the  front,  or  snatching — during  their 
moments  of  leisure  or  their  occasional  visits  to  the 
town — at  any  pleasure  that  presented  itself;  and 
Heaven  knows  it  was  illusory  and  unsatisfying  enough. 

Salonica's  cafes,  cabarets,  cafe  chantants,  cinemas 
and  music  halls  did  a  roaring  trade  in  those  days.  There 
were  plenty  of  them,  but  there  were  never  quitte  enough 
for  the  thousands  of  strangers  who  were  within  the 
gates  of  the  city ;  all  of  them  men  who,  in  this  unpleas- 
ing  seaport  of  the  JEgeam,  felt  acutely  that  they  were 
exiles  and  were  only  too  anxious  to  try  and  forget  it. 
Throughout  it  was  a  feverish,  make-believe  pleasure 
which  never  rang  true.  One  always  felt,  even  in  the 
noisiest,  most  uproarious  moments — and  there  was 
never  any  lack  of  them — that  if  some  voice  had  sud- 
denly called  out,  "This  is  all  vain  and  false.  There  is 
not  one  man  who  is  happy  and  amused  with  all  this 
tawdry  nonsense.  Let  every  man  who  is  sick  at  heart 
with  it,  and  has  no  joy  in  it,  walk  out" — one  felt  that 

29 


SALONICA    AND    AFTER 

in  such  case  the  salle  de  spectacle  would  have  emptied 
immediately,  and  that  the  soubrettes  with  the 
mechanical  gestures  and  the  harsh  or  squeaky  songs 
about  nothing  in  particular,  would  immediately  have 
heard  the  terrible  sound  of  their  own  voices  in  the 
silence  that  succeeded  to  the  tumult. 

But  after  all,  what  would  you  have  men  do  who  are 
engaged  in  the  enterprise  of  war,  which  is  so  often  bor- 
ing when  it  is  not  dangerous;  and  who  came  down  to 
town  for  three  days  after  living  in  a  trench  in  the 
wilderness,  or  were  on  earth  again  after  flying  through 
the  white  puffs  from  the  enemy's  anti-aircraft  guns? 
There  is  not  much  room  for  philosophy  when  a  respite 
is  offered  from  the  boredom  or  peril  of  war,  and  so 
Salonica's  bastard  Montmartre  flourished.  There  was 
very  little  that  was  harmful  about  it — not  more  than 
usual,  at  any  rate. 

The  Odeon,  the  White  Tower,  the  Skating  Rink— 
these  are  names  that  will  live  long  in  the  memories  of 
the  men  who  were  in  Macedonia.  The  Odeon,  which 
went  with  the  fire,  was  one  of  the  chief  centres  of  gaiety 
in  the  old  days.  It  had  a  certain  elegance  of  design, 
rather  like  a  miniature  Co  vent  Garden  Opera  House. 
It  was  oval  in  shape,  and  three  tiers  of  boxes  ran  round 
it,  each  one  filled  with  vociferous  Allied  Officers.  If  it 
w^ere  possible  to  award  a  palm  for  lung  power  I  think 
it  would  be  given  to  a  prominent  group  of  young  French 
Flying  Officers.  But  everybody  was  much  the  same 
and,  dinner  over  at  the  various  restaurants,  the  groups 
of  Allied  Officers  filed  in,  twos  and  fours  and  sixes, 
arguing  at  the  box  office  and  paying  heavily  to  assist 
at  a  performance  which  they  never  by  any  chance 
allowed  to  be  audible.  For  the  recognised  thing  to  do 
in  these  halls  of  delight  and  amusement  was  to  make  such 
a  terrible  noise  and  clatter,  such  a  vacarme  de  tous  les 

80 


SALONICA   NIGHTS 

diahles,  that  no  word  could  be  heard  from  the  stage. 
One  by  one  the  ladies  of  the  stage  walked  on,  waved 
their  arms  in  a  uniform  fashion,  which  suggested  they 
had  all  passed  through  the  same  drill  squad,  and  sang 
about  Heaven  knows  what.  Most  of  the  songs  came 
from  the  Paris  cabaretis,  but  they  might  have  been  in 
Choctaw  or  Senegalese.  Meanwhile  great  fun  went  on 
in  the  boxes.     Bottles  were  lowered  up  and  down  on  .^i^ffn 

the  end  of  strings;  caps  were  lassooed  and  recovered; 
a  perspiring  waiter  was  made  prisoner;  box  called  to 
box ;  the  ladies  of  the  establishment,  relentlessly  plying 
their  commerce  of  selling  the  expensive  champagne  of 
the  proprietor,  darted  about  with  shrills  cries  and  laugh- 
ter, always  with  an  eye  to  business ;  and  the  members  of 
the  orchestra  sawed  away,  quite  accustomed  to  it  all 
and  quite  indifferent  as  to  whether  or  not  their  fiddles 
were  heard.  Occasionally  from  sheer  exhaustion  there 
would  come  a  lull.  This  was  not  to  be  tolerated.  Some- 
body would  beat  his  cane  on  the  wooden  side  of  a  box. 
The  chorus  would  be  taken  up,  and  a  more  terrible 
sound  than  the  noisy  uproar  of  the  human  voice  would 
succeed. 

This  method  of  making  the  most  of  a  performance 
was  common  to  all  the  music  halls  of  Salonica,  though 
in  the  open-air  entertainment,  which  was  given  in  the 
White  Tower  grounds  in  the  warm  summer  evenings, 
the  audience  was  much  quieter.  Such  human  ebullience 
is  only  possible  within  four  walls  and  a  roof,  and  is 
rebuked  by  the  calm  heavens.  And  here  and  there  one 
found  a  magic  touch  which  always  calmed  the  tempest, 
like  oil  on  water.  One  of  these  was  a  young  person  who 
was  always  allowed  to  ''do  her  bit"  in  comparative 
peace.  Her  act  was  as  stereotyped  and  mechanical 
and  unartistic  as  anything  could  be  imagined.  But  she 
was  dainty  and  pleasing  to  look  upon,  and  she  ''got 

81 


SALONICA   AND    AFTER 

off"  her  song  with  a  smile  and  a  rush,  and  in  two 
minutes,  still  with  a  smile,  had  disappeared.  She  had 
only  one  song,  and  the  refrain  of  it  was  : — 

"  J'ai  besoin  du  calmant 
Pour  mon  temperament. 
Donnez  m'en,  donnez  m'en,  donnez  m'en!" 

The  smile,  a  flick  of  skirts,  and  she  was  gone.  She 
attached  herself  to  a  local  Greek  army  contractor,  who 
had  made  a  quick  fortune  by  selling  hay  or  something 
of  the  kind,  gave  up  the  triumphs  and  fatigues  of  the 
stage,  and  rode  about  Salonica  in  a  carriage.  She  had 
apparently  found  a  balm  for  her  temperament. 

Then  there  was  Polly.  It  is  not  her  name,  but  it  will 
do.  She  dominated  a  raging  audience  as  a  dompteur 
dominates  his  cage  of  forest  bred  lions.  She  was  plump 
and  rounded,  and  a  Union  Jack  graced  one  of  her  at- 
tractive curves.  And  in  her  own  sphere  she  did  the 
Old  Flag  honour.  Polly  was  a  product  of  the  Manches- 
ter School  of  stage  dancing,  which  has  sent  its  devotees, 
generally  in  troupes  of  four  or  eight,  to  every  music 
hall  in  the  universe.  They  are  all  of  them  thoroughly 
capable,  and  with  their  skilful  twinkling  of  toes  and 
legs  leave  the  Continental  product  far  behind.  Polly 
had  seen  many  stages  in  Europe  and  the  Near  East.  I 
think  the  Army  found  her  at  Salonica,  and  I  heard 
people  say  they  had  seen  her  dancing  at  Bucharest  and 
Constantinople  quite  a  long  time  ago.  (They  begin 
very  young.)  And  Polly  would  bound  on  to  the  stage 
when  the  noise  was  in  full  blast.  Her  appearance 
brought,  if  possible,  a  louder  volume  of  uproar.  Per- 
fectly cool  and  self-possessed,  Polly  would  twinkle  about 
with  her  feet,  occasionally  uttering  a  peculiar  call,  diffi- 
cult to  reproduce  in  writing,  which  was  taken  up  by  the 
audience.  She  never  hurried.  She  could  wait  until  the 
noise  had  ceased.  Then  sure  enough  the  calm  would 
come,  and  Polly  would  begin  her  song  and  dance. 

82 


SALONICA   NIGHTS 

Latterly  her  song  was  always  "Blighty."  When 
first  I  heard  it  on  the  gramophone  somewhere  in  Mace- 
donia, I  thought  it  the  most  vulgar  and  unpleasing  song 
I  had  ever  heard.  But  if  you  are  a  long  time  away  from 
home  it  grows  on  one  wonderfully.  It  ends  by  becom- 
ing a  tender  chanson  which  twangs  the  heart  strings  a 
little.     It  may  sound  absurd,  but 

"  Tiddley,  iddley,   itey. 
Take  me  back  to  Blighty, 
Blighty  is  the  place  for  me," 

have  been  lines  of  poetry  and  music,  stirring  the  ten- 
derest  sentiments,  to  many  thousands  of  our  men  away 
at  the  w^ar.  It  voiced  a  desire  which  was  nearest  and 
dearest  to  the  hearts  of  all.  Polly  would  end  with  some 
skilful  and  pleasing  dance,  a  final  call  of  "Ya-oup" 
(that  is  the  nearest  our  spelling  can  get  to  it),  and  a 
farewell,  nonchalant  wave  of  the  hand  that  put  every- 
body in  their  places.    We  always  wanted  more  of  her. 

Then  there  was  "Tipperary."  It  also  had  great  power 
to  quell  the  storm.  The  orchestra  had  only  to  strike 
up  with  it  and  everybody  would  wait  for  the  chorus  to 
join  in.  I  have  seen  British,  French,  Serbs,  Italians, 
Russians  and  Greeks  singing  it  together,  and  singing  it 
with  a  real  touch  of  seriousness;  as  a  rite,  something 
that  stirred  the  finer  feelings.  What  words  they  all  put 
to  the  refrain  one  never  knows. 

And  then,  finally,  there  was  "Madelon,"  perhaps 
the  finest  song  of  the  war;  certainly  to  be  bracketed 
with  "Tipperary."  At  first  I  used  to  wonder  what  it 
was  that  swept  all  the  Frenchmen  present  into  one 
channel  of  song  and  made  them  pass  from  mere  noise 
to  harmony.  The  artiste  who  sang  it  had  a  sinecure. 
The  last  joyous  line  of  "Madelon,  Madelon,  Madelon !" 
sounded   like    "March    along,    march    along,    march 

88  D 


SALONICA    AND    AFTER 

along  I"  And  it  was  only  when  on  a  visit  tb  the 
Serbian  front  that  I  happened  to  secure  the  words.  It 
was  at  a  Brigade  Headquarters,  about  4,500  feet  up  in 
the  snow.  We  were  on  a  parallel  and  neighbouring  slope 
to  Sokol,  from  whence  started  the  triumphant  offensive 
of  September,  1918.  We  had  lunched  royally,  and  the 
piece  de  resistance  had  been  a  noble  dish  of  wild  boar, 
the  gentleman  who  provided  it  having  been  shot  some- 
where near-by  a  few  days  before.  And  after  lunch, 
while  we  drank  many  sweet  coffees  in  the  little  hut  built 
into  the  mountain  side  and  an  occasional  Bulgar  shell 
droned  overhead,  a  young  Serbian  lieutenant  of  artil- 
lery produced  his  violin.  He  played  very  well,  and  it 
was  not  long  before  he  had  switched  int^  "La  Made- 
Ion,"  and  one  could  see  the  pleasure  it  gave  him  to  play 
it,  up  there  in  the  quiet  of  the  snows.  This  particular 
young  man,  a  student  of  philosophy  at  Vienna,  had 
been  in  the  field  practically  without  a  break  for  six 
years.  No  doubt  he  had  his  own  thoughts  of  his  native 
Belgrade  as  he  played. 

Probably  one  can  buy  the  song  of  "La  Madelon" 
everywhere  now.  But  for  those  who  do  not  happen  to 
have  met  it,  one  may  say  that  it  is  all  about  a  pretty 
serving  wench  at  a  cabaret  "Aux  Tourlouroux,"  fre- 
quented by  the  poilus.  And  as  each  soldier  takes  his 
wine  from  her  he  thinks  »of  his  own  sweetheart,  and  says 
to  Madelon  some  of  the  things  he  is  saving  up  for  "the 
other."  It  is  made  quite  clear  that  although  Madelon 
is  not  "severe"  and  can  take  a  joke  from  all  of  them, 
she  is  quite  good.     As  she  says : — 

"  Why  content  myself  with  one. 
When  all  the  regiment  is  my  own?  " 

The  poilus  too  arc  actuated  by  the  best  of  motives. 
And  they  all  sing  in  refrain  : — 

a4 


SALONICA   NIGHTS 

'*  Quand  Madelon  vient  nous  servir  k  boire 
Sous  la  tonnelle,  on  frole  sa  jupon 
Et  chacun  lui  reconte  une  histoire, 
Une  histoire  k  sa  facon. 
La  Madelon  pour  nous  n'est  pas  s^v^re 
Quand  on  lui  prend  la  taille  ou  le  menton 
Elle  rit,  c'est  tout  le  mal  qu'elle  sait  faire, 
Madelon,  Madelon,  Madelon  !  !  !  '* 

It  is  certainly  the  most  lilting  refrain  of  the  war. 
*'Tipperary"  has  it!s  strong  dash  of  melancholy;  very 
charming,  but  melancholy  all  the  same.  "La  Madelon" 
is  swinging  and  joyous,  and  warms  the  cockles  of  your 
heart;  it  sounds  like  red  wine  and,  when  the  song  is 
heard,  one  can  see  the  soldiers  drinking  it  at  the  tables 
under  a  shady  "tunnel"  in  the  garden  of  a  cabaret  in 
France.  And  after  a  Salonica  audience  of  Frenchmen 
had  sung  that  refrain  it  was  always  easy  to  see  that 
it  was  as  good  as  a  promise  of  leave  to  them.  Their 
eyes  shone,  there  was  a  new  spring  in  their  gestures, 
and  they  turned  to  drink  their  thin  Salonica  beer  with 
an  air  which  said  that  life  was  still  good,  and  that  in 
spite  of  the  "  sacree  guerre  "  they  were  going  to  make 
the  best  of  it. 

It  is  wonderful,  this  evocative  power  of  song,  whether 
for  joy  or  melancholy.  I  have  seen  innumerable  in- 
stances of  it  in  camps  up  and  down  Macedonia.  The 
emotions  are  always  very  near  the  surface,  especially 
in  the  case  of  men  who  have  all  been  away  from  home 
for  a  long  time,  as  was  the  general  rule  with  the  Salonica 
Army.  Most  of  us  rather  looked  down  on  the  gramo- 
phone before  the  war.  But  what  a  wonderful  differ- 
ence it  has  made  to  the  life  of  hundreds  of  thousands  of 
exiles;  how  overwhelmingly,  during  the  war,  has  it 
justified  its  invention.  A  bored  half-dozen  people  are 
sitting  round  a  mess  table  talking  of  malaria  or  sand-fly 
fever,  or  the  absence  of  cheese  from  the  rations,  or  some 
other  unpleasantness;  somebody  turns  on  the  gramo- 

35 


SALONICA   AND    AFTER 

phone  and  the  voice  of  Mr.  Robey,  tinny  but  recog- 
nisable, uttering  some  fatuous  nonsense,  is  heard.  A 
smile  goes  round.  Distance  is  annihilated,  quicker  than 
by  wireless.  Everybody  is  at  once  in  Leicester  Square, 
or  walking  up  to  Piccadilly  Circus  just  before  the  dinner 
hour.  London  may  not  be  quite  all  one  fancied  when 
away.  But  how  keen  becomes  the  longing  to  see  it, 
and  certain  people  in  it ! 

I  remember  one  night,  at  a  small  headquarters'  mess 
on  the  picturesque  hills  overlooking  the  Struma  Valley. 
The  gramophone  had  been  going  for  some  time.     And 
then  from  out  of  it  a  sweet  woman's  voice  sang  "My 
Ain     Folk."       Everybody     there     had     been     away 
from     home    for     at    least     two     years,     and    some 
for     over      three.       The      pathos      and      appeal      of 
the    song    were    almost    too    much.       It    hurt.       The 
night   outside   was   as  beautiful   as    an   autumn   night 
of  full  moon  in  the  Balkans  can  be.     The  peace  and 
beauty  of  the  hills  under  the  moonlight  intensified  that 
sentiment  aroused  by  the  gramophone,  the  longing  for 
one's  "ain  folk"  .  .  .  And  perhaps  it  was  just  as  well" 
that  just  then,  up  in  the  silver  blue  vault,  the  hum  of  a 
German  aeroplane  was  heard.     In  a  few  moments  it 
had  arrived  over  the  camp.     There  was  a  sudden,  dis- 
quieting whistle  of  something  coming  down  and  then 
a  flash  and  a  bang,  somewhere  close  by  in  the  brush 
that  covered  the  hills.    Again  the  horrible  whistle,  and 
another  flash  and   bang.     And  then  the  Hun  above 
turned  his  gun  on  the  camp,  which  in  the  moonlight 
must  have  looked  singularly  pretty.    Pap-pap-pap-pap- 
pap-pap-pap-pap,  etc.  In  a  few  moments  he  had  passed 
on.     He  had  not  stayed  long,  but  he  had  thoroughly 
conjured  away  an  attack  of  sentiment  which,  though 
very  charming  in  a  melancholy  way,  is  really  not  a 
healthy  bed-fellow. 

36 


SALONICA   NIGHTS 

But  to  return  to  our  Salonica  Nights  Entertainments. 
One  could  go  on  for  quite  a  long  time  describ- 
ing our  artistes  and  their  ways,  although  they  changed 
but  little  in  three  years.  There  was  the  plump  Italian 
lady  who  always  appeared  with  a  horrible  little  dwarf ; 
the  Roumanian  family,  who  danced  indefatigably,  and 
whose  father  was  a  strong  man  of  swelling  proportions 
(people  used  to  call  laughingly  from  the  audience, 
*'  Why  don't  you  join  the  Army  ?") ;  also  Lolotte,  who 
danced  strange  lascivious  eastern  dances,  and  whose 
''turn"  was  in  no  way  disturbed  by  the  uproar;  the 
Italian  girl  with  a  terrible  squint  but  who  sang  well, 
and  later  transferred  to  the  Greek  Oi>era  troupe  from 
Athens ;  the  chuckling  nigger,  who  had  a  kind  face,  and 
could  twist  himself  into  all  sorts  of  knots — these  and 
many  more ;  performers  of  third  or  fourth  class  merit, 
all  of  them,  but  who  served  their  turn.  They  under- 
stood perfectly  well  their  role  in  the  life  of  Salonica, 
and  probably  would  have  been  very  much  disconcerted 
if  they  had  suddenly  found  themselves  before  a  quiet 
and  attentive  audience. 

And  after  all  this  talk  of  noise  and  boisterousness, 
perhaps  it  will  be  as  well  to  correct  any  false  impression 
which  may  have  been  caused.  First  of  all,  it  was  all 
so  much  blowing  off  steam.  Nobody  who  participated 
took  it  seriously ;  it  was  merely  the  cloak  that  hid  other 
feelings.  Then  again,  with  all  the  noise,  the  orderliness 
was  remarkable.  With  all  these  audiences  of  mixed 
nationalities,  giving  vent  to  their  high  spirits,  there  was 
hardly  even  an  ugly  or  unpleasing  incident.  It  would 
not  have  been  very  surprising  had  there  been.  We  were 
all  Allies,  it  is  true,  but  everywhere  there  slumbered 
small  prejudices  or  criticisms  which  were  inevitable  in 
such  a  mixed  team  as  we  had  in  Macedonia.  But  they 
very  rarely  raised  their  tousled  little  heads  in  the  muoic 

87 


SALONICA   AND   AFTER 

halls,  even  in  the  heat  of  false  excitement.  And  one 
may  digress  for  a  moment  to  pay  a  tribute  tlo  the  or- 
derliness and  good  behaviour  in  Salonica  throughout 
our  sojourn  there.  There  were  five  strange 
armies  in  the  place,  but  during  the  war 
crime  and  disorder  in  the  town  were  generally 
at  an  absolute  minimum,  although  at  night 
there  were  occasionally  unpleasant  incidents  on  the 
Lembet  Road,  and  early  in  1919  there  was  a  disquieting 
outbreak  of  lawlessness  at  night.  But  the  general  con- 
duct was  marvellously  good.  I  am  insular  enough  to 
think  that  the  calm  British  presence  and  example  had 
its  share  in  this ;  there  is  little  doubt  indeed  that  the 
British  constituted  the  cement  which  kept  the  diversi- 
fied Balkan  Army  together.  Our  very  uniformity  bred 
this  general  feeling  of  confidence.  One  British  officer 
looked  like  all  other  British  officers ;  one  British  soldier 
looked  like  all  his  fellows ;  one  motor  lorry  looked  like 
all  the  rest.  To  the  foreign  eye  there  is  little  or  no 
difference  in  any  of  us.  A  Briton  is  just  a  Briton.  We 
may  not  realise  it  ourselves,  but  we  are  a  very  strongly 
marked  type.  I  remember  once,  after  living  a  year  in 
Paris,  finding  myself  in  the  Strand  and  suddenly,  for 
just  a  moment  and  with  the  eye  of  a  foreigner,  seeing 
the  English  type  of  face.  A  trifle  hard  and  severe, 
perhaps,  but  one  that  inspires  confidence  and  respect. 
It  was  possible  in  that  illuminating  moment  to  realise 
whence  the  foreign  caricaturist  gets  his  root  idea  of  us, 
which,  of  course,  he  distorts  for  his  own  purposes.  And 
Salonica  at  first  thought  we  were  merely  stiff  and  un- 
flexible,  but  soon  realised  that  this  was  only  the  very 
beginning  of  us  and  that  a  good  deal  lay  behind.  .  .  . 
How  many  fulsome  compliments  did  we  hear  in  the  later 
days  !  The  reader  must  try  and  pardon  this  small  essay 
on  trumpet  blowing.    We  did  mighty  little  of  it  during 

38 


SALONICA   NIGHTS 

the  war.  A  little  now  that  the  great  fight  is  over  will 
do  no  harm ;  in  fact,  just  a  little  more  of  it  will  be  found 
later  on  in  the  book. 

We  had  entertainments  of  quite  another  class.  There 
was  the  operetta  company  from  Athens,  which  played 
"The  Dollar  Princess,"  and  many  other  light  musical 
works,  in  Greek.  The  performance  usually  began  at 
ten,  and  continued  till  one  in  the  morning.  The  leading 
lady  was  an  imperious  beauty — in  her  own  Greek  style 
— from  Athens,  and  during  a  short  period  she  almost 
became  a  toast.  Many  suitors  sought  her  hand,  but 
like  Madelon  she  did  not  believe  in  attaching  herself 
to  one,  and  kept  them  all  dangling  very  cleverly.  One 
young  officer  is  known  to  have  said,  enthusiastically, 
"I  am  one  of  four  who  are  allowed  to  send  her 
presents  !"  It  was  a  dubious  privilege,  as  he  found  out. 
Again  we  quite  often  had  excellent  concerts  in  the  town, 
gala  affairs  in  aid  of  charities,  which  were  attended  by 
the  various  Allied  generals.  Between  them  the  Allied 
Armies  could  provide  sufficient  talent  to  make  a  pro- 
gramme of  the  highest  class.  And  finally  there  was  the 
extraordinary  development  of  entertainments  within 
the  British  Army  itself.  But  this  is  too  interesting  a 
subject  to  be  dismissed  here,  and  we  will  return  to  it 
later. 


39 


CHAPTER  IV. 

A  Day  in  Town. 

Everything  in  this  life,  or  presumably  any  other,  is 
relative.  The  soldier  whose  lot  it  was,  pleasant  or  other- 
wise, to  work  in  Salonica  thought  of  leave  only  as  a 
journey  home  to  England.  But  the  soldier  up  the  line 
had  a  different  point  of  view.  Leave  for  Home  was  a 
thing  hardly  to  be  dreamed  of.  But  for  the  officer 
there  was  always  the  possibility  of  leave  to  Salonica, 
although  it  was  not  imtil  late  in  the  campaign  that  it 
was  possible  to  bring  parties  of  men  down,  and  some 
of  these  saw  their  first  town  for  two  and  a  half  years. 

The  man  who  lived  in  Salonica  might  sometimes 
wonder  why  on  earth  anybody  should  ever  want  to  get 
leave  to  visit  it.  But  the  man  up-country  had  no  doubts 
on  the  point.  On  a  number  of  occasions,  after  an 
absence  of  a  week  or  ten  days  up-country,  I  have  myself 
been  pleasantly  excited  to  enter  the  town  again,  and 
see  people  once  more,  and  tramcars  and  shops.  And 
it  was  therefore  easy  to  imagine  the  joy  of  officers  up- 
oountry  who,  after  four  or  six  months  in  the  wilderness, 
with  perhaps  a  squalid  little  village  as  the  highest  mark 
of  civilisation,  came  down  to  town  with  three  days' 
leave. 

They  made  the  very  most  of  it,  like  schoolboys  in  the 
first  flush  of  a  holiday.  And  yet  their  trip  to  town 
always  had  its  duties  and  responsibilities.  Each  officer 
so  favoured  always  came  down  with  a  long  list  of  com- 
missions to  be  executed  for  his  battalion,  so  that  the 

40 


A  DAY   IN   TOWN 

first  two  of  his  three  days  in  town  were  generally  filled 
up  with  tramping  up  and  down  the  uneven  cobbles  in 
quest  of  things  for  others.  And  it  was  remarkable  how 
faithfully  and  painstakingly  this  sort  of  thing  was 
always  done. 

For  long  the  weekly  journals  at  home,  humorous  and 
otherwise,  were  filled  with  little  articles  describing  the 
joys  or  trials  of  our  officers  and  men  coming  home  to 
England  for  a  few  days'  leave.  The  story  always  began 
at  Armentieres,  or  "The  Salient,"  or  some  equally 
famous  spot,  and  finished  up  at  Victoria.  Exactly 
the  same  incidents  were  common  to  the  life  of  our  men 
out  in  Macedonia,  with  only  local  differences,  but 
Bairnsfather  has  not  limned  them  nor  have  contribu- 
tors to  "Punch"  let  their  fancy  play  on  them.  France 
overshadowed  all,  and  for  the  average  reader  at  home 
"Leave"  meant  a  trip  across  the  Channel  in  the  Bou- 
logne boat.  They  could  not  imagine  that  large  numbers 
of  their  countrymen  sat  on  barren  hills  just  short  of 
Doiran,  or  in  the  malarial  plain  of  the  Struma,  and 
looked  with  much  longing  towards  a  higgledy-piggledy 
city  of  the  Mgean,  some  fifty  miles  away.  Victoria  did 
not  enter  their  thoughts.  It  was  out  of  the  question — 
reserved  only  for  those  lucky  people  who  campaigned 
in  France.  Salonica  represented  all  that  there  was  to 
hand  of  civilisation  and,  if  you  like,  joie  de  vivre.  It 
was  a  pK>or  enough  substitute,  but  the  very  most  was 
made  of  it  on  the  rare  occasions  when  those  of  the  front- 
line could  visit  it. 

Out  in  Macedonia  the  first  throb  of  excitement  came, 
say,  on  Tortue  Hill,  just  below  the  sinister  Grand 
Couronne,  or  at  some  outpost  of  ours  on  the  plain  facing 
the  Rupel  Pass.  In  the  one  case  it  meant  a  long  ride 
to  the  railway,  and  then  a  tedious  all-night  journey  in 
the  train;  in  the  other,  a  ride  to  the  70th  Kilometre 

II 


SALONICA   AND    AFTER 

stone  on  the  Seres  Road,  thence  to  be  carried  all  the 
way  down  to  Salonica  in  a  lorry.  But  in  either  case  the 
result  was  the  same.  A  tired  and  dusty  officer  presen- 
ted himself  at  the  pretentious  Hotel  Splendide  and 
demanded  of  the  best  they  had  in  bath,  breakfast  and 
bedroom.  And  what  matter  if  the  prices  were  those  of 
the  world's  best  hotels  ?  No  niggard  regard  for  the 
value  of  money  ever  spoiled  a  three  days'  leave  in 
Salonica. 

Bath  and  breakfast  made  a  new  man  of  our  subal- 
tern. Forgotten  for  three  whole  days  were  the  dusty 
tracks,  the  stony  nullahs,  the  mule  transport,  the  bully 
beef,  the  chlorinated  water,  the  eternal  Bulgarian 
mountains,  rumbling  to  the  sound  of  the  guns,  and  the 
unpleasant  night  patrols  "up  there."  The  world  was 
his  and  all  that  was  in  it.  There  were  pavements  to 
walk  upon — very  uneven  and  dirty,  but  still  pavements. 
There  were  women  to  be  seen  in  the  streets,  even  ladies, 
and  all  sorts  of  people  who  did  not  wear  khaki.  There 
were  shops  to  buy  things  in,  and  girls  who  served  them, 
who  spoke  quaint,  quickly-learned  English.  And  at  the 
White  Tower  Restaurant  there  was  an  orchestra,  and 
a  big  pleasure  garden  sort  of  place,  with  a  few  trees 
in  it ;  and  when  on  the  summer  nights  everybody  dined 
outside,  with  lights  on  the  tables,  and  the  well-to-do 
bourgeoisie  of  Salonica  sat  there  with  their  ample  and 
liquid-eyed  ladies — well,  it  was  not  at  all  a  bad  sort  of 
place,  and  helped  to  tide  over  many  a  man  who  ached 
for  the  long-lost  and  perhaps  magnified  delights  of 
Home. 

Behold  our  visitor,  then,  his  puttees  beautifully 
wrapped,  or  his  field  boots  magnificently  polished, 
starting  out  tio  conquer  Salonica  as  though  it  were  Picca- 
dilly. At  ten  o'clock  on  a  summer  morning  Salonica 
may  seem  a  beautiful  place.     The  clear  air  sparkles, 

42 


A  DAY   IN  TOWN 

but  it  is  not  yet  hot.  Over  the  way  (that  is,  fifty  miles 
down  the  Gulf)  the  high  crest  of  Olympus,  with  a  patch 
of  snow  still  on  it,  shines  like  a  jewel.  There  is  a  hint 
of  breeze  in  the  air,  and  the  picturesque  caiques  (scores 
and  scores  of  them  lined  up  against  the  sea  wall)  are 
bobbing  about  at  their  moorings,  where  the  local  mer- 
chants are  in  attendance,  discharging  their  cargoes  of 
rude  pottery  or  charcoal  or  big  golden  melons,  fresh 
from  the  Islands.  The  streets  are  alive  with  excitement, 
and  there  is  much  to  look  at  and  be  interested  in,  after 
four  months  in  a  nullah.  A  staff  car  flashes  past,  with 
two  impressive  and  impassive  figures  in  it.  "Lucky 
beggars,"  our  subaltern  thinks — but  for  the  moment 
would  not  change  places  with  them.  A  dozen  dirty  little 
loustros  call  out  for  the  honour  of  polishing  his  polished 
boots  :  "Hey,  Johnny,  Mister,  shine."  (From  General 
to  Private  we  were  all  Johnnies  to  the  Macedonian.) 
But  he  passes  on,  knowing  well  that  his  boots  are 
beyond  reproach  now,  even  though  in  an  hour's  time 
the  dust  will  have  removed  all  their  sparkle.  Past  him 
on  the  cobbled  sea-front  a  constant  stream  of  traffic  is 
moving,  chiefly  military.  There  are  tram-cars,  too, 
with  the  local  populace  hanging  from  them  in  clusters. 
In  one  motor  car  that  passes  there  are  two  nurses  who 
have  been  given  a  lift  on  their  way  into  town  from  one 
of  the  hospitals  outside,  and  whose  eyes  are  sparkling 
with  pleasure  and  excitement  as  the  car  rushes  them 
along.  One  of  them  is  decidedly  pretty,  and  our  subal- 
tern's breast  heaves  a  Httle  with  all  sorts  of  unexpressed 
emotions.  Life  down  at  the  Base  !  By  Jove,  how  lucky 
some  people  are  !  But  that  afternoon  he  himself  ha^ 
an  appointment  for  tea  out  at  one  of  the  hospitals, 
there  to  meet  someone  who,  as  he  sits  in  his  nullah 
at  the  front,  seems  infinitely  fair  and  pleasing,  and  per- 
haps vies  in  his  thoughts  with  the  image  of  another 

43 


SALONICA    AND    AFTER 

one,  who  is  so  far  and  so  long  away  in  England  that 
it  seems  impossible  that  he  will  ever  see  her  again.  He 
may  not  be  quite  in  love  twice  over,  but  it  seems  very 
much  like  it  as  he  looks  forward  to  the  afternoon  tea. 

But  before  that  there  is  business  to  be  done.  His 
steps  lead  him  up  the  Place  de  la  Liberte  and  so  through 
the  covered  bazaar  into  the  Rue  Egnatia — a  stretch  of 
the  famous  Via  Egnatia  which  St.  Paul  trod  and  which 
now,  as  our  hero  walks  along  its  uneven  cobbles,  is  one 
of  the  most  noisy,  crowded  and  varied  streets  of  the 
universe.  The  stlrip  of  colour  on  his  shoulder-strap 
shows  the  Division  he  belongs  to,  and  each  British 
soldier  who  meets  him  in  the  street  salutes  very  smartly 
— a  little  nuance  of  extra  tribute  to  the  man  from  up 
the  Line.  Twice  our  hero  has  to  skip  quickly  to  avoid 
being  crushed  by  a  tram-car.  Lorries  come  crashing 
along,  and  the  bent  native  porters,  with  immense  loads 
of  all  kinds  on  their  backs,  narrowly  escape  the  fate  of 
the  foolish  tortoises,  which  on  summer  days  wander 
lazily  across  the  Macedonian  roads  and  are  flattened 
out  by  our  lorries.  At  Piccadilly  Circus  (that  is  what 
we  at  once  called  it  and  what  many  of  the  natives  now 
call  it)  the  congestion  is  tremendous.  Here  one  broad 
highway  comes  down  from  the  Struma  front,  the  famous 
Seres  Road,  and  another  comes  down  from  the  Monastir 
region.  East  meets  West  here,  if  you  like.  Piccadilly 
Circus  is  on  the  edge  of  the  city,  and  every  variety  of 
Balkan  peasant  and  gipsy  is  marketing  there,  and  buy- 
ing all  sorts  of  funny  things  to  eat  from  trays  that  stand 
just  off  the  main  stream  of  traffic.  British  military 
policemen,  majestic  and  amazingly  competent,  sort 
out  the  tangle,  always  just  one  second  ahead  of  chaos. 
There  is  nobody  like  the  British  M.P. 

A  few  yards  along  the  Monastir  Road  and  the  visitor 
arrives  at  the  E.F.  Canteen.     He  has  a  long  list  of  all 

44 


Salonica  in  the  days  of 
the  Allies.  A  Section  of 
the  crowd  listening  to  the 
French  Band  in  the  Place 
de  la   Liberte. 


Some  of  the 
Comitadjis 
who  work- 
ed for  the 
British  in 
the  Struma 
Valley. 


Photo:  Lieut.  Lafontaine. 


A  DAY  IN  TOWN 

sorts  of  dainties  and  necessaries  required  by  the  Mess, 
and  patiently  takes  his  place  in  a  queue  until  he  can  be 
served.  Ideal  Milk,  cigarettes,  some  towels,  a  case  of 
gin  (very  important^?  vermouth  (equally  important), 
a  case  of  whisky  (absolutely  vital),  some  gramophone 
records  with  something  from  'Thu  Chin  Chow"  if  possi- 
ble, chocolate,  soap,  some  safety  razor  blades — and  two 
dozen  other  things.  But  perhaps  it  is  a  bad  time  for 
stocks.  The  U  boats  have  been  unusually  busy  in  the 
Mediterranean.  The  man  behind  the  counter  takes  the 
list  and  looks  at  it  with  a  gloomy  eye.  *'None  of  that, 
sir  .  .  .  None  of  this."  "What,  no  Gold  Flake  cigar- 
ettes ?"  gasps  the  visitor,  in  something  like  consterna- 
tion !  What  is  life  up  at  the  front  without  the  tang  of 
the  admirable  "stinker !"  Verily,  the  humble  Virginia 
cigarette,  so  despised  at  one  time  of  all  well-dressed 
young  men,  has  also  done  its  bit  during  the  war. 

But  so  far  as  means  will  allow,  the  list  is  made  up 
and  paid  for,  and  our  hero  arranges  that  he  will  call  for 
the  packages  in  a  "gharry"  on  the  day  of  his  departure. 
Then  with  a  heavy  load  off  his  mind,  but  wondering  a 
little  what  the  Mess  President  will  say  about  the  things 
he  didn't  get,  he  turns  his  thoughts  to  lunch.  There 
are  still  many  other  commissions  to  be  done,  but  those 
can  wait. 

A  passing  car  opportunely  gives  him  a  lift,  and  in 
five  minutes  he  is  near  the  White  Tower.  The  correct 
thing  to  do  is  to  lunch  at  the  French  Club,  and  he  will 
have  to  be  quick  to  obtain  a  ticket.* 


*  The  French  Club  was  an  admirable  institution.  Its  only  fault 
■was  that  it  was  not  big  enough  for  all  who  would  po  there.  It  was 
opened  in  1917  and  was  immediately  assaulted  by  Allied  officers.  It 
served  better  food,  and  at  much  cheaper  prices,  than  anywhere  else 
in  town.  Many  people  wondered  why  we  did  not  have  a  British 
Club,  and  such  an  institution  was  often  talked  about  Ion  a:  before  our 
Allies  opentfd  theirs.     But  the  idea  was  never  taken  up.     The  Salonica 

45 


SALONICA    AND    AFTER 

Luckily  he  is  successful  in  securing  one  of  the  last 
tickets  for  the  second  service.  He  has  half  an  hour  in 
hand.  The  club  is  situated  pleasantly  on  the  edge  of 
the  sea,  and  has  a  charming  little  garden,  executed  in 
a  scheme  of  bamboo  decorations  and  sun  shelters,  by 
almond-eyed  French  Annamites.  Here  cocktails  may 
be  bought,  and  the  blue  sea  laps  pleasantly  near  the 
tables.  He  soon  finds  half  a  dozen  acquaintances,  all 
of  them  like  himself  possessed  of  the  Freedom  of 
Salonica  for  two  or  three  days.  .  .  The  single  cocktail 
becomes  several.  It  is  in  the  happiest  frame  of  mind 
that  he  answers  the  bell  and  sits  down  to  lunch.  The 
big  room  shakes  with  conversation.  Everybody  is 
there ;  French  officers  with  many  medals,  Greeks  be- 
longing to  the  Army  of  National  Defence  of  Mr.  Venize- 
los,  with  their  ribbons  all  of  sky  blue  colour.  .  .  . 

Afternoon  finds  him  at  Uchantar,  seven  miles  out 
from  the  town  on  the  slopes  of  the  first  barrier  of  hills. 
Here,  at  one  of  the  General  Hospitals,  lives  the  young 

Army  had  been  given  a  foolishly  bad  name,  and  perhaps  it  was  that 
the  authorities  thought  that  a  campaign  which  was  described  as  a 
"  picnic  "  by  idiots  at  home  could  not  afford  to  give  itself  the  luxury 
of  a  club  and  restaurant  at  the  Base  where  officers  could  eat  well 
without  being  swindled.  Our  own  Rest  House  was  not  opened  until 
long  afterwards,  when  the  immense  destruction  of  hotels  and  res- 
taurants caused  by  the  fire  made  it  imperative  that  we  should  have 
a  centre  of  our  own.  But  as  far  as  the  provision  of  meals  is  con- 
cerned, it  was  on  nothing  like  such  a  big  scale  as  the  French 
establishment.  Sometimes  the  French  felt  that  they  were  being 
crowded  out  of  their  own  club.  But,  after  all,  who  can  run  a  res- 
taurant like  the  French?  And  again,  did  not  British  ships,  through- 
out the  whole  campaign,  carry  every  ton  of  beef  that  went  to  feed 
all  the  Allied  armies  in  Macedonia?  Week  in,  week  out,  the  meat 
ships  came  in,  carrying  over  from  Port  Said  the  Australian  beef 
which  kept  five  Allied  armies  going.  Two  hundred  tons  a  day  they 
delivered  at  the  height  of  the  campaign,  in  spite  of  the  submarines. 
Ourselves  we  thought  about  it  little  enough,  and  probably  our  various 
Allies  never  thought  about  it  at  all.  It  was  just  one  small,  odd  scrap 
of  Britain's  immense  contribution  to  the  war.  Where  (1o(>s  beef  come 
from?  Oh,  ask  the  White  and  Red  Ensigns.  .  .  .  And  so,  in  this 
little  matter  of  the  restaurant  we  may  fairly  say  that  matters  were 
even. 

46 


A  DAY  IN  TOWN 

lady  to  whom  he  has  more  or  less  given  his  heart.  She 
is  delighted  to  see  her  hero — and  it  is  a  detail  that  she 
has  another  up  the  Line.  There  are  other  sisters  and 
officers  present,  and  there  is  a  merry  party  on  a  slope 
of  the  hillside  overlooking  a  mangifioent  panorama — 
the  harbour  far  away,  looking  like  a  pool  with  tiny 
ships  on  it ;  the  picturesque  crest  of  Hortiach  away  to 
the  east.  Between  them  and  the  sea  is  a  vast  expanse 
of  hillock  and  plain,  dotted  all  over  with  hundreds  of 
camps.  Through  it  runs  the  Seres  Road,  the  greatest 
artery  of  the  British  communications,  bearing  its  daily 
burden  of  lorries  and  ambulances.  And  far  away  to  the 
south  across  the  Gulf,  towers  great  Olympus,  looking 
infinitely  more  majestic  from  this  height  than  from 
the  quays  of  Salonica.  There  is  a  blush  of  pink  on  its 
snowy  crest.  It  is  the  herald  of  one  of  those  glorious 
sunsets  which  make  Macedonia  magical;  which  come 
so  often  with  the  peace  and  calm  of  evening,  and  seem 
to  compensate  for  the  heat  and  dust  of  the  day ;  which 
made  it  possible,  indeed,  for  many  thousands  of  our 
people  to  "carry  on"  and  draw  from  evening  the  neces- 
sary strength  and  resolution  for  the  morrow.  The  little 
group  sits  quietly,  looking  on  at  the  wonderful  scene. 
Individual  thoughts  are  busy  and  they  are  all  turned 
inwards.  They  are  conjuring  up  visions  of  Surbiton, 
of  Piccadilly  Circus  (the  real  one),  of  a  summer's  even- 
ing up  the  Thames — or  of  a  hundred  other  pleasant 
spots  at  home  you  may  like  to  name. 

"  Curious  that  we  should  all  be  sitting  here  looking 
at  a  sunset  behind  old  Olympus,"  remarks  somebody. 
It  is  a  thought  that  often  recurs — that  English  people 
should  be  gathered  together  like  this  in  a  land  which  a 
few  years  before  some  of  them  had  never  even  heard  of. 

The  party  breaks  up.  The  sisters  have  their  work  to 
do.     There  are  a  thousand  and  more  patients  to  look 

47 


SALONICA    AND    AFTER 

after — malaria,  dysentery,  sand-fly  fever,  P.U.O.,  and 
other  things — and  they  cannot  wait  on  sunsets. 

So  our  hero  drops  down  to  town  again  in  a  motor  oar 
which  he  has  "scrounged"  for  the  afternoon  from  an 
accommodating  M.T.  Officer.  The  peace  of  the  last 
half-hour  up  there  on  the  hillside  has  brushed  him 
lightly  with  melancholy.  He  feels  that  Ufe  should  be 
composed  of  gentle  things.  And  it  is  not  pleasant  to 
leave  Her.  .  .  But  town  approaches,  and  his  spirits 
rise  a  little  with  it.  After  all,  she  is  coming  to  have  tea 
at  Floca's  with  him  on  his  last  day.  The  bustle  of 
Piccadilly  Circus  dispels  the  last  whiffs  of  his  melan- 
choly. He  returns  the  salutes  of  the  M.P.'s  feeling  how 
good  it  is  to  be  sitting  alone  in  a  nice  big  car. 

At  the  French  Club  he  meets  a  party  of  friends  for 
cocktails.  Afterwards  they  all  dine  in  a  box  at  the 
White  Tower  Restaurant.  It  is  a  merry  party. 
There  is  champagne.  Blow  the  expense !  In 
the  middle  of  it,  the  orchestra  strikes  up  with 
its  usual  nightly  medley  of  Scotch  airs  and  dances. 
Instantly  the  restaurant  is  filled  with  those  horri- 
ble noises  which  all  Anglo-Saxons  feel  called  upon 
to  make  when  an  orchestra  plays  a  Scotch  reel. 
The  rest  of  the  diners,  the  foreigners,  take  it  for  granted 
now.  They  have  come  to  realise  that  when  a  certain 
kind  of  anusic  is  played  the  British  make  these  noises. 
No  doubt  it  is  some  sort  of  semi-religious  rite.  The 
climax  comes  (nightly)  with  the  playing  of  Auld  Lang 
Syne.  The  Anglo-Saxons  stand  up  and  clasp  hands  and 
bob  up  and  down,  like  howling  Dervishes,  and  even 
sing.  At  the  end  of  it  there  are  cheers  and  calls  for 
more.  And  then  our  hero  and  his  party,  after  paying 
the  heavy  bill,  file  out  with  much  tramping  of  heavy 
boots  on  the  wooden  flooring.     They  are  bound  for  a 

48 


A  DAY  IN  TOWN 

box  at  the  Odeon,  where  there  will  be  even  more  noise. 
And  so,  after  a  night  of  it,  to  bed  at  the  Splendide, 

His  thoughts  are  a  Uttle  confused  as  he  lies  down  in 
his  twenty-franc  bed.  One  day  gone !  But  there  are 
two  more  to  come.  Lots  more  shopping  to  be  done. 
That  must  be  polished  off  to-morrow.  Wonder  who 
will  be  in  charge  of  the  patrol  to-night,  looking  for  the 
jolly  old  Bulgar.  Probably  Jenkins.  Serve  him  damn 
well  right.  Never  liked  Jenkins  very  much.  What  a 
day !  Jolly  fine  sole  that  was  at  the  French  Club. 
Wonder  what  She  is  doing  now  ?  Perhaps  lying  in  bed 
thinking  of  him.  Hope  so.  But  whom  is  he  really  in 
love  with?  England's  so  far  away.  Over  two  years 
since  he  saw  the  Other.  So  much  can  happen  in  that 
time.  Curse  the  war.  Wonder  when  it  will  end.  .  . 
And  so  to  sleep. 


49 


CHAPTER  V. 

''The  B.N." 

One  day  the  S.S.O.  of  the  28th  Division  came  in  a  hurry 
into  the  office  of  The  Balkan  News  and  explained  that  he 
wanted  some  posters  made  of  the  largest  size  jx)ssible 
bearing  the  legend,  under  the  name  of  the  paper,  "Re- 
ported Death  of  Queen  Anne."  It  was  for  a  joke  up- 
country,  he  explained.  We  managed  to  oblige  him, 
and  on  the  night  the  posters  were  done  one  was  dis- 
played from  a  box  in  the  White  Tower  Theatre.  The 
howl  that  went  up  from  all  the  British  Officers  amazed 
everybody  else  present.  WTiat  was  this  British  joke  ? 
The  well-known  and  deservedly  popular  A.S.C.  Major 
who  held  the  poster  out  of  the  box  enjoyed  the  fun  as 
much  as  anybody.  And  in  the  middle  of  it  he  turned 
to  a  friend  near  him  and  said,  "Who  is  Queen  Anne, 
anyhow?" 

I  mention  this  harmless  little  incident  merely  to  show 
in  what  relation  The  Balkan  News  stood  to  the  Army 
for  which  it  was  produced.  It  was  everybody's  friend, 
and  may  truly  be  said  to  have  been  the  centre  of  all 
interest  and  amusement  in  the  B.S.F.  Given  the  con- 
ditions under  which  it  was  produced,  it  might  easily 
have  been  a  joke.  Instead  it  made  jokes.  Once,  indeed, 
Punch,  which,  as  everybody  knows,  thrives  on  other 
journals'  errors,  made  a  palpable  hit  against  it.  There 
was  an  advertisement  on  the  back  page  which  read, 
"Finest  Scotch  Whisky."    Late  one  night  the  hand-set 

50 


"THE  B.N.'^ 

type  of  this  advertisement  became  dislodged  on  the 
machine,  and  the  printer,  who  was  a  Spanish-Salonica- 
Jew,  put  the  bits  back  as  best  he  knew  how.  Conse- 
quently the  next  morning  the  line  read,  ''Finest  Whitch 
Scosky.'^  Punch  remarked  :  "Evidently  the  printer 
had  been  sampling."  But  the  trouble  was,  not  that 
he  had  been  sampling  Scotch,  but  that  he  had  never 
sampled  English.  And  we  should  like  Punch  to  try  the 
task  of  producing  without  error  a  newspaper  composed 
by  Jews,  Greeks,  an  Italian  and  other  oddments,  none 
of  whom  know  English  except  in  occasional  dangerous 
patches,  and  which  appears  not  once  a  week,  but  seven 
times  ! 

Salonica  was  extremely  well  supplied  with  news- 
papers. It  had  them  in  all  tongues — like  the  little  man 
who  was  selling  religious  books  on  the  steamer  at  Chal- 
cis.  There  were  Greek,  of  course,  French,  Turkish, 
Italian,  and  Judaeo-Espagnol  (the  written  language  of 
the  Spanish  Jews  who  were  expelled  from  Spain  in  the 
reign  of  Isabella).  Altogether  there  were  more  than 
twenty.  But  there  was  only  one  in  English,  and  it  was 
The  Balkan  News,  generally  known  as  the  E.N.  or 
"The  Balkan,"  or  the  "Bawkanoos" — after  the  cry  of 
the  vendors  who  sold  it  all  over  Macedonia. 

It  may  be  taken  quite  for  granted  that  when  many 
years  hence  the  last  veterans  of  the  Great  War  are  tell- 
ing stories  to  their  grandchildren,  quite  a  number  will 
talk  about  The  Balkan  News.  A  newspaper,  thank 
Heaven,  is  not  merely  merchandise,  although  many 
merchants  own  newspapers.  A  newspaper  is  a  living 
thing,  an  idea  with  a  soul  in  it,  and  the  soul  of  the 
B,N,  was  a  bright  little  flame  that  shone  in  many  a 
dark  place  in  the  Balkans.  There  are  people  who  used 
to  ride  twenty  miles  a  day  to  get  it.  It  was  their  only 
link  with  the  world  beyond.    By  means  of  the  wireless 

51 


SALONICA   AND   AFTER 

messages  printed  in  it,  which  a  wise  Government  sent 
broadcast,  they  could  read  what  Mr.  Lloyd  George  had 
said  the  evening  but  one  before.  This  means  a  great 
deal  to  a  man  who  is  living  far  away  from  anywhere, 
because  Mr.  Lloyd  George  was  nearly  always  cheery, 
and  one  of  his  speeches  was  as  good  as  a  new  disc  on 
the  gramophone.  The  B.N.  readers  could  rejoice  in 
victories,  when  we  had  them,  and  smile  sardonically  at 
the  explanations  of  the  military  experts  when  we  didn't. 

If  ever  there  is  a  '*next  wair"  I  would  suggest  that 
the  military  authorities  give  as  much  attention  to  sup- 
plying the  troops  with  news  and  newspaper  reading  as 
with  rations.  One  is  almost  as  necessary  as  the  other — 
at  any  rate,  on  a  front  far  removed  from  home.  The 
London  newspapers  which  arrived  on  the  Salonica 
Front  were  hardly  ever  less  than  three  weeks  old.  After 
such  a  lapse  of  time  they  were  always  flat  and  stale, 
as  the  troops  had  always  learned  sufficient  of  the  current 
news  iQ  the  interval  to  rob  the  big  newspaper  of  nearly 
all  its  interest.  The  B.N.  happily  filled  this  gap,  and 
although  it  did  not  take  very  long  to  read  through,  it 
always  supplied  new  subjects  for  conversation.  And 
that  is  what  keeps  the  mind  uplifted  and  the  spirits 
bright  in  men  who  are  so  long  away  from  their  homes 
.  .  .  "See  what  the  Balkan  had  in  this  morning  about 
the  new  Tanks  ?" 

Any  attention  and  care  that  an  Army  took  to 
brighten  and  improve  a  newspaper  produced  specially 
for  its  troops  would  be  repaid  many  times  over.  The 
proper  provision  of  a  newspaper,  with  the  necessary 
machines,  paper,  staff,  etc.,  and  plant  to  reproduce 
photographic  illustrations  and  humorous  drawings, 
would  run  to  about  a  tenth  of  the  outlay  necessary  to 
organise  the  average  supply  dump,  and  the  enormous 
value  of  such  an  installation  to  an  Army,  if  properly 

52 


"THE  B.N." 

conducted,  cannot  be  expressed  in  figures.  The  only 
drawback  to  such  a  newspaper,  run  on  strictly  military 
lines,  is  that  it  might  tend  to  become  a  little  too  stiff 
in  its  attitude.  The  Press  is  one  of  the  few  things  which 
does  not  run  easily  into  the  military  mould.  The  comic 
muse,  for  instance,  does  not  flourish  imder  such  con- 
ditions. A  Major  in  charge  of  such  a  department  might 
be  the  best  of  fellows,  but  there  would  be  moments 
when  his  position  in  the  military  hierarchy  would  clash 
with  his  duties  or  his  fancies  as  an  editor.  The  Balkan 
News  was  free  of  this  difl&culty.  As  in  the  case  of  the 
official  war  correspondents,  there  was  no  rank  attached 
to  the  office  of  editor.  But  the  paper  suffered  from  the 
disadvantage  of  having  to  rely  entirely  on  local  techni- 
cal resources,  and  these,  for  the  most  part,  were  of  a 
very  primitive  kind,  so  that  the  staff  could  never  give 
full  effect  to  their  ideas  and  inspirations,  and  many 
good  things  that  might  have  been  done — all  of  which 
would  have  helped  greatly  in  heartening  and  cheering 
the  troops — had  to  be  left  undone.  The  difficulties  of 
obtaining  proper  supplies  and  materials  from  England 
during  the  war  were  practically  prohibitive. 

But  whatever  the  professional  point  of  view  may 
have  been  as  to  the  technical  shortcomings  of  the  B.N., 
there  was  little  or  no  feeling  of  this  kind  among  its 
many  readers.  "There  are  only  two  things  one  used 
to  look  for  up  the  line.  One  was  letters  from  home  and 
the  other  was  The  Balkan  Neios."  I  have  heard  this 
said  very  many  times,  and  it  was  the  general  opinion. 
And  people  liked  it  because  it  was  small,  and  not  in 
spite  of  it.  There  was  no  desire  for  a  three-decker 
London  newspaper  in  the  trenches,  with  gardening 
notes,  ladies'  page  and  all  complete.  The  B.N.  was  a 
symbol  of  the  life  they  were  leading.  If  you  live  in  a 
gully,  you  don't  expect  to  see  the  Daily  Telegraph  oome 

58 


SALONICA    AND    AFTER 

up  every  morning  with  the  ration  mules,  any  more  than 
you  expect  to  put  on  a  white  shirt  for  dinner. 

Started  in  November,  1915,  the  B.N,  was  the  first 
daily  newspaper  to  oome  into  being  purely  for  the  needs 
of  an  army,  and  the  cry  of  "Bawkanoos,"  which  was 
first  heard  in  the  camps  immediately  outside  the  city, 
spread,  as  the  troops  advanced,  to  the  furthest  confines 
of  Macedonia.  The  distribution  was  done  by  means  of 
train,  lorry  and  ration  cart,  but  also,  and  chiefly,  by 
the  untiring  efforts  of  some  sixty  vendors.  All  sorts 
of  problems  were  always  arising,  of  a  kind  quite  un- 
known to  the  London  circulation  manager.  The 
weather  was  a  great  factor.  In  the  earlier  stages  of  the 
campaign  the  roads  were  in  a  terrible  condition,  and  a 
rainstorm  or  a  blizzard  often  cut  off  not  only  the  news- 
paper bundles,  but  rations  and  supplies  as  well.  The 
newsvendors  were  of  all  ages  from  eighteen  to  sixty, 
and  were  chiefly  Jews  from  Salonica,  or  Greeks — some 
of  them  refugees  from  Thrace  or  Asia  Minor.  They  were 
almost  invariably  a  hard-working,  conscientious  lot, 
and  although  some  little  suspicion  was  attached  to  them 
at  first  on  the  score  of  possible  espionage,  nothing  was 
ever  brought  against  them,  and  in  time  they  came  to 
be  accepted  as  a  natural  feature  in  the  camps.  They 
dressed  in  the  strangest  garments,  and  their  faces,  as 
they  appeared  in  photograph  on  the  police  passes  with 
which  they  were  provided,  suggested  nothing  so  much 
as  a  rogues'  gallery.  But  their  cry  of  "Bawkanoos" 
was  as  welcome  as  the  birds  in  spring.  I  have  heard  it 
in  the  early  morning  in  scores  of  camps,  and  it  was 
often  melodious  in  the  highest  degree.  It  always  re- 
minded me  of  the  warning  cry  of  "Achtung"  that  one 
hears  on  the  Swiss  toboggan  tracks.  (It  is  a  German 
word,  but  it  sounds  very  beautiful  in  a  Swiss  valley  in 
winter.) 

54 


"THE   B.N." 

Looking  back  on  nearly  three  years  of  work  on  The 
Balkan  News,  the  predominating  feeling  is  one  of  thank- 
fulness that  seven-day  journalism  is  unknown  in 
England.  I  remember  that  after  the  first  solid  year's 
work  on  The  Balkan  News,  in  all  of  which  period  tliere 
had  been  only  one  half-holiday — ^this  because  the  Jew- 
ish vendors  would  not  work  on  the  feast  of  Yom  Kippur 
—one  felt  dazed  and  benumbed.  Help  at  first  was  diffi- 
cult to  get,  and  it  was  necessary  to  carry  on  day  after 
day  without  cessation.  In  the  summer  of  1916,  the 
office  was  like  a  red-hot  stove.  And,  day  after  day, 
even  four  smallish  pages  need  a  lot  of  filling,  when  in 
addition  to  an  Editor  there  is  only  a  staff  of  one,  whose 
energies  are  almost  entirely  taken  up  by  the  careful 
proof-reading  that  is  necessary  when  the  compositors 
are  Jews  and  Greeks  who  do  not  understand  English. 
And  there  was  one  dreadful  period  of  over  a  fortnight, 
when  even  the  staff  of  one  was  in  hospital  with  a  touch 
of  dysentery.  One  worked  in  a  dream — articles,  proofs, 
leaders,  poems,  callers,  telephone,  proofs,  machine 
breakdown,  heat,  flies,  telephone,  tea-time,  proofs^ — 
and  so  on,  till  dinner.  Every  morning,  during  that 
year,  one  rose  with  enormous  and  bounding  vitality; 
with  great  ideas  of  the  grea/t  things  one  would  do ;  of 
the  articles  and  books  that  were  calling  to  be  written. 
By  lunch  time,  these  visions  had  evaporated,  and 
during  the  heat  it  was  as  much  as  one  could  do  to 
totter  down  Venizelos  Street,  protected  by  a  sun  hel- 
met, and  lunch  frugally  on  an  iced  Perrier  (when  there 
was  one  to  be  found)  and  tomato  salad.  By  tea-time, 
the  fifty-and-one  things  of  the  sweltering  afternoon  had 
reduced  one  to  a  condition  of  fierce  irritability;  a  crisis 
which  was  only  conjured  away  each  day  by  tea  at  the 
club.  And  by  the  time  dinner  came,  at  8.30,  one 
looked  forward  to  the  morrow  with  horror.     It  was  a 

55 


SALONICA   AND    AFTER 

treadmill.  One  had  the  tragic  feeling  which  must  have 
always  been  in  the  heart  of  the  oft-quoted  Sisyphus. 
The  stone  pushed  painfully  to  the  top  of  the  hill  during 
the  long  day  always  came  rolling  back  at  lightning 
speed  with  every  evening.  For  no  sooner  were  the 
damp  proofs  finally  passed  than  one  had  to  begin  to 
prepare  another  paper  for  the  morrow.  All  this  would 
not  have  mattered  for  six  days  in  the  week.  But  it  was 
the  seventh  day  that  nearly  broke  the  Editor's  back. 

But  running  the  B.N.  even  in  these  first  days  of 
stress  had  many  compensations.  One  was  very  much  in 
touch  with  the  great  heart  of  the  Army,  and  one  knew 
exactly  what  tune  it  was  beating  to.  Enough  has  been 
said  about  the  British  soldier's  gift  of  humour  in  the 
War  to  make  it  unnecessary  to  labour  the  point  here. 
One  need  only  say  that  the  men  of  the  B.S.F.  were  in 
no  way  behind  the  men  of  tlie  other  British  Armies. 
They  did  all  their  grumbling  through  the  medium  of 
humour,  and  we  discovered  some  first-class  humorists 
in  the  Salonica  Army.  They  had,  of  course,  all  the 
usual  humorous  grumbles  to  make,  common  to  all 
Armies,  but  they  had  also  their  specialities,  and  of 
these,  quinine  was  certainly  the  foremost.  That  the 
humorous  subject  of  quinine  had  behind  it  the  very 
sombre  background  of  malaria — with  the  strength  of  an 
army  sucked  away  as  if  by  an  evil  spell — only,  of 
course,  made  the  joke  all  the  better. 

The  exactions  of  the  local  shopkeepers  suppHed  the 
motive  for  many  articles ;  also  the  quaint  ways  and 
language  of  the  many  Greek  labourers  attached  to  the 
Army.  These  were  known  generally  as  Idey  Brosses; 
from  the  Turkish  word  "  haide  "  (*'  get  along  in  front 
there  ")  and  the  Greek  word  "  emhroSf'^  which  means 
much  the  same  thing.  The  drivers  of  the  local  carts  all 
shout  this  in  the  streets  :  "  Haide-e-e-bros-s-s  ";  both 

56 


"THE  B.N." 

words  being  stretched  out  to  great  length.  It  is  the 
Macedonian  equivalent  for  the  French  attention  and 
the  "mind  your  backs"  of  the  London  railway  porter. 
Every  Greek,  or  any  other  native  of  Macedonia,  there- 
fore became  an  Idey  Bross.  But  somebody  one  day 
called  a  native  "Johnny."  The  native  retorted  in 
kind,  and  thus,  although  later  all  natives  became 
"  Johnny  Greeks,"  all  the  British  became  Johnnies  too. 
And  it  is  really  a  little  disconcerting  for  a  Staff  Colonel 
to  be  addressed  as  "  Hey  Johnny." 

Later  in  the  campaign,  "  Balkan  Tap  "  was  an  in- 
exhaustible fund  of  humour.  It  means  that  you  suffer 
from  a  sort  of  mental  obfuscation,  due  to  long  resi- 
dence in  the  Balkans  without  leave — and  many  of  the 
medical  officers  think  there  may  be  something  in  it. 
"  Balkan  Tap  "  is  supposed  to  make  you  do  all  sorts 
of  strange  things,  and  the  mere  mention  of  the  phrase 
in  the  Army  theatres  always  brought  its  laugh.  There 
are  various  explanations  of  the  origin  of  the  term,  but 
they  need  not  be  traced  to  their  sources  here.  "  Balkan 
Tap"  is  an  excellent  illustration  of  the  virtue  of  making 
the  best  out  of  the  worst.  The  weariness  and  staleness 
that  came  of  long  campaigning  in  the  Balkans  became 
crystallised  in  a  phrase ;  and  the  mere  quotation  of  the 
phrase  chased  away  the  weariness  for  the  moment  and 
raised  a  smile. 

After  the  many  excellent  humorous  writers  who 
figured  so  prominently  in  The  Balkan  News  the  poets 
were  the  most  remarkable  feature.  There  were  thou- 
sands of  men  in  the  army  who  apparently  had  a  desire 
to  write  verse,  and  they  came  from  all  classes.  A  few 
were  really  good,  many  quite  passable  and  the  majority 
terrible.  For  weeks  and  months  on  end,  one  would 
receive  a  dozen  poems  a  day  in  the  office — and  poems 
are  very  troublesome  things  to  deal  with.    So  often  one 

57 


SALONICA    AND    AFTER 

is  tempted  to  publish  a  poem,  not  because  it  is  good, 
but  because  something  in  it  pleases  or  touches  or 
amuses;  or  perhaps  out  of  sheer  compassion  because 
the  author  sends  with  it  a  letter  in  which  he  describes 
how  tremendously  grateful  and  happy  he  will  be  if  only 
he  can  see  his  poem  appear  in  '*  your  well-esteemed 
and  bright  little  paper."  It  is  disastrous  to  give  way 
to  any  such  weakness  as  this,  because  the  delighted 
author  immediately  follows  up  his  first  poem  with  a 
second,  which  is  much  worse,  and  continues  to  bom- 
bard you  at  regular  intervals.  And  though  a  poet  who 
is  never  published  may  only  waste  away  with  seci'et 
grief,  a  poet  who  has  been  published  once  and  then  is 
scorned,  becomes  an  angry  and  bitter  man  with  a 
grievance. 

The  fame  of  the  B.N.  has  gone  all  over  the  world. 
Innumerable  thousands  of  copies  of  it  have  been  posted 
to  every  corner  of  the  British  Empire.  We  were 
*'  noticed  "  in  many  newspapers  in  many  climes,  and 
always  with  every  kindness,  though  sometimes  with 
patronage.  Did  we  not  indeed  once  administer  a  rebuke 
to  "  The  Kidderminster  Shuttle  "  for  this  very  reason  ? 

One  will  never  forget  those  days  in  the  summer  of 
1916.  The  dominant  note  in  life  w^as  exasperation — due 
to  the  heat  and  some  of  the  native  people  one  had  to 
deal  with.  Up  to  lunch  things  would  always  go  calmly, 
but  in  the  afternoon  there  would  be  complications.  The 
compositors  would  get  tangled  up,  or  the  age-long 
quarrel  which  existed  between  them  and  their  head  man 
would  break  out  afresh.  One  would  have  to  go  into  the 
composing  room  and  still  the  tumult,  and  in  the  midst 
of  accusation  and  counter-accusation  the  desire  to  take 
them  and  bang  their  heads  together  became  overwhelm- 
ing. Most  of  the  natives  of  Salonica  have  this  irritating 
effect  on  one.    The  usual  run  of  employees  are  utterly 

58 


*'THE   B.N." 

unmannerly,  and  a  favourite  trick  is  to  rush  in  and 
break  in  on  a  conversation  with  loud  shouts  about  some 
unimportant  matter  or  other.  The  local  magnate,  with 
whom  you  are  talking,  breaks  off  to  answer  and  a  hot 
discussion  follows  in  Judaeo-Espagnol.  You  stand  there 
and  run  your  fingers  through  your  hair,  and  want  to 
assassinate  somebody.  Salonica  quite  altered  my  views 
as  to  the  ethics  of  murder.  If  one  had  known  exactly 
what  to  do  with  the  corpse,  I  would  often  have  slain 
a  son  of  Salonica. 

During  the  long  afternoon — ^perhaps  the  telegrams 
were  late,  or  the  precious  typewriter  had  broken  down, 
due  to  somebody  once  tampering  with  it — there  would 
be  an  innumerable  string  of  callers  who  put  their  little 
troubles  at  our  door :  Where  to  buy  a  piano,  a  gun,  or 
silk  stockings  for  a  concert  part  "girl"  ;  could  you  please 
cash  a  cheque  ? — is  it  t^e  that  you  have  a  car,  and  if  so 
is  it  likely  to  be  going  this  afternoon  to  the  — th  General 
Hospital,  nine  kilometres  away  ? — could  you  get  us  a 
programme  printed  by  to-morrow  night  ? — hello  Old 
Thing,  I'm  down  again  for  three  days,  come  out  and 
have  a  nice  cool  drink — may  I  use  your  telephone  ? — I 
want  you  please  to  find  a  nice  Greek  Officer  with  whom 
I  can  exchange  conversational  lessons — can  you  come 
up  and  see  our  show  to-morrow  night,  I  tell  you^it's 
great,  and  our  beauty  chorus  makes  all  the  rest  look 
cheap  ? — can  you  tell  me  where  I  shall  find  any  litera- 
ture which  tells  all  about  the  many  tumuli  found  round 
Salonica,  and  if  not,  do  you  know  anything  about 
them  ? — do  you  know  the  authentic  history  of  the 
White  Tower? — I  have  a  little  poem  here,  if  you 
wouldn't  mind  reading  it  through  I'll  wait ! — And  so 
on.  Also  friends  would  come  in  and  say,  "  I  know 
you're  busy,  but  ..."  and  stop  for  twenty  minutes. 
So  on,  till  tea-time,  and  then  till  eight  o'clock,  when 

59 


SALONICA   AND    AFTER 

the  paper,  with  its  cumbersome  hand-set  type  would 
be  ''put  to  bed."  Then  back  again  after  dinner,  to 
prepare  for  the  morrow.  A  seven-day  newspaper,  even 
a  little  one,  is  like  a  sick  baby.  Yoii  can  never  leave  it. 
Quite  a  number  of  anecdotes,  true  and  otherwise, 
cluster  round  the  B.N,  One  of  the  true  ones  is  that  of 
the  Bulgar  who  left  a  note  for  one  of  our  outposts  on 
the  Struma,  saying  that  as  he  possessed  the  words  for 
''  Boris  the  Bulgar  "  published  in  the  B.N.  he  would 
be  awfully  glad  if  he  could  have  the  music.  "  Boris 
the  Bulgar  "  was  a  parody  on  the  famous  ''  Gilbert  the 
Filbert,"  and  the  refrain  of  it  was: — 

*'  Good  gracious,  how  spacious 
And  deep  are  the  cuts 
Of  Boris  the  Bulgar, 
The  Knifer  of  Knuts." 

I  believe  it  was  decided  that'  the  request  should  not 
be  granted.  Another  Bulgar  used  to  leave  a  penny 
every  night  somewhere  near  Big  Tree  Well,  in  the 
region  of  ButkovaLake,  and  quite  often  he  got  his  B.N, 
in  exchange.  No  doubt  every  such  copy  did  more  than 
its  fair  share  of  propaganda. 

And  this  sketch  of  the  work  of  The  Balkan  News 
would  not  be  complete  if  we  did  not  mention  a  great 
personality  who  was  closely  identified  with  it.  I  refer 
to  that  grandiose  individual  known  to  all  in  the  Balkans 
as  His  Macedonian  Highness,  The  Comitadji. 

H.M.H.  The  Comitadji  was  a  sort  of  blend  of  Falstaff, 
Cyrano  de-  Bergerac,  Ally  Sloper  and  Mr.  Horatio 
Bottomley,  adapted  to  Balkan  conditions.  It  will 
easily  be  seen  that  here  are  all  the  makings  of  a  Great 
Man.  He  was  a  being  of  imposing  presence;  he  drank 
deep — ^too  deep ;  he  was,  according  to  his  own  accounts, 
a  great  Bulgar  Slayer;  he  had,  naturally,  a  plurality 
of  wives ;  and  was  a  master  of  rounded,  rolling  periods. 

60 


The  Limonadji,   or 
street  lemonade  seller. 


Photo:  Sergt    Milne 


A  scene  in  JeanTchimiskI 
Street,  December,  191 6. 


^^^^^^^^^^H||^^^^^^H|P^^ 

l^^^^l^   IKkAN  N    -V  ■  W 

fcv "  -^T^r^      ^'^^ 

(^mmMK^m^ttm 

Photo  :  Capt.  T.  E.  Grant 


"THE  B.N.'' 

In  royal,  or  semi-royal,  state,  he  moved  up  and  down 
the  British  area  of  Macedonia  in  his  powerful  Ford 
motor-car,  which  was  universally  known  as  the  J.R.L., 
or  Junior  Road  Louse.  Another  Great  Man  of  long 
ago,  Don  Quixote,  was  brought  into  being  to  tjilt  at  the 
false  romanticism  which  existed  in  Cervantes'  time. 
H.M.H.  was  perhaps  partly  called  into  being  by  the 
great  outpouring  of  decorations  and  orders  which  was 
one  of  the  symptoms  of  the  Great  War.  As  so  many 
others  were  being  given,  H.M.H.  The  Comitadji  insti- 
tuted his  own  orders.  The  best  known  of  these  was  the 
Order  of  the  Boiled  Owl,  and  after  a  time  it  became  a 
very  prized  decoration  indeed.  I  remember  a  Lieut. - 
Colonel  who  had  been  so  decorated,  who,  on  reading 
that  a  mere  major  had  been  similarly  honoured,  sug- 
gested quite  seriously  that  the  O.B.O.  (this  was  long 
before  the  days  of  the  O.B.E.)  should  not  be  given  to 
anybody  below  his  own  rank.  There  were  other  decora- 
tions, but  the  Order  of  the  Boiled  Owl  was  by  far  the 
most  prized. 

Armed  with  a  plentiful  supply  of  decorations,  then, 
H.M.H.  The  Comitadji  toured  his  dominions  in  the 
famous  J.R.L.  Soon  no  function  was  complete  without 
him — or  at  any  rate,  without  an  account  of  his  visit  to 
it.  For  long  he  remained  a  semi-mystery  to  many  men 
in  the  Salonica  Army.  Anything  might  happen  in  the 
Balkans,  and  quite  a  number  of  people  were  really  per- 
suaded that  a  magnificent  individual,  with  gorgeous 
costume  and  royal  mien,  and  with  an  amazing  capacity 
for  liquor,  was  somewhere  in  attendance  on  The  Balkan 
News  and  flitted  up  and  down  the  country.  Some  of 
them  even  saw  him  !  But  after  a  time  it  was  generally 
accepted  that  the  Editor,  if  anybody,  was  the  Comi- 
tadji, and  as  the  first  thought  evoked  by  the  presence 
of  the  Comitadji  was  a  plentiful  supply  of  strong  drink, 

61 


SALONICA   AND    AFTER 

the  Editor  had  some  dreadful  times  in  vainly  trying  to 
do  the  reputation  of  the  Great  Man  justice.  The  royal 
device  of  H.M.H.  was  Ivresse  Oblige,  and  it  was  a  motto 
that  wanted  a  lot  of  living  up  to. 

Perhaps  to  those  who  read  this  who  have  not  lived 
in  Macedonia  the  humour  attaching  to  the  august  per- 
son of  H.M.H.  may  not  "  spring  to  the  eye  "  as  our 
Allies  say.     But  I,  who  know  him  well,  have  every 
evidence    of    the  worthy  role  played   by  H.M.H.  in 
lightening  the  weariness  of  the  Macedonian  campaign. 
He  could  not,  naturally,  actively  ameliorate  the  con- 
ditions of  Hfe,   but  he   and  the  Boiled   Owl  and  the 
J.R.L.  and  the  Court  Physician  and  the  rest  did  their 
bit  in  making  people  smile  and  be  happier.    His  name 
became  a  household  (or  a  camp-fire)  word ;    it  is  one 
that  will  be  vividly  remembered,  hke  The  Balkan  News 
and  the  White  Tower,   years  after  the  War  is  over. 
And  it  is  something  to  make  G.H.Q.  laugh.    The  Comi- 
tadji  did  that  in  the  description  of  how  he  fared  in  the 
vast  British  Headquarters  when  he  went  looking  for 
leave.     The  humour  that  exists  in  the  subject  of  in- 
toxication can  certainly  be  overdone.    But  H.M.H.  had 
other  points  than  this,   and  he  showed  that  there  is 
many  a  worse  motto  in  life  than  Ivresse  Oblige,    And 
he  flourished    under    the    highest    patronage,   for  the 
C.-in-C.  himself  approved  of  his  journey ings  among  the 
troops — even   if  he  did  not  specifically  commend  his 
libations. 


62 


CHAPTER   VI. 

Friends  Up  Country. 

I  REMEMBER  Well  my  first  real  escape  from  the  noise  and 
crowds  of  Salonica  to  the  space  and  freedom  of  "up 
the  line."  It  was  not  very  far  up,  less  than  half-way 
to  the  front,  but  after  a  year's  continuous  work  on  The 
Balkan  News,  it  was  like  an  escape  from  bondage.  I 
went  up  at  the  invitation  of  a  friend  who  was  an  amus- 
ing and  an  amazing  person.  In  Salonica  he  had  been 
the  head  of  a  large  business,  but  had  thrown  this  up 
to  take  a  commission  in  charge  of  "  Greek  Labour,"  as 
we  called  it,  although  there  were  all  sorts  of  nation- 
alities in  the  labourers  we  had  to  work  for  us,  chiefly 
on  road-making.  Of  Armenian  extraction,  bom  in 
Manchester,  and  with  a  long  experience  of  the  United 
States  and  Constantinople,  my  friend  combined  the 
qualities  of  East  and  West  in  a  remarkable  degree.  To 
hear  him  talking — ^Mon  Dieu,  how  he  talked  ! — of  what 
we  should  and  should  not  do  in  the  war,  and  accom- 
panying his  everyday  English  with  gestures  in  the 
Oriental  style  (like  murder,  they  always  will  "  out  ") 
was  an  education.  He  thought  with  all  the  quickness 
and  intensity  of  one  of  the  cleverest  of  the  Eastern 
races,  and  expressed  himself  like  you  or  me.  It  made 
one  realise  how  little  the  average  Englishman  thinks, 
or  rather,  how  little  he  gives  expression  to  whatever 
he  may  be  thinking.  The  East  may  or  may  not  be 
always  "a-calling,"  but  it  is  certainly  always  a-talking, 
and  here  one  heard  it  articulate  in  our  own  language. 

68 


SALONICA    AND    AFTER 

And  if  England  does  not  talk  overmuch,  it  is  always 
willing  to  sit  and  listen,  and  Jimmy,  as  we  will  call 
him,  always  had  an  audience. 

Jimmy  was  in  charge  of  a  large  camp  of  Greek 
labourers — men,  women  and  children — but  was  living 
close  by  with  an  R.E.  unit,  whose  duty  it  was  to  keep 
in  repair  a  long  stretch  of  the  Seres  Road.  At  this 
time,  M.  Venizelos  was  living  in  Salonica,  as  head  of 
the  National  Defence  movement,  and  Jimmy  had  in- 
vited him  to  come  up  the  following  day,  and  see  what 
sort  of  a  time  the  natives  had  when  working  under  the 
British  flag.  Consequently,  it  being  in  the  nature  of  a 
gala  week-end,  there  was  a  special  dinner  on  the  Satur- 
day night,  and  lavish  entertainment  on  the  morrow. 
It  was  a  first-class  dinner,  and  the  evening  that  followed 
was  lively  and  amusing  to  an  extraordinary  degree. 
Jimmy  proved  to  have  many  entertaining  "  stunts  " 
up  his  sleeve.  He  had  a  marvellously  lifelike  exhibi- 
tion of  a  lady  doing  up  her  hair,  in  the  style  of  Arthur 
Roberts,  and  could  do  absurd  dances.  Everybody  tried 
to  do  something  and  the  mess  furniture  suffered. 

Next  afternoon  M.  Venizelos  came  up  from  Salonica, 
accompanied  by  the  other  two  members  of  the  Trium- 
virate of  that  time — General  Danglis  and  Admiral  Con- 
douriotis.  A  large  square  ''  ring  "  had  been  roped  off 
in  Jimmy's  Greek  camp,  and  round  this  were  gathered 
some  thousands  of  our  soldiers,  a  large  number  of  staff 
officers  from  a  neighbouring  H.Q.,  and  most  of  the 
population  of  the  labour  camp.  There  were  first  of  all 
dances  from  the  little  girls  of  the  camp  (who  were  all 
earning  high  wages  working  on  the  roads),  and  M. 
Venizelos  looked  on  with  a  benevolent  smile.  Then 
we  had  wrestling  matches,  presumably  in  the  Greco- 
Roman  style,  and  some  very  sturdy  champions  tried 
to  pull  each  other  to  pieces.     One  realised  that  under 

64 


FRIENDS    UP   COUNTRY 

his  baggy  clothing,  the  Balkan  peasant  may  conceal 
a  splendid  physique.  A  real  champion  from  Crete, 
from  whom  much  was  expected,  was  beaten  by  a  local 
man,  to  the  great  satisfaction  of  the  residents  in  the 
labour  camp.  All  this  was  followed  by  a  display  of 
boxing,  and  M.  Venizelos,  after  taking  tea  and  cakes 
in  a  crowded  tent,  returned  to  Salonica  amid  loud  cries 
of  "  Zito."  It  was  quite  a  successful  afternoon,  and 
M.  Venizelos  was  able  to  see  for  himself  what  had  long 
become  an  accepted  fact  all  over  Macedonia — that 
everywhere  they  came  under  British  control,  the  natives 
had  such  a  peaceful,  happy  and  prosperous  time  as  they 
had  never  known  before  in  all  their  lives.  One  story 
of  an  old  Turk  in  the  Struma  Valley  crystallises  all  this, 
and  throws  a  searchlight  on  the  normal  conditions  of 
the  Balkans.  "  You  know,"  he  said,  to  a  well-known 
British  Colonel,  "  this  is  the  first  war  of  its  kind  we 
have  ever  known.  'None  of  your  men  have  touched  our 
wotnen.'^^ 

The  time  of  this  trip  up-country  was  early  spring, 
and  the  region  in  which  I  lived  for  a  week  had  a  beauty 
of  its  own,  during  this  brief  period  before  the  heat 
came.  It  was  a  place  of  treeless,  rolling  hills  and 
valleys,  with  a  rocky  crag  here  and  there,  scoured  by 
deep  watercourses  which  for  the  greater  part  of  the 
year  were  dry.  Here  and  there  we  had  quarries  which 
we  were  ceaselessly  blasting  for  road  metal.  The  O.C. 
lent  me  his  horse,  and  with  Jimmy  I  explored  the  sur- 
roundings. One  day  we  went  a  long  ride  to  Langaza  and 
back,  and  I  thought,  as  we  thudded  at  full  gallop  across 
the  plain,  of  crowded  and  smelly  Salonica,  with  its 
eternal  noise  and  discomfort.  Here,  in  the  pure  air  ot 
Spring,  with  not  a  soul  in  sight,  it  was  like  being  un- 
caged and  given  wings.  Langaza  is  a  big  Turkish  vil- 
laefe,  about  two  miles  from  the  large  lake  of  the  same 

65  F 


SALONICA    AND    AFTER 

name,  and  set  in  a  broad  and  fertile  valley.  The  Army 
had  just  started  a  big  potato  farm  there.  We  found  the 
officer  in  charge  of  it  away,  but  had  an  excellent  tea 
in  his  rooms,  an  old  Turkish  house,  all  the  same.  How 
little  we  English  change  wherever  we  are.  It  was  a 
splendid  burst  of  freedom,  but  for  me  the  whole  glorious 
day  would  have  been  spoiled  if  we  had  not  found  a 
teapot  at  Langaza.  And  all  over  Macedonia  at  that 
moment,  up  io  the  confines  of  Serbia,  Bulgaria  and 
Albania,  innumerable  parties  of  Britons  were  sitting 
down  to  tea,  in  tents,  huts  or  dug-outs,  and  asking  each 
other  to  pass  the  marmalade. 

Following  on  that  first  pleasant  experience  "  up  the 
line,"  I  was  able  to  make  many  trips,  and  go  much 
further  afield,  thanks  to  the  help  of  a  sturdy  Ford, 
which  at  one  time  and  another  bumped  me  over  most  of 
the  tracks  of  Macedonia.  And  wherever  one  went  one 
found  a  little  settlement  of  Britons,  generally  very  com- 
fortably installed  and  always  glad  to  offer  hospitality 
and  talk  with  somebody  they  did  not  see  every  day. 
After  the  first  year  of  our  presence  in  Macedonia  the 
country  became  very  well  organized,  and  our  men  were 
able  to  settle  down  to  some  extent  and  make  the  most 
of  the  circumstances  in  which  they  were  living.  Those 
who  could,  abandoned  tents  and  built  huts  to  live  in. 
Little  camps  grew  and  developed,  so  that  the  halting 
place  of  1916  became  a  pleasant  residence  in  1917.  The 
many  motor  transport  companies  dotted  up  and  down 
the  country  took  endless  pains  to  make  their  camps 
look  as  much  like  home  as  possible.  Divisional  and 
Brigade  Headquarters  became  pleasant  little  villages, 
cunningly  hidden  away  in  all  sort  of  gullies,  or  built  into 
a  hillside.  And  in  the  line  itself  the  battahon  head- 
quarters developed  and  did  all  sorts  of  wonderful 
tilings  with  sandbags  and  a  few  odd  bits  of  corrugated 

66 


FRIENDS    UP   COUNTRY 

iron.  So  that  gradually  order  and  some  measure  of 
comfort  were  imposed  on  the  wilderness,  and  if  one 
had  transport  and  the  privilege  of  roaming  up  and  down 
the  country  one  could  always  be  sure  of  a  good  dinner, 
a  bed  of  sorts,  and  pleasant  company  in  whatever  spot 
of  Macedonia  evening  might  happen  to  find  one. 

On  one  of  my  earlier  trips  up  the  line  I  realised  to 
the  full  what  the  officer  who  came  down  to  Salonica 
on  three  days  leave  had  to  undergo  for  his  amusement. 
A  friend  in  a  Scots  regiment  called  in  the  office  and 
insisted  on  my  returning  the  compliment,  so  to  speak, 
and  spending  three  days  "  up  there  "  with  him.  It 
was  June,  and  broiling  hot.  The  small  Ford  van,  piled 
high  with  packages  bought  for  the  mess,  took  us  six 
miles  along  the  bumpy  Monastir  Road  to  Dudular 
Station.  There  we  took  the  train  and,  after  a  very  un- 
comfortable afternoon,  during  which  everybody  took 
off  all  the  clothes  they  decently  could,  we  arrived 
late  at  Karasouli.  The  R.T.O.  was  extremely  glad  to 
see  us.  A  Boche  aeroplane  had  not  long  before  passed 
over  and  he  feared  it  had  "  got  "  the  train.  Limbers 
were  waiting  for  the  mess  supplies,  and  horses  for  us. 
For  two  hours  we  rode,  and  on  the  way  admired  a  sun- 
set behind  the  mountains  on  the  Serbian  frontier — a 
gorgeous  sight.  There  were  glimpses  of  the  Vardar  here 
and  there,  winding  in  its  broad  valley,  and  with  the 
last  glow  of  sunset  a  sickle  moon  hung  over  the  moun- 
tains, now  one  long  sweep  of  sepia  outlined  against 
the  faint  blue  of  the  sky.  After  the  afternoon  in  the 
blistering  train,  this  peace  and  beauty  of  the  cool  even- 
ing was  perfect — a  balm  to  the  soul.  At  dusk,  with 
some  difficulty  we  found  the  camp  of  the  Brigade  Trans- 
port Officer,  hidden  away  as  usual  in  as  lumpy  ground 
as  possible. 

Here  we  dined  excellently  on  frozen  rabbit  (a  new 

67 


SALONICA    AND    AFTER 

issue,  over  which  we  made  the  usual  jokes).  The 
Brigade  Transport  Officer  was  a  hospitable  soul,  sent 
the  port  round  freely  after  dinner,  and  pressed  us  to 
stop  the  night.  It  was  now  dark  as  a  bag  outside,  and 
I  should  have  liked  nothing  better.  The  B.T.O.  pro- 
tested that  it  was  a  shame  to  take  a  stranger  out  on  a 
three-hours  ride  after  dinner.  McNab  (as  I  will  call 
my  friend)  insisted  cheerfully  that  we  should  do  the 
journey  in  two  hours.  He  carried  the  day,  or  the  night, 
and  we  started  off  in  pitch  darkness.  We  lost  our  way 
completely — ^McNab  was  new  to  this  part  of  the  line — 
and  after  many  adventures  finally  rode  into  an  ugly 
little  valley  full  of  dug-outs  and  shell  holes  at  three 
o'clock  in  the  morning,  this  being  McNab 's  home  in  the 
support  line  of  his  battalion.  We  had  been  nearly  six 
hours  on  the  way.  I  was  dog-tired  and  wanted  only 
to  lie  down,  but  McNab  insisted  on  producing  a  drink 
from  somewhere  in  his  dug-out  and  began  to  talk  of 
the  glorious  time  he  had  had  in  Salonique  ! 

It  was  a  very  pleasant  and  interesting  three  days  I 
spent  with  McNab  and  his  friends.  There  was  much 
to  do  and  see.  We  were  on  the  very  left  of  the  British 
line,  just  near  the  Vardar.  Over  the  river  the  French 
took  the  line,  and  carried  it  on  across  the  mountains 
to  where,  near  the  high  Moglena  Range,  they  linked  up 
with  the  Serbians.  It  was  a  quiet  time  on  the  front. 
Nothing  particular  was  happening,  although  there  was 
a  fair  amount  of  artillery  activity.  Our  trenches  here, 
as  things  went  in  the  Balkans,  were  strongly  held ;  the 
junction  on  the  Vardar  was  a  point  which  needed  every 
care  in  defence.  But  here,  as  everywhere  else,  we  had 
practically  no  reserves.  The  Balkan  campaign,  in  fact, 
was  fought  with  no  reserves  worth  mentioning,  not 
even  an  Army  reserve.  We  had  none.  The  front-line 
troops  were  always  the  front-line  troops,  and  some  of 


FRIENDS   UP   COUNTRY 

them  were  in  the  trenches  without  cessation  for  a  year 
or  more  on  end.  Here  again  we  come  to  the  question 
of  bluff,  which  has  already  cropped  up  elsewhere.  The 
enemy  could  never  possibly  have  realised  how  thin  was 
our  line,  and  how  little  we  had  behind  it.  We  carried 
out  raids  and  attacked  with  the  very  men  who,  in  case 
of  a  big  enemy  offensive,  would  have  been  all  that  we 
could  oppose  to  the  Bulgars.  On  occasion,  we  even 
created  a  '*  stage  army  "  to  deceive  the  enemy.  I  know 
of  one  case  in  which  the  same  section  of  transport, 
which  was  in  view,  but  not  in  range  of  the  enemy,  was 
sent  marching  round  and  round  a  hill  to  give  the 
appearance  that  it  was  a  long  continuous  line.  Remem- 
ber that  we  had  90  miles  of  line  to  hold,  and  for  a 
long  period  had  only  four  Divisions,  at  times  much 
weakened  by  battle  losses  and  sickness,  to  do  it.  If 
the  Bulgar  had  tried  an  attack  on  the  grand  scale,  with 
German  support,  as  was  often  anticipated,  he  would 
no  doubt  have  received  a  rough  handling — everybody 
was  determined  on  that — but  he  must  have  got  through. 
Here,  in  the  sandbagged  front  line,  one  thought  of 
the  multitude  of  shopkeepers  and  commerqants  down  in 
Salonica,  who  plied  their  trades  and  made  their  money 
out  of  the  Allied  Armies  solely  by  virtue  of  this  very 
sandbagged  line,  which  they  never  saw  or  visualised, 
and  probably  never  even  thought  of.  No  Man's  Land 
here  was  some  1,000  yards  wide  and  the  Bulgar  trenches 
ran  along  the  crest  of  a  high  hill  which  as  usual  domin- 
ated us.  In  the  tumbled  space  of  ground  between  our 
patrols  went  out  night  after  night  to  Red  Indian  work  ; 
a  game  at  which  they  became  extremely  efficient, 
whether  on  this  front  or  in  the  narrow  No  Man's  Land 
near  Lake  Doiran  or  in  the  wide  extent  of  the  Struma 
Valley.  I  have  met  officers  who  have  done  patrol  work 
in  France  who  said  they  preferred  it  between  trench  and 

69 


SALONICA    AND    AFTER 

trench  to  this  eerie  wandering  about  in  the  darkness 
in  a  wild  ground  full  of  watercourses,  ravines,  ruined 
villages,  and  a  hundred  other  feat*ures  which  might 
conceal  an  ambush.  The  Bulgar  was  extremely  good 
at  this  game,  but  as  time  went  on  our  own  men  became 
easily  his  masters  in  every  form  of  night  work. 

McNab's  Company  Mess  was  a  cheery  place,  full  of 
young  Scotsmen  chiefly  from  Glasgow.  The  roof  was 
of  tin  and  the  sides  of  sandbags.  The  Bulgar  was  rather 
fond  of  plumping  5.9's  into  this  particular  part,  and 
it  was  trying,  during  dinner,  pretending  that  one  liked, 
or  at  any  rate  was  quite  indifferent  to,  the  loud  bangs 
that  were  sounding  from  the  fairly  near  neighbour- 
hood. The  mess  possessed  a  gramophone  with  four 
discs,  all  in  French,  which  had  been  dug  up  somewhere 
in  Salonica.  One  was  "The  Song  of  the  Cameldriver," 
a  most  melodious  individual  who  performed  every  even- 
ing. Another  was  *'  Le  Dernier  Carre  de  Waterloo, 
avec  Chants,  Trompettes,  Tambours,  Salves  d'Artil- 
lerie.  ..."  and  goodness  knows  what  else.  It  was 
inspiring  and  popular.  There  were  also  two  songs  from 
the  Paris  cabarets,  imperfectly  understood,  but  thor- 
oughly welcome.  We  had  them  all  twice  over,  and  the 
sound  of  the  ladies'  voices  took  one's  thoughts  back 
to  the  Boulevard  des  Italiens  and  nights  spent  at  ''  La 
Pie  Qui  Chante,"  and  elsewhere.  We  lunched  one  day 
at  the  battalion  headquarters'  mess  in  the  line,  a  mas-r 
sive  creation  of  sandbags,  and  there  on  the  walls  La  Vie 
Parisienne  was  doing  its  dainty  worst.  Everywhere 
one  discovered  "  La  Fte."  One  wonders  what  its  war- 
time circulation  became  as  a  result  of  the  British 
Army's  fondness  for  a  touch  of  colour  in  life.  It 
became,  in  time,  an  acute  relief  to  enter  a  dug-out  or 
a  hut  or  a  mess  of  any  kind  and  discover  that  the  pic- 
tures on  the  walls  were  not  the  impossible,  lingeried 

70 


FRIENDS   UP   COUNTRY 

creations  of  the  artists  of  ''La  Fie."  And  yet  one  has 
seen  many  places  so  decorated,  with  the  undulating 
forms  of  the  skittish  young  things  carefully  cut  out 
with  scissors,  with  the  most  pleasing  effect. 

One  day,  McNab  and  I  rode  to  the  Brigade  head- 
quarters for  lunch.  It  was  tucked  away  in  a  very 
narrow  ravine,  with  every  hut  most  carefully  camoufle 
with  brushwood,  but  all  the  same  the  Bulgar  heavies 
had  found  it,  and  a  day  or  two  before  two  mess  waiters 
near  the  cookhouse  had  simply  disappeared,  following 
the  explosion  of  a  5.9.  Here  we  found  that  one  of  the 
officers  on  the  staff — a  keen  naturalist,  like  many  other 
officers  in  the  B.S.F. — had  a  magnificent  pair  of  eagle 
owls  in  a  big  cage.  They  stood  nearly  three  feet  high 
and  had  eyes  like  blazing  yellow  gooseberries.  Their 
captor  caressed  their  downy  chests,  and  they  looked 
down  at  his  hand  with  grave  owlish  interest  as  he  did 
so.  Nobody  else  would  have  tried  it.  Their  long  talons 
and  beaks  commanded  respect.  The  Brigade  Staff 
had  another  curiosity  of  which  they  were  proud ;  their 
so-called  "  Ice-chamber,"  a  deep  gallery  cut  into  the 
rocky  side  of  the  ravine.  Here  after  lunch,  in  the  semi- 
darkness,  we  sat  and  smoked,  cool  as  cucumbers,  while 
outside  the  heat  of  early  afternoon  shimmered  and 
danced.  There  was  something  boyish  about  the  officers 
in  their  "  shorts,"  with  shirts  open  at  the  neck  and 
sleeves  rolled  up.  These  and  the  eagle  owls  and  the 
ice-chamber,  and  the  general  feeling  of  campaigning 
being  jolly,  as  it  can  seem  after  a  good  lunch  and  when 
you  are  sitting  in  a  cool  place  on  a  hot  day,  gave  one 
a  pleasing  Peter  Pan  sort  of  impression. 

Undoubtedly,  in  years,  to  come,  many  of  those  who 
passed  through  the  long  exile  in  Macedonia  will,  in 
looking  back,  forget  the  hardships  and  the  weariness 
and  think  only  of  the  happier  side.     Some  there  were 

71 


SALONICA    AND    AFTER 

who  had  little  or  no  happy  side.  The  infantry  who 
held  the  constantly  battered  trenches  on,  say  Tortue  or 
the  Horseshoe — two  of  the  many  very  "  warm  "  spots 
near  Doiran — or  who  patrolled  day  after  day  and 
month  after  month  in  the  malarial  Struma;  or  the 
transport  drivers,  whether  of  lorries  or  mules,  who  made 
their  difficult  way  along  muddy  and  hilly  roads  and 
tracks — these  saw  little  of  the  pleasant  side  of  hfe. 
But  here  and  there  were  people  whose  lives,  during  cer- 
tain periods  of  their  service  at  any  rate,  were  cast  in 
pleasant  places.  One  of  the  most  favoured  spots  in 
all  Macedonia  was  Stavros,  the  little  port  we  made  at 
the  extreme  right  of  the  British  line,  on  the  Gulf  of 
Orfano.  It  was  a  sweet  little  place  of  noble  hills, 
covered  with  dense  olive  green  scrub  and  trees,  running 
down  to  the  edge  of  a  blue  sea.  Early  in  1916  a  camp 
began  to  spring  up  on  the  sea  shore,  which  gradually 
developed  so  that  huts  became  quite  passable  bun- 
galows, and  these  and  the  tents  that  lined  the  beach 
reposed  under  the  grateful  shade  of  trees — very  rare 
things  in  Macedonia.  The  climate  was  generally  beau- 
tiful, although  very  hot  and  relaxing  in  summer,  but 
there  were  winter  and  spring  and  autumn  days  there 
that  were  a  dream  of  delight.  There  were  only  two 
drawbacks  to  life  there;  the  mosquitos  and  the  occa- 
sional bombs  dropped  by  the  enemy  aeroplanes,  but 
these,  after  all,  were  common  to  all  the  front.  But  for 
the  bombs,  and  the  frequent  rumble  of  the  guns  a  little 
further  up  the  coast  near  the  mouth  of  the  Struma, 
where  ancient  Amphipolis  lies  buried,  it  was  really 
possible  to  forget  the  war.  Later  on  we  opened  a  rest 
camp  there,  which  was  the  most  appreciated  spot  of  all 
by  tired  officers  and  men  sent  down  for  a  spell  from  the 
line.  I  spent  a  delightful  four  or  five  days  at  Stavros 
on  one  occasion.     One's  hosts  were  as  pleasant  and  as 

72 


FRIENDS    UP   COUNTRY 

hospitable  as  could  be;  my  tent,  pitched  on  white 
sand,  was  five  yards  from  the  edge  of  the  tideless  sea ; 
it  was  very  hot,  but  there  was  constant  shade  and  a 
deck  chair,  and  that  most  exquisite  of  all  pleasures — 
sitting  lazily  while  other  people  worked.  One  day,  an 
energetic  M.O.  made  me  walk  up  a  steep  ravine  to  see 
the  work  of  canalisation  that  had  been  carried  out, 
so  that  the  stream  in  the  ravine  could  rush  down  strong 
and  unimpeded,  leaving  no  quiet  pools  in  which  the 
anopheles  mosquito  could  breed — one  little  detail  of  the 
immense  labour  which  was  necessary  to  make  Mace- 
donia a  place  in  which  it  was  possible  for  civilised 
people  to  exist.  It  was  very  hot  in  the  narrow  ravine. 
The  energetic  M.O.,  full  of  enthusiasm  about  his  anti- 
malarial work,  bounded  up  from  rock  to  rock  like  a 
mountain  goat.  Half-way  up  I  regretted  leaving  that 
deck  chair,  thought  longingly  of  the  shady  trees  and 
the  gently  lapping  wavelets  on  the  shore.  .  .  .  But 
later  at  dinner,  sitting  on  a  little  verandah,  with  the 
magnificent  colours  of  evening  shining  on  the  bay,  and 
over  the  great  mountains  beyond,  that  fronted  our 
positions,  one  forgot  the  trials  of  an  energetic  afternoon 
in  the  peace  and  comfort  of  this  al  fresco  repast.  It 
was  as  good  as  an  evening  at  Monaco,  with  the  added 
charm  of  a  picnic  thrown  in.  Only  the  absence  of  Eve 
marred  all  such  gatherings.  How  many  thousands  of 
men  have  thought,  in  such  circumstances,  that  with 
"  the  wife  "  or  "  the  girl  "  sitting  there,  even  war 
would  have  its  compensations.  After  dinner  we  went 
to  the  theatre,  if  you  please;  a  large  place,  half-tent, 
half -shed,  newly  erected,  where  an  excellent  troupe 
from  the  27th  Division  was  performing;  and  coming 
out  afterwards  a  bright  moon  could  be  seen  shining  up 
above  through  the  trees  and  the  nightingales — hun- 
dreds  of  them   apparently — were  so  busy   with  their 

73 


SALONICA   AND    AFTER 

singing  that  it  was  almost  a  clamour.  There  is  no  doubt 
about  it  that  Stavros  was  made  for  honeymoon  couples, 
but  alas  !  there  were  no  honeymoons  to  be  had  in  the 
B.S.F.  Stavros  had  yet  one  more  charm  in  that  it 
was,  so  to  speak,  amphibious.  The  Navy  was  well 
represented  there,  chiefly  by  very  jovial  commandei*s 
of  monitors,  who  in  the  mornings  ''  shoved  off  "  in  their 
wallowmg  craft  to  throw  some  "  heavy  stuff  "  into  the 
Bulgar  trenches  away  beyond  Orfano,  and  in  the  even- 
ing came  ashore  to  tell  all  about  it  at  the  little  club. 
Also  somebody  made  a  tennis  court  near  the  beach; 
and  there  was  some  of  the  best  woodcock  shooting  in 
the  world  there — ^^if  you  could  get  cartridges.  Likewise 
there  were  the  beauties  of  the  Rendina  Gorge — a  real 

beauty    spot But   we    must    say    no   more    of 

Stavros,  lest  we  give  a  false  impression  of  campaigning 
in  the  Balkans.  It  was,  without  a  doubt,  the  Jewel 
of  Macedonia,  shining  all  the  brighter  for  its  contrast 
with  so  much  of  the  rest  of  the  barren  country,  and 
lucky  were  the  people  who  were  able  to  put  in  a  good 
stretch  of  work  there. 

Later  in  the  campaign  travelling  up  and  down  was 
much  facilitated  by  the  various  little  hotels  that  were 
organised  here  and  there,  which  I  believe  originated 
with  the  28th  Division.  The  chief  purpose  of  these 
was  to  provide  an  intermediate  stage  for  officers  to  sleep 
in  a  trip  from  the  Line  down  to  Salonica.  They  started 
in  a  very  humble  way  and  gradually  developed 
until  we  reached  the  summit  of  accommodation  in  the 
hotel  at  Yanesh,  the  Savoy  of  Macedonia.  Yanesh  is 
also  spelt  Janes,  and  going  along  the  roads  one  encoun- 
tered here  and  there  hanging  signboards,  quite  in  the 
old  English  manner,  bearing  the  legend  :  '*  Go  to  Janes 
Hotel,"  which  was  a  little  puzzling  to  some  people, 
who  wondered  who  Jane  could  be.    It  was  a  well-built 

74 


".?lfr^^#*;  'i'-'^:^-^^f^^^9§ 


.■'mS/ 


Photo:  Topical. 


Macedonian  shepherd  on  the  sum- 
mit of  Mount  Kotos  (4,000  feet) 
overlooking   Salonica  harbour. 


FRIENDS    UP   COUNTRY 

structure,  with  a  dming-room,  reading-room  and  a 
number  of  two-bed  cubicles.  And  greater  than  all  these 
was  a  bathroom  containing  two  beautiful,  shiny- white 
full-sized  baths.  How  many  officers,  down  from  the 
dusty  trenches  in  the  Doiran  hills  ten  or  twelve  miles 
away,  have  splashed  about  luxuriously  in  these,  revel- 
ling in  the  caressing  lap  of  plenteous  hot  water  ?  During 
the  "  pantomime  season  "  Janes  Hotel  was  the  scene 
of  many  a  pleasant  gathering  in  which  both  sexes  were 
^represented  at  dinner,  for  as  a  great  treat  the  sisteors 
and  nurses  at  the  Base  hospitals  were  sometimes  taken 
a  trip  up  the  line  to  see  the  Divisional  shows.  And 
what  a  difference  it  made  to  everybody,  officers  and 
men,  to  hear  the  sound  of  a  woman's  voice  !  For 
months  and  years  on  end  the  only  representatives  of 
the  softer  sex  seen  by  our  men  up  country  were  bent 
and  wizened  hags,  w^ith  dusky  faces,  carrying  a  load 
of  brushwood  on  their  backs.  Female  grace  is  not  a 
strong  point  in  Macedonia,  and  the  law  of  the  male 
who  makes  his  spouse  do  all  the  hard  work  is  still  ob- 
served. One  may  see  My  Lord  trotting  proudly  along 
on  a  diminutive  donkey,  and  My  Lady  trailing  behind 
carrying  her  load. 

There  are  so  many  friends  up-country  of  whom  one 
would  like  to  speak,  but  they  were  all  the  same — that 
is,  they  were  all  most  hospitable.  There  were  friends 
at  Dimitric,  the  battered  little  mud  village  on  the 
Struma  Plain,  with  its  truncated  minaret,  so  long  the 
headquarters  of  the  27th  Division.  Dimitric  was  a 
very  museum  of  birds — starlings,  rooks,  crows,  storks, 
owls,  screech  owls,  hawks,  ravens,  and  many  other 
kinds.  And  the  marshes  of  the  river,  a  few  miles  away, 
were  a  paradise  for  the  sportsman — geese,  and  duck  of 
all  kinds.    But  that  applied  to  many  places. 

At  the  headquarters  of  the  various  Divisions,  in  M.T. 

75 


SALONICA   AND    AFTER 

camps  in  Serbia  and  elsewhere,  or  with  the  Battalions, 
one  always  found  a  welcome.  I  remember  at  a  Field 
Ambulance,  tucked  away  like  so  many  other  camps 
in  a  ravine,  one  of  the  M.O.s  at  dinner  produced  a  most 
amazing  insect  which  he  had  found.  It  was  just  about 
the  size  of  a  small  chick,  and  was  the  sort  of  thing  one 
would  expect  to  encounter  only  in  a  nightmare.  The 
M.O.,  who  was  something  of  a  naturalist,  told  us  all 
about  it,  but  I  forget  the  details,  and  even  its  name. 
It  crawled  over  the  table  during  dinner,  causing  much 
interest  and  some  alarm.  Coffee  over,  the  M.O.  packed 
the  horror  back  into  its  box  and  retired  to  his  tent, 
from  which  presently  came  the  melancholy  and  wistful 
sounds  of  a  flute.  (Besides  being  an  M.O.,  a  naturalist 
and  a  musician,  he  was  a  first-class  photographer,  a 
student  of  Arabic  and  an  authority  on  postage  stamps. 
One  meets  people  like  that.)  He  played  extremely 
well,  but  I  think  there  is  nothing  to  equal  the  melan- 
choly of  a  flute.  Try  it  on  a  still  evening  in  a  pictur- 
esque ravine,  with  the  rumble  of  the  guns  coming 
faintly  from  further  up  the  line  and  a  gentle  enthusiast 
playing  the  Barcarolle  from  "  The  Tales  of  Hoffmann." 
He  was  still  playing  when  we  went  to  bed,  his  earnest 
silhouette  cast  by  the  candle-light  on  to  the  side  of  his 
tent,  and  as  I  lay  in  my  own  I  felt  like  crying  with 
the  American  in  the  famous  story,  ''  Take  that  man 
away.     He's  breaking  my  heart !  " 

There  was  one  often  to  be  met  with  up-country  whom 
one  cannot  presume  to  include  amongst  one's  friends, 
but  who  meant  a  great  deal  to  the  life  of  everyone  in 
the  B.S.F.  Often  on  a  lonely  hill  road,  one  would 
see  far  ahead  a  car  coming  with  something  that  fluttered 
on  it.  The  driver  would  see  it  too,  and  unconsciously 
stiffen  a  little.  Somebody  on  the  roadside  would  see  it, 
and  stand  very  erect  and  ready.     And  then  the  car 

76 


FRIENDS    UP   COUNTRY 

would  flash  past,  with  the  Union  Jack  fluttering  out. 
The  British  Commander-in-Chief  was  on  his  way  up  or 
down  the  Hne ;  the  man  who  held  in  his  hand  the 
thunders  of  Jove,  or  the  kindly  power  to  reward  good 
work  well  done.  It  always  gave  a  little  thrill  to  meet 
the  C.-in-C.  on  the  road.  One  felt  suddenly  very  much 
in  touch  with  home,  and  England's  power  and  all  that 
she  stands  for.  Here,  in  a  sense,  was  the  King  himself ; 
or  as  near  to  him  as  we  in  Macedonia  could  hope  to  get. 
Many  stories  are  told  of  encounters  with  the  C.-in-C. 
on  the  road.  Some  are  true,  no  doubt,  and  some  only 
ben  trovato.  There  are  stories  of  swift  and  terrible 
lightnings ;  other  stories  very  kindly  and  gentle  in  de- 
meanour, eminently  satisfactory  to  all  concerned. 
Stories  of  quite  humble  people  being  picked  up  and 
given  a  lift,  and  being  able  to  air  their  views  before 
Authority  in  a  fashion  they  would  never  have  dreamed 
of;  and  other  stories  of  people  who  fled  wildly  from 
the  possibility  of  encounter.  No  doubt  all  Armies  have 
similar  stories  about  their  Commanders-in-Chief.  These 
things  grow,  and  expand,  and  take  varying  colours 
from  the  messes  they  pass  through.  And  as  everybody 
knows,  every  good  General  has  a  nickname  by  which 
his  troops  know  him.  Unhappy  the  General  who  is  only 
known  by  his  proper  rank  and  titles.  Napoleon  had 
his  nickname.  And  our  General  was  called  "  Uncle 
George."  Perhaps  he  knew  it,  and  perhaps  he  didn't, 
but  there  can  be  no  doubt  that  it  was  a  very  good  name 
to  have. 


77 


CHAPTER   VII. 

''  The  Coveted  City." 

Salonica  is  a  city  with  a  very  long  street  and  a  very 
long  history.  But  the  history  is  far  the  longer  of  the 
two,  and  runs  back  right  through  all  the  ages  of  civil- 
ization as  we  know  them,  to  a  time  when  the  world 
was  very  young  indeed. 

Everybody  who  comes  first  into  the  city  by  sea  says 
instinctively,  "  How  beautiful !  "  An  hour  afterwards, 
if  they  have  landed,  they  exclaim,  "  Heavens !  What 
a  place  !  "  Its  site  is  a  splendid  one,  although  the  hills 
which  rise  sharply  behind  the  town  are  absolutely  de- 
void of  verdure.  It  has  a  touch  of  Venice  as  the  ship 
comes  in,  and  seems  to  be  floating  on  the  water  of  the 
harbour.  The  sight  of  it,  as  sometimes  seen  through 
the  early  morning  sunshine  shining  on  a  touch  of 
pea,rly  grey  mist,  can  be  enchantment  itself.  It  is  im- 
possible, even  when  you  know  it  well,  to  realise  that 
this  filmy  cloak  of  splendour  conceals  so  much  thnt  is 
squalid  and  mean.  The  wooden  Turkish  houses  are 
washed  in  all  sorts  of  colours,  blue,  pink  and  green,  and 
at  many  points  trees  peep  out  of  the  houses.  The  old 
Turkish  town  runs  up  the  steep  slope  of  a  hill,  and 
from  the  sea  the  ancient  walls  can  be  seen  circling 
all  round  it  like  a  girdle,  with  the  grim  old  Citadel 
frowning  down  from  the  top.  Away  to  the  right  rise 
the  high  wooded  crests  of  Hortiach  and  Kotos.  The 
long  suburb  stretches  round  the  bay  and  gives  the  place 
the  air  of  a  mighty  city.    The  picture  is  comjplete,  or 


"THE   COVETED   CITY" 

would  be,  if  there  were  a  few  trees  on  the  barren  hills. 
So  powerful  is  the  illusion  of  the  East  that  even  since 
the  fire  Salonica  looks  beautiful  from  the  sea. 

*'  La  Ville  Convoitee,"  its  only  modern  historian  has 
called  it,  and  somebody  or  other,  indeed,  has  been 
coveting  it  throughout  the  ages.  Somebody  was  always 
trying  to  steal  it;  some  savage  tribe  or  other  was 
always  battering  at  its  walls,  and  often  breaking 
through.  Being  in  a  geographical  sittiation  of  great 
importance  carries  its  disadvantages.  In  the  First 
Balkan  War  (1912)  three  Balkan  States  coveted  it,  and 
it  fell  to  Greece.  This  fact  was  largely  the  cause  of  the 
Second  War,  ia  the  following  year.  Austria,  looking 
down  the  broad  corridor  of  the  Vardar,  had  long 
cherished  designs  on  it,  and  her  desire  to  possess  it  was 
one  of  the  motives  behind  the  launching  of  the  Great 
War. 

*'  The  City  of  Salonica,"  we  read,  "  was  founded  by 
King  Cassander,  315  years  before  the  Christian  era. 
The  King,  being  very  ambitious,  and  wishing  to  possess 
himself  of  a  portion  of  the  rich  Empire  conquered  by 
Alexander  the  Great,  ravaged  Macedonia.  Many  towns 
and  villages  were  only  heaps  of  ruins."  So  we  see  that 
well  over  two  thousand  years  ago,  Macedonia  was 
going  through  the  same  process  which  has  continued 
practically  without  interruption  up  to  the  present  day. 
In  Macedonia,  history  does  not  merely  repeat  itself.  It 
is  a  sort  of  cinematograph  which  flicks  the  same  pic- 
tures on  to  the  screen  time  after  time.  The  costumes 
and  weapons  of  the  ravagers  vary  as  the  centuries  roll 
on,  but  their  methods  remain  much  the  same. 

King  Cassander  thoughtfully  built  the  new  town  to 
give  shelter  to  the  many  people  he  had  rendered  home- 
less elsewhere,  and  named  it  after  his  wife  (the  Great 
Alexander's  sister)  Thessalonica.     Salonica  has  always 

79 


SALONICA    AND    AFTER 

been  worried  by  the  problems  of  refugees,  and  we  have 
three  very  recent  instances;  in  1914,  owing  to  the 
deportation  of  Greek  populations  from  Thrace  ;  in  1917, 
following  the  Great  Fire,  when  over  seventy  thousand 
people  were  homeless;  and  in  December,  1918,  and 
January,  1919,  when  thousands  of  wretched  Greek 
families  were  brought  down  from  Bulgaria — whither 
they  had  been  deported  by  the  Bulgars  during  the  War 
— and  huddled  into  the  roofed  shells  of  buildings  re- 
maining from  the  fire.  Happy  is  the  country  that  does 
not  know  the  meaning  of  the  word  ''  refugee." 

Fire,  pestilence,  famine,  earthquake,  revolution,  war 
and  massacre — *'  The  Coveted  City  "  has  known  time 
and  time  again  all  the  major  ills  that  can  aiSlict  poor 
humanity.  It  is  really  a  wonderful  story.  Following 
its  palmy  Greek  days,  the  Romans  came  and,  as  was 
their  wont,  remained  a  few  hundreds  of  years.  The 
city  had  everything  a  city  could  desire;  purple  pro- 
consuls, triumphal  arches,  temples  and  the  rest,  not  to 
mention  the  famous  massacre  ordered  by  the  Emperor 
Theodosius  in  which  anything  from  seven  to  fifteen 
thousand  people  were  wiped  out  in  three  hours  at  the 
Hippodrome.  It  was  a  propitious  beginning  for  tribu- 
lation on  the  grand  scale.  Salonica  was  attacked  in- 
numerable times  by  sea  and  by  land ;  often  resisted 
successfully  but  was  as  often  taken  and  sacked.  Name- 
less Asiatic  tribes  of  the  very  long  ago ;  Tartars,  Goths, 
Visigoths,  Huns,  Slovenes,  Bulgars,  Serbs,  Arab  and 
negro  corsairs,  bloodthirsty  Normans,  Venetians,  Mag- 
yars, bands  of  adventurers  from  Catalonia  and  Aragon, 
and  finally  the  Turks — all  of  them  "  had  a  go  "  at  one 
time  or  another,  and  some  of  them  came  many  times. 
History  has  long  ago  lost  count  of  the  successive  in- 
vasions of  Macedonia,  nearly  all  of  which  aimed  at 
Salonica.       The  stout  old  fortifications  have  rumbled 

80 


"THE  COVETED   CITY*' 

and  shaken  to  a  hundred  sieges.  The  Vardar  valley 
and  the  road  down  from  Seres  have  always  been  two 
great  arteries  for  war. 

It  was  in  1481  that  the  Turks  came  to  Salonica. 
Murad  II.  chased  out  the  Venetians,  who,  by  the  way, 
built  the  White  Tower,  for  long  afterwards  a  Turkish 
prison,  and  known  both  as  the  Bloody  and  the  Janis- 
saries Tower.  This  sturdy  bastion,  with  its  cells, 
cachots  and  oubliettes,  was  throughout  the  Allied  occu- 
pation a  signal  station  for  the  British  Navy.  Our 
sailors  (who  raced  the  French  for  it  and  got  there  just 
in  time)  found  it  in  an  amazingly  dirty  condition,  but 
soon  had  it  spick  and  span  and  whitewashed.  They 
kept  chickens  and  grew  tomatoes  on  the  crenulated 
summit,  and  slept  soundly  in  it  unmindful  of  the  trage- 
dies and  cruelties  with  which  it  was  haunted. 

The  Turks  soon  "  turkified  "  the  city,  and  so  it  was 
to  remain  for  four  centuries  and  a  half.  The  famous 
old  Christian  churches  of  St.  Demetrios,  St.  Sophia,  St. 
George,  and  others,  had  minarets  added  to  them  and 
became  mosques.  The  city  which,  under  the  Venetians, 
as  on  many  previous  occasions,  had  sunk  very  low  in 
population,  was  filled  up  with  imported  Turks,  and 
Salonica  subsided  into  an  Ottoman  sleep. 

The  next  invasion  was  a  peaceful  one,  but  one  of  the 
most  curious  and  interesting  of  all.  At  the  end  of  the 
fifteenth  century  the  Jews  of  Spain  began  to  arrive  in 
Salonica.  They  came  as  refugees  from  the  terrors  of 
the  Inquisition,  and  found  imder  the  Turk  a  religious 
tolerance  which  was  lacking  in  the  most  powerful 
Christian  country  of  the  time.  They  foimd  Salonica 
still  largely  depopulated,  and  in  the  course  of  time  they 
imposed  their  own  Castilian  tongue  on  most  of  the  in- 
habitants. The  conmierce  of  the  Jews,  as  hardly  needs 
saying,  prospered.     Salonica  became  a  great  Jewish 

81  Q 


SALONICA    AND    AFTER 

centre,  and  attracted  other  Jews,  who  came  from  Spain, 
Portugal,  Italy  and  Provence.  They  soon  had  business 
relations  with  their  relatives  and  co-reUgionists  in 
Venice,  Amsterdam,  Genoa  and  the  Hanseatic  ports. 
They  became  firmly  rooted  there,  and  for  two  hundred 
years  this  immigration  continued,  in  varying  degrees. 
And  that  is  why,  when  the  Allies  in  1915  landed  in  a 
Greek  city,  which  less  than  three  years  before  was 
Turkish,  they  found  they  were  in  a  markedly  Jewish 
community  where  a  very  large  proportion  of  the  popu- 
lation still  conversed  among  themselves  in  Spanish. 
And  those  of  the  newcomers  who  spoke  French  had  a 
further  surprise  in  finding  that  it  was  the  only  language 
they  needed  in  their  dealings  with  all  the  people  of  any 
education — and  most  of  the  children  in  Salonica  can 
now,  with  very  little  difficulty,  obtain  an  excellent 
education.  Practically  all  the  Jewish  boys  and  girls 
now  speak  French  with  all  the  ease  of  their  traditional 
Spanish,  even  though  to  the  French  ear  it  may  not 
always  be  in  the  purest  accent.  The  reason  is  that  the 
Jews  adopted  French  as  their  educational  language  in 
1873,  at  which  time  the  Israelite  Alliance  founded  its 
first  school,  and  since  that  time  the  French  themselves 
have  opened  schools  which  supplement  the  Jewish 
schools.  The  Jewish  hamals,  or  street  porters,  who 
carry  huge  loads  on  their  back  for  a  living;  whose 
hands  are  knotted,  and  beards  matted,  and  whose  backs 
are  perpetually  bent  beneath  the  load  of  the  lowest  form 
of  human  labour,  have  sons  who  wear  white  collars  and 
bowler  hats  and  work  in  banks  and  shops.  The  hamal 
lives  on  dry  bread  and  olives  and  a  scrap  of  goats'  milk 
cheese,  and  sleeps  in  a  hovel,  but  he  somehow  realises 
that  education  is  good  for  his  children.  Many  of  these 
beneficiaries  of  such  humble  parental  wisdom  have  emi- 
grated to  America  and  done  well  there,  and  later  sent 

82 


*'THE   COVETED   CITY '^ 

for  their  parents.  It  thus  happens  that  many  a  street 
porter,  who,  like  a  human  donkey,  has  padded  for 
years  up  and  down  the  quays  and  uneven  streets  of 
Salonica,  his  big,  bare  feet  flattened  out  by  the  weights 
he  is  perpetually  carrying  on  his  back,  has  been  called 
to  New  York  and  ended  his  declining  years  in  ease  and 
comfort.  He  spoke  only  his  Judaeo-Espagnol,  but  his 
son  was  taught  to  speak  French  and  do  other  wonderful 
things  of  which  the  father  had  only  the  dimmest  con- 
ception, or  none  at  all.  So  much  for  the  benefits  and 
power  of  education. 

I  was  invited  once  to  an  annual  gathering  of  the 
Israelite  Alliance.  There  were  many  hundreds  of  Jews 
there,  male  and  female,  and  a  great  proportion  of  them 
were  once  removed  only  from  the  street  porter  class. 
But  they  rattled  off  French  as  though  they  had  been 
born  to  it,  and  most  of  them  had  a  wide  acquaintance 
with  French  hterature.  I  don't  suppose  one  of  them 
had  heard  of  Meredith,  but  it  is  certain  that  a  himdred 
per  cent,  had  read  Pierre  Loti — and,  of  course,  Racine, 
Moliere  and  the  rest  remained  to  them  from  their  school 
days.  Some  of  the  young  men  wore  evening  dress — 
with  more  or  less  success.  At  supper  (for  which,  by  the 
way,  the  caterer  should  have  been  shot)  one  found  that 
their  education  had  not  included  the  art  of  eating.  But 
there  was  no  doubt  about  the  quality  of  general  in* 
t'elligence,  which  was  as  sharp  and  direct  as  a  needle. 
It  was  quite  easy  to  distinguish  the  various  grades  of 
Jewish  society;  the  wealthy  merchants  belonging  to 
old-established  families;  those  who  had  found  their 
financial  feet  at  a  very  recent  date,  but  whose  position 
had  been  consolidated  by  the  handsome  profits  made 
in  Salonica  during  the  war ;  those  who  were  only  on  the 
very  first  rung  of  the  financial  ladder;  and  those  who 
had  not  begun  to  climb  at  all.    But  here,  at  the  Alliance 

88 


SALONICA   AND   AFTER 

Israelite,  all  were  on  pretty  much  the  same  footmg, 
although  one  could  detect  a  sort  of  indulgent  pity  by 
the  wealthy  for  those  not  so  fortunate  in  this  world's 
good  things.  It  was  a  striking  object  lesson  in  Jewish 
solidarity  and  clannishness.  The  Jew  often  protests 
that  he  is  regarded  as  a  being  apart.  But  see  him  at 
a  gathering  of  his  own  kind  and  you  see  that  he  makes 
himself  a  being  apart.  It  is  not  merely  a  question  of 
religion,  but  is  very  much  a  question  of  tribe. 

The  Jews  of  Salonica  maintain  all  their  ancient  reli- 
gious  and  social   customs   very   rigidly,    although,   in 
later  generations,  due  to  the  spread  of  education,  the 
orthodoxy  is  little  more  than  an  outward  form.     But 
most  of  them  keep  it  up  as  being,  as  it  were,  a  thing 
for  the  general  good.     One  saw  this  at  a  circumcision 
ceremony  one  day,  where  the  Grand  Rabbi  and  many 
lesser  rabbis  were  congregated  in  great  state.    It  was  a 
curious  scene.       The  father,   wearing  his  bowler  hat 
tilted  back  on  his  head  to  make  room  on  his  forehead 
for  the    tefillin,   or   phylactery — containing   a   slip    of 
parchment   inscribed  with  certain   passages   from   the 
Scriptures — was  possibly  a  little  conscious  of  the  clash 
between  his   own   modem  outlook    and    the    ancient 
tribal  customs  which   he  was   helping  to   perpetuate. 
"  Ah,"  he  said  afterwards,  with  a  laugh,  "  these  are 
old  customs.    They  must  be  kept  up.    II  vaut  mieux.^^ 
But  education  is  completely  driving  out  the  old  Jewish 
dress  which,  until   recent  times  was  much  as  in  the 
middle  ages.     Only  the  older  men  and  women  of  the 
lower  classes  are  now  to  be  seen  in  the  ancient  cos- 
tumes ;   the  old  men  in  long  gown  with  slippered  feet 
and  the  old  women  in  the  quaint  gaudy  head-dress  in 
many  colours,  reminding  one  rather  of  a  parrot,  with 
a  long  tail  hanging  down  the  back  containing  the  hair, 
and  embroidered  with  seed  pearls.     The  young  men 

84 


"THE   COVETED   CITY" 

have  long  been  wearing  bowler  hats  and  the  young 
women  would  not  dream  of  ever  being  seen  as 
mother  is. 

When  the  Allies  went  to  Salonica  the  population  of 
the  city  was  supposed  to  be  something  like  175,000.  Of 
these,  somewhere  between  90,000  and  100,000  were  Jews, 
and  of  these  again  a  small  proportion  were  registered 
at  foreign  consulates,  calling  themselves  Portuguese, 
Italian  or  Spanish.  A  few  years  ago,  it  was  possible  to 
become  quite  easily  any  nationality  you  liked — or  as 
many  as  you  liked — but  the  coming  of  the  Greeks  made 
that  more  difficult,  and  all  those  in  Salonica  who  were 
not  definitely  something  else  became  Greek  subjects. 
The  Greeks  numbered  somewhere  about  thirty  thou- 
sand. Next  came  about  ten  per  cent,  of  Mussulmans, 
and  the  rest  were  made  up  of  Bulgars,  Serbs,  Vlachs, 
Armenians,  Albanians,  Montenegrins,  many  real  gip- 
sies of  the  purest  and  dirtiest  type,  and  all  the  various 
sweepings  one  might  expect  to  find  in  a  seaport  which 
combines  all  the  characteristics  of  the  Levant  and  the 
Balkans.  Turkish,  Greek  and  Judaeo-Espagnol  are  the 
languages  of  the  streets,  with  some  Italian ;  and  Greek 
and  French  the  languages  of  the  shops,  restaurants  and 
cafes.  The  young  Israelite  who  looked  after  the  smaller 
business  side  of  The  Balkan  News  and  controlled  the 
many  vendors  did  his  complicated  business  in  Greek, 
Turkish,  Jewish-Spanish  and  French,  spoke  German 
and  some  Italian  and  made — more  or  less  unconsciously 
— marked  headway  in  English. 

A  curious  people,  not  yet  mentioned,  who  stand 
apart  from  all  the  rest  are  the  Deunmehs,  the  name 
being  taken  from  the  Turkish  word  for  converts.  These 
people  are  of  Spanish-Jew  origin  who  became  converted 
to  Islamism,  and  as  they  have  kept  very  much  to 
themselves  they  may  be  regarded  as  Jewish  Mussul- 

85 


SALONICA    AND    AFTER 

mans.  The  conversion  of  these  people  came  about  in 
a  most  interesting  way.  In  1655  a  Jewish  rabbi  from 
Smyrna,  named  Sabbati  Cevi,  an  enthusiastic  mystic, 
landed  in  Salonica  and  proclaimed  himself  the  Messiah. 
His  movement  spread  like  wild-fire,  and  followers 
flocked  to  him.  The  Turks  allowed  him  a  considerable 
measure  of  Hberty,  but  he  went  to  Constantinople,  pro- 
nounced himself  to  be  the  King  of  Kings,  and  talked 
of  dethroning  sultans.  There  the  Sultan  of  the  day 
soon  found  drastic  methods  which  persuaded  the  rabbi 
to  become  Mussulman  on  the  spot.  His  many  followers 
in  Salonica  and  elsewhere  followed  his  example,  and 
the  sect  has  remained  to  the  present  day.  Much 
mystery  is  supposed  to  attach  to  their  form  of  religion. 
The  name  they  give  themselves  is  "  True  Believers," 
and  what  one  hears  about  their  religion  reminds  one 
of  the  mysterious  Druses  of  Syria.  They  are  said — 
probably  quite  wrongly — to  practise  ancient  Jewish 
and  Cabalistic  rites,  while  outwardly  showing  all  the 
signs  of  Mussulmans.  There  are  said  to  be  about  15,000 
in  Salonica,  and  generally  they  belong  to  a  fairly  well- 
to-do  class.  They  have  powerful  representatives  in 
Constantinople  and  were  well  to  the  fore  during  the  war 
as  successful  merchants  and  profiteers,  and  also  in  the 
councils  of  the  sinister  Committee  of  Union  and  Progress. 
The  Deunmeh  young  man  of  Salonica  is,  as  a  rule,  very 
correctly  attired  in  European  costume,  but  wears  the 
fez.  He  may  be  seen  sitting  in  Floca's  consuming 
sweet  cakes,  his  large  liquid  eyes  reminding  one  rather 
of  over-ripe  gooseberries. 

Enough  has  been  said,  we  may  hope,  to  show  that 
Salonica  is  a  varied  and  polyglot  city,  and  the  subject 
can  be  overdone.  Polyglottery,  as  one  may  call  it, 
ceases  after  a  time  to  have  any  effect  on  one.  The 
babbling  of  many  tongues  becomes  merely  a  noise,  and 

86 


*'THE   COVETED   CITY" 

one  notices  only  that  there  are  large  crowds  in  the 
streets,  who  get  stupidly  in  your  way,  and  not  that 
they  are  dressed  in  many  costumes.  But  now  and 
again,  even  when  you  are  used  to  it,  this  mingling  of 
races  brings  its  special  note  of  humour  or  tragedy.  A 
notable  case  was  that  of  the  tragedy  of  Floca's.  Some 
eight  months  or  so  after  the  fire,  the  cafe  managed  to 
open  again,  and  began  by  putting  on  some  excellent 
dishes  for  lunch.  One  day  I  noticed  that  the  cooking 
had  distinctly  fallen  off.  I  asked  the  waiter  why,  and 
he  replied  that  the  cook  was  dead,  and  tbld  me  some- 
thing of  the  story. 

Rachel,  Mehmet  and  Sophocles  were  the  three  people 
concerned,  Jew,  Turk  and  Greek.  These  are  the  real 
names  of  the  three  actors  in  the  drama.  Rachel  was  a 
young  girl  of  sixteen  or  seventeen  who  served  at  the 
Floca  chocolate  counter.  She  had  her  hair  down  her 
back  and  a  striking  Greek  profile,  and  the  mere  sight 
of  it  made  newcomers  to  Salonica  begin  to  talk  about 
Aspasia  and  Pericles  and  other  long-forgotten  things. 
But  in  spite  of  her  long  straight  nose,  Rachel  was  a 
Jewess,  and  a  nice  quiet  little  miss.  And  she  had 
nothing  to  do  with  the  tragedy  beyond  being  the  inno- 
cent cause  of  it. 

For  a  long  time  past,  Rachel  had  been  fiercely  adored 
by  Mehmet,  a  Turk  in  his  middle  twenties,  who  helped 
Sophocles,  the  cook,  in  the  kitchen.  I  imagine  he  must 
have  had  very  little,  if  any,  encouragement.  Salonica 
maidens,  and  especially  the  Salonica  Jewish  maidens, 
are  most  extraordinarily  careful  of  their  reputations, 
and  all  of  tliem,  whether  Jew  or  Greek,  immediately  ask 
a  stranger  "  his  intentions  "  at  the  earliest  opportunity 
if  the  acquaintance  suggests  developing  beyond  a  two- 
minute  conversation.  And  Rachel,  who  served  out 
chocolates  in  nice  boxes  to  British  Officers  and  nursing 

87 


SALONICA    AND    AFTER 

sisters,  would  certainly  not  let  her  thoughts  dwell  on 
a  Turk  in  the  kitchen.  But  Mehmet,  it  appeals,  talked 
of  it  often  while  he  was  working  with  Sophocles,  and 
Sophocles,  who  was  well  past  forty  with  a  wife  and 
three  children,  would  occasionally  rally  Mehmet  on  the 
foolishness  of  being  in  love. 

The  tragedy  came  during  one  such  conversation  on 
the  eternal  question.  The  two  cooks  were  round  the 
corner  from  their  kitchen,  drinking  coffee  together  in 
a  little  hole  of  a  cafe  let  into  the  wall  of  what  had  been 
one  of  the  largest  hotels.  Mehmet  was  talking  on  the 
subject  nearest  his  heart.  And  Sophocles,  as  was  his 
wont,  chaffed  him.  This  time  it  was  too  much  for 
Mehmet.  Labouring  under  his  obsession,  and  stung  by 
a  remark  which  suggested  that  he  could  never  attain 
the  object  of  his  desire,  he  suddenly  "  saw  red,'*  and 
plucking  an  automatic  pistol  from  his  pocket  fired  three 
shots  into  the  body  of  his  companion.  Poor  Sophocles 
dropped  his  coffee  cup  and  rolled  over,  murmuring, 
*'  Oh,  my  children !  My  poor  wife  !  "  And  then  Meh- 
met, with  a  cry  of  remorse,  turned  the  pistol  on  him- 
self. I  was  liold  that  he  fired  four  shots  into  his  own 
waistcoat.  That  is  all  there  is  to  the  story,  except 
that  Rachel  left  the  chocolate  counter  and  never  went 
back  to  it.  But  Rachel,  Mehmet  and  Sophocles — Jew, 
Turk  and  Greek  in  conflict — it  is  quite  an  epitome  of 
the  Near  East.  As  a  rule,  the  mixed  races  there 
quarrel  only  over  their  politics.  It  was  unfortunate 
for  poor  Sophocles  that  the  question  of  love  should  have 
intervened. 

Salonica's  unhappy  gift  of  being  a  centre  of  trouble 
has  followed  it  uninterruptedly  down  to  the  most  recent 
times.  In  1908,  the  young  Turk  revolution  broke  out 
there ;  the  wonderful  world-regenerating  programme  of 
the  new  Committee  of  Union  and  Progress  was  pro- 

88 


"THE   COVETED   CITY" 

claimed,  and  rabbis,  Greek  priests  and  Moslem  imams 
went  about  arm  in  arm  and  embraced  ench  other. 
Abdul  Hamid  was  deposed,  brought  to  Salonica  as  a 
prisoner,  and  lodged  in  the  Villa  Allatini.  On  October 
9th,  1912,  the  Greek  Army  entered  the  city  in  triumph. 
The  Bulgars,  who  had  raced  down  the  Seres  Road  in 
order  tk)  try  to  be  there  first,  came  in  next  day,  though 
in  much  smaller  strength.  In  March  of  the  next  year, 
King  George  I.  of  Greece  was  assassinated  by  a  lunatic 
Greek  as  he  walked  along  the  main  street  of  his  new 
city,  and  many  thousands  of  Britons  are  now  familiar 
with  the  poor  Uttle  obelisk,  bearing  withered  wreaths, 
which  marks  the  spot  on  the  pavement  where  he  fell. 
At  the  end  of  June,  1913,  the  delicate  situation  which 
had  all  along  existed  between  the  Greeks  and  the  Bul- 
gars still  in  the  town  broke  out  into  battle.  There 
was  a  hot  fight  in  the  White  Tower  and  the  St.  Sophia 
quarter  before  the  Bulgars  were  overpowered.  The 
fight  in  and  around  St.  Sophia  must  have  been  a  very 
pretty  one.  Bulgars  were  all  round  the  gallery  of  tihe 
tall  minaret  and  the  Greeks  peppered  them  from  below. 
The  marble  balustrade  is  still  all  pitted  with  bullet 
holes,  and  some  of  the  Bulgars  are  said  to  have  been 
finally  thrown  from  the  top.  Then  came  the  Great 
War,  making  of  Salonica  one  of  the  busiest  hives  of 
humanity  in  the  world.  And  finally  the  all-consuming, 
devastating  fire ;  but  we  must  give  that  a  little  place 
all  by  itself. 


SO 


CHAPTER   VIII. 

The  Fire. 

Saturday,  August  18th,  1917,  is  a  day  that  will  be 
long  remembered  by  many  thousands  of  members  of 
the  Saloniea  Force.  They  may  not  always  be  able  to 
recall  the  date  itself,  but  they  will  never  forget  the  fire 
that  occurred  on  it,  when  nearly  a  square  mile  of  the 
city  was  burned  down  in  a  few  hours. 

In  those  days  I  lived  in  a  very  pleasant  and  roomy 
apartment  above  one  of  the  town's  big  shops.  It  was 
a  very  hot  day,  and  the  local  Sirocco — a  hot  wind  from 
the  direction  of  the  Vardar — was  blowing  half  a  gale, 
and  had  been  doing  so  for  two  or  three  days.  I  was 
sitting  at  tea,  clad  as  lightly  as  the  convenances  would 
allow,  when  Christina,  the  Greek  maid  from  Constantin- 
ople, came  in  with  some  more  hot  water. 

''  You  know  there  is  a  big  j&re,"  she  said.  "  They 
say  half  the  town  is  burning." 

One  accepted  this  as  mere  exaggeration,  and  so  it 
was  at  the  moment.  But  a  little  later  I  went  up  on  to 
the  flat  roof  to  look.  From  here  one  had  a  view  of 
practically  the  whole  of  the  city  and  its  surroundings. 
And  sure  enough,  away  up  the  hill  in  the  north-western 
corner  of  Turkish  Town,  there  was  a  big  blaze  in  pro- 
gress. Through  glasses  I  could  see  a  sailor  standing 
on  a  roof  semaphoring  with  his  arms.  It  looked  as 
though  a  considerable  area  was  alight,  and  the  hot  wind 
was  blowing  strongly  and  steadily  down  towards  our 
part  of  the  city.    Then  I  became  aware  that  dozens  of 

90 


THE   FIRE 

the  springless,  rattling  carts  that  make  life  hideous, 
were  dashing  over  the  cobbles  and  up  the  hill,  presum- 
ably having  been  engaged  for  salvage  work.  But  big 
as  the  fire  looked  it  seemed  a  very  remote  thing,  having 
no  concern  with  one's  own  existence.  Naturally  a  lot 
of  these  half- wooden  houses  would  be  burnt  down,  and 
Turks  and  Jews  would  be  homeless  !  But  life  is  some- 
times hard  and  one  must  expect  these  things  !  I  went 
down  again  and  began  to  make  preparations  for  a 
journey  up  Monastir  way. 

Perhaps  rather  less  than  an  hour  later  I  went  up  to 
have  another  look.  Jove,  but  the  fire  had  made  pro- 
gress !  In  the  foreground  people  were  standing  on  roofs, 
free  from  concern  and  enjoying  the  spectacle.  But  it 
began  to  look  ugly,  with  that  dry,  hot  wind  like  a  forced 
draught  blowing  continuously.  I  went  down  to  the 
street,  where  the  car  was  waiting. 

"  Mason,"  I  said,  "  I  don't  think  we  shall  go  up- 
country  to-day.  It  looks  to  me  as  though  there  won't 
be  any  Salonica  left  to-night." 

"  Very  good,  sir,"  said  Mason.  "  I  heard  there  was 
a  fire  somewhere." 

Mason,  who  was  a  com  merchant  in  a  comfortable 
way  of  business  at  home,  was  always  like  that. 

At  the  office  I  found  that  people  were  becoming 
slightly  concerned,  although  there  was  no  sense  of  im- 
pending trouble.  The  natives  of  the  city  were  con- 
vinced that  it  would  not  spread  far.  They  too  felt, 
although  they  did  not  say  it  in  so  many  words,  tliat 
although  the  fire  might  destroy  the  native  quarters,  it 
would  not  have  the  bad  taste  to  come  down  into  the 
more  or  less  civilised  parts  of  the  city. 

I  decided  to  go  up  and  have  a  look  at  the  scene  of 
the  conflagration.  Egnatia  Street  was  jammed,  and 
we  met  the  first  refugees  carrying  bits  of  furniture, 

91 


SALONICA   AND    AFTER 

pushing  through  the  press.  A  little  way  up  one  of  the 
side  streets,  that  climbs  the  hill  northwards,  we  had 
to  leave  the  car.  Turks  and  Jews,  with  wild  eyes,  were 
hurrying  down,  carrying  all  sort's  of  things.  A  little 
further  and  we  were  on  the  edge  of  the  burning  quarter ; 
and  the  tide  of  distracted,  homeless  people  was  flowing 
all  around  us. 

It  was  an  extraordinary  sight,  and  one  which  but 
for  the  sewing  machines  and  smashed  wardrobe  mirrors 
which  littered  the  narrow  streets  and  alleys,  might 
have  been  plucked  straight  from  Biblical  times.  This 
was  the  heart  lof  the  Salonica  Ghetto,  where  a  great 
proportion  of  the  population  still  preserved  their  an- 
cient costumes.  Here  were  to  be  seen,  in  scores,  white- 
bearded  patriarchs  wearing  fezzes  and  their  old-time 
gaberdine  costume  known  as  the  intari,  rushing  about 
frenziedly  in  spite  of  the  skirts  that  clung  round  their 
slippered  feet.  Their  women-kind  rushed  about  with 
them,  holding  their  children  by  the  hand  and  sobbing, 
shouting  and  imploring.  It  was  an  amazing  and  a  sad 
scene ;  the  wailing  families,  the  crash  of  falling  houses 
as  the  flames  tore  along,  swept  by  the  wind;  and  in 
the  narrow  streets  a  slow-moving  mass  of  pack  donkeys, 
loaded  carts,  hamals  carrying  enormous  loads;  Greek 
boy  scouts  (who  v/ere  doing  excellent  work) ;  soldiers 
of  all  nations,  as  yet  unorganised  to  do  anything  defin- 
ite ;  ancient  wooden  fire-engines  that  creaked  pathe- 
tically as  they  spat  out  ineffectual  trickles  of  water; 
and  people  canying  beds  (hundreds  of  flock  and  feather 
beds),  wardrobes,  mirrors,  pots  and  pans,  sewing 
machines  (every  family  made  a  desperate  endeavour 
to  save  its  sewing  machine)  and  a  general  collection  of 
ponderous  rubbish.  The  evacuation  of  each  street 
came  in  a  panic  rush  as  its  inhabitants  realised  that 
their  homes  also  were  doomed.     This  attitude  of  only 

93 


THE  FIBE 

believing  at  the  very  last  moment  that  there  was  any 
danger  for  their  own  homes  or  business  establishments, 
marked  the  whole  progress  of  the  fire  until  the  moment 
when  it  had  reached  the  edge  of  the  sea  and  was  blazing 
along  nearly  a  mile  of  front.  The  inhabitants  of  every 
separate  line  or  section  of  streets  were  convinced  that 
the  conflagration  was  going  to  pass  them  by.  A  quarter 
of  an  hour  later  they  were  fleeing  for  their  lives,  bearing 
all  sorts  of  absurd  household  goods  snapped  up  in 
panic  moments.  As  it  was  the  Jewish  Sabbath  many 
of  the  big  shops  were  closed,  and  jewellers  and  others 
did  not  appear  to  try  and  save  their  stocks  until  a 
late  hour.  At  ten  o'clock  that  night,  people  in  hotels 
on  the  water  front  did  not  think  their  sleeping  arrange- 
ments would  be  disturbed — and  were  bolting  with  their 
hand  luggage  at  eleven. 

Amid  the  medley  and  the  uproar  of  the  fire  up  in 
the  Ghetto  I  found  the  P.M.  It  was  a  difficult  situation 
for  any  administrative  officer  to  face.  The  local  means 
for  fighting  a  fire  were  nil,  or  next  to  it.  It  was  not 
easy  to  say  in  whose  hands  lay  the  material  and  moral 
responsibility  for  tackling  the  fire,  and  here  w^as  a  case 
in  which  a  mixed  command  presented  difficulties. 
Moreover,  the  fire  had  attained  its  alarming  proportions 
with  such  a  sudden  rush  that  everybody  was  taken  off 
their  guard.  And  the  "  native  "  quarter  seemed 
a  place  off  everybody's  beat.  The  Allies  only  visited 
it  for  a  sfroll  or  from  curiosity.  It  was,  in  a  vague 
way,  nobody's  business — until  suddenly,  like  a  thun- 
der-clap, it  became  apparent  that  it  was  everybody's 
business.  At  about  this  time  a  company  of  the  Dur- 
hams  arrived  from  the  garrison  battalion  down  in 
Beshtchinar  Gardens,  to  form  a  cordon.  But  that  did 
not  help  to  put  out  the  fire,  and  there  were  still  no 
fire-engines,  and  little  water  to  go  through  them  if  they 

98 


SALONICA   AND    AFTER 

had  existed.  The  two  or  three  wooden  boxes  on  wheels, 
which  were  emitting  small  jets  of  water  in  response  to 
urgent  hand-pumping,  were  laughable.  One  of  them 
was  marked  "  Sun  Fire  Office,  1710,"  and  it  might 
easily  have  been  built  in  that  year.  Further  Allied 
patrols  now  came  up,  French,  Italian  and  the  rest, 
and  here  and  there  officers  were  attempting  to  organise 
or  direct  fire-fighting  operations.  But  everything  was 
against  them — the  crowds,  the  narrow,  jammed  streets, 
the  lack  of  everything  useful,  and  above  all  the  fire, 
which  by  now  might  have  got  the  better  of  the  com- 
bined resources  of  London  and  New  York.  A  little 
later  dynamite  was  tried,  but  the  flames  leaped 
laughingly  over  any  breaches  made.  It  had  been 
thought  earlier  on  that  the  Rue  Egnatia,  a  street  30  ft. 
wide,  which,  running  east  and  west,  cut  off  the  native 
quarter  from  the  more  modern  half,  might  serve 
as  a  barrier.  But  when  the  time  came,  the  flames 
cleared  the  street  without  noticing  it.  The  hot  wind 
blowing  behind  created  a  huge  forced  draught. 
Leaping  ahead  of  the  actual  flames  was  a  cloud  of  in- 
candescent air,  bearing  great  flakes  of  fire.  This  played 
on  buildings  ahead,  prepared  them  nicely  for  the 
burning,  and  a  falling  flake  of  fire  did  the  rest. 

An  hour's  experience  up  in  the  fire  zone  was  pretty 
conclusive  evidence  that  the  whole  of  Salonica,  with 
the  exception  of  the  long  suburb  stretching  along  the 
sea  eastwards,  was  in  danger.  And  yet,  although  one 
felt  this,  it  was  difficult  thoroughly  to  realise  it  and 
act  on  it ;  to  digest  the  idea  that  some  time  during 
the  night  one  would  be  homeless,  and  counted  among 
the  refugees.  I  returned  to  the  office,  where  I  found 
the  general  atmosphere  only  a  shade  more  grave,  and 
rang  up  the  Local  Transport  Officer,  down  near  the 
docks: — 

94 


THE   FIRE 

"  That  the  L.T.O.  .  .  I  say.  you  know  there's  a 
fire  on." 

"Yes,  we've  heard  there's  a  fire." 

"  Well,  don't  think  I'm  alarmed  or  in  a  panic  or 
anything  of  that,  but  it  seems  to  me  it's  coming 
right  down  to  the  water's  edge.  In  that  case,  do  you 
think  you  could  lend  me  a  lorry  later  on  in  the  evening, 
so  as  to  get  as  much  stuff  as  possible  away  and  bring 
the  paper  out  again  ?  " 

The  L.T.O.  promised  that  this  should  be  done  if  I 
rang  up  later.  And  there  being  little  else  to  do  at  the 
moment,  except  to  impress  on  all  the  natives  that  the 
office  stood  an  even  chance  of  being  burned  down,  and 
to  say  what  should  be  done  in  case  of  evacuation,  two 
of  us  went  out  to  dinner,  and  walked  down  Venizelos 
Street  to  the  Club  with  the  glow  of  the  fire  at  our  backs. 

The  Club  was  looking  particularly  brilliant  for  this, 
its  last  night.  Quite  a  number  of  fair  Athenians  had 
come  up  to  Salonica  in  the  train  of  those  who  had 
followed  M.  Venizelos,  and  most  of  them  happened  to 
be  present.  The  two  dining  rooms  were  full,  and 
everybody  seemed  to  be  in  the  best  of  spirits.  The 
fire,  several  acres  of  it,  was  now  less  than  a  quarter  of 
a  mile  away  in  a  straight  line,  and  still  coming  onwards, 
but  you  would  not  have  thought  it  to  see  the  happy 
crowd  in  the  club.  Here  and  there  champagne  corks 
were  popping.  One  could  not  help  thinking  of  Nero 
and  his  fiddle.  From  time  to  time  one  of  the  attendant 
swains  went  out  on  the  balcony  and  looked  up  the 
street.  "  Yes,  it  seemsi  to  be  gaining,"  he  would  say, 
and  sit  down.  In  moments  of  quiet  one  could  now 
hear  the  roar  of  the  conflagration — a  terrible  sound. 
And  while  we  were  sitting  here  at  an  excellent  dinner, 
and  while  other  people  were  sitting  down  to  dinner  at 
the  Hotel  Splendide  and  elsewhere,  some  fifty  thousand 

95 


SALONICA   AND    AFTER 

wretched  people  already  driven  from  their  homes  were 
rushing  about  frantically,  carrying  heavy  loads  a  short 
distance  down  towards  safety,  only  to  cast  the  bulk 
away  in  the  streets  as  they  tired  of  the  weight.  Occa- 
sionally the  club  waiters  asked,  with  a  touch  of  anxiety, 
if  one  thought  the  fire  would  come  down  our  way.  The 
firm  impression  in  the  Club  was  that  it  would  not. 
The  buildings  in  the  modern  quarter  were  "  trop 
solide."  Therefore  to  dinner  again.  .  .  .  When  the 
turn  of  the  modern  buildings  came,  they  went  up  like 
fireworks,  in  spite  of  their  undoubted  solidity. 

It  was  nine  o'clock  when  we  left  the  club.  A  few 
minutes  walk  back  towards  the  fire  and  we  saw  that 
the  long  wooden  roof  of  the  bazaar,  which  led  from  the 
Rue  Egnatia  down  Venizelos  Street  towards  the  water 
front,  had  caught  fire.  It  was  the  beginning  of  the 
end  of  the  commercial  quarter. 

Several  hours  before  this,  two  new  British,  motor 
fire-engines  had  entered  into  action  and  were  doing 
splendid  work.  They  had  only  arrived  from  England 
a  few  days  before,  and  were  not  completely  ready  for 
service.  One  was  up  at  the  Base  Motor  Transport 
Depot  at  Kalamaria,  and  the  other  at  Marsh  Pier. 
When  the  call  came  at  the  Base  M.T.,  a  scratch  crew 
was  raised  on  the  spot  and  the  engine  was  down  on 
the  quay  and  dipping  its  tail  into  the  salt  water  within 
twenty-five  minutes.  Both  engines  did  splendid  work, 
and  at  one  time  as  much  as  4,000  feet  of  hose  was 
coupled  on  to  one  of  them.  In  one  case,  the  driver  of 
the  engine — which,  of  course,  once  it  had  driven  the 
vehicle  down,  became  a  pumping  engine — ^remained  at 
his  post  without  sleep  from  eight  o'clock  on  the  Satur- 
day night  until  six  o'clock  on  the  following  Tuesday 
morning.  One  engine  was  in  action  for  seventeen 
days  and  the  other  for  ten,  as  once  the  first  rush  of  the 

96 


CO 


THE   FIRE 

conflagration  was  over  there  were  many  sporadic  out- 
breaks which  had  to  be  attended  to,  and  parts  of  the 
city  smouldered  for  a  fortnight. 

But  brave  as  their  effort  was  the  two  engines  could 
not  stay  the  rush  of  that  wall  of  flame  which  came  on 
like  a  forest  fire.  On  coming  out  of  the  club  I  decided 
to  go  up  to  my  flat  roof  again.  From  this  the  sight 
was  majestic.  One  looked  into  a  sea  of  vivid  red,  out 
of  which  were  thrust  the  long  white  needles  of  minarets. 
A  few  people  were  on  the  roof  looking  at  the  scene 
with  a  sort  of  fatalistic  calm.  Now  was  the  time  if 
ever  to  pack  one's  bags.  That  big  and  calm  room 
which  had  been  such  a  haven  on  rnany  a  hot  summer's 
afternoon  would  shortly  cease  to  be.  I  wandered  round 
by  the  light  of  a  candle  (the  electric  light  had  now 
failed),  packing  some  things  and  rejecting  others — 
which  afterwards  I  missed  badly.  But  it  was  extra- 
ordinary what  a  calm,  insouciant  *'  let  it  rip  "  sort  of 
mood  was  engendered  by  that  roaring  monster  up  the 
street.  Since  all  Salonica  was  going  to  bum,  what  did 
a  few  personal  effects  matter  ?  It  is  absurd,  but  that 
is  how  many  people  were  affected. 

I  rang  up  for  the  lorry,  and  it  came  promptly.  By 
now  the  streets  in  this  quarter  were  repeating,  on  a 
larger  and  more  crowded  scale,  what  one  had  seen  in 
the  late  afternoon  up  the  hill.  The  hordes  of  refugees, 
like  a  gallant  army  fighting  a  rearguard  battle,  only 
evacuated  one  street  as  the  enemy  forced  them  to  do 
it,  and  then  congregated  in  the  next.  Merchants  were 
throwing  their  stocks  out  on  the  pavements  and  then 
frantically  appealing  for  transport  to  remove  them. 
There  were  shrieks  and  cries,  the  crash  of  falling  build- 
ings, the  sound  of  splintering  glass — and  now,  louder 
than  ever  the  unvarying  roar  of  the  fire.  The  Balkan 
News  had  been  printing  away  up  to  ten  o'clock,  but 

97  H 


SALONICA   AND    AFTER 

at  that  hour  everybody  deserted  the  machine  to  go  and 
see  about  their  own  affairs — and  small  blame  to  them. 
When  it  came  to  saving  the  type  and  other  things  we 
found  there  was  nobody  to  help.  All  the  same,  we 
began — and  then  came  the  news  that  the  street  out- 
side was  blocking  up.  One  end  was  impassable  because 
of  the  hoses  that  ran  up  Venizelos  Street  towards  the 
bazaar.  A  heav^^-  lorry  could  not  possibly  go  over 
those.  And  the  other  end  was  rapidly  choking  up  with 
a  jam  of  vehicles  of  all  sort's  which  became  thicker 
with  each  minute.  It  would  not  do  to  have  the  destruc- 
tion of  an  Army  lorry  on  one's  conscience  !  We  packed 
in  all  that  we  could,  saved  the  precious  reference 
library,  closed  the  iron  doors  of  the  machine  room 
downstairs,  hoping  that  they  would  do  their  bit,  and 
prepared  to  leave. 

The  sky  over  the  whole  of  the  ''  solid  "  commercial 
quarter  was  now  one  incandescent  blush  of  sparks. 
People  at  the  Splendide — where  £60,000  had  just  been 
spent  on  a  new  tea  room  and  other  improvements  to 
catch  the  stream  of  gold  that  flowed  from  the  Allies — 
were  now  rushing  to  their  bedrooms  to  collect  what 
they  could  carry  away.  The  multitude  of  refugees  was 
driven  into  the  last  parallel  of  streets  that  lay  near  the 
quay.  And  at  last  everybody  realised  that  even  these 
would  go.  The  refugees  flowed  to  their  furthest  limit, 
into  the  docks.  There  one  saw  them  in  tho'usands, 
squatting  hopelessly  on  their  beds  and  bundles ;  babies 
whimpering ;  little  boys  and  girls  sitting  very  still  and 
looking  vacantly  before  them;  here  and  there  a  be- 
mused parent  still  clutching  a  sewing  machine  or  a 
mirror;  a  thousand  unhappy  and  pitiful  sights.  The 
roar  of  the  fire  was  now  like  the  noise  of  a  battle.  And 
late  in  the  night,  obeying  a  sudden  change  of  wind,  the 
fiflmaes  executed  a  quick  flanking  movement  and  cut 

98 


THE   FIRE 

right  across  the  main  street  on  to  the  sea.  From  this 
moment  there  was  only  one  way  out  of  the  fire  area, 
and  that  was  westwards,  along  the  Monastir  road. 

But  just  before  this  a  magic  change  had  come  over 
the  scene.  The  British  Army,  which  up  to  that  moment 
had  belonged  strictly  to  the  British  Army,  suddenly 
became  everybody's  property.  An  order  had  been 
given  over  the  telephone  and  forthwith,  from  all  direc- 
tions, our  unrivalled  transport  service  poured  its  innu- 
merable lorries  and  motor  vans  into  the  town.  Their 
order  was  simply  to  take  up  the  refugees  and  what  they 
had  saved,  and  hurry  them  out  of  danger.  Up  to  that 
moment,  a  rich  merchant  could  not  have  hired  a  lorry 
for  the  evening  for  £1,000.  After  it,  the  tatterdemalions 
of  Salonica  were  given  all  the  care  of  a  fine  lady  being 
handed  into  her  carriage  by  her  footman.  The  Allies 
were  all  working  now,  but  the  British  did  very  much 
the  largest  share.  Our  men  behaved  with  the  utmost 
care  and  consideration.  "Come  on.  Mother,  you  next," 
they  shouted,  and  tucked  a  wrinkled  dame  in  a  comic- 
opera  costume  and  her  family  of  three  generations  into 
a  capacious  lorry.  The  vehicles  were  loaded  up  at  a 
tremendous  rate,  and  as  fast  as  they  were  full  went 
off  along  the  Monastir  Road,  deposited  their  charges 
and  returned  for  more.  There  were  now  eighty  thou- 
sand people  homeless  to  deal  with. 

The  Navy  did  its  share,  too.  Lighters  were  run  into 
the  sea  wall,  charged  with  a  medley  of  people,  and 
taken  off  to  various  ships  in  the  harbour.  The  sailors 
were  just  like  the  men  of  the  motor  transport — cheerful, 
chaffing  and  tender,  carrying  children  and  old  people 
on  board  and  depositing  them  as  carefully  as  though 
they  were  brittle  and  might  snap.  The  gallant  old  K. 
lighters,  born  of  the  Dardanelles  campaign,  never 
carried  stranger  loads  than  on  that  night. 

99 


SALONICA   AND    AFTER 

The  fire  now  had  a  firm  grip  on  the  main  Hne  of 
buildings  fronting  the  sea.  It  was  the  last  phase,  and 
it  lasted  in  its  dreadful  glory  for  four  or  five  hours. 
A  number  of  caiques,  moored  to  the  sea  wall,  began  to 
blaze  with  the  heat,  and  were  hurriedly  pushed  off  and 
dealt  with.  A  motor  car,  caught  en  passage,  blazed  in 
the  middle  of  the  road  like  a  torch.  And  then,  one 
regarded  a  scene  to  which  only  Dore  cooild  have  done 
justice.  Over  three-quarters  of  a  mile  of  front  was 
blazing  at  one  time — a  great  cliff  of  orange  and  white 
flame,  and  the  thousands  of  refugees  still  crowded  in 
and  about  the  port  were  black  pigmies  against  a  gigan- 
tic fcrimson  background — poor,  puny  humanity  helpless 
before  the  blind  force  of  nature  in  an  evil  mood.  The 
sea  reflected  the  fierce  all-pervading  glare  of  the  shore. 
It  seemed  as  if  the  world  were  blazing.  Nothing  mat- 
tered. One's  face  was  black  and  eyes  smarting,  but 
everything,  in  a  way,  seemed  very  natural.  Was  it 
only  eight  or  nine  hours  ago  that  Christina  had  come 
in  with  the  hot  water  for  tea  to  say  that  ''  half  the  city 
is  burning  "  ?  It  might  have  been  a  year.  A  new  block 
of  buildings  catching  fire  and  going  up  like  a  pyro- 
technic display  caused  no  sensation.  Naturally  the 
poor  old  place  burned.  So  would  you,  if  you  had  to 
stand  a  heat  like  that.  ...  In  the  middle  of  it  all, 
with  the  smoke  and  glare  and  the  noise,  and  Tommy 
still  working  like  a  Trojan  with  the  refugees,  I  remem- 
ber buying  a  2d.  slice  of  melon  fit  the  comer  of  the 
quay  and  thinking  it  one  of  the  best  things  I  had  ever 
tasted.  The  melon  vendor,  as  he  sliced  up  his  luscious 
fruit,  seemed  to  have  the  air  of  regarding  catastrophes 
as  excellent  things. 

Somewhere  about  three  o'clock,  the  club,  "  my  beau- 
tiful club,"  as  Sir  Herbert  Tree  might  have  said,  began 
to  go.    That  was  the  end,  then,  ''  Finish  Salonique  !  " 

100 


THE   FIRE 

Flat  gone,  office  gone,  club  blazing !  What  was  there 
left?  I  thought  of  the  club's  solid  English  furniture; 
of  the  pleasant  tea  hour;  the  beautiful  ladies  from 
Athens ;  the  cheerful  games  of  French  billiards  with 
the  A. P.M.,  and  everything  else  that  made  life  bear- 
able in  Salonica.  Poor  old  club !  No  more  dinners  on 
the  balcony  after  a  hard  day's  work.  This  was  being 
homeless  indeed. 

At  this  time,  the  port  itself,  including  French  G.H.Q., 
was  very  much  in  danger,  and  the  efforts  of  our  two 
fire  engines  were  directed  to  saving  it,  which  they 
succeeded  in  doing.  And  at  something  after  four 
o'clock  in  the  morning,  dazed  by  looking  at  the  gigantic 
misery  and  destruction  wrought  by  this  blazing  mon- 
ster who  had  appeared  apparently  from  nowhere  and 
swept  down  on  us  like  a  whirlwind,  I  began  to  look  for 
a  lorry  myself.  Half-an-hour  later  I  walked  into  the 
Mess  of  244  M.T.  Company  out  on  the  Monastir  Road, 
where  various  refugees  had  already  arrived,  and,  lying 
down  on  the  floor,  went  to  sleep. 

At  eleven  o'clock  the  next  morning  I  penet!rated  into 
the  incandescent  ruins  of  the  town  to  find  the  remains 
of  the  office —  and  found  it  intact.  It  was  the  biggest 
surprise  of  my  life.  By  something  like  a  miracle,  a 
corner  block,  including  the  Bank  of  Athens,  had 
escaped,  although  all  around  it  nothing  but  red-hot 
walls  were  left.  At  the  high  iron  doors  leading  inside, 
the  little  Turkish  kavass  stood  grinning  for  joy  at  my 
approach.  He  tried  to  pretend  that  he  had  stayed 
there  all  the  time,  and  began  speaking  earnestly  of  his 
own  devotion,  but  I  found  it  hard  to  believe  him.  If 
it  were  so,  he  ought  to  have  been  cooked  alive.  A  few 
weeks  later  a  concert  party  sang  a  new  song  which 
said  : — 

"  The   Devil   took    Orosdi   Back's, 
But  Heaven  saved   The  Balkari  News.** 

101 


SALONICA   AND   AFTER 

It  may  have  been  so,  in  both  instances.  One  cannot 
say.  We  certainly  deserved  it.  But  at  any  rate  we 
"  came  out  "  two  days  later,  and  as,  for  the  time 
being,  there  were  no  means  of  turning  the  printing 
machine,  the  gallant  R.E.  Survey  Company  litho- 
graphed six  thousand  copies,  which  were  despatched 
up-country  with  a  full  account  of  the  fire,  in  order  to 
let  the  Army  know  exactly  what  had  happened. 

Then  followed  a  miserable  month  if  ever  there  was 
one.  Wreckage,  dust  and  misery  everywhere.  No 
water  to  wash  in.  A  little  petrol  engine,  installed  by 
more  excellent  R.E.'s,  coughing  down  on  the  pavement 
below,  turning  the  machine.  Explosions  everywhere 
as  the  French  sappers  blew  up  dangerous  buildings,  with 
flying  bricks  thudding  down  on  the  roof.  And  Salonica 
with  the  life  and  soul  gone  out  of  it ;  a  heap  of  rubble 
with  not  a  hotel  left,  nor  a  restaurant,  nor  any  place 
to  go,  save  only  the  White  Tower  Restaurant.  It  was 
very  hot.  One  lunched  in  the  office  off  tinned  things 
and  worked  in  a  sort  of  daze.    Oh,  for  the  club  ! 

And  Salonica  never  recovered  during  the  occupation 
of  the  Allies.  It  remained  a  "  washed-out  "  city;  the 
wreckage  was  too  big  to  repair.  All  sorts  of  grandiose 
schemes  were  conceived  for  its  renascence.  Perhaps 
they  will  materialise.  We  shall  see.  There  is  certainly 
a  splendid  opportunity  of  building  a  great  city  worthy 
of  the  site. 

The  fire  began  at  three  o'clock  on  the  afternoon  of 
August  18th,  and  the  fiercest  of  the  burning  was  not 
over  until  32  hours  later,  up  to  which  time  the  build- 
ings of  the  port  and  the  French  G.H.Q.  were  still  in 
danger.  It  is  finally  believed  that  it  began  in  a  little 
wooden  house  in  the  Rue  Olympos,  where  the  refugees 
were  cooking  and  spilt  some  oil.  It  reminds  one  of  the 
great  fire  of  Chicago,  which  was  begun  by  a  cow  kick- 

102 


THE   FIRE 

ing  over  a  lamp  in  a  stable.  The  Salonica  fire  is  said 
to  be  the  greatest  in  insurance  history;  that  is,  it 
brought  about  the  greatest  destruction  by  the  sole 
agency  of  fire,  without  the  conttibutory  cause,  for  in- 
stance, of  earthquake,  as  in  the  case  of  San  Francisco 
and  Valparaiso.  The  area  of  destruction  was  more  than 
one  million  square  yards  and  9,500  houses  and  commer- 
cial buildings  of  all  kinds  and  degrees  were  burned 
down.  The  damage  was  estimated  at  more  than 
£8,000,000,  of  which  nine-tenths  was  insured,  British 
companies  being  by  far  the  most  heavily  involved.  The 
greatest  loss  of  all  was  the  magnificent  Byzantine 
Church  of  St.  Demetrius,  famed  among  archaeologists 
over  the  whole  world  and  dating  back  to  the  5th  cen- 
tury. St.  Demetrius  is  the  patron  Saint  of  Salonica, 
and  is  supposed  to  have  saved  it  from  many  misfor- 
tunes, but  his  church,  alas !  was  in  the  main  ti'ack  of 
the  fire,  and  on  this  occasion  the  Saint's  power  was 
unavailing.  The  famous  church  of  St.  Sophia,  dating 
back  to  the  6th  centtiry  and  built  by  the  architect  of  the 
greater  edifice  at  Constantinople,  was  saved.  This  was 
partly  due  to  the  wide  courtyard  in  which  it  stands, 
but  at  one  side  the  fire  finished  so  close  to  the  church 
that  one  can  easily  understand  many  people  thinking 
that  a  miraculous  intervention  saved  the  building.  St. 
George's  Church,  another  very  fine  edifice,  which  is 
one  of  the  oldest  Christian  churches  in  the  world  and 
dates  back  to  the  3rd  Century,  was  happily  not  in  the 
ttack  of  the  fire.  There  were  55,000  Jewish  refugees, 
12,000  Greeks,  and  10,000  Mussulmans.  The  difficulties 
of  finding  shelter  for  these  at  once  were  very  great. 
Many  were  sheltered  in  camps  organised  by  the  Allies, 
and  the  British  at  once  gave  1,800  tents  which  pro- 
vided shelter  for  over  7,000  people  in  three  or  four 
camps,  where  many  of  them  made  acquaintance  with 

108 


SALONICA    AND    AFTER 

constant  cleanliness  for  the  first  time  Lq  their  lives,  and 
on  the  whole  took  to  it  fairly  well. 

There  were  many  warm  tributes,  individual  and 
otherwise,  made  to  the  work  of  the  British  during  and 
after  the  fire.  Of  these,  we  will  tiake  one,  from  the 
Greek  journal  Phos ; 

"The  refugees  were  led  on  the  night  of  f rightfulness 
and  destruction  with  indescribable  affection  far  from 
the  flames  and  found  themselves  under  the  protection 
of  an  elect  race  whose  name  is  spoken  with  gratitude 
by  those  who  have  been  so  greatly  tried.  .  .  The  life 
of  these  ardent  apostles  of  humanity  and  goodness 
amongst  us  has  been  unstained  and  clean,  and  the 
Greek  appreciation  of  it  has  been  sincere  and  warm.  .  . 
Although  there  has  been  but  little  time  in  which  so 
difficult  an  installation  could  be  effected,  nevertheless 
British  energy,  which  is  the  marvellous  and  amazing 
quality  of  this  great  race,  was  able  to  gather  humanely, 
shelter  and  feed  a  great  number  of  refugees.  The  houses 
in  which  the  refugees  are  sheltered  are  well-roofed  and 
the  tents  placed  in  perfect  line  with  English  exactitlide. 
There  lives  an  entire  population  which  yesterday  was 
happy,  but  to-day  is  ruined  and  living  on  the  charity 
of  powerful  friends." 

It  is  a  little  flowery,  but  we  must  remember  that  this 
comes  natural  to  the  Greek  who  is  writing  with  a  pen 
dipped  in  enthusiasm.  Tommy  blushed  as  he  read  it 
in  The  Balkan  News.  But  there  can  be  no  doubt  that 
he  earned  it. 


10  i 


CHAPTER  IX. 
Two  Balkan  Days — January  and  July. 

January  : 
In  Salonica  when  the  wind  blows  very  cold  or  very 
hot  all  the  inhabitants  refer  to  it  as  le  vent  du  Vardar, 
I  think  it  must  be  because  most  of  them  have  never 
been  beyond  the  confines  of  their  native  city,  and  the 
region  of  the  Vardar  River  must  seem  to  them  a  hyper- 
borean place  from  whence  comes  everything  that  is 
unpleasant — ^including  Bulgars  as  well  as  North  Winds. 
But  here  we  are,  three  men  in  a  Ford  at  ten  o'clock  in 
the  morning,  up  on  the  Serbian  Front,  quite  a  con- 
siderable number  of  miles  beyond  the  Vardar,  and  the 
wind  that  comes  sweeping  down  off  the  mountain  cutis 
like  a  knife.  We  hope  to  arrive  back  in  Salonica  some- 
where about  tea-time,  and  when  we  get  there  we  shall 
be  able  to  assure  the  inhabitants,  if  they  are  sufficiently 
interested  in  the  matter,  that  the  Vardar  is  quite  inno- 
cent of  their  present  discomfort. 

We  wrap  up  with  extreme  care,  and  are  soon  bumping 
along  the  rutty  track.  It  is  impossible  to  take  the 
direct  way  "owing  to  the  state  of  the  roads,"  and  so 
we  must  make  a  long  detour,  along  what  is  optimisti- 
cally described  as  a  really  good  road.  From  the  state  of 
the  route  we  are  travelling,  it  is  possible  to  get  a  faint 
idea  of  what  the  other  must  be  like.  Our  wheels  are 
soon  nearly  a  foot  deep  in  sticky  mud,  and  the  car 
slides  along  with  a  sort  of  zig-zag  motion  that  reminds 
one  somehow  of  a  roller  skater.    We  are  travelling,  un- 

105 


SALONICA   AND    AFTER 

fortunately,  almost  in  the  teeth  of  the  wind,  and  it 
comes  whistling  like  a  bullet.  In  a  very  short  time, 
in  spite  of  fur  gloves,  my  fingers  are  aching,  and  in 
spite  of  a  rampart  of  sheepskin  rug  round  the  legs, 
my  toes  follow  suit.  The  sky  is  a  dull  grey ;  the  mists 
that  hang  over  the  mountains  swirl  aside  occasionally 
to  show  their  snow-covered  tops.  It  must  be  dreadful 
manning  the  Serbian  trenches  up  there. 

Three-quarters  of  an  hour  through  the  mud,  which 
here  and  there  is  being  flattened  out  by  small  gangs 
of  native  labourers  shrouded  in  all  manner  of  strange 
garment's,  and  we  come  to  the  village  of  Subotsko.  It 
is  as  typical  a  Balkan  village  of  the  larger  size  as  could 
be  found  in  the  whole  of  the  Peninsula.  As  we  turn 
into  the  main  broad  street  a  minaret  stands  out, 
sharply  silhouetted  against  a  massif  of  the  big  mountain 
range  beyond — a  pleasing  picture-postcard  effect.  A 
stream  runs  through  the  street,  and  of  course  there  is 
deep  mud  everywhere.  There  are  bullock  teams  and 
small  boys  in  voluminous  trousers  who  prod  the  bul- 
locks to  the  side  with  urgent  cries,  and  keep  a  sidelong 
eye  to  the  car  that  comes  grinding  and  side-slipping 
up  behind  them.  There  are  some  quite  genteel-looking 
galleried  houses  in  wood,  and  in  a  sort  of  square  stand 
some  scores  of  men  in  groups,  most  of  them  wearing 
hooded  sheepskin  coats,  so  that  from  the  back  they 
look  like  large  candle-extinguishers.  There  is  evidently 
some  sort  of  market  being  held. 

A  sharp  turn  out  of  the  village  and  we  have  the 
wind  behind  us.  The  change  is  astonishing,  and  for 
a  moment  it  is  hard  to  believe  that  the  blast  is  still 
blowing  with  the  same  strength  and  bitterness.  But 
the  grass  and  rushes  at  the  roadside  that  flatten  away 
Ijefore  us  show  that  there  is  no  change  except  to  our- 
selves,   and  even  more  so   is  this   shown  by   the   de- 

106 


TWO  BALKAN  DAYS— JANUARY  AND  JULY 

meanour  of  the  local  Macedonians  who  came  trotting 
along  towards  us  on  their  donkeys  to  market.  Some 
of  them  sit  backwards  on  their  miserable  little  mounts, 
preferring  to  meet  the  weather  that  way.  Those  of 
whose  faces  we  get  a  peep  as  they  sit  humped  and 
shrouded,  have  the  appearance  of  men  who  are  being 
frozen  alive  and  detest  the  process.  But  in  spite  of 
their  crying  misery,  they  cannot  help  looking  picttir- 
esque  in  their  many-coloured  garments.  Doubtless  they 
are  quite  unaware  of  it,  and  would  be  very  angry  if 
they  knew  of  it,  but  to  the  Western  eye  they  bring 
a  touch  of  comfort  into  that  cheerless  landscape. 

A  little  further  and  we  come  suddenly  on  one  of  those 
British  camps  of  light  motor  transport  which  have 
done  such  great  work  on  the  Serbian  front.  There  are, 
apparently,  many  hundreds  of  extremely  small,  black 
motor-cars  all  in  action  at  the  same  moment,  and  the 
sudden  impression,  as  we  round  the  side  of  a  hill,  is 
of  nothing  so  much  as  an  ants'  nest  suddenly  disturbed. 
Perhaps  they  are  swarming  or  something.  If  Maeter- 
linck were  here,  one  feels  that  he  would  be  moved  to 
write  a  book  about  their  strange  habits  and  ways  of 
life.  And  yet  these  strange  little  creatures,  which  have 
apparently  popped  out  of  holes  in  the  ground,  gave 
the  Serbs  the  vital  help  that  was  necessary  in  their 
victory  away  up  on  Kajmakchalan,  for  no  other  trans- 
port could  have  done  the  same  arduous  work. 

Another  hour  through  the  mud,  with  the  road 
roguishly  trying  to  slip  away  from  us,  and  we  run  into 
a  large  village,  which  holds  part  of  the  Headquarters 
of  a  Serbian  Army.  We  are  to  lunch  here,  and,  with 
luck,  hope  to  leave  somewhere  about  two  o'clock,  but 
knowing  Serbian  hospitality  it  is  doubtful.  Following 
our  lunch,  our  host  sits  with  us  long  at  the  table— the 
other  members  of  the  mess  have  gone  back  to  their 

107 


SALONICA    AND    AFTER 

work — talking  on  many  things  that  are  interesting, 
including  the  Serbs'  great  regard  for  England  and  their 
hopes  in  us. 

We  take  the  road  again  at  last.  The  wind  seems 
colder  than  ever.  Half-an-hour  or  so  along  a  good 
side-track  and  we  strike  the  main  Monastir  Road — the 
chief  artery  for  the  French,  Italians,  Serbs,  Greeks  and 
Russians  in  this  part  of  the  world.  There  are  about 
45  miles  of  it  before  we  get  to  Salonica,  and  it  is  a 
bleak  prospect  even  with  the  wind  behind  our  backs. 
It  is  a  flat  and  dreary  countryside,  largely  marshland, 
and  much  of  it  subject  to  inundations.  The  mountains 
are  behind  us,  and  there  is  nothing  w^orth  looking  at. 
Squashed  together  on  the  narrow  seat,  we  huddle  still 
further  within  ourselves,  sink  our  chins  far  down  into 
our  coat  collars,  and  subside  intb  a  stupor  of  discon- 
tent. Occasionally  the  driver  beats  a  hand  against  his 
coat,  but  that  is  all  the  sign  of  life  we  give.  Suddenly 
something  flashes  past  us  that  strikes  a  simultaneous 
shout  of  laughter  out  of  the  three  of  us,  a  shout  which 
is  cut  off  and  whisked  away  instanter  in  the  whistling 
wind.  Sitting,  a  solitary  passenger,  in  the  back  of  a 
car  driven  by  a  French  officer,  is  a  black  soldier.  His 
face  is  not  so  much  muffled  round  as  bandaged,  but  as 
he  whizzes  past  us  a  turn  of  the  whites  of  his  eyes  in 
his  black  face  gives  a  lightning  impression  of  bewil- 
dered discomfort,  of  gollywog  misery,  that  is  irresistibly 
comic.  For  five  miles  at  least,  that  sudden  explosion 
of  mirth  warms  and  comforts  us. 

The  minaret  of  a  fine  mosque  comes  into  view,  that 
of  Yenidje-Vardar,  surely  one  of  the  most  unhappy 
small  towns  in  the  world.  On  this  bare  plain  it  is 
frozen  in  winter  and  scorched  pitilessly  in  summer. 
There  are  fragments  of  transports  belonging  to  all  our 
Allies  as  we  go  through  its  main  street,  and  two  French 

108 


TWO  BALKAN  DAYS— JANUARY  AND  JULY 

soldiers  bargaining  at  a  miserable  little  shop  for  onions. 
Then  the  dreary  road  again,  as  before,  with  more 
chilled  natives  on  donkeys;  and  straining  bullocks, 
their  heads  lowered  to  the  blast.  A  little  further  on 
something  exciting  happens.  Standing  in  the  coarse 
grass,  within  30  yards  of  the  roadside,  are  rows  and 
rows  of  wild  geese,  feeding  tranquilly,  undisturbed 
by  our  passing.  A  hundred  yards  further  is  another 
regiment  of  them,  stiff  and  regular  as  Prussian  guards- 
men. The  sight  is  not  to  be  borne.  With  a  certain 
shot  gun  which  ought  to  have  been  in  the  car,  we  could 
have  secured  a  bag  that  would  have  been  an  appre- 
ciable addition  to  the  food  supplies  of  the  B.S.F.  But 
an  idea  strikes  me.  Kept  in  the  car,  for  possible  emer- 
gencies quite  other  than  this,  is  a  large  service  Webley. 
My  friend,  a  fire-breathing  fellow,  has  a  large  automatic 
in  his  kit.  At  least  we  will  have  a  shot  of  some  kind. 
We  have  brilliantly  divined  the  point  that  the  geese 
are  in  no  way  alarmed  at  the  noise  of  a  motor  so  long 
as  it  keeps  running.  So  the  car  is  turned  round  and  we 
stalk  the  geese,  pistols  in  hand.  The  raising  of  an  arm 
disturbs  the  first  flock,  and  they  are  in  the  air  before 
we  can  fire  at  them.  With  the  second  flock  we  are 
much  more  careful,  and  take  to  our  stomachs  at  the 
roadside,  just  behind  a  low  bank.  At  thirty  yards  we 
fire  into  the  brown,  and  put  in  another  shot  each  as 
they  take  to  the  wing.  But  to  our  disgust,  nothing 
remains  on  the  ground,  and  we  take  refuge  in  the  car 
as  quickly  as  possible  and  bowl  off  again. 

Over  the  tumbling  Vardar,  brown  in  flood,  and  most 
repellent  looking.  The  two  Senegalese  on  guard  at  the 
bridge  peer  at  us  from  out  of  their  reed  shelters.  Natives 
of  the  scorching  desert,  they  have  as  cold  a  job  as  the 
wit  of  man  could  devise.  It  would  be  interesting 
to  know  what  they  think  of  the  Great  Wax. 

109 


SALONICA    AND    AFTER 

The  road  is  still  uninteresting  and  always  bumpy. 
Past  an  aviation  camp,  the  great  canvas  hangars 
swelling  in  and  out  with  fantastic  curves  as  the  untiring 
wind  smites  and  bulKes  them.  Flying  does  not  seem 
a  pleasant  thing  on  such  an  evening.  And  somewhere 
about  now  a  refrain  comes  into  my  head,  which  sticks 
obstinately  there  all  the  way  to  Salonica : — 

"  Some  buttered  toast,  a  cup  of  tea,  and  Thou, 
Beside  me  sitting  at  the  fireside, 
And  Wimbledon  were  Paradise  enow." 

But  do  they  still  have  buttered  toast  in  England  ?  And 
if  not,  is  it  really  worth  going  home  ?  Yes,  decidedly 
Yes  !     There  is  still  Thou.     Damn  the  cold  ! 

Miles  and  miles  of  British  camps  and  dumps  now — 
millions  and  millions  of  pounds  worth  of  material.  A 
little  corner  of  the  great  war,  but  even  so  there  is 
possibly  far  more  in  this  one  stretch  than  we  sent  for 
the  whole  South  African  Campaign.  And  finally 
Salonica.  The  trams  are  "off"  (no  fuel),  most  of  the 
street  lights  are  out,  and  the  ruined  front  is  a  dismal 
place.  But  what  matter  ?  We  are  near  our  destination 
now.  And  shortly  afterwards  we  enter  a  most  wonder- 
ful and  cheery  mess-room,  miraculously  contrived  out 
of  petrol  boxes  and  other  odds  and  ends.  The  sherry 
and  bitters  tastes  excellently.  There  is  a  blazing  log 
fire.  "What's  the  news  from  Serbia?"  someone  asks. 
"Great  news,"  I  reply;  "I'm  beginning  to  feel  my  toes 
again." 

July, 

An  unflecked  sky  of  perfect,  dazzling  blue  overhangs 
the  world  as  we  roll  out  of  the  little  Greek  village  of 
Ano  and  begin  the  long  descent  down  to  the  shore  of 
the  Gulf  of  Orfano.  We  are  in  a  region  where  insect 
life  abounds  in  astonishing  quantities  and  where  enor- 

110 


TWO  BALKAN  DAYS— JANUARY  AND  JULY 

mous  thistles  grow  to  eight  feet  high,  so  that  the 
Scotsmen  in  the  Brigade  whose  Headquarters  we  are 
just  leaving  feel  strangely  humble  as  they  have  never 
done  before.  It  is  pleasant  to  sit  in  the  big  open 
Vauxhall  in  which  D.A.D.O.S.  does  his  rounds  for  the 
Division.  On  such  a  hot  day  as  this  an  enclosed  Ford 
van  would  be  like  a  stove.  We  pass  odd  soldiers  on 
the  road,  and  little  strings  of  transport.  All  our  men 
are  wearing  sun  helmets,  open  shirts,  and  "shorts." 
They  are  really  half  naked,  and  their  axms,  knees, 
chests  and  faces  are  baked  a  dark  brown.  The  shorts 
can  be  let  down,  and  in  the  evening,  when  the  mos- 
quitos  begin  to  bite,  are  tucked  into  the  puttees  for 
protection. 

It  is  a  blazing,  glaring,  sizzling  hot  day — a  Mace- 
donian midsummer  day  at  its  very  worst.  Down  on 
the  sea  shore  we  halt  for  a  little  while  in  a  dump,  where 
D.A.D.O.S.  has  something  to  do.  The  bare,  ugly 
ground  is  red  and  baked  as  hard  as  a  brick  and  the 
heat  strikes  off  the  corrugated  iron  sheds  in  waves.  As 
one  sits  there  in  the  car,  inert,  a  wandering  M.O.  drops 
off  his  horse  for  a  chat.  I  mention  casually  that  both 
D.A.D.O.S.  and  myself  had  a  bad  night,  in  our  little 
whitewashed  rooms  at  the  Brigade  H.Q.  owing  to  the 
exasperating  attentions  of  innumerable  tiny  sand  flies. 
''Keep  a  watch  on  yourself,"  says  the  M.O.,  "there's 
a  lot  of  sand-fly  fever  about."  As  D.A.D.O.S.  climbs 
back  into  the  car  the  M.O.  says  he  will  take  a  photo- 
graph of  us  as  a  souvenir.  "Never  know  what  may 
happen  to  you,  you  know,"  he  laughs.  He  tells  us 
that  our  faces  are  in  deep  shadow.  "Take  your  helmets 
off."  We  do,  and  the  heat  scorches  our  unprotected 
heads.  The  helmets  are  back  again  within  five  seconds, 
but  it  feels  none  too  soon. 

We  pull  up  at  Stavros,  and  lunch  on  the  "stoop"  of 

111 


SALONICA    AND    AFTER 

a  pleasant  little  hut  on  the  very  edge  of  the  sea.  For 
some  reason  or  other  we  both  want  to  make  an  early 
start  after  lunch.  ''Catch  me  doing  an  afternoon 
journey  in  this  heat,"  laughs  our  host.  "It  will  be 
scorching  along  the  valley.  Why  not  go  after  tea  ?'* 
But  we  insist  that  we  must  get  along  and  foohshly  keep 
to  our  intention. 

It  is  comparatively  cool  among  the  trees  of  the  Ren- 
dina  Gorge,  but  soon  we  are  oiit  in  the  open  at  the 
beginning  of  the  long  valley  in  which  lie  the  big  lakes 
of  Beshik  and  Langaza.  There  are  large  herds  of  goats 
spread  across  the  narrow,  bimipy  track,  which  scatter 
with  great  fright  and  scuffling,  as  we  approach.  And 
before  we  have  gone  very  far  we  become  aware  that, 
even  with  the  wind  of  our  passage  to  temper  the  heat, 
the  early  afternoon  of  mid-July  is  not  the  time  to  travel 
along  the  Langaza  Valley.  The  wind  that  fans  our 
faces  has  nothing  fresh  and  invigorating  in  it,  but  is 
languid  and  stifling.  The  dust  whirls  up  from  our 
wheels  and  hangs  in  dense  clouds  behind  us.  With  the 
exception  of  an  occasional  goatherd,  there  is  not  a  soul 
to  be  seen.  The  earth  is  one  monotonous  dun  khaki 
colour.  The  short,  burnt  grass  is  alive  with  shrilling, 
leaping  grasshoppers.  Theirs  is  the  predominant  noise 
by  day.  The  hoarse  croaking  of  frogs  fills  the  air  at 
night.  These  are  the  two  voices  of  Macedonia  in 
summer  time. 

At  the  further  end  of  Lake  Beshik  we  come  across 
a  lonely  signal  station,  and  decide  that  it  is  time  for 
an  early  tea.  The  sapper  who  appears  out  of  the  little 
telegraph  hut  provides  us  with  some  hot  water,  but 
the  beverage  as  drunk  out  of  an  enamelled  iron  mug 
is  somehow  not  inviting.  The  mug  is  hot,  and  the  tea 
is  hot,  and  the  world  generally  is  sizzling.  As  we  sit 
in  the  car  we  are  baked  and  fried  aJlve.     It  hurts  the 

n-2 


British  Transport  in  Macedonia  : 
A  typical  road  on  a  summer  day. 


TWO  BALKAN  DAYS— JANUARY  AND  JULY 

eyes  to  look  at  the  track.  The  glint  of  polished  metal 
on  the  car  dazzles  like  the  blinding  flash  of  magnesium. 
We  realise  that  our  host  at  Stavros  was  right  and  that 
there  is  no  sense  in  being  abroad  in  such  weather — 
even  in  a  motor  car — unless  imperative  necessity 
demands  it.  It  is  a  wise  rule  which  enjoins  on  the 
whole  army  to  rise  at  five,  get  as  much  work  as  is 
possible  done  before  eleven,  and  rest  during  the  baking 
hours  between  twelve  and  five  in  the  afternoon. 

We  look  down  a  shelving  slope  at  the  blue  waters  of 
the  lake,  and  the  temptation  is  too  much  to  be  resisted. 
Why  be  baked  in  the  car  when  we  can  splash  about  in 
that !  We  take  the  car  as  near  as  possible  to  the  edge, 
undress,  and  walk  carefully  over  the  stones  and  sand 
to  the  lake.  But  we  keep  our  sun  helmets  on,  and  so 
attired  take  to  the  water.  A  sun  helmet  proves  to  be 
an  awkward  thing  with  which  to  swim,  as  whichever 
way  you  turn  it  dips  deeply  into  the  water.  But  it  is 
better  than  risking  immediate  sunstroke.  And  we  soon 
become  aware  that  the  water  of  the  lake  is  of  a  piece 
with  the  rest  of  the  world — warm.  It  is  a  quite  un- 
refreshing  bathe.  We  wade  out  again  and  start  to 
dress.  As  we  squat  down  in  the  sand  we  become  aware 
that  we  are  being  bitten.  "More  of  those  confounded 
sand-flies,"  says  D.A.D.O.S.     "Can't  get  rid  of  'em." 

We  push  on,  bump  and  roll  and  switchback  along 
many  miles  of  track,  pass  Lake  Langaza,  with  its  primi- 
tive villages  and  fishing  boats,  skirt  the  slopes  of  beauti- 
ful Hortiach,  and  after  a  long  time  come  out  at 
General's  Corner,  and  so  on  to  the  broad  level  highway 
of  the  Seres  Road.  The  afternoon  sun  blazes  down  on 
it,  and  it  is  practically  deserted — a  blinding  white 
ribbon  running  through  a  khaki  landscape — until  we 
come  to  Guvesne  with  its  dumps.  Here  there  are  signs 
of  life.  The  camps  are  beginning  to  stir  after  their  mid- 
118  I 


SALONICA    AND    AFTER 

day  torpor.  A  little  further  on  we  see,  climbing  a  steep 
gradient,  a  long  convoy  of  motor-lorries  winding  in 
and  out,  now  in  view,  now  disappearing.  In  a  little 
while  we  catch  it  up.  The  gradient  is  very  stiff,  and 
we  seem  almost  to  creep  past  the  rumbling  monsters. 
The  hillside  is  shaking  as  we  go  by.  Ten — twenty  of 
them,  all  nicely  spaced  out;  shall  we  never  get  rid  of 
them  ?  The  dust  thickens  the  further  we  advance  up 
the  convoy,  until  we  are  in  a  dense  cloud  which  gets 
in  the  eyes  and  mouth  and  tastes  hot  and  nasty.  We 
pass  another  ten  of  them,  and  still  we  are  rolling  up 
the  hill  alongside — a  small  atom  engulfed  in  a  whirl 
of  dust  and  noise.  Each  driver  as  we  pass  turns  a 
whitey-brown  face  towards  us.  The  dust  is  caked  thick 
on  them  all,  encumbers  their  eyebrows,  fills  their  ears, 
and  gives  their  eyes  a  wild,  bloodshot,  strained  look. 
Eight  more  lorries,  their  engines  growling  like  monsters 
held  by  the  throat,  their  vast  bulks  quivering  and 
shaking  as  they  thunder  along.  And  then  at  last  the 
officer's  motor  car  ahead,  which  shows,  thank  Heaven, 
that  we  are  at  the  head  of  the  convoy  at  last.  Thirty- 
eight  three-ton  lorries,  grinding  and  forcing  their  way 
up  a  sun-baked  mountain  road,  and  stretching  along 
nearly  a  mile  of  it !  Away  back  to  the  time  of  the 
Romans  and  long  before  that,  this  was  a  military  road, 
but  it  never  had  to  carry  anything  heavier  than  a 
wheeled  cart.  We  brought  thousands  of  motor  lorries 
to  Macedonia  and  had  to  make  our  roads  before  we 
could  use  them.  And  day  in,  day  out,  these  convoys 
roll  along,  friezes  of  them  against  the  skyline  or  the 
hillside,  and  from  miles  away  one  can  hear  the  deep- 
toned  sullen  roar  of  their  passage,  like  a  rumble  of 
distant  thunder. 

Down  into  the  deep  dip  before  Likovan,  and  then 
through   Lahana,    with  its   little   crowd  of   Tommies 

114 


TWO  BALKAN  DAYS— JANUARY  AND  JULY 

round  the  E.F.C.  and  up  and  over  the  highest  point  of 
the  Seres  road,  at  an  altitude  of  over  2,000  feet.  Here 
we  meet  a  convoy  rumbling  up,  charge  into  a  cloud 
of  dust,  but,  curving  in  and  out,  are  soon  past  it.  And 
in  a  little  while  we  are  on  the  last  stretch  of  the  hill 
road  before  it  dips  down  into  the  Struma  Valley.  As 
we  turn  here  and  there  we  catch  glimpses  of  a  wonderful 
panorama,  and  in  another  moment  the  whole  prospect 
is  open  to  us ;  the  wonderful  wide  sweep  of  the  Struma 
Valley  with  the  sun  of  early  evening  shining  full  on 
the  great  ranges  of  mountains  held  by  the  Bulgars; 
the  river  winding  up  to  the  gateway  of  the  Rupel  Pass, 
marvellously  distinct  in  detail;  Lake  Tahinos  to  the 
East,  and  Seres  shining  white  and  clear  twenty  miles 
away.  It  is  difficult  to  think  that  such  a  fair  valley 
can  have  such  an  evil  reputation,  but  such  is  the  danger 
in  the  hot  season  of  malaria  that  now,  having  learnt 
by  experience,  all  our  troops  except  a  few  advanced 
posts  on  the  river  line  are  withdrawn  to  the  hills.  The 
men  left  on  the  plain,  who  must  have  suffered  there  in 
this  day  of  baking,  steaming  heat,  are  protected  by 
face  masks  and  gauntlets,  so  that  they  look  like  some 
mediaeval  survival;  and  at  night  have  to  smear  their 
hands  and  faces  with  thick,  dark  ointment.  It  is  but 
a  detail  of  our  discomforts  in  our  Watch  on  the  Struma. 
Think  of  wearing  face  nets  and  gauntlets  on  such  a  day 
as  this  ! 

And  now  we  begin  to  drop.  In  five  miles  or  so  we 
go  down  some  1,800  feet.  The  car  whizzes  and  turns, 
doubles  on  itself,  hums  round  extraordinary  corners, 
plunges  down  giddy  descents.  At  times  the  sensation 
is  more  of  flying  than  motoring.  We  flash  past  labour- 
ing mule  transport  and  lorries  stolidly  but  steadily 
ascending.  The  road  is  busy  here.  And  in  less  than 
no  time  we  are  at  Kilo  70,  the  great  Depot  and  junction 

115 


SALONICA   AND    AFTER 

for  the  Struma  front.  Here  we  are  amid  dumps  and 
dust,  camps  of  all  descriptions,  and  Decauville  rail- 
ways. The  fiercer  heat  of  the  day  has  gone,  but  the 
air  is  close  and  stifling.  In  ten  minutes  I  am  dipping 
my  head  into  a  bucket  of  cold  water,  swilling  away  the 
accumulated  dust,  and  wondering  if  an  hour  or  so  ago 
I  really  was  sitting  in  the  tepid  wavelets  of  Beshik 
Lake  wearing  a  sun  helmet.  It  seems  rather  an  episode 
that  belongs  to  the  far-away  days  of  youth. 

Three  days  later  D.A.D.O.S.  was  riding  his  horse 
along  the  road  when  he  incontinently  fell  off  it.  "Sand- 
fly" had  claimed  him,  and  he  was  picked  up  with  a 
temperature  of  over  104  and  hurried  off  to  a  Field 
Ambulance.  It  is  just  a  little  way  Macedonia  has — to 
trip  you  up  just  when  you  are  feeling  you  are  proof 
against  anything  her  climate  can  do. 


116 


CHAPTER  X. 

The  Balkan  Stage. 


**  The  roses  rahnd  the  door 
Make  me  love  mother  more.  , 

Whenagetback, 
Whenagetback 
To  ma  home  in  Tennessee.'* 


It  was  the  first  tame  I  had  ever  really  caught  the 
astounding  words  of  "Way  down  in  Tennessee."  They 
were  being  sung  with  great  earnestness  by  a  young, 
pleasant-faced  Cockney  sailor  who  stood  near  the 
breech  of  a  9.2  gun  on  a  tiny  improvised  stage.  There 
was  bunting  all  around  him  and  somewhere  behind 
was  concealed  the  orchestra — an  accordeon.  The  occa- 
sion was  the  second  birthday  of  one  of  our  smaller  and 
more  exotic  ships  of  war. 

"I  think,"  whispered  the  Commander,  as  the  won- 
derful song  was  finished,  "that  we'll  go  aft  when  the 
interval  comes,  and  leave  the  rest  of  the  concert  to 
them."  And  a  little  later  a  group  of  us  sat  in  deck 
chairs,  energetically  grasping  whiskies  and  sodas,  and 
looking  over  to  the  few  twinkling  lights  of  Salonica. 
The  sounds  of  the  concert  came  more  faintly  to  our 
ears. 

The  subject  of  this  chapter  is  a  pleasant  one ;  a  story, 
perhaps  inadequately  told,  of  triumph  over  circum- 
stances. That  unostentatious  little  ship's  concert  was 
only  a  very  insignificant  item  in  many  scores  of  enter- 
tainments I  saw  in  and  around  Macedonia,  and  only 

117 


SALONICA   AND    AFTER 

in  casting  the  mind  back  is  it  possible  to  realise  how 
much  the  men  of  the  B.S.F.  did  for  themselves  in  re- 
lieving the  intolerable  tedium  that  comes  of  a  long 
campaign  in  a  wild,  comfortless  country. 

The  story  of  the  B.S.F.  theatrical  enterprises  really 
begins  with  the  pantomime  "Dick  Whittington,"  which 
opened  with  great  success  on  Christmas  Eve  of  1915, 
somewhere  up  the  Lembet  road.  ''Dick  Whittington" 
made  history  and  largely  set  the  standard  for  all  future 
developments.  The  "book"  was  exceptionally  clever 
from  start  to  finish  and  was  solemnly  reviewed,  if  you 
please,  in  the  Times.  The  show  was  given  in  two  mar- 
quees placed  T-wise,  and  what  was  intended  merely  to 
amuse  the  members  of  a  Field  Ambulance  and  any- 
body who  might  come  along,  was  annexed  by  a  wise 
General  for  the  Division. 

The  following  winter  the  members  of  the  same  Field 
Ambulance,  the  85th,  produced  "Aladdin,"  this  time 
as  a  Divisional  enterprise  at  Kopriva,  on  the  Struma, 
and  in  the  winter  of  1917-18  they  (together  with  the 
84th  Field  Ambulance)  followed  this  up  with  "Blue- 
beard." All  were  great  successes  and  it  is  a  curious 
fact  that  throughout  the  campaign  the  Field  Ambulan- 
ces were  very  prolific  in  providing  the  best  talent. 
*  At  first,  this  great  movement  to  provide  amusement 
for  the  troops  spread  rather  slowly.  In  the  early  days 
it  was  regarded  rather  as  a  luxury.  Later  it  was  seen 
in  its  true  light — as  a  necessity.  Every  tap  of  the  car- 
penter's hammer  and  every  electric  bulb  "scrounged" 
for  the  stage  was  really  a  tiny  part  of  the  necessary 
machinery  for  the  continuance  of  a  long  and  exhausting 
war.  But  it  took  time  for  this  to  be  thoroughly  under- 
stood, and  in  the  beginning  O.C.'s  of  units  or  concert 
parties  had  to  proceed  warily.  Salonica,  in  some  strange 
fashion,  had  become  synonymous  with  the  idea  of  a 

118 


THE  BALKAN  STAGE 

field  of  war  where  very  little  that  was  warlike  was 
done.  It  would  not  do  to  confirm  this  erroneous  im- 
pression by  letting  it  be  thought  that  the  B.S.F.  had 
theatres  of  its  own  to  add  to  its  other  delights !  So, 
like  the  worship  of  the  early  Christians,  the  early  de- 
velopment of  our  theatres  proceeded  slowly  and 
quietly.  But  gradually  the  movement  increased  until 
very  few  units  of  any  importance  had  not  made  some 
sort  of  attempt  to  amuse  themselves,  and  one  found 
concert  parties  and  theatres  all  over  the  country.  By 
the  time  most  of  our  men  had  been  out  in  Macedonia 
for  two  years  or  more  the  fact  that,  when  they  were 
not  working  or  fighting,  they  were  trying  to  make 
themselves  happy  was  accepted  as  a  normal  and  sensi- 
ble thing,  in  spite  of  what  people  at  home  might  or 
might  not  think.  And  then  came  a  further  phase.  The 
authorities,  knowing  well  the  difficulties  that  confron- 
ted them  in  trying  to  give  leave,  determined  that  if 
submarines  and  the  difficulties  of  transport  and  the 
various  other  factors  that  operated  were  to  keep  most 
of  our  men  out  in  Macedonia  for  a  further  indefinite 
period,  they  must  be  amused  and  interested  as  much 
as  possible.  At  the  end  of  1917  and  the  beginning  of 
1918,  indeed,  it  became  very  clear  that  the  Salonica 
Army  would  have  to  fend  for  itself  in  every  way.  With 
Russia  off  his  hands,  there  was  every  possibility  that 
the  Spring  of  1918  would  see  the  enemy  engaging  in  a 
big  offensive  in  Macedonia  in  order  to  try  and  complete 
the  tale  of  his  conquests  on  the  Eastern  fronts.  But 
there  were  no  reinforcements  to  be  expected  from  home, 
or  from  any  other  front.  The  Salonica  front  was,  in 
fact,  cut  off  from  the  rest  of  the  world ;  or  at  any  rate, 
our  only  link  was  the  perilous  one  of  the  Mediterranean, 
which  the  Navy  held  in  the  teeth  of  enemy  submarines 
and  lack  of  Allied  Naval  co-ordination.    It  was  a  case 

119 


SALONICA    AND    AFTER 

of  God  helps  those  who  help  themselves.  The  B.S.F. 
combed  itself  out  and  made  the  most  of  its  available 
supply  of  fighting  material.  Then  knowing  that  at  any 
time  the  men  might  be  called  upon  to  wage  a  very  un- 
equal fight  to  maintain  their  footing  in  Greece,  it  deter- 
mined to  keep  them  in  the  best  spirits  possible.  They 
could  not  go  to  Blighty ;  therefore  Blighty,  as  far  as  it 
could  be  done,  should  be  brought  to  them.  The  authori- 
ties themselves  encouraged  sane  and  healthy  amuse- 
ment in  every  possible  way.  We  had  prepared  for  the 
worst,  and  now  the  only  thing  to  do  was  to  make  the 
best  of  it.  Under  the  direct  stimulus  of  official  help 
the  B.S.F.  saw  a  great  efflorescence  of  theatrical  enter- 
tainment. Macedonia  might  soon  be  burning.  We 
would  do  our  fiddling  before  and  not  during  the  event. 
So  that  we  had  the  rather  extraordinary  coincidence 
that  the  finals  of  the  great  B.S.F.  Boxing  Champion- 
ships were  being  fought  off,  before  a  great  and  most 
appreciative  crowd,  on  t-he  very  days  in  March,  1918, 
when  the  Germans  first  attacked  in  such  overwhelming 
strength  on  the  Somme.  One  can  write  of  these  things 
now  that  the  B.S.F.  has  so  signally  played  its  part 
in  achieving  complete  and  final  victory.  Before  it 
would  not  have  been  so  easy. 

In  France  everything  that  went  to  the  making  of  an 
entertainment  was  fairly  easy  to  hand.  In  Macedonia 
practically  everything  had  to  be  improvised.  No  wan- 
dering parties  of  London  *'stars"  ever  went  out  there, 
but  officers  and  men  found  their  own  talent,  and  plenty 
of  it.  Quite  often  it  was  of  a  professional  kind.  After 
all,  once  you  mobilise  a  whole  nation  you  are  bound 
to  find  the  most  diversified  talent  scattered  throughout 
the  Armies.  A  hospital  orderly  reveals  himself  to  be, 
in  private  life,  a  scene  painter  of  merit.  A  mule  driver 
proves  to  be  a  member  of  a  well-known  Folly  troupe. 

120 


THE   BALKAN   STAGE 

Lieut.  Wunpip  of  the  Rumpshires  had  a  mottled  cao-eer 
up  and  down  the  American  Continent,  and  danced  two 
years  for  his  living  in  New  York  music-halls.  A  gay 
young  pilot  of  the  E.A.F.  proves  t-o  have  specialised  at 
Cambridge  in  female  parts  with  an  authentic  Cockney 
accent.  All  sorts  of  odd  people  who  seemed  to  be 
merely  homy-handed  reveal  themselves  as  capable, 
even  soulful  musicians.  Aladdin  could  not  have  done 
better.  The  O.C.  Concert  Party  clapped  his  hands  and 
the  right  man,  more  or  less,  apj>eared.  The  question  of 
costumes  presented  the  greatest  difficulties,  and  many 
have  been  the  journeys  down  to  Salonica  to  find  things 
that  very  often  Salonica  did  not  possess.  The  fire 
brought  on  a  crisis  in  this  respect.  Fortunately,  in  the 
case  of  Divisional  shows,  at  any  rate,  the  question  of 
costumes  and  other  "props"  was  thought  out  months 
in  advance,  and  officers  going  home  on  leave  were 
pressed  into  the  service  of  finding  all  that  was  necessary 
for  the  forthcoming  pantomime  and  bringing  them 
back. 

And  then  the  girls  of  our  B.S.F.  shows !  Really, 
one  hardly  knows  how  to  begin  to  talk  about  them. 
I  am  sure  that  in  all  the  theatres  of  war  (whichever 
way  you  like  to  employ  the  word)  the  B.S.F.  girls  were 
far  and  away  the  best.  They  developed  to  a  pitch  of 
daintiness  and  perfection  which  it  is  quite  impossible 
to  indicate  to  those  unfortunate  persons  who  never  sat 
in  a  Macedonian  theatre.  Necessity  is  the  mother,  etc. 
We  had  no  ladies  and  so  had  to  make  them.  And  it 
was  quite  impossible,  while  the  show  was  in  progress, 
to  realise  that  these  delicate  young  creatures  were 
young  men  who  drove  heavy  motor  lorries  or  threw 
bombs  at  the  Bulgar.  It  all  seems  to  show  that 
English  beauty  is  essentially  masculine.  Take  a  likely 
looking  young  man  and  dress  him  up  suitably  and  he 

121 


SALONICA    AND    AFTER 

makes  quite  a  pretty  girl.  But  then,  only  the  ghosts 
of  the  burnt-out  shops  of  Venizelos  Street  could  tell 
to  what  lengths  the  indefatigable  O.C.  Concert  Parties 
went  in  order  to  obtain  verisimilitude.  It  was  an 
article  of  faith  that  to  feel  and  act  like  a  girl  on  the 
stage  the  player  must  copy  the  original  down  to  the 
smallest  details  of  lingerie.  No  cotton  stockings,  for 
instance,  masquerading  as  the  real  thing.  They  had 
to  be  silk — if  silk  could  possibly  be  found.  And  it  made 
all  the  difference  on  the  stage.  Each  big  production 
had  its  leaven  of  mediocre  female  impersonators  who 
were  not  expected  to  do  more  than  look  pretty  in  the 
chorus.  But  each  production  also  had  something  stlart- 
ling  to  show.  The  qualities  included  striking  beauty, 
good  dancing,  good  singing,  and — particularly  in  one 
case — amazing  joie  de  vivre  and  diablerie  and  sprightli- 
ness  of  the  soubrette  type.  The  real  females  who  sang 
in  the  Salonica  music-halls  were  wooden  compared  to 
some  of  our  imitations. 

To  realise  how  much  the  concert  parties  and  the 
musicians  meant  to  the  Army  in  Macedonia,  it  is  only 
necessary  to  try  and  imagine  what  life  would  have  been 
like  without  them.  To  many  thousands  of  men  they 
were  the  one  link  with  the  gaieties  and  the  compara- 
tively care-free  existence  they  knew  before  the  war. 
Tommy  was  grateful  to  the  men  who  had  sufficient 
talent  to  provide  these  distractions  for  him,  and  for  his 
part  would  willingly  have  seen  them  doing  nothing  else. 
In  some  cases  this  was  so.  Eight  shows  a  week  and 
rehearsals  at  a  Divisional  pantomime  left  no  time  for 
other  work.  But  many  others  worked  hard  at  the 
theatres  only  in  the  intervals  of  their  military  duties. 
Certain  leading  troupes  attained  the  dignity  of  touring 
companies,  and  of  course  there  was  no  question  of  their 
doing  anything  else  while   on  tour.     Great   occasions 

122 


THE   BALKAN   STAGE 

were  these  when  a  concert  party  visited  the  camp.  The 
Home  O.C.  would  have  guests  for  dinner  and  a  special 
spread.  Everybody  would  ride  in  from  miles  around, 
and  there  would  be  the  greatest  joy  and  hilarity  until 
the  time  came  for  the  Home  O.C.  to  make  a  speech  of 
thanks  to  the  O.C.  Concert  Party  and  his  merry  men. 
Then  a  dreadful  silence  would  descend  on  the  hall  of 
mirth.  Audience  and  company  alike  looked  and  felt 
dreadfully  embarrassed.  In  our  honest  British  way  we 
cannot  do  these  graceful  little  things  without  looking 
as  though  we  have  been  collectively  condemned  to 
death.  Relief  and  joy  would  come  again  when  the 
O.C.  had  delivered  himself  of  his  few  words  :  "  And 
I  am  sure  (pause)  that  all  of  us — er  (pause)  officers  and 
men  alike  are  most  grateful.  .  .  In  fact,  a  damned  good 
show.  .  ."  And  then  everybody  would  sing  lustily 
"God  Save  the  King."    Nobody  stumbled  over  that. 

The  most  brilliant  theatrical  season  of  all  was  the 
winter  of  1917-1^.  The  Divisions,  by  dint  of  long  pre- 
paration, surpassed  themselves.  The  26th  Division 
produced  its  splendid  pantomime  "Robinson  Crusoe" 
at  the  Divisional  Theatre,  Gugunci,  and  I  think  that, 
taking  it  all  round,  and  weighing  up  every  detail,  it 
was  the  best  variety  show  I  saw  produced  in  Mace- 
donia. At  Kopriva  on  the  Struma,  the  28th  Division 
produced  its  gorgeous  production,  "Bluebeard,"  a  posi- 
tive delight  to  the  eye,  with  beautiful  costumes  and  an 
orchestra  (mainly  chosen  from  the  2  /  5th  Durham  Light 
Infantry  and  the  23rd  Battalion  Welsh  Regiment), 
which  entranced  everybody  and  rivalled  anything  one 
might  have  heard  in  London.  The  Kopriva  theatre 
was  a  huge  old  barn  which,  with  a  stage  built'  on  to  it, 
served  its  purpose  admirably.  Further  down  the  Struma 
valley  the  27th  Division  produced  "Dick  Whittington." 
This    Division    suffered    from    having    no  permanent 

128 


SALONICA    AND    AFTER 

theatre.  It  was  scattered  over  a  long  and  difficult  line, 
and  was  not  lucky  in  finding  anything  so  good  as  the 
Kopriva  barn.  But  all  difficulties  were  overcome  and 
the  show  was  given  in  the  villages  of  Dimitric  and 
Badimal  and  at  Stavros.  All  the  Divisional  theatres 
had  excellently  appointed  bars  and  supper  rooms  at- 
tached, and  I  remember,  as  I  bought  a  two-shilling 
Corona  at  the  bar  at  Badimal,  thinking  how  curious  it 
was  that  Nigrita,  a  little  further  down  the  valley,  was 
the  scene  in  1912. of  a  notorious  massacre  by  the  Bul- 
garians. All  the  Divisional  theatres  had  the  added  spice 
that  they  were  well  within  enemy  artillery  range — ^they 
were,  in  fact,  the  most  advanced  of  any  war  theatres — 
and  the  programme  contained  instructions  as  to  scat- 
tering tactics  in  case  of  bombardment.  But  the  Bulgar 
hardly  ever  tried  to  shoot  at  them,  and  tliis  was  one 
of  the  things  put  down  to  his  credit. 

I  did  a  tour  of  the  whole  three  pantomimes,  and  a 
most  amusing  and  pleasant  experience  it  was;  this 
combination  of  occasional  artillery  "strafes,"  a  bomb- 
ing raid  (quite  in  the  London  style),  and  then  the 
evening's  light  music  and  gaiety — and  during  it  all, 
the  patrols  far  out  in  the  darkness  of  the  valley  or 
crawling  up  and  down  the  rugged  ravines  of  Doiran. 
The  war  was  always  there.  There  was  much  inter- 
Divisional  rivalry,  but  each  production  was  one  of 
which  its  organisers  had  every  reason  to  be  proud.  The 
22nd  Division  that  year  did  not  produce  a  pantomime, 
but  relied  on  their  excellent  variety  troupe,  ''The 
Macedons."  But  later  in  1918,  they  produced  "The 
Chocolate  Soldier" — a  wonderful  effort,  which  every- 
body agreed  was  the  best  musical  show  of  all.* 

*  In  March,  1919,  "  The  Chocolate  Soldier  "  was  produced  at  the 
Petit  Champs  Theatre,  Constantinople,  and  very  much  impressed  the 
local   inhabitants.     The  28th    Division   also  produced  its  pantomime, 

124 


THE  BALKAN  STAGE 

Then  there  was  the  16th  Corps  Dramatic  Society. 
Here  we  are  on  different  ground.  I  should  think  it 
must  have  been  one  of  the  very  best  amateur  dramatic 
companies  ever  put  together.  I  spent  three  or  four 
years  in  close  touch  with  the  London  theatres,  but  I 
never  enjoyed  a  farce  more  than  Sydney  Grundy's  ''The 
Arabian  Nights,"  as  produced  by  this  Company.  There 
was  some  amazingly  finished  acting,  and  the  three  or 
four  women's  parts  were  a  source  of  strength,  and  not 
weakness.  The  company  was  in  charge  of  a  Lieut.- 
Colonel  who  had  had  much  experience  of  this  sort  of 
work  in  India,  and  had  the  whole  business  as  much  at 
his  finger  ends  as  his  other  business  of  machine-gunning. 
One  would  like  to  give  names,  but  once  having  begun, 
one  would  hardly  know  where  to  stop,  and  there  were 
very  many  who  deserved  the  gratitude  of  their 
comrades. 

During  this  same  winter  there  were  innimaerable 
other  shows  elsewhere ;  with  battalions  and  brigades, 
at  the  Base,  at  hospitals,  and  with  M.T.  Companies  all 
over  the  country.  One  cannot  name  them  all,  and  I 
have  concentrated  on  the  Divisional  shows  because  they 
were  produced  practically  in  the  front  line  and  with  all 
the  difficulties  and  disadvantages  of  being  near  no 
settled  habitations.  Night  after  night  these  Divisional 
shows  were  crowded  with  happy  infantrymen  who  for- 
got entirely,  for  the  time  being,  that  they  had  been 
away  from  home  for  three  years  or  more.  It  is  sad 
to  think  how  many  of  those  dear  chaps  went  under  in 
the  final  and  victorious  offensive  of  September,  1918, 
after  "sticking  it"  for  so  long.  At  the  front  and  every- 
where else,  the  entertainments  did  an  immense  amount 

*'  The  Babes  in  the  Wood,"  there.  At  Tiflis  the  27th  Divisional 
Pantomime  Company  awakened  a  keen  desire  among  Georgian  and 
Armenian  society  to  see  more  of  English  plays  and  performances. 

125 


SALONICA   AND    AFTER 

of  good.  They  were,  in  fact,  one  of  the  chief  factors 
which  enabled  our  men  to  keep  their  sanity  after  the 
long  hardship,  monotony,  sickness,  and  hope-deferred 
of  the  Balkan  campaign.  There  is  no  need  to  apologise 
for  them.     They  were  as  necessary  as  mules  or  shells. 

Nor  must  we  forget  the  various  Divisional  Horse 
Shows  which  were  organised  from  time  to  time;  won- 
derful functions  which  amazed  our  Allied  visitors,  and 
where  British  manhood  and  British  horseflesh  were 
seen  at  their  best.  Perhaps  the  most  brilliant  of  all 
was  the  27th  Divisional  Horse  Show,  which  was  held  in 
July,  1917.  The  site,  just  on  the  edge  of  the  Struma 
Plain,  was  magnificent,  and  "everybody"  was  there — 
nurses  from  the  Base  hospitals,  delighted  with  the  novel 
experience  of  a  trip  up-country,  and  General  Sarrail 
sitting  next  to  the  British  Army  Commander  in  the 
grand  stand.  Aeroplanes  circled  overhead  to  keep  off 
inquisitive  Bulgar  or  Boche,  and  the  weather  was  won- 
derful. It  was  astonishing  to  think  that  a  Division 
very  much  in  the  field  could  have  organised  such  a 
show.  And  the  horses  made  everybody's  eyes  sparkle. 
At  a  Horse  Show  held  by  the  22nd  Division  at  Gugunci, 
the  enemy  heavily  shelled  the  road  leading  to  the 
ground.  It  was  an  anxious  day,  as  he  could  easily  have 
plumped  his  long-range  shells  into  the  show  ground 
itself.  But  he  confined  himself  to  the  people  and  teams 
going  and  coming,  and  shortly  after  leaving  the  show 
the  winning  team  of  Heavy  Artillery  horses  was  de- 
stroyed— a  sad  end  to  a  day  of  triumph. 

And  a  final  word  on  the  B.S.F.  Boxing  Champion- 
ships, which  were  fought  off  a  few  miles  up  the  Lembet 
Road  during  the  late  days  of  March,  1918.  Terraces 
had  been  constructed  in  a  natural  amphitheatre  over- 
looking a  dry  nullah.  At  the  finals  on  the  third  day 
over  16,000  men  were  present.    Just  as  all  was  ready, 

126 


THE  BALKAN   STAGE 

the  new  French  commander-in-chief,  General  Guillau- 
mat,  descended  the  long  flight  of  steps  cut  in  the  hard 
ground.  As  he  reached  the  ringside  and  advanced  to 
shake  hands  with  General  Milne  the  band  suddenly 
struck  up  the  Marseillaise,  and  the  whole  16,000  rose 
from  their  seats  with  one  great  spontaneous  movement, 
and  stood  at  the  salute  or  rigidly  at  attention.  It  was 
a  magnificently  impressive  moment.  And  one  won- 
dered, as  the  boxing  progressed,  what  the  two  Generals 
were  talking  about,  or  at  any  rate  thinking  about,  as 
they  sat  there  side  by  side.  The  news  from  France 
on  March  23rd,  1918,  was  very  dark  indeed.  .  .  Would 
it  be  our  turn  next  ? 


127 


CHAPTER   XI. 

Ourselves  and  our  Allies. 

When  the  British  first  went  to  Salonica  they  had  to 
begin  from  the  beginning.  In  Eastern  Europe  they 
were  the  least  known  of  all  the  great  nations.  German, 
Austrian,  French,  Italian  and  Russian — all  these  were 
known  and  more  or  less  understood.  But  we,  although 
our  influence  stretched  wider  throughout  the  world 
than  any  of  the  others,  came  to  Salonica  and  the  Bal- 
kans as  complete  strangers.  A  few  Greeks  who  had 
been  in  Egypt  had  perhaps  rubbed  shoulders  with  us, 
but  that  was  all. 

At  first,  the  impression  of  us  was  not  too  favourable. 
For  one  thing  French  influence  and  prestige  over- 
shadowed us.  French  influence  was  king,  the  language 
almost  universal  and  the  local  people — all  of  whom 
pretend  to  wear  their  hearts  on  their  sleeves,  and  most 
of  whom  can  change  them  at  will — ^thought  of  us  as 
quite  a  secondary  factor.  The  campaign  was  under  a 
French  command  and  French  propaganda,  we  must 
remember,  was  a  more  virile  and  energetic  growth  than 
ours.  I  remember  that  when  in  August,  1916,  the 
British  captured  the  difficult  position  of  Horseshoe  Hill, 
on  the  Doiran  Front,  a  local  newspaper,  the  Opinion, 
published  in  French  by  a  Greek  of  strong  French 
leanings,  came  out  with  the  following : — 

"  The  English  troops  who  have  just  come  into  con- 
tact with  the  Bulgars  have  given  proof  of  remarkable 
abnegation  and  bravery.  In  the  combat  which  took  place 

128 


Our  Balkan  Allies:  Serbs  at  Mikra, 
after  landing  from  Corfu,  191 6. 


« 


— g^    _J 


Evzones  of  the  Venizelist  Army 
leaving   for  the   Front,    19 17. 


OURSELVES  AND   OUR  ALLIES 

in  the  position  known  as  Horseshoe  the  British  troops 
attacked  the  Bulgars  with  the  bayonet  with  admirable 
dash,  forcing  tliem  finally  to  give  up  the  ground.  Mili- 
tary circles  (les  milieux  militaires)  are  extremely  satis- 
fied with  the  conduct  of  the  English,  all  the  more  so  as 
these  troops  enter  into  line  for  the  first  time." 

It  was  no  doubt  fairly  well-meant,  but  for  once 
British  G.H.Q.  was  annoyed,  and  the  Opinion  had  its 
nose  tweaked  by  French  G.H.Q.  It  was  rather  exas- 
perating that  the  dear  old  British  Empire  should  be 
cheerily  patted  on  the  back  by  a  Salonica  journal.  But 
then  comparatively  few  people  outside  our  own  country 
have  ever  heard  of  Hastings,  Agincourt,  Crecy,  the 
Armada,  Blenheim,  Malplaquet,  Quebec,  Badajos,  Tra- 
falgar, Waterloo,  Inkerman,  the  Mutiny,  Rorke's 
Drift,  and  a  few  score  more  historical  *'  stunts  "  which 
help  to  make  up  the  story  of  Britain.  And  throughout 
the  war  we  were  so  busy  impressing  on  everybody  that 
we  were  not  a  military  nation  that  most  of  them  finished 
by  believing  we  had  never  had  a  ''  scrap  "  at  all ;  or  at 
any  rate  nothing  more  than  an  occasional  brush  with  a 
handful  of  niggers. 

We  had  to  start,  then,  from  nothing,  and  it  soon 
became  less  than  nothing,  because  at  first  sight  we  were 
regarded  as  a  brusque  and  unpolite  people.  The 
British  officer  or  soldier  stolidly  went  his  way  on  the 
pavements  and  gave  the  impression  of  not  caring  a 
hang  for  anybody.  He  had  not  the  easy  ways  and 
flourishes  of  some  of  our  friends,  and  the  first  impres- 
sion therefore  was  I3iat  he  had  no  manners.  The 
British  officer,  when  he  enters  a  cafe,  does  not  usually 
salute  the  assembled  company  as  most  of  our  Allies 
do.  It  is  a  pleasant  custom  and  is  worth  copying,  but 
happens  not  to  be  in  our  scheme  of  conduct.  The 
sole  reason  is  that  the  average  Briton  is  timid  and  a 

120  K 


SALONICA   AND    AFTER 

little  self-conscious,  and  hates,  as  he  hates  the  Devil, 
drawing  attention  to  himself  in  public.  This  point 
was,  and  largely  remains,  utterly  misunderstood,  and 
is  the  basis  of  most  errors  on  our  account.  The  average 
British  officer  would  rather  die  than  wear  three  or  four 
medals  dangling  on  his  breast.  The  average  French 
officer  likes  to  do  it^,  and  is  proud  of  the  effect  they 
cause  in  public.  Neither  is  right  and  neither  is  wrong. 
It  is  simply  the  fundamental  temperamental  difference 
between  two  peoples.  But  it  is  stl-iking,  all  the  same, 
how  sooner  or  later  British  masculine  codes  end  by 
imposing  themselves  on  other  nations,  providing  they 
can  be  studied  long  enough.  In  this  simple  little  detail 
of  medals,  it  was  very  noticeable  that  towards  the  end 
of  the  Salonica  campaign  fewer  and  fewer  Allied  officers 
wore  their  medals,  and  contented  themselves  with 
ribbons.  If  there  is  a  real  standard  of  right  and  wrong 
in  these  matters,  then  there  is  good  ground  for  think- 
ing that  the  British  are  always  nearer  to  it  than  any- 
body else.  Just  as  there  are  people,  who,  by  some 
superior  endowment,  may  lay  down  the  law  as  to 
whether  a  work  of  art  is  good  or  bad,  so  there  is  a 
people  which  has  the  gift  of  setting  the  masculine 
standard. 

On  the  other  hand,  the  French  are  extraordinarily 
simple  and  unostentatious  in  ways  one  would  least 
expect.  A  French  general,  for  instance,  is  often  a 
much  less  impressive  figure  than  a  French  sous- 
lieutenant.  A  tiny  star  on  the  cuff  of  his  jacket  (or 
two  or  three,  according  to  his  rank)  is  often  the  only 
sign  of  distinction  a  French  commander  of  a  division 
or  army  will  carry.  For  the  rest  he  is  often  dressed 
in  simple,  unadorned  horizon  blue  or  khaki  with  the 
plainest  of  kSpis,  And  I  have  seen  a  French  general  of 
Division  sitting  at  a  table  in  front  of  Floca's  taking 

130 


OURSELVES  AND   OUR  ALLIES 

his  aperitif  like  any  other  man,  and  chatting  away 
vivaciously  with  a  lieutenant.  A  British  general  could 
no  more  do  that,  without  losing  something,  than  he 
could  buy  bananas  from  a  barrow  in  the  street.  All 
French  generals  I  happen  to  have  talked  to  are  the 
same ;  simple,  easy  and,  on  ordinary  occasions  at  any 
rate,  making  almost  a  cult  of  being  unadorned.  Of 
course,  on  "  holidays  and  fete  days  "  a  French  general 
can  be  one  of  the  most  gorgeous  and  impressive  of  in- 
dividuals. 

The   British  rapidly  gained  ground   in   everybody's 
esteem  in  Salonica.     '^Ah,   les  Anglais  \^^     I  became 
tired   of  people  of  various  nationalities  who  told  me 
how  much  they  loved  the  British;    what  a  revelation 
we  had  been  to  them;    how  straight,  honest  and  un- 
affected we  were,  and  how  wonderfully  competent  in 
doing  things.     "  We  misunderstood  you  at  first  it  is 
true.    We  did  not  know  your  ways.     We  thought  you 
had  very  little   politeness.  .  .  .     But  now  !      Ah,    les 
Anglais  !"    The  idea  flourished  until  there  came  a  time 
when  our  prestige  was  almost  overpowering.     We  had 
to  play  second  fiddle  all  through  the  Balkan  campaign, 
and  the  Great  People  at  home  never  helped  us  a  scrap, 
because  through   a  thousand   ill-inspired   megaphones 
the  world  was  told  that  Britain,   after  all,  was  only 
playing  a  mediocre  part  in  the  war.    What  we  achieved 
in  the  Balkans  we  had  to  do  "on  our  own,"  but  the 
result  was  that  British  stock  rose  highest  in  the  local 
Allied  market.     One  smiled  when  people  talked  about 
the  British  tl*oops  being  taken  away  from  Salonica  to 
some  other  field  of  war.    We  were  an  Allied  Army  of 
five  nations,  and  such  a  state  of  things  must  always  be 
a  difficult  compromise.     There  were  many  racial  anti- 
pathies and  prejudices,  and  it  is  absurd  to  pretend — 
now  that  the  enemy  has  been  beaten — that  there  were 

131 


SALONICA    AND    AFTER 

not.  These  sometimes  showed  themselves  sufficiently 
on  the  surface  to  have  caused  much  pleasure  to  th« 
Bulgar  had  he  known.  The  British  forces  were,  to  a 
large  extent,  the  link  which  bound  the  whole  Allied 
Army  together;  our  example  and  prestige,  all  the 
stronger  perhaps  for  not  being  too  much  insisted  on, 
was  a  factor  always  working  for  harmony.  One  cannot 
better  express  it  than  by  saying  that  we  were  the 
Armee  de  Liaison.  This  is  a  point  which  ought  to  be 
thoroughly  understood  at  home.  On  this  ground  alone, 
the  British  Divisions  in  Macedonia  more  than  justified 
themselves.  They  were  not  only  a  fighting,  but  a 
political  army,  and  it  would  at  any  time  have  been 
the  height  of  unwisdom  to  take  them  away — even  if 
their  numbers  had  been  replaced  by  troops  of  some 
other  country. 

This  high  regard  for  the  British  sometimes  became 
a  little  embarrassing.  It  was  occasionally  so  fervently 
expressed  that  it  was  likely  to  cause  irritation  else- 
where, and  this  was  the  last  thing  anybody  desired. 
M,  Repoules,  for  instance,  a  former  Greek  Minister  of 
Finance,  wrote  an  appreciation  of  the  presence  and 
work  of  the  various  Allies  in  the  Balkans  in  which  it 
was  impossible  not  to  see  that  he  had  "  plumped  "  for 
the  British.  He  was  quite  nice  about  the  others,  but 
lyrical  about  us.  A  long  extract  from  the  article  was 
translated  for  The  Balkan  News,  and  it  is  typical  of 
our  men  that,  immediately,  a  number  of  skits  came  in 
making  gentle  fun  of  the  eminent  Greek's  praises  of 
"our  blue-eyed  boys."  One  felt  glad  of  this.  It  is 
a  dreadful  thing  when  a  nation  comes  calmly  to  accept 
unlimited  praise  as  being  its  rightful  due.  And  there 
is  one  tribute  from  M.  Venizelos  which  was  not  made 
public,  but  which  I  know  to  be  absolutely  authentic. 
"  The  British  people,"  he  said  tb  an  acquaintance  of 

132 


OURSELVES  AND   OUR  ALLIES 

mine,  "is  in  its  civilisation  two  hundred  years  in 
advance  of  any  other  nation  in  Europe."  Well,  well, 
perhaps  in  sanitary  matters  we  are. 

In  the  early  days  the  Allies  were  chiefly  represented 
by  the  French,  the  Serbs  and  ourselves.  The  Greeks 
were  still  Constantine's,  and  the  Italians  and  Russians 
had  not  arrived.  The  French  and  the  British  were 
already  fairly  well  known  to  each  other.  But  the  Ser- 
bians were  new  to  us,  and  we  were  new  to  them,  and 
it  was  not  long  before  a  mutual  admiration  sprang  up. 
We  admired  them  for  their  supreme  soldierly  qualities, 
felt  sympathy  for  their  sufferings,  and  generally  had  a 
big-brotherly  affection  for  the  little  nation  which  had 
been  so  tried.  They  on  their  part  discovered  us  as  a 
revelation.  Their  horizon,  before  the  war,  had  been 
bounded  by  Austria  and  Germany,  and  those  who  had 
ventured  further  afield  had  gone  to  Paris  for  their  cul- 
ture, and  found  much  good  by  so  doing.  But  England 
they  did  not  know,  and  in  us  they  apparently  found 
all  that  they  had  been  longing  for.  In  a  thousand  in- 
formal gatherings  it  became  plain  that  the  Serbs  had 
taken  us  to  their  hearts  and  they  were  never  tired  of 
saying  so.  And  how  many  of  our  own  people  did  one 
hear  saying,  "  By  Gad,  I  admire  the  Serbs.  They 
have  put  up  a  fight."  It  was  impvossible  not  to  be 
impressed  by  the  long-limbed,  spare,  well-set-up 
soldiers  of  the  Serbian  Army.  And  we  never  forgot 
that  they  were  an  Army  which  had  been  saved  from 
the  very  jaws  of  destruction.  In  us,  the  Serbs  pro- 
fessed to  find  striking  qualities  of  efficiency  in  adminis- 
tration, honesty,  generosity,  bravery,  chic — quite  a 
catalogue  of  good  things.  The  entente  was  complete, 
and  Serb  and  Briton  were  delighted  with  the  mutual 
discovery. 

It  was  most  impressive  when  the  Serbs  began  to  go 

133 


m 


SALONICA   AND   AFTER 

up  the  line  again.  Reconstituted  at  Corfu  after  being 
rescued  from  the  horrors  of  the  Albanian  retreat — 
many,  alas  !  died  after  coming  into  Allied  hands — they 
completed  their  new  training  and  re-grouping  at  the 
camps  at  Mikra,  near  Salonica,  and  in  the  summer  of 
1916  began  to  move  upncountry  again  to  meet  and 
check  the  Bulgarian  advance  that  was  threatening.  I 
first  saw  them  moving  up  on  a  hot  July  evening.  I  was 
going  to  dinner  at  an  Indian  Medical  Camp  and  they 
filled  the  road  for  a  mile  or  more.  They  had  already 
marched  some  eight  or  ten  miles,  and  looked  very  hot 
in  their  new  French  blue  uniforms  with  blue  steel  hel- 
mets, and  the  dust  was  rising  from  their  feet  like 
steam.  But  they  were  fine  upstanding  fellows,  lean 
and  hard,  and  everyone  of  them  was  browned  to  a  rich 
mahogany.  When  I  came  back  three  hours  later,  they 
were  still  on  the  road,  marching  stolidly,  silently,  with 
an  utter  absence  of  pomp  or  ceremony,  every  one  of 
them  looking  simply  what  he  was — a  fighting  man 
going  out  again  to  fight.  They  had  no  illusions  about 
that.  For  several  days  they  were  moving  up,  infantry, 
artillery  and  transport ;  120,000  of  them,  all  that  was 
left  of  the  650,000  men  Serbia  had  mobilized ;  men  of 
the  Vardar,  Danube,  Timok,  Morava,  Drin  and  Schu- 
madia  Divisions.  (The  Serbs  name  their  Divisions 
after  the  rivers  of  the  country.)  A  few  mornings  after 
this,  I  was  awakened  at  about  five  o'clock  by  the  sound 
of  a  band  playing  selections  from  "  Toreador  "  and 
there  the  blue  line  was  still  filing  past ;  regiment  after 
regiment  of  them,  their  nut-brown  faces  shining  in  the 
early  morning  sunlight.  Poor  Serbs  !  The  Great  War 
gave  little  respite  to  them,  and  of  the  120,000  many 
were  soon  to  fall.  When  the  final  1918  offensive  came 
they  were  able  to  muster  with  all  ranks,  all  services, 
and  with  10,000  Yugo-Slavs  included,  only  80,000  men. 

134 


OtJftSELVES  AND   OUR  ALLtfeg 

At  about  this  time  I  attended  a  number  of  Serbian 
ceremonies.  There  was  the  Slava,  or  feast  day,  of  a 
crack  cavalry  regiment  for  instance,  out  in  the  hills 
just  behind  Sedes.  It  was  a  grilling  hot  day,  and 
everybody  had  to  stand  bareheaded  at  the  religious 
ceremony — a  simple  matter  for  a  Serb,  but  an  ordeal 
for  us.  As  we  entered  the  sort  of  stockade  in  which 
the  regiment  was,  the  Colonel  at  the  gate  kissed  each 
one  of  us  on  both  cheeks.  I  met  him  in  the  street  next 
day,  and  he  did  not  recognise  me.  It  is  rather  curious  to 
be  kissed  by  a  man  one  day,  and  to  be  a  stranger  to  him 
on  the  next.  He  was,  in  a  rather  gipsy  way,  a  very 
handsome  man,  and  was  generally  understood  to  have 
been  one  of  the  leaders  in  the  assassination  of  King 
Alexander  and  Queen  Draga;  that  dynastic  tragedy 
which — worked  up  and  boomed  by  the  Austrian  Press 
— did  Serbia  so  much  harm  in  the  eyes  of  other  nations. 

After  the  religious  ceremony  we  sat  down  to  a  tre- 
mendous lunch  which  lasted  for  hours.  We  were  sitting 
under  a  long  open  thatched  shelter,  and  the  scene  might 
have  been  laid  in  Central  Africa.  General  Moschopo- 
lous,  who  was  the  head  of  the  Greek  command  in 
Salonica  at  that  time,  was  present,  and  a  certain  Ser- 
bian captain  who  always  loved  to  make  speeches 
addressed  himself  directly  to  the  Greek  General,  and 
in  vibrant  tones  assured  him  of  the  glorious  part  Greece 
was  shortly  to  play.  As  Constantine's  attitude  at  that 
time  was  becoming  more  and  more  dubious.  General 
Moschopolous  looked  very  uncomfortable.  After  the 
interminable  lunch  we  danced  the  kola,  which  has  been 
described  as  the  only  ceremonial  dance  which  can  be 
performed  in  long  grass  on  a  steep  hillside  wearing  top 
boots  and  spurs.  You  link  hands  in  a  long  line  and,  to 
the  sound  of  the  Serbian  pipes,  the  line  advances  and 
retreats,  and  at  the  same  time  each  individual  dancer 

185 


SALONICA   AND   AFTER 

performs  evolutions  of  his  own.  Some  of  them  indulged 
in  extraordinary  feats  of  agility.  I  found  it  more  than 
hot  enough  merely  to  hold  hands  and  move  backwards 
and  forwards. 

This  particular  Slava  was  held  in  celebration  of 
Kossovo  Day.  It  has  been  remarked  by  most  obser- 
vers of  the  Serbs  how  much  they  live  in  the  past,  how 
tenacious  they  are  of  nationality,  and  how  remarkable 
it  is  that  in  celebrating  the  battle  of  Kossovo  they 
should  do  honour  not  to  a  victory,  but  to  the  greatest 
defeat  in  their  history — the  crushing  defeat  of  1389, 
when  the  Serbian  nation  went  down  before  the  power 
of  tihe  Turk.  In  a  certain  official  publication,  a  writer 
has  hit  off  excellently  this  characteristic  of  the  Serbs. 
*'  No  other  nation,"  he  says,  "  not  even  the  Irish,  lives 
so  continuously  and  intimately  with  its  past  as  the 
Serbian.  To  the  Serbian  peasant,  the  battle  of 
Kossovo,  fought  a  generation  before  Agincourt,  is  in- 
finitely nearer  and  more  real  than  the  South  African 
war  to  the  ordinary  British  workman.  The  inclusion 
of  such  and  such  a  place  in  the  Great  Dushan's  Empire 
is  a  reason  for  its  '  restoration  '  to  Serbia  almost  too 
obvious  tb  require  argument.  It  is  essential  to  keep 
this  in  mind  if  one  wishes  to  understand  Serbian 
policy  or  Serbian  aspirations  for  national  unity  and 
greatness." 

Stephen  Dushan  was,  of  course,  the  greatest  of  all 
Serbs  of  olden  times  and  his  empire  at  one  time 
stretched  over  nearly  all  the  Balkans.  That  is  one  of 
the  main  difficulties  in  dealing  with  the  Balkan  ques- 
tions. Each  of  the  Balkan  races  can  invoke  an  era 
when  some  fighting  ancestor  held  sway  over  much  of 
the  rest.  Consequently  the  extreme  nationalist  in  any 
of  these  countries  points  to  a  patch  of  territory  and 
says,  *'  That  is  undoubtedly  ours.    In  the  — th  century 

186 


OUKSELVES  AND   OUR  ALLIES 

our  great  Emperor  so-and-so  ruled  the  whole  of  it." 
Such  an  argument  is  regarded  as  final.  With  the  Serbs, 
their  history  is  kept  amazingly  alive  by  the  many 
poems  and  songs  written  round  the  national  heroes 
which  are  handed  down  from  generation  to  generation 
and  recited  or  sung  at  all  feasts.  They  charge  in  battle 
with  the  names  of  their  mediaeval  heroes  on  their  lips. 
It  is  this  intense  nationalism  which  spurred  them  on  in 
their  long  fight  against  adversity  during  the  war,  and 
which  finally  enabled  them  to  play  a  big  part  in  recap- 
turing their  own  country.  The  eulogy  which  Mr. 
Balfour  paid  to  them  in  his  speech  at  the  Lord  Mayor's 
banquet  in  1918  was  well  deserved. 

In  January,  1918,  I  spent  the  Serbian  Christmas  with 
the  Headquarters  of  the  Vardar  Division  on  the  Mog- 
lena  front.  A  massive  lunch  was  followed  at  a  very 
short  interval  by  a  bigger  dinner.  We  drank  a  great 
deal  of  red  wine,  but  happily  it  was  all  of  the  same 
kind.  An  orchestra  was  stationed  outside  the  door  of 
the  long  hut,  and  in  relays  the  kola  ^as  danced  for 
hours  on  end.  One  could  not  help  but  admire  these 
men  tremendously,  with  their  courageous  acceptance 
of  exile  from  their  devastated  country.  They  heard 
from  their  families  only  at  the  rarest  intervals,  through 
Switzerland.  Most  of  them  had  been  fighting  for  six 
years.  And  yet  there  was  no  suggestion  that  they 
would  not  go  on  fighting  indefinitely  until  the  victory 
was  won.  One  felt  iiow  much  British  moral  support 
really  meant  to  these  hardy  fighters,  and  what  their 
deception  and  discouragement  would  have  been  had 
our  troops  ever  been  taken  away.  The  British  and 
Serbian  armies  never  really  fought  side  by  side ;  that 
is,  their  respective  fronts  never  touched,  the  French 
always  being  betNveen.  But  we  had  a  number  of  Motor 
Transport  Companies  with  the  Serbian  armies ;   in  fact, 

137 


SALONiCA   AND   AFTEK 

W^  did  practically  all  their  mechanical  traction,  and 
these  hard-working  British  troops  created  a  splendid 
impression.  The  great  victbry  of  the  Serbs  when,  in 
the  autumn,  they  captured  the  8,000  feet  summit  of 
Kaijmacklan,  would  not  have  been  possible  without  the 
devoted  work  of  some  of  our  Ford  unit's,  which  kept 
supplies  and  ammunition  going  up  a  dreadful  moun- 
tain road  which  may  fairly  be  described  as  a  precipice. 

Take  him  for  all  in  all,  the  Serb  is  indeed  a  man. 
I  suppose  that  under  his  own  conditions  of  Balkan 
warfare  you  could  not  possibly  find  better  fighting 
material  in  the  world,  and  we  came  to  the  conclusion 
that  all  round  he  is  easily  the  best  soldier  in  the  Bal- 
kans. He  is  strong  and  hardy,  courageous,  great  on 
bayonet  work,  and  is  not  too  much  shaken,  as  so  many 
otherwise  courageous  people  are,  by  artillery.  The 
Serbs  are,  of  course,  almost  entirely  peasants,  and 
Serbia,  being  in  normal  times  a  great  pig  and  chicken 
country,  they  are  always  very  well  fed.  The  Greek 
soldier  can  get  along  on  much  scantier  rations  than 
the  Serb. 

How  much  Serbs  are  a  peasant  race  I  realised  one 
day  up  at  Tresina,  the  Headquarters  of  the  2nd  Serbian 
Army.  As  I  was  walking  through  the  village  with 
some  Serbian  officers  one  of  them  pointed  to  a  thick- 
set old  soldier  who  was  standing  some  little  distance 
from  us,  his  hands  folded  behind  him,  in  an  attitude 
of  deep  contemplation.  "  Do  you  know  who  that  is  ?  " 
said  the  officer.  Naturally  I  replied  that  I  was  not 
acquainted  with  many  Serbian  soldiers.  The  officer 
laughed. 

''  That  is  Voivode  (Marshal)  Stepan  Stepanovitch," 
he  said.    "  He  always  dresses  like  a  simple  soldier." 

I  expressed  a  desire  to  meet  him,  but  was  gently 
dissuaded.    The  Voivode,  it  appeared,  only  spoke  Ser- 

138 


OURSELVES  AND   OUR  ALLIeS 

bian,  was  something  of  a  recluse,  loved  to  walk  by 
himself  in  contemplation,  and  was  not  given  to  con- 
versation with  anybody.  He  was  the  son  of  a  peasant, 
and  did  not  bother  to  look  like  anything  else.  Marshal 
Misitch,  the  Commander  of  the  1st  Army,  was  a  leader 
of  another  type,  and  you  felt  when  near  him  that  you 
were  in  the  presence  of  a  great  soldier.  He  is  quite 
an  unassuming  man — but  he  threw  the  Austrian  army 
twice  out  of  his  country,  and  if  Serbia's  enemies  had 
been  limited  to  the  Dual  Monarchy  there  would  have 
been  no  question  of  an  Albanian  retreat.  General 
Vasitch,  Commander  of  the  Third  Army,  was  another 
very  interesting  personality  who  made  astonishing  pro- 
gress in  his  study  of  English. 

The  Italians  we  always  found  very  sympathetic  in 
spite  of  the  difficulties  of  language.  There  is  a  uni- 
formity about  them  which  appeals  to  the  English  mind. 
One  Italian  officer  is  very  much  like  another,  and  the 
same  can  be  said  of  the  men.  They  had  other  points 
in  common  with  us,  being  extremely  neat  and  orderly 
and  great  builders  of  roads.  Their  famous  road  to 
Santi  Quaranta  vied  with  the  Seres  Road  in  construc- 
tion, although  it  did  not  have  to  bear  anything  like 
so  much  traffic.  The  Italians,  when  they  first  came, 
had  the  distinction  of  being  under  the  command  of 
perhaps  the  tallest  and  biggest  soldier  in  the  Balkans 
— General  Petitti  di  Roreto.  He  stands  six  feet  four 
or  so,  and  is  of  very  big  build.  I  remember  the  sensa- 
tion when  he  came  walking  up  the  Place  de  la  Liberte 
when  the  Italians  first  landed.  The  rolling  hand-clap- 
ping which  had  been  proceeding  as  the  ItaUans 
passed,  swelled  into  a  veritable  tornado  as  their  im- 
mense General  appeared.  The  lot  of  the  Italians  in 
the  campaign  was  similar  to  that  of  the  rest — long 
periods  of  inaction,  save  for  hard  digging,  varied  by 

189 


SALONICA   AND    AFTER 

spells  of  fierce  fighting  against  impregnable  positions. 

The  Greeks,  of  course,  began  their  relations  with  us 
under  a  great  handicap.  Although  Venizelos  had  in- 
vited us  to  Salonica,  the  Greeks  we  found  at  Salonica 
were  largely  hostile.  Things  went  from  bad  to  worse, 
and  the  name  of  Greece  was  at  zero  when  Venizelos 
came  to  Salonica.  He  it  was  who  lifted  Greece  to  her 
feet  again  in  the  eyes  of  the  Free  Nations,  and  the 
bravery  of  the  Army  later  on  did  a  good  deal  more. 
But  we  will  deal  at  greater  length  with  this  point  in 
a  later  chapter. 

Three  years  fairly  close  acquaintance  with  the  Bal- 
kans and  its  muddle  of  problems  and  races  have  en- 
abled me  to  make  up  my  mind  on  one  point  only — and 
that  is,  that  it  is  unwise  for  European  outsiders  to 
take  to  their  bosoms  any  one  Balkan  country  in  par- 
ticular. The  Serbs  have  behaved  magnificently  in  the 
war,  and  all  their  friends  hoj>e  they  will  have  their  full 
reward.  But  it  would  be  a  great  mistake  on  our  part 
to  make  a  pet  of  the  Serbs  because  of  this.  What  we 
of  the  outside  nations  want  is  the  detached  point  of 
view;  only  in  this  way  will  it  be  possible  to  see  the 
eternal  Balkan  problem  in  its  proper  perspective,  and 
enable  some  measure  of  equity  to  be  meted  out  to  the 
various  Balkan  peoples.  The  great  trouble  is  that  the 
British  Balkan  "  expert  "  is  nearly  always  violently 
prejudiced  in  favour  of  one  particular  country.  Mr. 
This  dreams  of  nothing  but  Greece ;  the  Brothers  That 
beat  the  big  drum  of  Bulgaria.  (We  saw  during  the 
war  what  sort  of  mischief  this  sort  of  thing  can  cause.) 
It  should  be  our  mission  to  try  and  hold  the  balance, 
and  to  correct,  as  far  as  possible,  distorted  local  views.* 

*  But  all  the  same  one  must  protest  against  a  letter  which  I  saw 
published  in  a  London  newspaper  of  November,  1918,  which  bade 
us,  MOW  that  w«  had  knocked  him  out  of  th«  war,  to  hasten  to  love 

140 


OURSELVES  AND   OUR  ALLIES 

Only  an  hour  before  writing  this,  I  was  talking  to  a 
Greek,  a  bank  manager  and  a  very  pleasant  man.  But, 
politics  cropping  up,  he  led  me  before  a  map  on  his 
office  wall,  and  with  terrific  heat  explained  what 
Greece,  in  bare  justice,  must  have.  There  was  no 
stopping  him.  *'  If  they  all  went  on  like  you  at  the 
Peace  Conference,"  I  said,  '*  there  would  be  another 
war  at  once."  This  irritated  him.  "It  is  your  role," 
he  said,  "  to  explain  to  the  world  what  Greece  should 
have."  "  Devil  a  bit,"  I  replied,  in  polite  French.  To 
repeat,  I  am  convinced  that  the  moment  a  man  takes 
one  Balkan  nation  specially  under  his  wing,  his  opinion 
on  Balkan  questions  becomes  for  ever  useless. 

the  Bulgar.  "  Our  men  tell  us,"  the  letter  said,  **  that  the  Bulgar 
was  a  plucky  fellow  and  a  clean  fighter.  It  will  be  our  own  fault 
if  we  fail  in  getting  into  touch  with  him.  It  behoves  us  to  make  a 
good  impression,  and  much  depends  on  our  first  appointments." 
Whatever  the  last  phrase  may  mean,  this  is  damnable.  The  letter 
went  on  to  talk  of  the  good  treatment  of  our  prisoners  in  Bulgaria. 
Unfortunately  first  impressions  of  some  observers  as  telegraphed 
from  that  country  gave  a  very  erroneous  idea  of  how  the  Bulgar 
had  behaved.  He  treated  our  men  most  horribly  and  he  treated  the 
poor  Serbs  five  times  worse.  They  wallowed  in  filth,  neglect  and 
brutality.  The  fact  is  that  there  is  a  strain  of  very  real  savagery 
running  throughout  the  Balkans  and  the  Bulgar  has  an  extra  dose 
of  it.  At  a  Peace  Conference  he  will  demand  everything  in  the 
name  of  civilization.  Confronted  with  his  atrocious  treatment  of 
prisoners  of  war,  he  will  say,  "  Well,  after  all,  you  know,  our  own 
soldiers  are  treated  much  like  that  at  any  time."  The  Turk  does 
exactly  the  same;  parades  his  veneer  when  in  contact  with  civilized 
people,  and  winks  at  any  atrocity  that  may  be  going  on  in  the 
interior.  They  both  try  to  get  the  best  of  both  worlds.  It  is  true 
that  our  soldiers  of  the  B.S.F.,  with  their  usual  "  sportsmanship  " — 
that  baffling  quality  which  no  other  country  quite  understands — 
made  the  very  best  of  "Johnny  Bulgar"  in  every  way,  and  were 
always  ready  to  hail  any  good  point  they  found  in  him  as  opponent, 
whether  of  courage  or  anything  else.  But  our  men  who  came  troop- 
ing down  after  the  armistice  from  the  Bulgarian  prisoner  of  war 
camps  were  very  much  cured  of  any  pleasant  feeling  they  might  have 
had  that  the  Bulgars,  on  the  whole,  were  good  fellows.  They  at 
least  would  not  rush  "  to  make  a  good  impression  " — unless  it  were 
with  a  Mills  grenade.  Do  not  let  us,  for  goodness  sake,  have  any 
illusions  about  people  who  love  to  hang  villagers  in  batches,  and  then 
take  photographs  of  them.  The  Bulgar  loved  this  sort  of  thing. 
If  he  is  to  be  accepted  as  a  savage — all  right.  But  in  that  case  don't 
let  us  have  him  masquerading  in  a  frock  coat, 

141 


SALONICA  AND  AFTER 

Nor  must  we  make  the  mistake  of  thinking  that  on 
the  few  years  of  modern  civilization  which  the  various 
Balkan  nations  have  behind  them,  too  great  an  edifice 
can  immediately  be  erected.  It  will  need  patience  and 
education  and  a  few  more  years  of  the  enjoyment  of 
real  freedom  before  they  can  do  much.  Each  Balkan 
nation  has  its  virtues,  and  its  faults.  Each  nation  has 
its  statesmen — but  none  has  any  great  quantity.  We 
may  draw  a  parable  from  our  own  hard  experience  in 
Macedonia.  When  the  Seres  Road  was  first  taken  in 
hand  to  permit  of  heavy  traffic  being  run  on  it  we 
laid  down  a  surface  which  at  first  sight  looked  quite 
good  and  solid.  But  the  rains  came,  and  in  less  than 
no  time  our  pleasant  surface  of  good  road  was  pushed 
down  into  the  bottomless  mud  of  Macedonia.  We  had 
to  take  the  road  severely  in  hand  again,  put  in  a  solid 
foundation,  build  it  up  gradually  and  keep  on  building 
it  up  all  tihe  time — and  to  make  it  equal  to  its  task 
it  needed  hard,  conscientious  and  unremitting  labour. 
Something  of  the  same  kind  must  be  done  to  introduce 
into  the  Balkans  a  civilization  which  is  likely  to  endure. 
Anything  that  is  scamped  will  sink  down  into  the  mud 
again.  There  are  many  attractive  qualities  among  the 
Balkan  nations.  What  they  lack  most  of  all  is 
character,  and  it  cannot  be  built  up  in  a  few  years. 

This  brings  me  back  to  my  favourite  among  the 
Allies — the  British.  I  am  not  ashamed  to  say  that 
most,  though  not  all,  of  what  I  have  seen  in  the  war 
has  confirmed  me  in  ancient  prejudices.  I  have  been 
throughout  the  war  an  ardent  singer  of  our  own  praises. 
There  has  been  need  of  it,  because  so  few  other  people 
have  done  it.  The  other  nations  have  taken  us  at  our 
own  valuation,  and  I  am  convinced  that  during  long 
periods  this  was  a  source  of  miliilary  weakness,  because 
other  nations  thought,  naturally,  that  we  were  doing 

142 


OURSELVES  AND   OUR  ALLIES 

rather  less  than  we  said  we  were  doing,  and  concluded, 
therefore,  that  it  must  be  mighty  httle.  I  am  con- 
vinced that  we  are  the  finest  thing  turned  out  since  the 
Romans,  and  that  our  administration  everywhere  we 
go  shows  it.  (It  sounds  a  little  Hunnish  this,  but  I  am 
not  sure  that  a  two-per-cent.  dash  of  Hun  spirit 
wouldn't  sometimes  be  a  good  thing  for  us — particu- 
larly in  dealing  with  the  Huns.)  But  we  will  talk  a 
little  more  about  ourselves  in  the  next  chapter. 


148 


CHAPTER  XII. 

The  Army  from  Without. 

The  exemplary  conduct  of  the  British  soldier  was  the 
chief  theme  in  the  comment  of  most  observers  of  us 
when  in  the  Balkans.  I  don't  for  a  moment  pretend 
that  we  had  not  '*  bad  hat's  "  amongst  us.  Most  com- 
manding officers  could  enlighten  one  on  that  point. 
But  there  was  something  about  the  general  conduct  and 
attitude  of  our  men  which  inspired  confidence  wherever 
tliey  went.  If  Tommy  were  about,  then  the  people 
whom  he  was  near  felt  that  everything  was  all  right. 
What  did  M.  Repyoules  say? — ''The  British  are  prac- 
tically worshipped  throughout  the  whole  of  Macedonia. 
....  What  is  the  power  behind  the  goodness  of 
character  ?  And  how  is  it  gained  ?  By  nature  ?  No  ! 
By  bearing,  education  and  will.  Their  intentions  are 
always  straight,  their  thoughts  innocent,  and  they 
never  misuse  their  power.  .  .  .  Not  even  the  most  ill- 
educated  Englishman,  even  when  intoxicated,  molests 
anyone,  hurts  anyone,  hurts  an  animal,  touches  a  fruit 
tree,  or  displays  any  vicious  tendency.  Heredity  has 
not  left  in  the  British  character  a  trace  of  brutality  or 
barbarism." 

I  think  it  is  mostly  true,  and  the  heart  of  the  whole 
tribute  is,  "  They  never  misuse  their  power."  It  never 
occurs  to  the  British  soldier  that  because  he  is  in  uni- 
form, occupying  somebody  else's  country,  he  has  a 
right  to  do  things  which  he  would  not  dare  to  do  in 
his  own.     He  is  just  as  good-humoured  to  the  Balkan 

144 


THE  ARMY  FROM  WITHOUT 

peasant  woman  as  be  would  be  to  one  of  the  *'  lydie*  " 
who  sell  flowers  on  the  fountain  in  Piccadilly  Circus. 
He  doesn't  think  that  because  he,  a  foreign  soldier, 
sees  a  Balkan  chicken  he  has  a  mandate  to  "  pinch  " 
it.  It  simply  doesn't  occur  to  him  to  play  the  con- 
quering warrior  game.  He  has  a  phrase  of  his  own 
which  shows  this.  He  speaks  of  himself  as  "  the  brutal 
and  licentious  soldiery,"  and  we  all  know  that  once 
Tommy  has  made  a  joke  of  a  thing  he  has  absolutely 
robbed  it  of  its  sting.  The  same  British  Colonel  whom 
I  have  already  once  quoted  (and  who,  by  the  way,  was  a 
markedly  cynical,  man-of-the-world  type)  told  me  that 
in  several  years  experience  with  his  Division  he  had  not 
known  a  single  case  of  assault  on  women,  and  had  any 
such  occurred  the  case  must  have  come  through  his 
hands.  And  yet  we  employed  a  great  deal  of  female 
labour  in  road-making,  with  men  of  ours  constantly  in 
charge  of  them.  "  Of  course.  ..."  the  Colonel  added 
with  a  twinkle.  He  would,  being  the  cynic  he  is.  But 
his  testimony  remains,  and  is  all  the  more  valuable  as 
coming  from  one  who  was  in  no  way  swayed  by  senti- 
mentality, and  who  had  shed  all  his  illusions  long 
before  he  came  to  Macedonia.  Tommy  was  a  great 
civilising  force  in  Macedonia.  Even  the  most  mulish 
of  the  peasants — and  they  can  be  very  mulish — began 
to  realise  that  something  new  was  abroad  :  that  soldiers 
could  be  up  and  down  the  roads  and  on  the  side  tracks 
everywhere  and  that  nobody's  head  was  broken,  no 
woman  was  carried  off,  and  no  chickens  or  eggs  were 
looted.  In  many  places  far  off  the  beaten  tracks  the 
peasants  were  encouraged  to  bring  their  produce  from 
miles  round  and  hold  a  market.  Here  Tommy  bar- 
gained— "  Hey,  Johnny,  how  much  them  eggs.  .  .  . 
Eggs,  uffs.  Idey,  how  much?"  It  was  not  long,  of 
cours«,  before  the  Balkan  peasant  having  lost  all  fear 

145  V 


SALONICA  AND  AFTER 

of  our  soldiers  began  to  exploit  them.  The  primitive 
mind  rebounds  quickly  from  fear  to  profit.  .  .  .  How 
long  the  t^races  of  civilization  we  left  will  remain,  or 
whether  or  not  they  will  be  the  real  beginning  of  a 
permanently  better  order  of  affairs  in  Macedonia,  de- 
pends on  many  things. 

The  writer  occupied  during  the  best  part  of  three 
yeaj-s  the  rather  singular  position  of  being  of  an  Army 
and  yet  not  in  it,  and  so  while  knowing  something  of  its 
inside  workings,  can  yet  look  on  it  from  an  outside 
point  of  view.  And  my  final  impression  of  the  British 
Army  is  one  of  great  efficiency,  even  though  in  many 
instances  we  spent  more  money  to  do  a  thing  than  w^e 
need  have  done,  and  in  others  had  more  men— or  offi- 
cers—  tb  do  a  job  than  we  need  have  had.  But  there 
is  no  doubt  about  it  that  the  Army  gets  things  done, 
once  it  thinks  of  doing  them.  We  heard,  during  the 
wax,  a  great  deal  about  the  circumlocution  of  the  Army, 
and  how  a  request  or  an  order  or  a  suggestion  travels 
round  and  round  from  office  to  office  until  it  dies  of 
giddiness.  No  doubt  there  is  a  great  deal  of  that,  but 
though  *'  the  system  "  may  have  its  faults,  I  think  it 
gets  there  in  the  end.  I  used  to  be  fascinated  by  the 
way  in  which,  if  I  asked  for  a  thing,  it  travelled  round 
its  appointed  circle  inevitably  as  fate  and  came  back- 
generally  granted.  In  many  ways  the  Army  is  extra- 
ordinarily buiiness-like.  I  was  always  impressed  by 
the  desks  in  the  Army  offices ;  severely  neat ;  nothing 
out  of  place;  all  sorts  of  little  gadgets  for  keeping 
straying  j>encils  or  pens  in  their  places ;  a  nice  orderly 
row  of  wooden  receptacles  marked,  ''In,"  "  Provi- 
sional," "  Out,"  and  so  on.  They  were  like  the 
sanitary  arrangements  in  all  the  camps;  amazingly 
clean,  severe  and  business-like.  There  ought  to  be  a 
special  medal  struck  for  the  men  of  the  Sanitary  Sec- 

146 


THE  ARMY  FHOM  WITHOUT 

tions,  and  their  yellow  armlet  should  be  regarded  as  a 
badge  of  honour.  Here  is  one  jx)int  at  least  in  which 
the  war  must  have  taught  invaluable  lessons  to  hun- 
dreds of  thousands  of  men.  M.  Repoules  might  have 
said  that  next  to  the  godliness  of  the  British  soldier 
comes  his  cleanliness. 

As  a  rule,  I  found  the  Army  extraordinarily  prompt 
in  dealing  with  any  matter  put  before  them.  I  never 
felt  this  so  much  as  in  the  case  of  a  pair  of  old  boots. 
I  had  sent  these  to  the  Officers'  (Ordnance)  Clothing 
Store,  where  boots  were  tiaken  in  to  be  repaired.  A 
few  days  later  there  was  a  ring  on  the  telephone  : — 

"  That  you.  .  .  .  ?  Just  had  a  report  in  about  a  pair 
of  boots  of  yours  sent  in  for  repair  on  the  17th.  Report 
says :  '  Reference,  etc.,  etc.,  etc.,  the  welt  on  these 
boots  is  entirely  gone,  and  to  be  repaired  properly  they 
will  need  re-welting.  Cost  of  this  will  be  fourteen 
shillings.  Please  enquire  whether  sender  will  be  willing 
to  pay  this  amount.'  Well  now,  what  about  it?  Do 
you  think  it  is  worth  your  while  to  have  these  boots 
re-welted  ?  Of  course,  old  boots  are  always  better  to 
weaj  than  new." 

"  I  quite  agree  with  you.  They're  a  very  comfort- 
able pair.     I'll  pay  the  fourteen  shillings  cheerfully." 

*'  Right.  That's  all  I  wanted  to  know.  I'll  send  it 
through.  .  .  .     Oh,  four  or  five  days.     Cheero." 

Now  if  anybody  had  bothered  me  about  a  pair  of 
old  boots !  But  it  was  this  officer's  job  to  deal  with 
old  boots,  among  many  other  things,  and  he  treated  the 
matter  just  as  he  would  if  he  had  suddenly  been  ordered 
to  staxt  a  potato  farm,  or  take  a  trip  round  Macedonia 
and  see  what  were  the  prospects  of  the  hay  crop. 

It  was  my  fortune  to  have  a  good  deal  to  do  with 
Staff  officers.  In  the  lighter  literature  of  the  war  one 
reads  a  great  deal  about  ''  a  gilded  member  of  the  Staff 

147 


SALONICA  AND  AFTER 

appeared,"  or,  *'  Of  course,  if  you're  on  the  Staff,"  or, 
"  I  met  a  Staff  officer  the  other  day."  I  saw  lots  of 
Staff  officers  nearly  every  day;  talked  with  them, 
smoked  with  them,  even  joked  with  them.  Like  the 
schoolmarm  of  whom  the  little  girl  said  in  an  awe- 
struck whisper,  "  Look,  Mother,  there's  Teacher 
smiling,"  Staff  officers  are  really  quitte  human.  After 
prolonged  study  of  them  I  am  convinced  that  the  old, 
authentic  regular  Staff  officer  is  in  many  ways  one  of 
the  best  types  turned  out  by  Dame  Nature.  Take  him 
for  all  in  all,  the  Englishman  of  a  certain  class  cannot 
be  beaten.  But  with  all  his  qualities  I  think  our  regular 
Staff  officer,  P.S.C.,  or  otherwise,  has  often  one  great 
lack — he  is  not  in  touch  sufficiently  with  general,  ordin- 
ary, contemporary  life.  To  this  it  may  be  replied  that 
a  military  expert  has  only  need  tb  know  about  military 
affairs.  But  the  Great  War  showed  how  elastic  and 
wide  military  affairs  can  be.  One  often  felt  that  a  Staff 
officer  might  be  excellent  at  his  job ;  he  was  probably 
also  a  first-class  man  at  sport,  and  might  know  a  great 
deal  about  music,  literature  or  anything  else.  But  he 
had  never  seen  enough  of  existence  as  the  average 
man  knows  it,  and  remained  a  little  aloof  from  the 
world's  ordinary  affairs.  In  short,  he  was  a  little  too 
stiff  and  elevated  in  his  attitude  to  life — ordinary  life, 
which  does  not  include  merely  the  best  things  which 
merely  the  best  people  engage  in.  I  think  that  the 
ideal  training  for  a  Staff  officer  should  give  him  a  year's 
experience  of  life  in  more  varied  forms ;  send  him,  say, 
to  knock  roimd  New  York  for  a  year  so  that  he  could 
learn  to  say  "  See  here,  now  "  without  blushing;  send 
him  for  a  year  to  live  in  certain  places  in  Yorkshire 
and  Lancashire,  so  that  he  could  appreciate  that  this 
great  Empire  of  ours  contains  such  things  as  factory 
operatives ;  or  even  give  him  a  year's  general  experience 

148 


THE  ARMY  FROM  WITHOUT 

in  Fleet  Street.  Then,  I  think  we  could  turn  out  the 
perfect  man ;  the  Regular  Staff  Officer  who  has  rubbed 
shoulders  with  the  real  world  and  met  people  who  when 
you  use  the  word  *^polo"  think  of  a  football  being 
thrown  about  in  a  swimming  bath.  I  say  this  with  all 
the  more  conviction  because  several  such  men  exist, 
and  I  have  met  them.  I  know  one  who  combined  the 
traditions  of  a  good  name,  and  years  spent  in  a  Lancer 
Regiment,  with  a  considerable  experience  in  a  commer- 
cial branch  of  life  in  which  he  had  to  compete  for  his 
living.  The  result  was  marvellous  and,  applied  to  his 
particular  job,  did  quite  a  lot  of  good  to  the  B.S.F. 
He  looked  through  an  angle  about  four  times  wider 
than  he  would  have  done  without  his  experience  of 
ordinary  "common  or  garden"  life.  Napoleon  inten- 
ded to  be  rude  when  he  called  us  a  nation  of  shop- 
keepers, but  if  it  helped  us  in  beating  the  Boehe  a 
little  quicker  "next  time,"  I  should  be  quite  happy  to 
see  a  Passed  Staff  College  man  keeping  a  tobacco  stall 
for  a  little  while.  His  democratic  experience  behind 
the  counter  would  be  an  invaluable  training,  giving  him 
experience  in  dealing  with  all  possible  types  of  men, 
from  shag  to  Corona-Coronas. 

Having  thrown  so  many  bouquets  at  the  Staff  Officer 
one  must  certainly  say  something  about  the  Regimen- 
tal Officer  who  came  down  to  town  on  his  infrequent 
shopping  excursions  and  who,  in  the  words  of  "The 
Song  of  Tiadatha  "  :  — 

"  In  his  hob-nailed  boots  he  slithered 
Up  and  down  Rue  Venizelos." 

The  plain,  unvarnished  Regimental  Officer  was  a 
factor  who  was  very  largely  responsible  in  keeping  our 
Macedonian  show  together,  through  sickness  and  long 
discouragement.  I  got  to  know  some  hundreds  of 
th€m  personially,  and  some  scores  of  them  very  well 

149 


SALONICA  AND  AFTER 

indeed.  They  were  always  the  same ;  unfailingly  cheer- 
ful and  making  a  joke  of  the  things  that  irked  most. 
When  I  say  "unfailingly  cheerful,"  I  don't  mean  that 
they  thought  the  war  a  pleasant  occupation.  They 
hated  it  from  the  soles  of  their  boots  upwards,  and 
sometimes  asked  pathetically,  "How  long  do  you  think 
it  will  last  ?  .  .  .  Another  two  YEARS  !  For  God's  sake, 
don't  say  that!"  It  was  a  cri  du  coeur,  all  right. 
They  loathed  Macedonia,  and  had  every  reason  to. 
The  interminable  trenches,  with  only  an  occasional 
spell  out  of  the  line — further  back  somewhere  on  yet 
another  hillside;  the  same  old  Bulgar  mountains 
always  looking  down  wherever  they  were;  perhaps  a 
course  of  machine-guns  or  trench-mortars  as  a  doubt- 
ful break  in  the  monotony;  a  spell  down  at  a  Base 
hospital  with  a  "go"  of  malaria  or  a  fragment  of  Bul- 
gar shell  received  in  a  "stunt,"  with — the  best  thing  of 
all — a  stay  at  the  pleasant  Officers'  Convalescent , Home 
up  at  Hortiach  to  follow ;  and  then  back  again  up  the 
line  on  the  same  old  round.  There  was  a  good  deal 
more  fighting  on  t!he  Balkan  front  than  the  people  at 
home  were  aware  of,  and  some  sectors  of  trenches, 
under  very  frequent  artillery  fire,  which  were  as  warm 
as  anything  in  France.  One  never  knew,  as  they  went 
back  again,  whether  they  would  turn  up  once  more  for 
another  dinner  at  the  White  Tower  or  the  Club.  One 
always  had  a  keen  personal  interest  to  know  what  bat- 
talions had  been  engaged.  But  if  it  was  not  one,  it  was 
another,  and  quite  a  number  of  cheery  faces  which  one 
hoped  to  see  in  after  years  are  now  missing  for  ever. 
Bismarck  said  that  the  Balkans  were  not  worth  the 
bones  of  a  single  Pomeranian  Grenadier.  But  a  good 
many  very  fine  Britons  are  lying  there. 

And  the  Men  ?     For  two  years  and  more  Salonica 
saw  next  to  nothing  of  our  soldiers  of  the  front  line. 

150 


THE  ARMY  FROM  WITHOUT 

Courtesans  and  contractors  had  made  their  fortunes; 
Constantine  had  played  his  long  trick  and  lost; 
Britain  had  changed  from  a  land  where  no  man  had 
to  be  a  soldier,  into  a  land  where  men  of  fifty  were 
forced  to  be  soldiers,  and  still  the  troops  who  moved  up- 
country  in  1916  had  not  paid  a  visit  to  Salonica,  unless 
it  were  in  aji  ambulance.  It  was  only  at  the  beginning 
of  1918  that  it  was  found  practicable  to  bring  parties 
of  these  men  down  to  the  Base  for  a  sort  of  semi-leave, 
and  I  remember  seeing  the  first  groups  of  them  walking 
along  our  main  streets.  There  was  not  much  to  boast 
of,  but  there  were  trams  and  pavements  and  real 
houses,  and  they  were  looking  round  about  them  with 
all  the  naive  wonder  of  a  yokel  on  his  first  visit  to 
London.  Think  of  that,  O  ye  Comedians  who  sang, 
"If  you  want  a  holiday  go  to  Salonica,"  or  whatever 
the  silly  thing  was.  Some  of  our  men  certainly  went 
to  Salonica  for  a  holiday,  but  it  was  after  sticking  it 
for  two  and  a  half  years  or  more  up  in  the  wilderness. 

And  how  they  cliafed  at  the  misconception  and  laxik 
of  recognition  at  home  !  People  simply  do  not  under- 
stand how  this  rankled  and  ate  into  them.  A  says  care- 
lessly an  unkind  thing  of  B»  The  thing  probably 
passes  out  of  ^'s  mind  immediately,  and  is  for  ever 
forgotten.  But  if  by  chance  B  has  happened  to  over- 
hear it — well,  he  never  forgets.  It  was  exactly  the 
same  with  the  unthinking  people — comedians  and 
others — who  said,  or  wrote,  ill-natured  things  of  the 
Salonica  Army.  With  the  people  at  home  it  was  merely 
a  passing  reference,  light  as  air,  fleeting  as  thought. 
There  were  so  many  other  and  more  interesting  things 
to  think  about.  But  the  men  out  in  Macedonia  thought 
over  these  things,  brooded  over  them,  discussed  them 
rancor ously  in  '*  bivvy  "  or  trench.  What  was  the 
good  of  passing  years  in  the  Balkans  for  fat-minded 

151 


SALONICA  AND  AFTER 

people  at  home  who  didn't  care  a  damn  ! ;  who  thought 
they  were  having  a  ''good  time  in  Salonica"  ?  Oh, 
but  there  was  some  language  used  about  the  people  at 
home. 

And  this  is,  perhaps,  the  place  to  say  that  the  reader 
of  these  pages  who  does  not  happen  to  know  Macedonia 
may  have  gathered  the  impression  that  it  is  a  moder- 
ately pleasant  place  to  live  in.  There  is  quite  a  lot  of 
talk  in  them  of  striking  scenery,  of  Army  Theatres, 
cheery  mess  rooms,  and  so  on.  But  if  an  idea  has  been 
given  that  campaigning  in  the  Balkans  has  anything 
pleasant  about  it  for  the  average  man  in  the  ranks,  that 
idea  should  be  abandoned.  Unless  you  have  lived  the 
life  of  "bivvies" ;  unless  you  have  lived  for  tbree  years 
in  all  weathers  witiiout  ever  a  proper  roof  to  your  head, 
and,  as  a  rule,  in  considerable  discomfort;  unless  you 
have  splashed  about  for  weeks  on  end  in  mud  and  sleet, 
or  lived  on  the  baked,  scorched  earth  through  an  in- 
terminable six-months  summer,  with  chlorinated  water 
as  your  only  drink — well,  if  you  have  not  lived  this  life 
you  cannot  hope  to  describe  it.  And  the  writer  was 
lucky  enough  not  to  have  been  living  that  particular 
life,  and  so  has  perhaj>s  not  brought  it'  home  sufficiently 
to  the  reader.  But  the  men  lived  it,  and  they  know, 
and  no  doubt  some  day  some  of  them  will  adequately 
describe  it.  Why,  it  was  a  red-letter  day  for  the  men 
up-country  if  they  tasted  beer — and  even  then  it  was 
only  a  thin  Salonica  brew.  "What  of  that,"  the  reader 
may  say.  "A  man  can  go  without  beer." 
But  the  Salonica  campaign  taught  me  all  the 
good  and  comfort  that  can  reside  for  very 
many  men  in  a  simple  pot  of  beer.  It  is  not  a 
mere  drink,  to  be  poured  down  a  man's  throat  just  to 
''wet  his  whistle."  The  drinking  of  beer  is  a  ritlial 
that  enshrines  most  that  he  holds  dear,  that  brings 

152 


THE  ARMY  FROM  WITHOUT 

him  nearer  tb  home  and  all  it  means  to  him ;  that  con- 
jures up  all  the  scenes  which  were  good  or  familiar  to 
him  in  the  days  before  war  claimed  him.  It  means  to 
him  what  cut  glass  and  finger  bowls  mean  to  some 
other  people.  A  single  pot  of  beer  can  mean  all  the 
difference  between  final  "fed-upness"  and  a  cheerful 
view  of  campaigning.  We  are  sympathetic  to  the 
French  soldier's  love  of  his  thin  red  wine.  Let  us  then 
be  sympathetic  to  the  British  soldier's  love  for  his 
ration  of  beer — when  good  fortune  brought  it.  The 
two  things  are  exactly  parallel.  Of  course,  in  the  New 
Armies  there  was  a  very  large  proportion  of  men  who 
were  entirely  indifferent  to  the  subtleties  which  may 
be  contained  in  a  beer  mug.  But  if  they  didn't  want 
their  own  pot  of  beer  there  was  no  service  they  could 
not  readily  get  in  exchange  for  it. 

After  the  victorious  offensive  in  1918,  the  Bishop  of 
London,  who  was  out  visiting  the  Balkan  Army,  wrote 
a  letter  to  the  Times  which,  in  the  hie^ry  of  Salonica, 
may  well  rank  with  St.  Paul's  epistles  to  the  Thessa- 
lonians.  In  it  he  asked  eloquently  for  fairness  to  a 
gallant  force,  and  in  commenting  on  the  letter,  the 
Times  put  its  fmger  right  on  the  spot.  "Few  of  us  at 
home,"  it  said,  "have  any  conception  how  much  our 
praise,  and  when  necessary  our  criticism,  if  only  it  is 
sympathetic,  means  for  the  Armies  at  the  front — ^how 
much  it  sustains  them  in  their  trials  and  spurs  them 
to  fresh  efforts  to  victory.  .  .  These  men  in  our  Eastern 
Armies  have  had  the  dust  and  toil,  without  the  laurel, 
of  the  race  to  Victory." 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  the  British  troops  in  the  Balkans 
were  particularly  good  men.  The  four  Divisions 
mainly  concerned  in  the  campaign  were  all  of  splendid 
quality.  One  might  even  call  it  a  picked  Army.  Aver- 
age troops   could   certainly   not  have   stuck  the   long 

158 


SALONICA  AND  AFTER 

campaign,  and  rallied  so  magnificently  for  the  final 
desperate  enterprise,  as  General  Milne  describes  in  his 
1919  despatch.  But  such  was  the  fatality  which  pur- 
sued our  Salonica  Army  that  even  when  the  great 
break-through  occurred  their  names  hardly  figured  in 
the  general  communique,  which  was  issued  from  the 
French  command,  and  the  people  at  home  knew  that 
there  had  been  a  great  Balkan  victory  without  knowing 
that  our  men  had  played  a  vital  part  in  winning  it. 

And  while  we  are  on  this  subject  it  will  be  as  well  to 
give  part  of  an  interview  which  a  French  correspon- 
dent, M.  Gaston  Richard,  had  with  one  of  the  leading 
French  commanders  in  the  Balkans,  and  which  was 
published  in  the  Petit  Parisien.  I  took  it  from  a  Con- 
stantinople paper  which  had  copied  it. 

*'The  Allied  Armies  were  marvellously  keyed  up,  and 
their  high  moral  certainly  dominated  that  of  the  Bul- 
gars.  No  Army  endeavoured  to  act  alone,  and  this 
harmony  of  forces  counted  for  a  great  deal  in  the 
decision. 

''Let  us  take  for  example  the  work  of  the  Anglo- 
Greek  Army  which  operated  on  a  front  where  the  enemy 
was  constantly  expecting  to  be  attacked,  and  where 
he  had  in  consequence  multiplied  his  defences,  brought 
up  great  reserves,  and  placed  in  position  an  enormous 
quantity  of  artillery.  Behind  this  thick  curtain  of 
defences,  and  in  view  of  an  offensive  on  their  own 
part,  the  enemy  had  gathered  formidable  reserves  of 
material.  The  mission  of  the  Anglo-Greek  Army  was  to 
pin  the  enemy  to  the  ground  and  to  oblige  him  to  em- 
ploy his  reserves  in  order  to  prevent  him  sending  them 
to  pK)ints  menaced  elsewhere.  This  role  it  filled  mar- 
vellously, and  if  you  had  been  able  to  be  present  at 
all  that  it  accomplished,  you  would  have  been 
enthusiastic. 

154 


THE  ARMY  FROM  WITHOUT 

"And  when  later,  the  Bulgars  evacuated  the  Doiran 
front  in  order  to  fly  towards  StVumitza,  the  Anglo- 
Greek  Army,  in  pressing  the  pursuit  with  energy,  pre- 
vented any  re-grouping  of  divisions  and  contributed 
to  change  the  enemy  refreat  into  an  irremediable  rout. 
This  must  be  said  for  the  honour  of  truth." 

We  ask  for  no  more  definite  tribute  as  to  the  part 
of  the  B.S.F.  in  the  great  victory  which  was  the  real 
and  authentic  beginning  of  the  end.  "We  knocked  the 
props  one  by  one  from  under  him,"  said  Mr.  Lloyd 
George.     Doiran  was  the  first  prop. 

In  Salonica  we  had,  at  one  time  and  another,  very 
many  interesting  personalities.  There  was  the  Crown 
Prince  of  Serbia,  rather  austere  of  countenance,  who 
was  not  very  often  seen  about.  He  was  often  up  at 
the  Serbian  front,  but  when  in  Salonica  kept  very 
much  to  his  residence  and  his  work.  One  of  the  few 
occasions  on  which  I  remember  seeing  him  abroad  was 
on  H.M.S.  "St.  George,"  the  Depot  ship,  which  was 
one  of  Salonica 's  greatest  institutions,  on  the  occasion 
of  St.  George's  Day.  Then  we  had  M.  Venizelos,  who 
was  with  us  for  a  long  while,  and  occasionally  M.  Pas- 
itch,  Serbia's  veteran  statesman.  Essad  Pasha, 
Albania's  Chieftain,  lived  in  a  large  house  in  the 
fashionable  end  of  the  town ;  and  during  the  long  period 
when  he  reigned  supreme,  General  Sarrail,  Commander- 
in-Chief  of  the  Allied  Armies,  was  often  to  be  seen 
about.  Tall,  handsome,  white-haired  and  energetic. 
General  Sarrail  graced  most  functions  with  his  presence. 
He  loved  to  see  and  be  seen,  and  had  the  gift  for  mixing 
with  men  of  all  kinds.  And  at  various  times  we  had 
many  other  striking  personalities  with  us. 

But  there  was  one  whose  presence  also  meant  a  great 
deal  in  Salonica,  who  was  practically  unknown  to  the 

155 


SALONICA  AND  AFTER 

Salonica  public.  I  refer  to  General  Sir  George  Milne, 
the  British  Army  Commander.  The  two  Generals  were 
extraordinarily  contrasted,  and  one  avoided  publicity 
as  much  as  the  other  appreciated  it.  General  Milne 
spent  a  very  large  part  of  his  time  up-country.  During 
three  years  his  journeys  by  motor  car  averaged  75  miles 
a  day,  excluding  great  distances  from  point'  to  point 
on  horseback.  One  may  say  of  our  General  that  he  was 
largely  typical  of  his  Army.  Out  of  the  limelight,  say- 
ing little,  doing  much — this  may  stand  fairly  as  the 
motto  of  the  British  Salonica  Forces. 


156 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

The  Conversion  of  Greece. 

Few  chapters  of  the  Great  War  are  more  interesting 
and  more  strange  than  the  conversion  of  Greece,  by 
which  gradually  she  ceased  to  be  an  active  enemy 
under  King  Constantine,  passed  through  a  long  and 
difficult  period  under  Venizelos  after  the  expulsion  of 
the  false  monarch,  and  finally  emerged  as  one  of  the 
Allies,  sending  her  Divisions  into  the  line  of  battle 
and  taking  a  gallant  part  in  the  final  offensive,  which 
brought  us  to  victory.  All  nations  are  prone  to  think 
very  well  of  their  own  virtues  and  some  of  the  Greeks 
flatter  themselves  that  it  was  their  help,  brought  into 
the  Balkan  Theatre  at  a  vital  time,  which  won  the 
war.  We  will  let  them  argue  this  point  out  with  some 
Americans.  What  is  certain  is  that  the  conversion  of 
the  Greek  Army  from  a  source  of  danger  at  one  of  our 
weakest  points  to  a  powerful  Ally — from  a  Balkan 
point  of  view — fighting  for  us  in  its  own  territory,  com- 
pletely changed  the  aspect  of  things  in  the  Balkans  and 
gave  us  the  factor  which  made  a  renewed  offensive  on 
the  Balkan  front  possible. 

And  what  a  chapter  it  was  of  intrigue  and  lying  and 
falseness  !  When  the  full  sftory  of  what  happened  in 
Athens  is  told,  it  will  prove  to  be  the  most  amazing 
jumble  of  espionage  and  counter-espionage  of  the  whole 
war.  It  was  mediaeval,  cloak  and  dagger  work,  with 
spies,  mistresses,  courtesans,  politicians  and  statesmen 
all  playing   their   part;   with  the   sinister   serio-oomic 

157 


SALONICA  AND  AFTER 

figures  of  Baron  Schenk,  of  Germany — with  his  millions 
for  propaganda  and  bribes — ^and  King  Constantine  (also 
of  Germad||(  overhanging  all.  A  point  that  was  not 
quite  sufficiently  appreciated  in  those  days  was  that 
Constantine  was  first  of  all  a  German  Field  Marshal, 
and  that  being  King  of  Greece  was,  in  his  mind,  a  very 
Becondary  affair.  From  his  point  of  view,  with  his 
German  military  training,  the  one  was  an  infinitely 
gre^r  honour  than  the  other.  He  was  just  as  keen 
onJmping  the  "field-greys"  sweep  conquering  through 
th^^orld  as  was  the  Kaiser  himself.  He  was  in  addi- 
tion'a  rather  stupid  and  very  stubborn  man,  very  much 
under  the  influence  of  his  German  wife,  the  Kaiser's 
sister,  and  finally  he  was  frantically  jealous  of  Venize- 
los  and  his  influence  with  the  country. 

In  those  most  difficult  days  of  1916,  no  man  would 
seem  ever  to  have  had  such  an  impossible  task  ahead 
of  him  as  had  Venizelos.  He  might,  by  some  almost 
Divine  inspiration,  beheve  in  the  final  success  of  the 
Allies,  but  what  was  there  to  make  the  average  Greek 
feel  A|  The  forces  of  snobbery  were  as  powerful  in 
AthSJ  as  anywhere  else.  The  King  was  the  King : 
he  wM  closely  allied  to  the  great  potentate  who  seemed 
to  have  the  fate  of  the  world  in  his  hand,  and  to  prac- 
tically every  other  royal  house  as  well.  The  German 
arms  seemed  to  many  people  to  be  invincible.  It  was 
quite  a  big  thing  for  Athenians  to  follow  Venizelos  into 
exile  in  Macedonia,  leaving  all  that  the  King  and  his 
Court  and  the  pro-German  capital  meant  behind  them, 
and  rally  round  the  standard  of  revolt  in  Macedonia. 
Of  course  it  had  been  done  many  times  before  in  his- 
tory, and  no  doubt  will  be  done  again.  And  there  is 
one  point  about  the  Macedonian  Revolution,  which 
Venizelos  came  up  to  Salonica  to  lead,  which  marks  it 
out  from  most  others.     It  was  only  made  possible  by 

158 


THE   CX)NVERSION   OF  GREECE 

the  presence  of  the  Allies  in  Greece,  and  could  not  have 
taken  place  without  them.  The  movement  could  de- 
clare itself  with  safety  in  Salonica,  because  the  presence 
of  the  Allies  made  it  impossible  for  Constantine's  arm 
to  reach  it!s  followers.  The  Alhes  did  not  at  first  en- 
courage the  revolution,  because  Greece  was  still  nomin- 
ally a  neutral  country.  But  anybody  who  took  part 
in  initiating  the  movement,  or  who  came  there  to  join 
it,  was  sure  of  a  safe  asylum.  Venizelos  himself  would 
have  been  quite  powerless  without  this  great  factor. 
And  there  were  many  Greeks  who  were  quick  to  see  that 
it  had  become  a  "heads  I  win,  tails  you  lose,"  sort  of 
situation.  If  Germany  won  the  war,  then  Constantine 
would  secure  all  he  wanted  from  his  brother-in-law. 
And  if  the  Allies  won,  they  would  not  be  able  to  forget 
Venizelos  and  his  loyalty  to  them.  The  leaders  of  the 
revolutionary  movement  may  no  doubt  be  acquitted  of 
the  idea  of  thinking  on  these  lines,  but  this  aspect  of  the 
situation  certainly  appealed  to  many  people. 

As  has  already  been  made  plain,  when  the  Allies 
landed  in  Salonica  they  found  themselves  in  the  toils 
of  an  extraordinary  web  of  hostile  influence  which  ham- 
pered their  movements  in  every  direction.  Everything 
we  did  was  known  to  the  Greeks ;  their  Army  surroun- 
ded us  and  could  at  any  moment  have  cut  the  railways 
and,  during  the  retreat,  left  the  Franco-British  an  easy 
prey  to  the  Bulgars;  and  Salonica  positively  swarmed 
with  German  agents  paid  by  Baron  Schenk  from  Athens. 
And  the  situation  was  enormously  complicated  by  the 
fact  that  Greece  was  not  a  declared  enemy,  but  a  covert 
one;  and  that  Constantine,  aided  by  his  shifty  crew 
of  Scouloudis,  Lambros,  Dousmanis  and  Co.,  knew 
exactly  how  to  play  fast  and  loose  with  the  Chancel- 
leries of  the  Allies.  The  Army  Commanders  at  Salonica 
had  not  a  free  hand  in  dealing  with  the  menace  which 

159 


SALONICA  AND  AFTER 

encompassed  them.  They  were  there  to  be  "shot  at," 
but,  for  a  long  time,  could  not  reply.  Constantine 
thought  he  had  us  in  a  net,  and  that  sooner  or  later 
he  would  be  able  to  hand  us  over  en  bloc  to  his  friends 
the  enemy.  Even  as  far  as  he  went  he  was  one  of  the 
most  successful  of  Prussia's  Field  Marshals,  but  what 
he  accomplished  was  nothing  to  what  he  plotted. 

However,  General  Sarrail  was  not  the  man  to  stand 
too  much  nonsense,  and  following  a  German  air  raid 
on  the  town  on  December  30th,  1915,  which  amounted 
to  a  declaration  by  the  enemy  that  Salonica  was  no 
longer  neutral  territory,  he  immediately  cleared  out  all 
the  enemy  Consulates — German,  Austrian,  Bulgarian, 
and  Turkish,  taking  all  their  archives  and  packing  all 
t!he  personnel  off  by  sea.  All  these  Consulates  were 
so  many  organised  centres  of  espionage.  In  the  lull 
which  followed  the  active  military  operations  of  the 
expedition  to  try  and  help  Serbia,  there  was  no  lack  of 
incident.  German  Zeppelins  and  aeroplanes  bombed 
the  town,  and  on  the  night  of  May  4-5,  1916,  a  Zeppelin 
was  brought  down,  without  having  dropped  a  bomb, 
by  the  guns  of  the  Fleet  and  the  Allied  anti-aircraft 
guns,  falling  in  the  Vardar  marshes.  It  was  generally 
believed  that  the  honour  fell  to  H.M.S.  Agamenmon, 
but  the  point  always  rested  in  dispute.  A  little  before 
this,  the  Greek  fort  of  Kara-Bouroun,  which  dominated 
the  entrance  to  the  Gulf,  was  captured  by  a  happy 
operation  which  was  so  well  and  suddenly  carried  out 
as  to  leave  Constantine 's  men  nothing  to  do  but  gasp. 
All  the  time  the  organisation  of  the  "Birdcage"  was 
going  on  feverishly,  and  the  troops  which  came  out 
expecting  to  fight  almost  as  they  landed,  found  instead 
that  they  had  many  weeks  of  hard  digging  ahead  of 
them.  The  whole  of  the  Greek  frontier  had  become 
very  debateable  ground,  which  the  Bulgars  might  cross 

160 


THE   CONVERSION    OF  GREECE 

at  any  time.  The  Allies  hastened  to  take  up  various 
strategical  points,  from  Fiorina  on  the  west  to  the 
Struma  on  the  east;  here  and  there  our  cavalry  was 
in  touch  with  the  enemy;  vital  railway  bridges  were 
blown  up.  This  was  more  than  justified  by  events 
soon  to  follow.  At  the  end  of  May,  Constantine's  party 
accomplished  its  greatest  treachery  up  to  date.  The 
forts  and  passes  barring  his  country  from  the  Bulgar — 
"the  beasts  with  human  faces,"  as  Constantine  had 
called  them  in  the  days  of  1912-13,  when  he  was  flat- 
tered by  the  title  of  ''The  Bulgarslayer" — were  given 
up,  and  the  Greek  Army  (with  the  exception  of  several 
stout  units)  retired  under  orders  before  the  invasion. 
The  Bulgars  swarmed  down  on  to  all  the  strategic 
points  covering  Central  and  Eastern  Macedonia.  On 
June  1st,  1916,  the  Bulgars  occupied  Rupel.  Two  days 
later  General  Sarrail  declared  a  state  of  siege  in 
Salonica.  It  was  rather  piquant  that  this  was  the 
fete  day  of  Constantine,  and  the  town  was  gay  with 
bunting  in  his  honour.  While  a  crowd  in  their  best 
clothes  were  proceeding  to  St.  Sophia  to  be  present  at 
the  solemn  Te  Deum,  Allied  patrols  and  machine-guns 
appeared  in  the  streets  at  strategic  points,  and  almost 
in  the  twinkling  of  an  eye  the  posts  and  telegraphs, 
the  veins  and  nerves  of  Constantine's  widespread  es- 
pionage system,  were  in  Allied  hands. 

When  Rupel  Fort  was  taken  by  the  Bulgars,  the 
garrison  made  some  sort  of  resistance.  But  the  tragi- 
comedy was  complete  when  later  it  was  learned  that 
by  the  orders  of  the  Athens  clique  the  shots  fired  had 
been  blank,  and  that  the  surrender  had  been  frankly 
"  greased  "  by  a  new  loan  from  Germany.  So  may 
men,  at  the  bidding  of  an  overpowering  desire  or  ob- 
session, juggle  with  the  honour  of  their  country.  The 
invasion  of  Eastern  Macedonia  continued  with  little  to 

161  M 


SALONICA  AND  AFTER 

stop  it.  At  Demir-Hissar  and  Seres,  Colonel  Christo- 
doulos,  commanding  part  of  the  6th  Greek  Division, 
made  a  spirited  defence  and  afterwards  retired  on 
Kavalla.  But  here,  early  in  August,  Colonel  Hadjo- 
poulos,  commanding  the  Greek  4th  Corps,  gave  up  most 
of  his  corps,  his  material  and  the  forts  to  the  Bulgars. 
This  base  surrender  included  10,000  men,  3  groups  of 
mountain  artillery  and  field  artillery ;  the  heavy  artil- 
lery of  the  Kavalla  forts,  7,000  reserve  rifles  and  large 
depots  of  munitions  of  all  sorts.  Hadjopoulos  and  his 
men  had  a  splendid  time  at  first  and  were  feted  in 
Austria  and  Germany.  But  their  later  adventures  were 
quite  different.  They  were  interned.  Many  died  of 
neglect  and  the  rest  were  put  on  to  work  for  the  Bulgars 
behind  their  lines.  Christodoulos,  with  a  large  propor- 
tion of  his  Division,  secured  French  naval  help  just  in 
time  to  avoid  capture,  crossed  to  the  island  of  Thasos, 
and  on  September  18th  made  a  triumphal  entry  into 
Salonica.  A  large  French  transport,  and  two  smaller 
Greek  ships,  came  into  the  harbour  with  the  four 
thousand  heroes.  The  excitement  was  terrific,  and  the 
cheering  intense  as  the  men,  after  landing,  marched 
along  the  front.  The  gallant  Colonel  was  covered  with 
flowers,  and  kissed  many  times.  As  things  were  in 
Greece,  he  had  thoroughly  earned  it. 

Meanwhile  Salonica  had  been  very  much  sitting  up 
and  taking  notice  of  the  handing  over  of  Macedonia  to 
the  enemy.  The  Press  campaign  in  the  Greek  papers 
against  the  Athens  clique  was  very  fierce  and  bitter. 
I  remember  on  July  1st  being  called  over  to  the  offices 
of  the  Rizospastis  (Radical)  to  see  the  outrage  done  by 
a  group  of  Royalist  officers.  The  editor  had  written  a 
fierce  article  against  Constantine.  The  morning  it 
appeared  sixteen  Greek  officers  walked  up  the  stairs. 
Two  stood  guard  and  the  others  entering  the  editorial 

162 


THE   CONVERSION    OF  GREECE 

sanctum,  drew  their  swords.  "  Are  you  the  Editor-in- 
Chief  ?  "  they  asked.  The  Editor  replied  that  he  was. 
They  thereupon  fell  upon  him  and  his  assistant  and 
wrecked  the  place. 

When  I  called  a  little  later,  the  Editor  was  sitting 
with  a  bloodstained  bandage  round  his  head  writing  a 
fiercer  article  for  the  morrow.  A  French  officer  was 
taking  notes  of  the  outrage.  The  pathetic  flimsy  fur- 
niture of  the  office  was  smashed;  a  portrait  of  Veni- 
zelos  on  the  wall  was  beaten  in.  Sympathisers 
crowded  in  to  shake  hands.  And  the  Editor  went  on 
writing,  occasionally  lifting  his  left  hand  to  be  seized 
by  an  admirer.  At  General  SarraiPs  instance  the  six- 
teen officers  were  afterwards  sent  to  Athens  for  disci- 
plinary action,  but  nothing  unpleasant'  happened  to 
them. 

Monster  meetings  of  protest  against  Constantine's 
policy  were  held  in  Salonica.  The  excitement  and 
indignation  resulted  in  the  formation  of  the  League  for 
National  Defence,  and  its  Headquarters  were  in  the 
very  building  near  the  White  Tower  from  whence  was 
launched,  some  nine  years  earlier,  the  Young  Turk 
Revolution.  A  vibrant  proclamation  to  the  people  was 
posted  all  over  the  town,  calling  on  them  to  join  the 
movement,  and  calling  on  the  Greek  Army  to  join  the 
Army  of  National  Defence,  and  resist  the  handing  over 
of  their  counfry  to  the  hereditary  enemy.  Everybody 
in  Salonica  was  talking  of  revolution.  We  talked  of  it 
at  lunch  in  the  Club,  but  one  imagined  it  was  too  hot 
for  anybody  to  do  anything.  The  air  was  full  of  sen- 
sational rumours  from  Athens,  and  Const antine  was 
said  to  have  fled.  In  the  afternoon  it  was  reported 
that  the  battalion  of  Cretan  gendarmes  in  the  town, 
Venizelists  to  a  man  (Venizelos  himself  being  a  Cretan) 
had  really  begun  the  revolution.     So  it  would  seem. 

168 


SALONICA  AND  AFTER 

The  town  was  seething  with  excitement,  which  ap- 
proached delirium  when  Colonel  Zymbrakakis,  putting 
himself  at  the  head  of  the  gendarmes,  and  followed  by 
an  enormous  crowd,  proceeded  to  French  General  Head- 
quarters, and  offered  the  support  of  himself  and  his 
followers  to  General  Sarrail.  There  were  loud  cries  of 
"  Down  with  Const'antine  "  and  "  Zito  Venizelos  "  as 
the  procession  returned.  And  on  the  night  of  August 
30-31st  the  Salonica  Revolution  definitely  arrived.  It 
was  in  many  ways  a  comic  opera  sort  of  affair,  but  it 
was  big  with  consequences.  It  was  the  real  beginning 
of  the  entry  of  Greece  into  the  war.  The  Royalist 
officers  and  men  who  would  not  join  the  movement  were 
sent  to  Old  Greece  and  the  Committee  of  National 
Defence  began  immediately  to  mobilize  Macedonia. 

Venizelos  landed  in  Salonica  on  October  9th,  after 
having  visited  his  native  Crete  and  other  islands.  He 
left  Athens  secretly  on  September  27th.  The  revolt 
spread  to  many  of  the  ^gean  Islands ;  Corfu,  on  the 
far  Adriatic,  joined  in,  and  a  large  part  of  the  Greek 
fleet  came  with  the  statesman  to  Salonica. 

The  town  and  the  harbour  was  smothered  in  blue  and 
white  flags,  and  portraits  of  Venizelos  were  everywhere. 
All  portraits  of  the  King  and  Queen  in  the  town  had 
disappeared  some  time  before.  Noting  this  at  Floca's, 
I  asked  a  waiter  where  they  were.  "  In  the  cellar," 
he  replied  unguardedly.  "To  be  brought  up  again  if 
there  is  another  change  ?  "  I  enquired.  He  grinned  and 
passed  on  to  the  next  customer. 

We  watched  the  landing  of  Venizelos  and  his  fol- 
lowers from  the  balcony  of  the  club.  The  crowds  below 
were  enormous,  and  a  little  before  the  moment  General 
Sarrail  arrived  and  pushed  his  way  through  tb  the 
Marble  Steps.  As  Venizelos  came  ashore  all  the  steam 
sirens  of  the  ships  opened  up  with  their  joyous  wailing. 

164 


THE   CONVERSION   OF  GREECE 

The  pleasant  and  mobile  features  of  the  famous  patriot 
were  wreathed  in  smiles.  The  French  Commander-in- 
Chief  shook  hands  with  the  head  of  the  new  Provisional 
Government  and  pushed  his  way  out  of  the  crowd 
again.  A  mass  of  shouting  people  surrounded  the  Great 
Cretan,  who  was  swayed  this  way  and  that.  One  could 
not  help  thinking  of  the  chances  of  an  assassin  down 
there,  and  there  were  many  in  Salonica  who  would  have 
been  glad  to  hear  that  the  new  movement  had  been 
arrested  at  its  triumphant  birth.  With  Venizelos  and 
his  companions  still  surrounded  by  a  compact  mass  of 
people,  the  procession  then  moved  off  down  the  water 
front,  with  everywhere  flowers  and  cries  of  delight  and 
enthusiasm  flying  through  the  air. 

Venizelos  came  to  Salonica  accompanied  by  his  two 
great  henchmen,  the  diminutive  and  distinguished 
General  DangUs,  who  reminded  one  rather  of  Lord 
Roberts,  and  Admiral  Condouriotis,  a  popular  hero  of 
the  sea  war  of  1912  with  Turkey.  They  made  an  im- 
pressive trio,  and  under  the  impulse  of  their  presence 
the  new  movement  made  rapid  progress.  They  formed 
the  National  Triumvirate.  All  the  public  services  in 
Macedonia  were  taken  over  by  the  Provisional  Govern- 
ment, which  was  almost  immediately  recognised  by  the 
British  and  French.  Lord  Granville  was  sent  out  as 
Minister  from  London,  and  Salonica  grew  rapidly  in 
its  own  estimation.  That  was  the  hey-day  of  life  at 
the  club.  Many  of  the  better-class  Athenians  had  fol- 
lowed Venizelos.  There  were  distinguished  persons  in 
the  club,  and  what  is  more,  handsome  women.  Officers 
down  from  the  Liae  used  to  sit  in  deep  arm  chairs  and 
look  at  them  across  the  room,  fascinated ;  thinking  a 
hundred  things,  no  doubt,  about  their  ''  ain  folk  "  at 
home.  Evening  dress,  both  masculine  and  feminine, 
appeared.    It  was  a  great  time.    Meanwhile  the  mobili- 

165 


SALONICA  AND  AFTER 

zation  of  Macedonia  was  proceeding  rapidly,  and  one 
saw  constant  processions  of  the  most  rag-tag  and  bob- 
tail people  it  is  possible  to  imagine,  guarded  by  gen- 
darmes, and  preceded  by  skirling  primitive  pipes, 
marching  glumly  to  the  various  unsanitary  places 
where  they  were  locked  up  until  they  could  be  made 
into  soldiers.  To  pretend  that  the  great  bulk  of  these 
people  wanted  to  fight  for  Greece  or  anybody  else  is 
absurd.  They  were  of  all  Balkan  nationalities,  and 
they  did  not  care  a  hang  to  whom  Macedonia  belonged 
if  only  they  could  be  left  in  peace.  What  a  happy  land 
is  England,  where  we  have  no  ethnological  problems, 
and  where  we  know  exactly  at  what  points  the  race 
begins  and  ends.  In  any  string  of  these  recruits  there 
were  probably  men  of  Greek,  Bui  gar,  Serb,  Kutzo- 
Vlach,  Albanian  and  gipsy  race.  There  were  very  few 
Jews.  The  Salonica  Jew  is  a  clever  person,  and  by  an 
infinity  of  means  managed  to  "wangle"  out  of  mobili- 
zation, though  many  of  them  had  quite  narrow  escapes. 
But  one  could  hardly  blame  them  for  being  unen- 
thusiastic.  The  Jew  has  been  by  no  means  pleased 
with  the  coming  of  the  Greeks  to  Salonica.  They  smack 
too  much  of  competitors.  Many  Jews  indeed  sigh  for 
the  old  Turkish  days,  with  their  mixture  of  abuses  and 
purchasable  privileges.  They  always  knew  how  to  get 
on  with  the  Turk.  In  any  case  they  have  no  national 
feeling  for  Macedonia,  although  they  have  a  distinct 
civic  feeling  for  Salonica.  Many  of  them,  at  various 
times,  came  to  me  and  said  earnestly,  "  Could  not  Eng- 
land take  over  Salonica  ?  "  There  is  no  end  to  what 
we  might  do  if  we  listened  to  everybody. 

Only  four  days  after  arriving,  Venizelos  and  his  two 
chief  supporters  were  entertained  to  a  great  banquet 
in  the  White  Tower  Restaurant.  It  was  a  brilliant 
occasion.     The  pale  blue  and  white  of  Greece  blazed 

166 


THE   CONVERSION   OF  GREECE 

everywhere  and  leading  from  the  gate  to  the  door  of 
the  banqueting  room  (the  scene  of  many  uproarious 
Allied  evenings)  was  a  guard  of  Cretan  Gendarmes  in 
their  fine-looking  full-dress  uniforms,  which  inelude  the 
funniest  baggy  trousers  known.  The  White  Tower 
produced  such  a  show  of  glass  and  napery  as  fairly 
staggered  one.  They  had  kept  this  very  dark  up  to 
now,  the  average  drinking  glass  in  a  Salonica  restaurant 
being  a  quarter  of  an  inch  thick.  Venizelos,  sitting 
between  General  Danglis  and  Admiral  Condouriotis, 
seemed  radiant  with  joy  and  enthusiasm.  A  Greek 
officer  rose  and  read  out  a  long  heroic  poem  in  ancient 
Greek  which  I  was  informed  very  few  people  under- 
stand a  word  of.  And  when  Venizelos  addressed  the 
meeting  one  felt  that  here  was  a  great  man,  although 
I  did  not  understand  a  word  of  his  discourse  either.  He 
was  simplicity  itself,  but  he  had  the  true  art  of  the 
orator.  He  held  them  all  in  his  clenched  hand,  and 
the  "  Zitos  "  that  rose  after  some  of  his  passages  were 
thunderous. 

Meanwhile  Const  ant  ine  and  his  numerous  followers 
down  at  Athens  were  surpassing  themselves  in  bluff  and 
chicanery.  He  was  making  urgent  representations  to 
his  brother-in-law  to  do  something,  and  marking  time 
with  the  Allied  representations  until,  as  he  hoped,  the 
"  field-greys,"  having  finished  their  all-conquering 
bull-rush  through  Roumania,  would  come  sweeping  down 
through  the  Balkans,  and  finish  the  Salonica  Armies 
once  for  all.  Before  the  pressure  of  the  Allied  Govern- 
ments, and  the  presence  of  their  blockading  fleet,  now 
off  the  Piraeus,  Const antine  did  amazing  tricks  of  poli- 
tical juggling,  and  one  cabinet  of  third-rate  politicians 
succeeded  another  with  extraordinary  rapidity.  The 
epistrates,  or  reservists,  were  all  served  out  with  arms. 
Greece  was  now  divided  into  two  definite  halves  with 

167 


SALONICA  AND  AFTER       ^ 

the  famous  neutral  zone  in  between.  Constantine  was 
King  in  the  South,  and  Venizelos,  under  the  sheltering 
wing  of  the  Allies,  the  power  in  the  North.  The  Allies 
pressed  their  demands,  and  with  his  eye  on  the  battle 
line  in  Roumania  Constantine  gave  way  just  as  much 
as  was  necessary,  and  no  more,  to  keep  the  Allies  dan- 
gling. Baron  Schenk,  with  his  propaganda  millions  all 
spent,  and  the  rest  of  the  German,  Austrian  and  Bul- 
garian clique,  were  kicked  out  of  Athens.  But  things 
were  going  beautifully — for  the  enemy — in  Roumania, 
and  Constantine,  cheered  by  his  wireless  reports  from 
Berlin,  judged  the  moment  opportune  to  show  resistance. 
The  reservists  were  all  armed.  The  hills  of  Athens 
were  fortified.  The  Allied  ultimatum,  which  insisted 
on  disarmament  of  Greece  as  a  guarantee  of  her  neu- 
trality, was  drawing  to  a  close.  It  expired  on  Decem- 
ber 1st.  On  that  day  came  one  of  the  Allies'  greatest 
muddles  and  Constantine 's  supreme  treachery.  The 
Allied  marines  landed  by  Admiral  d'Artige  du  Fournet, 
were  caught  in  ambush  and  shot  down  by  machine-gun 
and  rifle  fire,  and  for  the  best  part  of  twenty-four 
hours  the  French  Admiral  was  a  prisoner,  and  his 
meals  brought  to  him.  The  Allies'  long  duel  with  Con- 
stantine seemed  to  have  fizzled  lamentably.  For  the 
moment  "  My  dear  Tino  "  was  on  top. 

Salonica  was  black  with  foreboding  when  the  news 
came  through.  Authentic  details  arrived  three  days 
later.  It  was  a  period  of  heavy  rain  and  the  streets 
were  a  vile,  slippery  quagmire,  as  is  usual  in  wet 
weather  in  Salonica.  The  gloomiest  reports  and  im- 
pressions ran  round  like  wild-fire.  The  mixed  local 
population  was  exceedingly  depressed,  and  looked  at 
the  Allies  with  glances  which  seemed  to  say,  "  And  to 
think  that  we  have  trusted  you  all  this  time,  and  here 
you  are,  going  to  lose  the  war  after  all."    Constantine 

168 


THE   CONVERSION    OF  GREECE 

had  at  last  declared  himself.  The  news  from  Roumania 
was  the  very  worst.  There  would  be  a  move  north- 
wards by  the  Greek  Army.  The  Germans  would  come 
down  from  Roumania.  The  Salonica  Force  would  be 
caught  like  a  nut  in  crackers.  People  were  saying 
freely  in  the  streets  that  it  was  the  end  of  all  Allied 
operations  based  on  Salonica.  We  should  have  to 
evacuate  or  be  crushed.  "And  then,"  thought  the 
townspeople,  "  where  shall  we  be ;  we  who  have  said 
openly  that  we  like  the  Allies  and  want  them  to  win." 
I  was  approached  as  to  whether  it  would  be  difficult 
to  get  a  passage  with  the  British  Navy. 

One,  of  course,  smiled  at  all  this  sort  of  thing,  and 
said,  in  effect,  "Don't  be  silly."  But  whatever  one 
said,  it  was  impossible  to  feel  cheerful.  It  was  a  black 
day.  That  evening,  the  town  electric  light  was  off — a 
common  occurrence.  Outside  the  office  windows,  down 
below  in  the  wet  and  muddy  street,  with  the  rain 
coming  down  ceaselessly,  some  sort  of  a  fight  was  going 
on.  There  was  a  revolver  shot,  and  we  could  hear 
the  groans  and  gasps  of  struggling  men  out  in  the 
darkness.  It  was  reported  that  Italian  and  Greek 
soldiers  were  fighting  with  their  bayonets.  The  de- 
pressing news,  the  pitch-black  darkness  of  the  stl'eets, 
the  rain,  the  gasping  noises  of  the  fight  below — all 
this  gave  an  extraordinarily  vivid  impression  of  every- 
thing going  wrong,  of  ill-luck,  of  anarchy.  There  were 
scared  and  white  faces  among  the  polyglot  group  of 
compositors  out  in  the  composing  room.  Down  at  the 
Club,  later  on  at  dinner,  the  blackest  pessimism 
reigned,  and  the  people  from  Athens  sat  huddled  to- 
gether, talking  in  low  voices  and  exchanging  the 
wildest  rumours  and  ideas.  At  last,  it  seemed,  the 
sinister  work  of  Constantine  and  his  men  had  borne 
its  full  fruit,  and  the  blow  in  the  back,  which  had 

169 


SALONICA  AND  AFTER 

always  been  a  possibility  ever  since  the  Allies  came  to 
Salonica,  would   now  be   delivered    under    the   worst 

possible   circumstances   for  us It  was  days 

before  the  black  cloud  lifted  a  little  from  the  town. 

Who  could  have  thought  then,  that  within  less  than 
six  months  King  Constantine  would  have  become  ex- 
King  Constantine,  and  would  have  been  drawn  from 
Athens  as  by  a  magnet,  together  with  his  Queen  and 
the  Crown  Prince,  leaving  behind  his  second  son 
Alexander  as  King  ?  And  that  a  few  days  later,  on 
June  24th,  1917,  M.  Venizelos  would  re-enter  Athens 
amidst  wild  enthusiasm  and  find  himself  again  at  the 
head  of  a  united  Greece,  with  full  powers,  backed  by 
the  Allies,  to  guide  his  country  along  the  road  which 
he  had  long  foreseen  truth  and  courage  had  traced  for 
her  ? 

The  mills  of  the  Allies  ground  very  slowly,  but  in 
the  end  they  ground  to  some  purpose.  The  bloody 
events  of  December  1st,  1916,  and  the  days  imme- 
diately afterwards,  were  followed  by  another  ultimatum 
on  December  14th,  in  which  Royalist  Greece  was 
ordered  to  transfer  her  troops  and  munitions  to  the 
southern  province  of  the  Peloponnese,  where,  joined 
to  the  mainland  only  by  the  narrow  Isthmus  of  Corinth, 
they  would  no  longer  be  a  source  of  danger  to  the 
Salonica  Allies;  and  to  cease  immediately  all  move- 
ments of  troops  and  material  towards  the  north.  For 
nearly  six  months  longer  Constantine  played  his  astute 
game,  but  always  losing  a  little ;  never  living  up  to  his 
promises  to  the  demands  made  on  him,  but  never  having 
quite  the  courage  to  defy  them  entirely.  Gradually, 
but  ceaselessly,  the  pressure  of  the  Allies  went  on — 
mixed  though  it  was  by  a  very  strong  dash  of  hesita- 
tion  and   weakness — and   still   German   help   did   not 

170 


THE   CONVERSION    OF  GREECE 

come  to  Athens.  And  at  last  we  had  drawn  sufficient 
of  his  teeth  to  make  it  possible  to  apply  the  final  pres- 
sure without  any  danger  of  an  armed  Greece  rising  in 
our  rear  at  the  bidding  of  its  pro-German  King.  A 
strong  French  force,  joined  by  a  small  detachment  of 
British  (500  men  of  the  East  Yorkshire  Regiment) 
advanced  down  into  Greece  with  the  double  object  of 
securing  the  corn  crop  of  the  Thessaly  plains,  and 
threatening  Athens  from  the  north.  The  Isthmus  of 
Corinth  was  occupied,  so  that  all  the  Greek  troops  and 
material  south  of  it  in  the  Peloponnese  were  cut  off. 
And  a  strong  Allied  Fleet  had  Athens  at  the  mercy  of 
its  guns.  On  June  11th  the  King  departed  for 
Switzerland,  the  first  of  the  enemy  "  rois  en  exil." 
His  fall  was  partly  one  of  the  many  quiet  triumphs  of 
sea  power.  Without  the  sea  open  to  her,  Greece  sooner 
or  later  must  capitulate.  The  blockade  was  an  argu- 
ment against  which  the  wireless  messages  from  Berlin 
had  no  answer. 

Greece  still  had  many  difficulties  to  face,  but  the 
man  at  the  head  pulled  her  through.  With  great 
labour  and  many  ugly  incidents — which  were  uniformly 
dealt  with  in  drastic  fashion — the  Greek  Army  was 
re-organised  and  made  to  right-about-face.  In  April, 
1918, 1  visited  the  first  complete  Greek  Division  to  enter 
in  line  with  the  British.  They  were  on  the  Struma. 
Before  them  the  men  saw  Seres  glinting  white  and 
enticingly  in  the  sunshine,  and  they  wanted  to  take 
it  at  a  bound,  and  could  not  understand  that  they 
would  be  annihilated  if  they  tried  to.  Less  than  a  year 
before,  this  had  been  a  Royalist  unit — the  first  Larissa 
Division.  It  was  disbanded,  and  had  slowly  to  be 
reconstituted.  "I  am  a  soldier,"  said  General  Nider, 
its  commander,  "  and  do  not  discuss  politics.  I  am 
glad  to  be  in  liaison  with  the  British  and  I  do  what  I 

171 


SALONICA  AND  AFTER 

am  told."  More  and  more  Divisions  came  into  line, 
with  the  French  and  ourselves,  until,  at  the  opening 
of  the  big  offensive,  there  were  nine  of  them  in  the 
field.  The  aspect  of  the  Balkan  situation  had  under- 
gone a  complete  change.  Greece,  no  longer  threatening 
us  in  our  rear,  was  now  in  line  with  us.  It  largely 
explains  both  our  earlier  difficulties  and  failures  and 
our  final  success.  And  it  most  certainly  could  never 
have  happened  without  the  inspiration  of  one  man, 
Eleutherios  Venizelos. 

There  is  an  authentic  little  anecdote  which  makes 
a  suitable  envoi  to  this  chapter.  The  armistice  under 
which  Bulgaria  capitulated  was  signed  in  Salonica  on 
the  morning  of  September  29th.  M.  Venizelos,  who 
was  present,  returned  immediately  after  the  historic 
ceremony  to  the  house  which  he  occupies  when  in 
Salonica,  formerly  a  residence  of  Constantine  himself. 
As  he  sat  down  to  talk  over  what  had  happened,  a 
friend  with  him  said  : — 

'*  This  must  be  a  great  moment  for  you.  I  wonder 
what  Constantine  is  thinking  now  ?  " 

And  Venizelos  replied  : — 

''  I  am  happy  to  think  that  man  is  still  alive  to  know 
it."  And  one  may  pardon  even  a  statesman  this  little 
common  human  touch  of  exultation. 

Finally  we  may  close  this  chapter  with  a  short  and 

amazing   poem   which   was   written  in  honour  of  the 

triumphal  return  to  Athens.     The  author,  one  George 

Alexiades   sent   it  to  The   Balkan  News,    dating    his 

effusion  from  the  Hotel  d' Angle terre  at  Athens.     The 

poem  ran  : — 

ELEUTHERIOS  VENIZELOS. 

"  All  in   a  tide  flooded   up 

The  Germans  from  their  land ; 
Innocent  souls  were  frightened 
Of  th«  wild  band. 

172 


THE    CONVERSION    OF  GREECE 


Miles  and  miles  flooded  up. 

Smashing  defendless  bars; 
But  suddenly  he  stepped  in  front 

The  tallest  of  the  stars. 

His  helmet  wasn't  signing. 

His  eyes  in  a  frown, 
And  on  his  forehead  bearing 

Steel  thoughts  instead  of  crown. 

And  all  the  Greeks  are  now  sure 

That  with  aid  the  British  skill, 
It's  a  common  thing  to  bend 

The  '  German-made  '  steel." 

At  least  the  author  meant  well,  and  we  may  forgive 
his  verse  for  the  sake  of  his  sentiments. 


178 


CHAPTER    XIV. 

Mud  and  Malaria. 

Mud  and  Malaria !  In  these  two  simple  words  were 
enclosed  the  two  outstanding  difficulties  under  which 
the  Salonica  Army  laboured.  Macedonia,  when  we 
came  to  it,  was  practically  roadless.  There  were  only 
tracks,  and  tracks,  in  wet  or  snowy  weather,  mean 
mud.  Not  the  genteel  film  of  mud  which  one  sees  in 
a  London  street,  which  energetic  municipal  roadmen 
sweep  down  the  handy  grids  with  their  squeegees.  But 
mud  in  the  nth  degree ;  mud  three  or  four  feet  deep ; 
mud  which  will  engulph  a  motor-car  up  to  its  bonnet 
and  swallow  a  kicking  mule.  The  facetious  anecdote 
of  the  lorry  driver  discovered  up  to  his  neck  in  mud 
on  the  Monastir  Road,  who  said  to  his  rescuers  when 
they  came  along,  ''  I'm  all  right,  I'm  standing  on  my 
lorry,"  is  no  more  an  exaggeration  than  the  average 
fish  story. 

And  malaria  !  The  history  of  the  Panama  Canal 
shows  what  malaria  may  do  to  strong,  healthy  men. 
Malaria  helped  to  produce  one  of  the  greatest  social 
and  political  scandals  in  the  history  of  modern  France, 
because  de  Lesseps'  failure  was  largely  due  tb  a  tiny 
pest  which  up  to  that  time  (in  the  'eighties)  science 
was  powerless  to  combat.  The  Americans  came  a  few 
years  later,  cleared  the  country  of  its  malarial  swamps, 
and  built  the  canal.  But  what  the  Americans  could 
do  in  Panama  in  peace  time  was  not  possible  to  us 
in  Macedonia  in  war  time.     We  knew  when  we  went 

174 


MUD  AND  MALARIA 

there  that  it  was  a  malarial  country.  But  nobody 
could  possibly  have  realised  to  the  full  how  deadly, 
for  instance,  was  the  Struma  Valley.  It  is  one  thing 
to  hear  about  a  danger  and  another  to  experience  it. 
We  know  that  cyclones  occur  in  America,  but  we  do 
not  quite  expect  to  get  struck  by  one  if  we  go  there. 
We  knew  that  malaria  existed  in  Macedonia,  but  no- 
body could  possibly  have  foreseen  that  splendid  batta- 
lions a  thousand  strong  would  be  struck  down  whole- 
sale and  in  a  few  days  or  weeks  reduced  to  a  few  score 
healthy  men.  Even  if  we  had  realised  it  to  the  full, 
there  was  no  help  for  it.  It  proved  to  be  our  role  to 
go  and  fight  there,  and  an  army  in  a  malarial  country 
is  bound  to  become  infected  by  malaria.  Under  peace 
conditions,  men  can  be  protected.  But  in  war,  with 
fighting  going  on,  men  have  to  take  their  chance. 

The  crying  need  of  good  roads  was  evident  from  the 
first  moment  we  set  foot  in  the  country.  There  were 
three  more  or  less  main  routes  leading  into  Salonica — 
the  Monastir,  the  Naresh  and  the  Seres  Roads.  They 
were  all — from  the  modem  European  requirements  of 
heavy  traffic — in  a  shocking  condition.  Up  to  our 
coming,  in  all  the  innumerable  wars  they  had  wit- 
nessed, they  had  borne  nothing  but  animal  traffic. 
We  came  with  heavy  lorry  and  motor  traffic,  and  we 
were  like  skaters  who  had  no  ice  to  skate  on.  We  had 
to  make  roads  before  we  could  use  our  vehicles.  It  is 
true  that  we  should  have  done  better  if  we  had  been 
provided  with  lighter  lorries — say  like  the  Italian  one- 
ton  motor  vans.  But  that  is  another  story,  and  does 
not  ui  any  way  concern  the  B.S.F. 

The  road  up  to  Monastir  did  not  at  first  much  con- 
cern us.  It  was  chiefly  an  affair  for  the  French,  and 
also  that  region  was  served  by  the  railway.    There  was 

175 


SALONICA  AND  AFTER 

also  a  railway  to  Doiran,  in  which  direction  ran  the 
Naresh  road.  But  there  was  no  railway  up  to  the 
Struma  Front,  and  there  we  had  an  Army  Corps, 
consisting  varyingly  of  two  or  three  Divisions.  The 
laws  of  modem  war  say  that  an  Army  Corps  must  be 
.backed  up  by  a  line  of  railway.  But  on  the  Struma 
Sector  we  had  three  Divisions  fifty  miles  from  their 
base,  and  one  very  bad  road  with  which  to  supply  them. 
The  troops  had  to  be  sent  up-country,  whatever  else 
happened.  We  then  had  to  improvise  the  means  to 
keep  them  supplied  in  food,  ammunition  and  the 
thousand  and  one  things  of  which  an  army  of  to-day 
has  need. 

The  reader  will  have  noticed  that  the  Seres  Road 
occurs  as  a  sort  of  chorus,  a  Greek  Chorus  if  you  like, 
in  this  book.  It  is  always  popping  in,  like  King  Charles' 
head.  And  this  is  as  it  should  be.  The  Seres  Road 
largely  dominated  the  Balkan  Campaign.  It  repre- 
sented only  a  fraction  of  our  difficulties  and  our  road- 
making,  but  it  stood  for  so  much  in  the  general  scheme 
of  things.  The  British  can  no  more  think  of  Macedonia 
without  the  Seres  Road  than  the  country  t!ripper  can 
think  of  London  without  Nelson's  column.  The  two 
go  together — and  incidentally,  the  making  of  the  road 
was  one  of  the  finest  pieces  of  work  accomplished  by 
any  British  Army  in  the  war. 

In  the  later  summer  of  1916  we  began  to  take  the 
road  in  hand.  Previous  to  this  there  had  been  a  colos- 
sal amount  of  work  within  the  region  of  the  "Bird- 
cage." Heavens,  but  how  our  poor  infantrymen  had 
to  dig  in  Macedonia !  Their  first  task  was  to  construct 
all  the  defences  and  trenches  which  ran  along  the 
edge  of  the  steep  line  of  hills  covering  the  town,  and 
the  10th  (Irish)  Division  particularly  had  some  very 
heavy  strategic  road-making  to  do  on  the  steep  slopes 

176 


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MUD  AND  MALARIA 

of  Mount  Hortiach  (nearly  4,000  feet  high)  which,  in 
case  of  an  attack  to  drive  us  into  the  sea,  would  have 
been  the  chief  bastion  of  our  defence.  All  this,  in  a 
sense,  went  to  nought  once  we  had  moved  up-country 
to  face  the  enemy  on  the  immensely  stronger  line  he 
had  prepared  up  there.  We  had  to  start  road-making 
then  with  a  will,  to  ensure  a  life-line  for  the  troops  on 
the  new  front.  The  infantry  could  not  be  employed 
on  this  work.  They  had  their  own  work  to  do  in  dig- 
ging more  trenches  where  they  were.  Native  labourers 
were  employed — in  itself  a  big  organisation — and  we 
began  on  the  task  of  converting  the  seventy  kilometres 
of  semi-track  that  ran  up  and  down  the  steep  hills  as 
far  as  the  edge  of  the  Struma  Valley,  into  a  road  that 
would  bear  the  weight  we  wanted  to  put  on  it. 

With  great  labour  the  work  was  done  as  well  as 
circumstances  would  allow,  and  for  months — at  the 
cost  of  unremitting  attention  and  patching — served  its 
pnrpK)se.  We  were  not  to  foresee  at  that  time  that  we 
should  need  the  road  for  three  long  years,  and  that  the 
strain  on  it  would  become  heavier  and  heavier.  All 
seemed  fairly  well,  although  such  an  imperfect  line  of 
conmiunication  was  naturally  always  a  source  of  great 
concern  to  those  responsible.  And  then  came  the 
tragedy.  The  winter  of  1916  arrived,  and  with  it  very 
heavy  rains.  The  road  under  the  terrific  pressure  and 
weight  we  were  compelled  to  put  on  it  went  to  pieces. 
The  greatest  trouble  occurred  on  the  high  stretch  of 
road  from  Lahana  onwards,  to  the  summit  of  the  hills 
on  the  Struma  Valley,  and  particularly  from  there  down 
the  steep,  giddy  descent  that  drops  1800  feet  down  on 
to  the  plain.  The  scenes  that  happened  there  for 
weeks  on  end  in  the  bad  weather  can  only  be  faintly 
conveyed  in  print.  They  must  have  been  seen  to  be 
believed.    The  road  simply  disappeared.    It  became  a 

177  N 


SALONICA  AND  AFTER 

giant's  staircase  of  mud  slides.  It  was,  in  parts,  like 
the  bed  of  a  mountain  torrent,  and  when  the  heavy 
rains  were  falling  the  torrent  itself  was  there,  all  com- 
plete. What  had  been  a  firm,  neat  road  running  down 
a  mountain  side,  curving  in  and  about  in  great  loops, 
and  with  nicely  constructed  drainage  ditches  on  each 
side,  became  merely  a  disfiguration  on  the  face  of 
Nature.  It  was  a  mud  hole,  twenty  miles  long,  with 
long  stretches  of  it  tipped  to  such  alarming  angles  that 
even  the  mud  ran  out.  The  lorries  which  thudded  and 
churned  their  adventurous  way  thirty-five  miles  up 
from  Salonica  had  to  give  up  the  struggle  a  little  way 
beyond  Lahana.  They  stuck,  struggled  forward,  stuck 
again,  swayed  this  way  and  that,  and  sank  to  their 
final  plunge,  lying  at  an  angle  and  looking  in  their 
huge  helplessness  rather  like  an  elephant  brought  down 
on  its  knees  by  the  hunter.  For  weeks  on  end  the  M.T. 
drivers  were  out  from  three  in  the  morning,  at  which 
time  the  convoys  started,  until  ten  o'clock  or  later  at 
night.  Chilled  through  and  through  with  the  cold, 
crushed  with  fatigue,  they  would  have  to  be  at  the 
wheel  again  after  four  hours'  sleep.  Some  of  them 
drove  half  asleep,  or  in  a  sort  of  drunkenness  of  fatigue. 
But  there  was  nothing  else  to  be  done.  The  three 
Divisions  on  the  Struma  had  to  be  fed  and  supplied, 
and  this  was  the  only  possible  way  to  get  at  them. 
When  the  lorries  came  to  their  final  morass  the 
mule  transport  took  on.  Imagine  the  scene  with  the 
bottom  of  the  road  fallen  out,  the  rain  dropping  in 
torrents,  and  the  long  trains  of  limbers  struggling 
forward.  Imagine  the  tugging  and  shoving,  the 
shouts  and  bad  language  and  despair,  with  lim- 
bers sunk  over  their  axles  and  the  mules  in  the 
liquid  mud  to  their  bellies.  There  were  gangs  of  sol- 
diers and  labourers  shovelling  out  mud  and  water,  try- 

178 


MUD  AND  MALARIA 

ing  to  level  up  what  would  not  be  levelled,  and  make  a 
passage  for  the  badly-needed  rations  and  supplies.  For 
days  and  weeks  on  end  the  rain  came  down  on  sodden, 
hungry  and  tired  officers  and  men,  and  on  dejected 
mules,  whose  eloquent  ears  spoke  of  their  own  misery. 
Lucky  for  us  that  horse-mastership  is  a  cult  in  the 
British  Army  and  that  the  big,  bony  animals  from  the 
Argentine  were  kept  in  a  condition  which  enabled  them 
to  do  their  arduous  work.  A  British  mule  made  any 
other  mule  in  the  Balkan  Armies  look  a  very  miserable 
object.  And  they  needed  all  their  strength  and  con- 
dition for  the  interminable,  sliding  descent  down  to  the 
plain ;  with  the  limber  bucking  and  kicking  high  in  the 
air  behind  them  as  it  fell  into  one  hole  and  was  ttigged 
out   of  another. 

All  this  was  not  to  be  endured.  In  fact,  it  was  im- 
possible to  fight  a  war  under  such  conditions.  It  was 
decided  to  take  the  Seres  Road  thoroughly  in  hand  and 
mould  it  to  our  will.  In  this  we  were  embarking  on  a 
very  big  task.  It  meant  bringing  dozens  of  steam- 
rollers from  England,  many  sets  of  stone-crushing 
machinery,  and  innumerable  other  things.  The  whole 
of  the  country  through  which  the  road  ran  was  carefully 
prospected  for  hard  stone,  which  would  make  good  road 
metal,  but  Macedonia's  rocks  do  not  produce  Aberdeen 
granite.  We  had  to  take  what  we  could  get.  Quarries 
were  started  at  many  points,  convenient  and  otherwise. 
Native  labour — men,  women  and  children,  were  en- 
gaged by  the  thousand.  R.E.  Companies  divided  the 
road,  from  Piccadilly  Circus  to  Kilo  72,  into  sections. 
Then  all  day  long  the  quarries  began  to  rumble  and 
erupt,  and  primitive  native  carts,  drawn  by  sleepy  oxen 
or  buffaloes,  supplemented  our  own  horse  transport  in 
carting  the  chunks  of  stone  to  the  roadside,  where  they 
were  piled  in  nice  orderly  stacks,  ready  for  the  hammers 

179 


SALONICA  AND  AFTER 

of  the  stone-breakers.    At  all  points  one  came  on  these, 
a  wide  circle  of  women  and  girls,  their  heads  bound  up 
in  kerchiefs  and  cloths  of  all  colours,  tap-tapping  away 
all  day  long,  with  a  few  Greek  overseers  to  look  after 
them  and  perhaps  a  solitary,  thoughtful  British  corporal 
in  charge  of  the  lot.     With  the  bright  sun  shining  on 
their  many-coloured   garments,   the   women   and  girls 
made  most  effective  tableaux,  and  a  group  of  two  or 
three  hundred  stone-breakers  working  on  a  Macedonian 
road  would  have  been  well  worth  the  attention  of  any 
artist's  brush.    Hundreds  and  thousands  of  tons  of  pre- 
pared "metal"  were  thus  poured  on  to  the  road.     On 
what  had  been  the  mud  slides  leading  down  to  the 
plain,  one  saw  it  thus  for  long  distances  piled  up  two 
feet  high.     It  was  crushed  in,  Macedonia  sucked  it  up 
greedily,   and  two  or  three  days  later  you  would  see 
the  same  stretch  of  road  dressed  with  another  thick 
layer,  which  was  in  turn  crushed  in.     For  weeks  and 
months  the  work  went  on ;  in  fact,  it  was  never  finished. 
By  night  acetylene  flares  were  lighted,  and  the  steam 
rollers  went  on  with  their  interminable  little  journeys 
up  and  down,  up  and  down.    We  had  to  make  a  Ports- 
mouth road  fifty  miles  long,   and  do  it  under  active 
service  conditions,  with  the  submarine  doing  its  worst. 
By  the  middle  of  1917  the  road  was  made  and  perfected, 
but  we  could  never  call  it  finished.    It  had  to  be  looked 
after  like  an  ailing  infant.       The  heavy  lorry  convoys 
that  ground  and  thudded  along  it,  up  and  down  the 
steepest     gradients     and    in     extremes     of     weather, 
would   have  pulled    anything   to    pieces   except    solid 
granite.     The  suction  of  their  tyres  is  enormous.     We 
patted  the  road,  watered  it,  smoothed  it  and  dusted 
it.     On  certain  sections  horses  were  forbidden  to  go  at 
more  than  a  walk.    The  slightest  pot-hole  was  marked 
down  and  instantly  filled  in.     At  every  suitable  spot 

180 


MUD  AND  MALARIA 

all  along  it  big,  neatly-painted  signs,  in  English  and 
Greek,  were  put  up  bearing  the  legend,  ''All  lorries, 
limbers  and  country  carts  to  use  side-ttacks  in  dry 
weather,"  and  other  warning  indications.  We  had  made 
the  road  at  last,  and  did  not  intend  to  let  it  be  whittled 
away  by  any  carelessness.  When  King  Alexander  of 
Greece  visited  the  British  front  early  in  1918  he  mar- 
velled to  see  such  a  highway.  On  the  way  back  he  an- 
nounced that  he  was  going  to  drive  the  car  himself; 
he  did  not  intend  to  miss  such  an  opportunity.  A 
despatch  rider  on  a  motor-cycle  was  sent  ahead  to  give 
the  word  and  clear  the  way,  but  the  young  King  caught 
him  up  before  long  and  sailed  ahead  on  the  first  perfect, 
first-class  motoring  road  to  be  constructed  anywhere 
in  the  Near  East.  On  the  long  ''  straight  "  down  from 
Guvesne  he  touched  63  miles  an  hour. 

What  was  done  on  the  Seres  Road  was  done,  in  vary- 
ing degrees,  all  over  the  wide  area  covered  by  our  opera- 
tions. In  the  immediate  region  of  Salonica,  other  first- 
class  roads  had  to  be  made,  notably  those  serving  the 
great  hospital  regions  of  Kalamaria  and  Hortiach.  We 
reconstructed  the  main  Naresh  road  leading  up  to  Janes, 
the  Corps  Headquarters  for  the  Doiran  Front,  and  the 
great  task  we  had  to  undertake  through  the  pass  from 
Bralo  on  to  Itea  is  mentioned  in  a  later  chapter.  The 
number  of  secondary  and  third  rate  roads  that  had  to 
be  constructed  was  legion.  There  were  none  when  we 
went  there,  and  when  we  had  finished  they  laced  the 
country  in  all  directions.  From  first  to  last  we  took 
over,  constructed  and  kept  in  repair  430  kilometres 
(270  miles)  of  metalled  roads  and  made  280  kilometres 
(175  miles)  of  secondary  roads  and  tracks,  with  all  the 
attendant  work  of  ditching  and  draining.  The  value  of 
our  road-making  experience  was  immense  when  the 
break-through  came  and  we  had  to  advance  over  the 

181 


SALONICA  AND  AFTER 

usual  Balkan  conditions  of  spongy  tracks  masquerad- 
ing as  roads.  Our  three  years  of  hard  experience  in  our 
own  territory  enabled  us  to  have  the  proper  men  and 
materials  on  the  spot  almost  immediately,  who  kept 
the  communications  patched  up  so  that  the  men  going 
forward  could  be  munitioned  and  fed. 

An  immense  amount  of  w^ork  of  an  analogous  descrip- 
tion was  done  in  improving  the  port  accommodation. 
When  we  first  came  to  Salonica  our  ships  had  to  lie 
off  the  quays  for  days  on  end  because  there  were  next 
to  no  facilities  for  unloading.  Of  the  3,700  feet  of  quay 
accommodation  the  British  only  had  1,300  feet  allotted 
to  them.  Munitions,  until  they  were  unloaded,  might 
as  well  still  be  in  England.  We  had  to  build  piers,  con- 
nect them  up  with  railways,  and  improve  existing 
facilities  in  a  hundred  ways.  Our  1,300  feet  were  far 
less  than  were  required  for  troops  and  hospital  ships. 
For  everything  additional  to  these,  which  means  every 
ton  of  material  brought  from  home,  we  had  to  provide 
our  own  resources  for  off-loading.  For  these  reasons 
an  immense  amount  of  construction  and  organisation 
had  to  be  undertaken  at  the  port.  Another  difficulty 
we  encountered  was  the  question  of  water  supply,  and 
to  make  provision  for  our  many  hospitals  and  camps 
of  all  kinds  we  had,  amongst  many  other  kinds  of  work 
devoted  to  this  end,  to  bore  70  deep  artesian  wells,  each 
of  which  was  provided  with  a  pumping  engine. 

On  our  roads  we  had  running  over  two  thousand  heavy 
lorries,  and  many  hundreds  of  motor  ambulances,  motor 
cars,  light  vans  and  motor-cycles,  not  to  mention  the 
ubiquitous  mule  limbers.  All  this  enormous  organisa- 
tion of  motor  transport  was  the  life  blood  of  the  Army. 
Imagine  two  thousand  three-ton  lorries  standing  in  a 
line ;  how  much  they  represent  in  work  to  be  done,  not 
only  by  them  but  on  them.     All  these,  and  the  rest  of 

182 


MUD  AND  MALARIA 

the  teeming  vehicles,  had  to  be  kept  in  good  order,  and 
the  workshops  that  did  the  work  had  to  be  kept  con- 
stantly supplied  with  spare  parts.  "Spare  parts" 
b/ecame  one  of  the  chief  bogies.  These  all  had  to  come 
from  England.  At  the  Base  Motor  Transport  Depot, 
which  was  the  cupboard  for  all  the  Army,  30,000  separ- 
ate items  had  to  be  kept,  and  any  separate  item  might 
run  into  thousands.  Wear  and  tear  was  enormously 
high.  If  the  submarines  had  a  successful  spell,  and 
stocks  ran  low ;  or  if  London  was  slow  in  sending  out 
the  right  supplies,  then  there  were  difficulties  and 
trouble.  Salonica  was  not  our  base,  but  England. 
Everything — whether  spare  parts  or  bully  beef — had  to 
run  the  perilous  gauntlet  of  the  submarine.  We  could 
buy  nothing  in  the  country,  either  to  feed,  clothe  or 
equip  us. 

In  three  years,  then,  we  transformed  Macedonia,  and 
when  the  time  for  the  final  offensive  came,  there  were 
no  lack  of  communications  to  support  the  troops  of  the 
various  armies  based  on  them.  In  addition  to  road- 
making  we  did  a  great  deal  of  railway  construction, 
chiefly  of  light  Decauville  lines,  and  communications 
with  Stavros  and  our  right  flank  were  much  improved 
by  a  Decauville  line  built  along  the  Langaza  Valley. 
Up  to  1917  the  sea  route  to  Stavros  had  always  been 
used,  but  the  submarines  began  to  make  it  too  difficult. 
And  in  1917  we  opened  a  standard  gauge  line  some 
fifteen  miles  long  which,  running  from  Salamanli  on  the 
line  up  to  Doiran,  to  the  dumps  at  Guvesne,  saved  all 
lorry  transport  over  the  first  25  kilometres  of  the  Seres 
Road  and  enabled  us  to  have  our  distribution  point  for 
motor  transport  by  so  much  nearer  the  front  line. 
These  are  a  few  of  the  things  the  British  did  in  order 
to  combat  the  great  enemy  Mud. 

But  the  Malaria  was  even  worse.    Mud  does  not  kill 

188 


SALONICA  AND  AFTER 

or  disable  people,  and  if  physical  conditions  are  bad, 
it  is  wonderful  how  much  the  human  will  can  do  to 
overcome  them.  But  Malaria  struck  our  men  down  like 
a  scythe  cutting  grass,  and  there  is  no  argument  against 
a  state  of  things  by  which  an  infantryman  feels  seedy 
in  the  morning  and  by  afternoon  is  lying  on  his  back  in 
a  high  delirium. 

The  summer  of  1916,  as  has  already  been  mentioned, 
was  particularly  fierce  in  its  heat.  There  is  no  need  for 
the  summer  to  be  more  than  usually  hot  for  the  malaria 
mosquito  to  do  its  worst,  but  undoubtedly  this  factor 
contributed  considerably  to  the  wave  of  sickness  that 
passed  over  the  Army.  Under  the  severe  conditions 
imposed  on  them  by  month  after  month  of  blazing  heat, 
the  men  were  used  up  and  of  low  vitality.  In  every 
battalion  men  went  down  by  the  hundred,  and  there 
were  several  cases  of  one  or  two  officers  and  two  or 
three  score  men  only  being  left  out  of  a  whole  battalion 
up  to  full  strength.  In  a  fortnight  the  South  Notts 
Hussars  were  reduced  to  45  officers  and  other  ranks 
and  never  went  into  action  at  all  in  Macedonia,  though 
they  saw  plenty  later  in  Palestine.  And  one  infantry 
battalion  was  reduced  to  one  officer  and  19  men.  The 
difficulties  of  evacuating  this  flood  of  sick  men,  a  large 
proportion  of  whom  were  extremely  ill  and  helpless  as 
babies,  were  extreme.  Most  of  them  fell  ill  when  they 
were  far  from  convenient  means  of  transport,  and  had 
to  be  carried  two  at  a  time  in  cacolets  on  the  back  of  a 
mule,  or  had  to  be  dragged  along  in  a  travois,  a  sort  of 
litter  made  of  canvas  stretched  between  two  shafts 
which  trail  on  the  ground  behind  a  mule;  or  carried 
on  a  litter  suspended  between  two  mules.  The  person- 
nel of  the  Field  Ambulances  were  worked  to  death  at 
this  difficult  and  exhausting  work.  The  sudden  out- 
break overwhelmed  the  medical  services,  which  were 

184 


MUD  AND  MALARIA 

not  then  organised  up  to  the  point  of  dealing  with 
the  startling  problem  of  a  fit  army  suddenly  turning 
into  a  sick  one.  Again  the  Seres  Road,  which  from 
right  and  left  on  the  Struma,  received  the  main  flood 
of  patients,  was  still  largely  in  its  primitive  state,  and 
the  men  had  very  exhausting  journeys  down  to  the  Base. 

Down  in  Salonica  it  was  a  common  sight  in  the  after- 
noon to  see  a  long  convoy  of  motor  ambulances,  dozens 
of  them  in  line,  and  each  of  them  holding  four  or  more 
patients,  passing  along  the  main  street  out  to  the  big 
general  hospitals  grouped  together  at  Kalamaria.  As 
they  rolled  silently  along  through  the  busy,  hot  streets, 
one  saw  from  behind  each  ambulance  the  feet  of  the 
four  recumbent  men  within.  And  to  see  the  long  con- 
voys day  after  day,  never  failing,  gave  a  dolorous  im- 
pression of  the  ravages  caused  in  the  Army  by  the  bite 
of  the  tiny  creature  v/ith  the  spotted  wings  known  as 
the  anopheles  mosquito ;  an  impression  of  strong  men 
falling  right  and  left  as  if  struck  by  a  plague — which 
in  a  sense  is  what  it  was. 

In  that  summer  we  had  11,500  hospital  beds  avail- 
able in  Salonica.  But  the  admissions  to  hospital  for 
malaria  alone  were  a  few  hundreds  only  short  of  thirty 
thousand.  Thirty  thousand  !  and  the  great  proportion 
of  these  men  from  the  front  line  !  This  gives  an  idea 
of  what  the  Army,  installed  in  a  barren  and  inhospit- 
able country,  suffered  from  the  evil  attentions  of  a  tiny 
insect;  a  little  brute  which  does  not  anger  or  instinc- 
tively disgust  you,  as  does  a  fly,  nor  make  you  feel 
creepy  (if  you  are  built  that  way)  as  does  a  spider, 
but  which  has  the  power  suddenly  to  make  populous 
camps  deserted ;  to  set  hundreds  of  motor  ambulances 
rolling  ceaselessly  up  and  down,  and  to  turn  the  tented 
field  of  a  great  hospital  into  a  place  of  overwork  and 
wholesale  sickness,  where  doctors  slave  the  clock  round 

185 


SALONICA  AND  AFTER 

and  nurses  are  run  off  their  legs.  It  is  absurd,  but  it  is 
so.    Man  and  the  mosquito  are  made  that  way. 

As  the  generous  establishment  of  hospitals  was  in- 
sufficient to  deal  with  all  the  malarial  cases  under 
treatment,  and  the  fresh  ones  which  constantly  came 
rolling  in,  patients  were  sent  off  to  Malta  by  hospital 
ship.  Some  twenty  thousand  were  dealt  with  in  this 
way  during  1916,  and  some  of  those  who  were  more  or 
less  themselves  again  felt,  as  they  sailed  over  the  blue 
sea  away  from  Salonica  (but  not  when  they  were  sailing 
back)  that  malaria  had  its  compensations.  But  the  un- 
restricted submarine  warfare  of  1917,  in  which  the 
Germans  showed  themselves  base  enough  to  attack 
hospital  ships,  put  a  stop  to  all  this.  As  a  consequence 
more  and  more  hospitals  were  brought  to  Salonica,  and 
soon  the  great  medical  settlement  of  Kalamaria,  where 
the  big  hospitals  gathered  together  near  the  sea, 
formed  a  large-sized  town,  was  rivalled  by  the 
new  settlement  which  sprung  up  on  the  lower 
slopes  leading  up  to  Hortiach.  And  all  this  tre- 
mendous expenditure  of  time  and  trouble  and  work 
of  organisation,  of  planning  and  replanning ;  of  big  new 
convalescent  camps  to  take  on  where  the  hospitals  left 
off;  of  a  thousand  and  one  arrangements,  military, 
medical  and  naval,  was  negative.  It  did  nothing  to 
help  us  to  win  the  war,  but  was  one  of  the  things  that 
had  to  be  done  to  prevent  us  losing  it.  Thirty  thousand 
of  our  men — including  some  of  the  best  infantry  in  all 
the  British  Armies — were  out  of  action  during  the  first 
summer  without  having  a  wound  amongst  them  !  There 
are  some  things  which  certainly  cannot  be  foreseen. 

And  1916  was  by  no  means  the  end  of  our  troubles 
from  malaria.  It  was  only  the  insignificant  beginning. 
The  problem  was  tackled  most  energetically  and  the 
medical  authorities  initiated  preventive  measures  on  a 

186 


MUD  AND  MALARIA 

very  large  scale  in  the  way  of  oiling  and  draining  stag- 
nant waters,  cutting  down  and  burning  great  tracts  of 
brushwood,  making  sluggish  streams  flow  swiftly.  The 
healthy  men  were  protected  in  every  way  possible — 
mosquito-proof  huts,  gloves,  head  nets  and  nasty  oint- 
ments; and  the  men  already  infected  treated  with  all 
the  medical  skill  which  a  close  acquaintance  with  the 
disease  on  a  large  scale  had  given  us.  But  the  chief 
difficulty  about  dealing  with  malaria  on  such  a  scale 
is  that  the  patient  is  subject  to  frequent  relapses.  Again, 
each  fresh  summer  gave  us,  in  spite  of  all  the  hard 
work  and  devotion  displayed,  many  new  patients  in 
addition  to  those  who  were  constantly  going  sick  as  a 
result  of  their  infection  one  or  two  summers  previously. 
And  this  explains  why,  in  spite  of  our  experience  and 
improved  methods,  the  total  admissions  for  malaria 
rose  with  each  summer;  why  the  thirty  thousand  of 
1916  had  become  sixty-three  thousand  in  1917  and 
sixty-seven  thousand  (in  a  much-depleted  Army)  in 
1918.  By  the  summer  of  the  latter  year  the  Salonica 
Army  was  full  of  listless,  anaemic,  unhappy,  sallow  men 
w^hose  lives  were  a  physical  burden  to  them  and  a 
material  burden  to  the  Army;  who  circulated  back- 
wards and  forwards  between  hospital  and  convalescent 
camps,  passing  only  an  occasional  few  days  at  work 
with  their  units,  and  then  being  sent  away  to  do  the 
round  of  hospital  and  "con.  camp"  again.  And  the 
admissions  to  hospital  did  not  take  into  account  the 
great  number  of  men  who  had  constant  relapses  with- 
out declaring  them.  Practically  everybody  in  the  Army 
had  malaria. 

In  1916  Sir  Ronald  Ross,  perhaps  the  world's  fore- 
most malarial  expert,  came  out  to  Salonica  to  look 
round.  After  doing  so  he  said  :  "  You'll  have  a  good 
deal  of  malaria  this  year,  and  a  good  deal  more  the 

187 


SALONICA  AND  AFTER 

following  year."  Late  in  1917  he  came  out  again 
(being  torpedoed  on  the  way  across  the  Ionian  Sea  from 
Taranto)  and  saw  to  what  a  striking  extent  his  pro- 
phecy had  been  fulfilled.  So  it  was  that  the  famous 
''Y"  scheme  was  brought  into  operation,  by  which  all 
chronic  malaria  patients  were  sent  home.  It  was  the 
subject  of  innumerable  quips  and  jokes  among  the  men, 
but  was  all  the  same  the  echo  of  a  very  grim  and 
serious  business.  Under  this  scheme,  in  the  ten  months 
of  January  to  October,  1918,  nearly  thirty  thousand 
men  were  sent  home.  They  were  not  the  victims  of 
shrapnel  or  bayonet  or  high-explosive  (although  many 
carried  their  wound  stripes  also),  but  none  the  less  they 
were  men  broken  in  the  wars.  And  our  country  should 
not  be  allowed  to  ignore  or  forget  the  fact.  In  his 
despatch  dated  December  1st,  1918,  General  Milne  made 
this  point.  In  concluding  with  an  expression  of  his  high 
appreciation  of  all  ranks  of  the  Army  he  said,  ''the 
majority  of  them  will  return  to  their  homes  with  con- 
stitutions shattered  by  a  prolonged  stay  in  this  malarial 
and  inhospitable  country." 

Mud  and  malaria  !  We  have  devoted  just  one  chapter 
to  them.  But  they  really  loom  much  larger  than  that 
in  the  story  of  the  B.S.F. 


188 


CHAPTER  XV. 

Home  on  Leave. 

There  came  a  wonderful  morning  when  I  stood  on  the 
platform  at  the  Orient  Station  waiting  to  step  on  the 
leave  train.  It  seemed  far  too  good  to  be  true.  I  had 
been  for  twenty-seven  months  in  and  around  Salonica — 
and  it  seemed  at  least  twice  as  long.  And  my  complete 
joy  and  satisfaction  were  tempered  by  only  one  regret — 
that  so  many  people  who  had  been  out  longer,  and  who 
deserved  this  wonderful  morning  far  more,  must  be  left 
behind  to  "carry  on"  with  all  prospect  of  leave  appar- 
ently still  as  remote  as  ever. 

This  question  of  leave  was  one  of  the  chief  trials  of 
the  Salonica  Army,  especially  in  the  later  stages  of 
the  campaign.  The  will  to  do  it  was  there,  but  there 
were  many  difficulties  in  the  way.  Transport,  of 
course,  was  one  of  the  greatest  of  these.  Leave  parties 
were  organised  at  a  fairly  early  stage,  but  the  outbreak 
of  the  ruthless  submarine  war  of  1917  almost  at  once 
made  the  regular  transport  of  large  bodies  of  troops  by 
sea  an  extremely  difficult  and  dangerous  matter.  The 
submarine  problem  in  the  Mediterranean  was  always  a 
critical  one,  largely  so  because  of  the  impossibility  of 
obtaining  a  united  command  on  sea.  All  the  arguments 
which  were  finally  successful  in  vesting  the  supreme 
military  power  in  the  hands  of  Marshal  Foch  applied 
with  at  least  equal  force  to  the  absolute  co-ordination 
of  naval  operations  in  the  Mediterranean,  ^and  few 
people  would  deny  that  everything  pointed  to  the  ad- 
visability of  putting  the  directing  power  in  the  hands 
of  the  British  Navy — at  any  rate,  as  far  as  the  sub- 

189 


SALONICA  AND  AFTER 

marine  question  is  concerned.  But  alas  !  many  inter- 
national prejudices  and  difficulties  stood  in  the  way 
of  its  realisation.  What  we  did  on  land  our  Allies  would 
not  do  on  the  sea. 

The  help  given  to  German  submarines  in  the  Mgean 
Sea  and  the  Archipelago — an  ideal  region,  with  its  deep 
waters  and  innumerable  islands,  for  submarine  work — 
was  one  of  our  chief  grievances  against  Greece  under 
Constantine.  But  even  with  this  aid  to  the  Germans 
removed,  the  passage  round  Greece  to  Italy  remained 
perilous  and  costly  in  the  extreme.  What  use  to  send 
war-worn  troops  on  leave  if  there  was  a  high  chance 
of  them  all  perishing  en  route  ?  As  a  consequence  of 
this  eternal  menace  the  overland  route  was,  late  in  1917, 
finally  set  going.  After  many  delays  the  railway 
between  Salonica  and  Athens  was  completed  in  June, 
1916,  but  it  was  not  until  the  autumn  of  1917  that  it 
could  be  used  for  traffic.  By  means  of  this  railway 
troops  could  be  taken  down  to  Bralo,  fwo-thirds  of  the 
way  to  Athens,  and  from  there  carried  53  kilometres  by 
road  to  Itea  on  the  Gulf  of  Corinth,  from  whence  the 
sea  journey  to  Italy  was  very  short,  and  splendidly 
protected  by  the  great  Otranto  Barrage  which,  in  face 
of  enormous  difficulties  of  many  kinds,  the  British  Navy 
put  down  and  maintained.  In  theory  this  seemed  per- 
fect and  the  granting  of  leave  a  comparatively  easy 
matter.  But  in  practice  it  was  otherwise.  Rolling 
stock  was  short,  and  the  single  line  railway,  which  runs 
up  and  down  extraordinary  gradients,  was  only  capable 
of  handling  a  limited  amount  of  tl-affic.  In  wet  weather 
landslips  were  always  taking  place,  which  blocked  the 
line  for  anything  up  to  a  week  or  more.  The  Greek 
Army  needed  the  railway  for  the  new  task  ahead  of  it. 
And  added  to  all  this,  and  many  other  things,  the 
French  had  first  call  on  the  railway  for  their  own  leave 

190 


HOME   ON  LEAVE 

troops,  and  exercised  it.  But  once  all  this  was  disposed 
of,  similar  difficulties  began  in  Italy.  There  again 
transport  was  limited — and  very  costly  to  us — and  coal 
was  short.  Owing,  again,  to  the  submarine,  the  main 
line  through  Italy  and  France  became  more  and  more 
necessary  to  our  many  enterprises  in  the  East,  Salonica 
being  only  one  of  them.  And  the  disastrous  events  on 
the  Italian  Front  in  November,  1917,  closed  the  railway 
for  a  long  period  to  any  such  pleasant  function  as  con- 
veying leave  parties.  Moreover,  the  organization  on 
this  line  of  communication  was  bad.  Then  in  1918  the 
available  transport  was  largely  taken  up  by  the  men 
going  home  on  the  "  Y  "  scheme.  These  were  some, 
but  by  no  means  all,  of  the  reasons  which  made  leave 
from  Salonica  an  extremely  difficult  problem ;  so  that 
although  the  B.S.F.  authorities  realised  as  well  as  any- 
body the  hardship  of  men  being  away  from  home  in  a 
trying  climate  for  three  years  and  more,  they  were 
powerless  to  alter  the  situation.  All  the  same,  it  was 
difficult  to  understand  why,  after  eighteen  months  in 
Macedonia,  French  and  Italian  troops  should  go  home  in 
British  ships  while  our  own  men  were  left  behind.  But 
that  has  so  often  been  the  British  part  in  the  war — to 
stand  aside  and  concede  to  others  what  we  wanted  our- 
selves. No  doubt  those  who  ruled  our  destinies  at  home 
understood  why.  But  it  was  a  mystery  to  Tommy  in 
Macedonia. 

However,  I  thought  only  vaguely  of  all  those  things 
as  I  stepped  in  the  train  on  that  happy  morning. 
Friends  were  there  to  see  friends  off.  Ours  was  a  mixed 
trainload ;  a  handful  of  British  officers,  a  few  hundred 
men,  and  some  six  hundred  Bulgar  prisoners  of  the 
fifteen  himdred  captured  by  the  Greeks  not  long  before 
at  Skra  di  Legen  near  the  Vardar,  the  first  action  of  the 
new  Greek  Army  on  a  considerable  scale. 

191 


SALONICA  AND  AFTER 

How  many  of  us  will  remember  in  after  years  the 
happy  sensations  of  being  actually  in  the  leave  train  to 
Bralo  !  We  were  moving,  and  soon  the  incredible  sight 
appeared  of  Salonica  disappearing — if  one  may  put  it 
so.  It  was  my  second  time  in  a  railway  train  for  well 
over  two  years,  and  I  felt  like  an  excited  youngster. 
The  carriages  were  dirty,  but  we  were  a  merry  party. 
Food  packages  were  undone  and  a  wizard  did  wonderful 
things  with  a  Primus  stove.  I  had  obtained  permission 
to  call  in  Rome  and  Paris  and  thus,  travelling  by  rapide, 
was  free  of  the  mingled  horrors  and  amusements  of  the 
long,  long  trip  by  troop  train  through  Italy  and  France. 
But  the  others  had  prepared  for  this  dreadful  journey, 
and  had  brought  extraordinary  outfits  so  that  they 
might  live  and  eat  and  wash  and  be  warm  on  the  road. 
What  tales  will  be  told  of  those  days  and  nights  in  the 
leave  trains.  The  officers  may  find  it  jolly  enough  in 
retrospect  (although  even  that  is  not  likely).  But  the 
men  had  such  a  thoroughly  uncomfortable  time  in  their 
cattle  trucks  that  many  of  them  on  returning  to 
Salonica  swore  that  they  would  never  go  on  leave  again 
even  in  the  unlikely  event  of  it  being  offered  to  them. 

At  Ekaterina,  at  the  foot  of  mighty  Olympus,  the 
Y.M.C.A.  provided  us  with  an  excellent  tea — one  detail 
of  its  many  good  works  in  the  B.S.F.  Then  through 
the  famed  and  magnificent  Vale  of  Tempe — the  wonder- 
ful gorge  cutting  between  Mounts  Olympus  and  Ossa — 
surely  one  of  the  finest  bits  of  scenery  in  all  Europe, 
with  the  river  running  through  the  majestic  limestone 
cliffs.  Then  across  the  wide  plain  of  Thessaly,  whose 
corn  Constantine  relied  on  to  hold  out  indefinitely,  and 
so  at  night  to  Larissa,  where  the  E.F.C.  provided  us 
with  an  excellent  dinner.  Life  was  running  on  oiled 
wheels,  but  although  some  of  us  slept  extremely  badly 
in  the  cramped  space  (we  were  five,  which  is  a  fatal 

192 


HOME  ON  LEAVE 

number)  the  wonderful  scenery  when  morning  dawned 
soon  made  us  forget.  We  washed,  hanging  out  of  the 
window,  in  canvas  buckets  attached  to  the  door  handle 
and  laughed  like  schoolboys  at  everything  we  did  and 
saw;  and  then  crawled,  jogged,  and  crawled  along  a 
giddy  shelf  cut  along  the  side  of  a  mountain  ridge  which 
opened  out  the  most  impressive  prospect  of  mountain, 
plain  and  sea,  looking  over  somewhere  towards  Thermo- 
pylae. French  engineers  constructed  the  line,  and  a 
striking  job  it  is.  And  so  to  Bralo  station,  near  where 
was  situated  our  first  rest  camp. 

The  big  rest  camp  was  but  one  small  detail  of  the 
organization  of  the  new  leave  service  by  the  overland 
route,  which  included  hospitals,  R.T.O.'s  in  abundance, 
M.T.  Companies  with  their  lorries,  canteens,  and  the 
multitudinous  things  that  go  to  the  making  of  rest 
camps  on  a  large  scale.  We  only  had  to  stay  one  night 
at  Bralo,  and  next  day  started  off  in  motor  lorries  on 
the  wonderful  ride  through  the  mountain  pass  to  Itea. 
It  is  possible  that  before  the  war  some  Europeans,  as 
we  understand  the  word,  had  made  this  journey,  but  I 
should  think  they  were  very  few.  The  pass  cuts  right 
through  the  Parnassus  Range,  and  at  the  summit  the 
road  reaches  2,900  feet.  And  here  in  one  of  the  wildest 
and  most  isolated  valleys  in  Europe  we  constructed  a 
wonderful  broad  highway  to  take  heavy  lorry  traffic. 
The  major  portion  of  the  work  fell  to  us.  The  French 
constructed  a  smaller  portion  on  the  further  side  of 
the  Pass  and  on  to  Itea,  but  in  this  they  were  very 
much  aided  by  the  fact  that  for  twelve  miles  there  was 
quite  a  good  road  running  through  a  valley  filled  with 
one  of  the  largest  olive  groves  in  the  world,  and  this 
was  kept  in  pretty  good  condition  by  the  local  inhabi- 
tants for  their  own  purposes. 

Up,    up    we    climbed — twenty-five    lorries    in    line; 

193  o 


SALONICA  AND  AFTER 

one  or  two  officers  on  each  seat  next  the  driver  and  the 
bodies  of  the  vehicles  filled  with  cheerful  soldiers  all 
bubbling  over  with  the  idea  that  they  were  really  well- 
started  on  the  leave  journey.  We  were  all  tourists; 
having  a  good  time,  and  without  a  care  in  the  world. 
And  the  dust !  It  was  incredible.  In  half-an-hour  we 
could  beat  it  from  us  in  clouds.  But  what  matter? 
We  would  have  gone  through  fire  and  water.  And  so 
on,  through  a  wonderful  mountain  panorama  to  the 
siunmit,  and  then  down,  down,  with  the  road  twisting 
round  and  about  into  fantastic  hairpin  comers,  until 
suddenly  we  saw  shining  far  away  the  blue  waters  of 
the  Gulf  of  Corinth  and  no  Greeks  under  Xenophon 
were  more  delighted  to  see  the  sea  than  we  were.  On 
down  to  ancient  Amphissa,  prettily  situated  near  the 
beginning  of  the  vast  olive  grove.  Amphissa,  though 
not  really  much  to  talk  about,  had  at  first  sight  quite 
an  air  of  a  pleasantly  civilized  little  country  town,  de- 
lightful to  see,  and  standing  on  a  httle  balcony  as  we 
passed  was — veritably — a  really  beautiful  girl  with  dark 
hair,  who  looked  down  with  interest  on  the  rumbling 
convoy  as  it  passed.  After  Salonica  and  Macedonia, 
she  seemed  like  a  vision  from  heaven.  Passing  back 
along  the  same  route  a  month  or  two  afterwards  I  looked 
up  at  the  balcony,  but  she  was  not  there  to  greet  us 
this  time. 

The  sun  beat  down  fiercely  on  the  road  through  the 
olive  grove  and  we  created  a  dust  storm  as  we  passed. 
The  olive  trees  on  either  side,  with  their  heavy  burdens 
of  fruit,  were  caked  with  dust.  And  finally,  struggling 
up  a  hill,  to  the  baked  and  dusty  rest  camp  of  Itea, 
pitched  on  a  bare  rooky  slope  that  seemed  to  be  crying 
aloud  for  water  and  greenery.  But  it  was  wonderfully 
situated,  with  the  blue  waters  of  the  Gulf  of  Corinth 
below,  the  mountains  of  the  Peloponnese  far  away,  and 

194 


Macedonian  "Ladies"  brealc- 
^        ing  stones  for  road-making. 


The  Pass  Road  from 
Bralo  down  to  Itea. 


Photo  :  Cpl.  J.  G.  Grew. 


HOME   ON  LEAVE 

rising  close  at  hand,  over  the  valley  filled  with  its  olive 
grove,  the  great  rounded  bulk  of  Parnassus.  And  that 
evening  when  we  were  sitting  outside  the  Camp  Com- 
mandant's hut  drinking  a  cool  drink  and  a  large  moon 
came  sailing  up  over  the  crest  of  Parnassus  and,  peep- 
ing down  over  the  valley,  bathed  us  all  in  its  light,  it 
would  have  been  impossible  to  imagine  a  fairer  scene. 

Bralo  rest  camp  was  on  a  plain  just  north  of  Par- 
nassus and  Itea  rest  camp  on  the  slopes  of  a  valley 
just  to  the  south  of  it,  but  we  had  to  go  round 
some  forty  miles  to  get  from  one  to  the  other.  The 
organization  of  a  rest  camp  in  Greece  was  by  no  means 
such  an  easy  matter  as  in  Italy  or  France.  But,  given 
the  circumstances,  they  were  both  excellently  done. 
The  reading  or  lounge  room  attached  to  the  mess  at 
each  place  was  a  sort  of  clearing  house  for  Macedonia. 
Here  one  met  every  possible  variety  of  men  in  the 
Army,  and  those  who  were  in  a  position  to  study  them 
for  any  length  of  time  together  must  have  had  a  fairly 
good  idea  of  what  was  going  on.  Generals,  experts, 
drafts,  new  flying  officers,  occasional  civilians  on  special 
missions,  the  chronic  malaria  patients  going  home  under 
the  "  Y  "  scheme,  reinforcements  (if  any) — all  these 
passed  up  or  down.  The  rest  camps  were  the  pulse  of 
what  was  doing  in  Macedonia.  Here  were  heard  many 
theories  and  rumours — the  spiritual  food  on  which  the 
Army  lives.  And  the  difference  in  optimism  between 
those  going  and  those  returning  was  always  to  be  re- 
marked. 

A  few  miles  from  Itea,  far  up  a  magnificent  gorge 
running  into  the  flank  of  Parnassus,  is  the  famous 
Delphi,  and  what  was  in  modem  times  only  visited  by 
the  archaeologist  or  an  occasional  leisurely  and  wealthy 
tourist  became  a  place  of  pilgrimage  for  many  members 
of  our  Army  who  were  using  the  leave  route.    But  only 

195 


SALONICA  AND  AFTER 

the  enthusiast  went  there,  as  it  was  a  stiff  pull  on  foot, 
and  transport  was  not  easy  to  get.  Fortunately  the 
excellent  Camp  Commandant  was  able  to  produce  one 
of  the  ubiquitous  Fords  which  ran  a  few  of  us  through 
the  olive  grove  and  up  the  steep  mountain  road  very 
quickly.  Fierce  dogs  chased  us  as  we  passed  through 
the  Greek  villages  en  route,  and  chubby  babies — hun- 
dreds of  them — made  noises  at  us.  Unfortunately  for 
one's  enjoyment  of  Delphi,  my  two  companions  were  in 
a  hurry,  but  we  examined  with  some  care  the  remains 
of  the  Temple  of  Apollo,  where  the  Oracle — who  was  not 
troubled  by  the  irritating  by-laws  which  were  inflicted 
on  Bond  Street  crystal  gazers — gave  forth  through  the 
priestess  those  cryptic  and  tremendous  utterances  which 
so  often  decided  for  peace  or  war.  We  sat  on  the 
marble  steps  of  the  exquisite  open-air  theatre,  and 
tested  its  marvellous  acoustic  properties;  paced  the 
Stadium ;  awakened  the  echoes  in  the  great  red  gorge 
through  which  runs  the  Castalian  spring ;  and  inspected 
the  unique  treasures  of  the  museum ;  a  banal  building. 
Delphi  is  a  wonderful  and  awe-inspiring  place,  hemmed 
in  by  the  towering  mountains ;  a  place  where  the  indi- 
vidual feels  dwarfed  and  overpowered  by  the  majesty 
of  nature  in  this  fastness  of  beetling  crags  and  startling 
echoes.  One  could  quite  understand  the  pilgrim, 
whether  King  or  citizen,  being  in  a  very  receptive  mood 
long  before  the  revelation  of  Apollo  was  repeated  to  him 
in  hexameter  verse  by  the  priests.  The  mise-en^schne 
was  perfect,  and  I  should  say  that  in  its  palmy  days 
Delphi  was  one  of  the  most  eflScient  and  flourishing 
businesses  ever  known. 

The  Ford  van  rushed  us  back  down  the  twisting 
mountain  road  at  a  speed  and  a  rotation  that  made  my 
hair  stand  up.  Even  the  village  dogs  judged  it  well 
to  leave  us  well  alone  when  we  flashed  past.     I  was 

196 


HOME   ON  LEAVE 

sitting  on  the  back,  which  was  merely  a  wooden  shelf, 
and  as  we  unwound  the  road  behind  us  it  looked  like 
a  gigantic,  writhing  serpent,  growing  longer  and  longer ; 
and  the  high  crest  of  Parnassus  frowned  upon  us  more 
and  more  overhanging  and  minatory  as  we  dropped 
down.  Perhaps  the  Oracle — splendid  Apollo  himself — 
was  kindly  keeping  an  eye  on  us.  For  no  other  reason 
can  I  imagine  why  the  Ford  did  not  turn  turtle  twenty 
times.  Why  motor  cars  travel  like  this  I  do  not  pretend 
to  know.  I  sometimes  think  that  the  whole  race  of 
motor-car  drivers  is  slightly  mad. 

We  arrived  in  camp  to  hear  that  we  must  be  up  at 
two  in  the  morning,  in  order  to  embark  at  three  o'clock 
— a  most  ungentlemanly  hour.  Three  o'clock  saw  a 
crowd  of  us  packing  the  tiny  landing  stages  of  the  little 
port  of  Itea — French  and  British  and  a  big  crowd  of 
ugly  Senegalese.  In  the  process  of  time  we  arrived  on 
board  the  S.S.  Tymgad,  a  French  ship  of  large  size. 
Most  of  us,  forsaking  the  beauties  of  daybreak  over  the 
picturesque  Gulf,  wisely  went  to  our  beds  as  soon  as 
we  could  find  them.  I  was  awakened  by  the  uncanny 
chatterings  of  the  Senegalese,  and  found  black  faces 
peering  curiously  through  the  deck  window  of  my  ex- 
cellent cabin.  (It  is  a  wise  thing  to  be  a  personal  friend 
of  the  A.M.L.O.)  There  was  a  full  battalion  of  them 
on  board,  and  they  crowded  the  whole  space  of  the 
promenade  decks,  lying  down  for  most  of  the  time  and 
constantly  chattering  like  monkeys,  in  high-pitched 
feminine  voices.  I  was  told  by  one  of  their  officers  that 
they  were  all  going  to  France  as  N.C.O.'s  to  take  charge 
of  the  new  black  army  raised  by  General  Nivelle.  They 
were  not  really  very  pleasant  companions.  "  Bons 
enfants,"  said  the  officer — but  not  very  far  removed 
from  savages.  I  would  not  trust  them  too  far  in  a 
lonely  place.    In  fact  I  have  a  friend  who  in  a  sudden 

197 


SALONICA  AND  AFTER 

night  encounter  with  three  of  them  on  the  Lembet  Road 
owed  his  hfe  solely  to  his  practical  knowledge  of  jiu- 
jitsu.  He  was  suddenly  butted  in  the  chest  by  one  of 
them,  but  managed  to  preserve  his  balance,  got  his 
knee  to  work  rapidly  on  all  three  and  bolted  as  hard  as 
he  could,  leaving  one  of  them  at  least  temporarily  dis- 
abled and  howling. 

We  had  a  submarine  scare,  and  put  into  a  little 
harbour  near  Corfu  that  evening,  but  proceeded  after 
a  delay  of  a  few  hours.  The  captain  was  a  gay  and 
pleasant  man.  "  Don't  worry,"  he  laughed.  "  This  is 
a  lucky  ship.  Nothing  will  ever  happen  to  her."  It 
seemed  rather  like  tempting  Providence,  but  the 
Tymgad  came  out  of  the  war  all  right — thanks  to  the 
Otranto  barrage.  And  so  to  Taranto  without  further 
incident,  through  the  narrow  mouth  of  the  wonderful 
harbour,  and  into  the  British  rest  camp — the  great  junc- 
tion of  everything  and  everybody  that  lay  eastwards. 

That  evening  I  sat  in  a  real  express  train,  feeling  like 
a  Prince  en  voyage.  It  was  good  to  see  the  green  of 
Italy ;  better  still  perhaps  to  walk  into  a  modern  hotel 
at  Rome  and  later  splash  in  a  huge  bath.  And  so  to 
Paris — "  that  is  if  the  trains  will  still  be  running  through 
when  you  get  there."  Well  over  two  years  before,  when 
I  had  last  come  through  Paris,  the  war  seemed  to  be 
ours;  nobody  talked  then  about  the  possibility  of 
danger  to  the  capital.  And  now  with  the  war  nearly 
four  years  old,  she  was  menaced  as  she  had  never  been 
before.  "  Big  Bertha  "  was  busy,  air  raids  were  ex- 
pected nightly,  and  the  enemy  pocket  on  the  Mame 
grew  deeper.  .  .  .  And  yet  Paris  was  very  much  her- 
self, and  her  restaurants  smiled  a  gay  (and  expensive) 
welcome  as  only  the  restaurants  of  Paris  know  how 
to  do. 

There   came   another   wonderful  morning   when  we 

198 


HOME   ON   LEAVE 

stood  on  the  dockside  at  Southampton.  I  sent  off  a 
telegram.  The  thrill  it  gave  one  to  hear  that  it  would 
arrive  in  London  in  two  hours  and  not  (with  luck)  in 
two  weeks  I  And  then  the  homely  South- Western  train, 
bless  it,  and  the  porters,  with  their  red  ties,  just  the 
same.  .  .  .  The  long,  curving  platform  of  Waterloo, 
and,  thank  Heaven,  somebody  waiting  on  it.  The  click 
of  the  clock  on  a  taxi,  and  then  the  smooth,  effortless 
roll  along  London's  level  streets.  No  cobbles,  no  bump- 
ing. No  bullock  wagons  in  the  way ;  no  ancient  Turk 
or  wrinkled  Jewish  patriarch  wandering  sleepily  across 
the  road.  Something  seemed  to  go  click  in  me  too. 
Was  Macedonia  a  reality  ?  Had  one  ever  been  there, 
or  was  it  just  a  dream  ?  In  any  case  it  was  a  million 
miles  away. 


190 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

The  Allied  Operations. 

Though  during  the  long  three-years  campaign  in  the 
Balkans  there  were  many  periods  of  enforced  compara- 
tive inactivity  during  which  only  the  regular  growhng 
of  the  artillery  and  the  work  of  the  patrols  and  the 
Allied  aviators  kept  up  the  offensive  spirit,  there  was 
far  more  fighting  in  the  aggregate  than  most  people  in 
the  outside  world  realised,  and  amongst  them  the 
various  Allies — Serbians,  French,  British,  Italians,  even 
Russians,  and,  finally,  the  Greeks — laid  down  many 
thousands  of  lives  on  the  barren  moimtains  that  mark 
the  frontiers  of  Serbia,  Greece  and  Bulgaria. 

The  Allied  move  out  of  the  "  Birdcage  "  in  the  spring 
and  early  summer  months  of  1916  to  take  up  positions 
along  the  Greek  frontier  where  the  enemy — Bulgars, 
Germans,  Austrians  and  Turks — had  now  entrenched 
themselves  on  most  formidable  positions,  was  followed 
by  a  long  period  during  which  change,  re-arrange- 
ment, marching  and  counter-marching  seemed  to  go 
on  interminably.  This  was  due  to  various  causes;  to 
"  bluff  "  on  both  sides;  to  a  proposed  Allied  Offensive 
along  the  Vardar,  which  had  to  be  abandoned  because 
the  Bulgars  got  in  first  with  their  own  attack  on  the 
left  of  the  Allied  line,  against  the  Serbs ;  and  also  be- 
cause of  the  fact  that  at  first,  owing  to  a  number  of 
reasons,  British  and  French  Divisions  were  mixed  up 
in  rather  higgledy-piggledy  fashion.  The  troops,  who 
knew  nothing  of  any  of  the  reasons    dictating    these 

200 


THE   ALLIED  OPERATIONS 

changes,  found  themselves  committed  to  a  good  deal  of 
hard  and  exasperating  marching  and  counter-marching 
in  exhausting  heat  which  seemed  to  lead  to  nothing  in 
particular.    Then  the  Italians  who  in  September  took 
up  a  twenty-five  mile  line  on  the  Krusha-Balkan  sector, 
between  Lake  Doiran  and  the  Struma  Valley,  came  as 
another  dividing  wedge  between  the  two  wings  of  the 
British  front.    It  was  not  until  towards  the  end  of  1916 
that  the  British  finally  settled  down  on  the  line  running 
from  the  Vardar  to  Doiran,  round  the  elbow  made  by 
the  Krusha-Balkan  range  and  so  down  the  long  Struma 
Valley  to  the  sea — a  distance  of  about  ninety  miles. 
This  very  extended  front  was  held  for  two  and  a  half 
years.    Along  its  whole  length  we  were  dominated  by 
enemy  positions  which  were  always  markedly  superior 
in    strength — and   height — and    as    a    rule    immensely 
superior.     It  was  a  crazy  front,  like  the  whole  of  the 
Balkan  front,  and  zig-zagged  up  and  down  steep  hills, 
in  and  out  of  ravines,  ran  along  the  tops  of  high  ridges 
and  finally  brought  us  up  on  the  Struma  with  its  odd 
mixture  of  open  and  position  warfare.     To  hold  this 
very  long  front,  always  against  superior  forces,  we  had 
as  a  maximum  four  Divisions,  much  weakened  by  sick- 
ness and  casualties.    The  10th  Division,  after  its  gallan- 
try and  hardships  in  the  retreat  down  from  the  Bul- 
garian frontier   in  1915,  took  part  in  some  stiff  and 
successful  fighting  in  the  Struma  Valley  in  1916,  and 
went  to  Palestine  in  September,  1917,  there  to  win  fresh 
laurels.    The  60th  Division,  which  only  arrived  in  the 
Balkans  in  December,  1916,  also  went  to  Palestine  in 
June,  1917,  and  saw  comparatively  little  service  in  the 
Balkans,  although  it  was  to  see  plenty  under  General 
AUenby  later  on  and  to  play  a  big  part  in  his  victories. 
At  about  the   same  time  the   7th   and   8th  Mounted 
Brigades  also  went  to  Palestine.      The  four  Divisions 

201 


SALONICA  AND  AFTER 

which  are  the  most  identified  with  the  Balkan  campaign 
are  the  22nd,  26th,  27th  and  28th.  Theirs  was  the  task 
for  over  two  years  of  holding  alone  the  long  British 
front  from  the  Vardar  to  the  sea,  a  disposition  which 
was  not  disturbed  until  the  entry  of  the  Greeks  into 
line  in  1918,  when  we  gave  up  the  Struma  Valley  to  the 
newcomers  and  for  the  first  time  extended  our  line 
westwards  over  the  Vardar. 

The  outstanding  feature  of  all  the  Allied  fighting  in 
the  Balkans  is  not  that  we  were  so  long  in  bringing 
about  a  decisive  victory,  but  that  we  did  as  well  as 
we  did,  with  so  many  circumstances  against  us,  and 
were  able  at  least  to  hold  our  own  until  the  day  when 
a  decisive  push  could  really  be  expected  to  bring  about 
such  a  situation  as  would  materially  help  towards  bring- 
ing the  war  to  an  end.  It  is  the  enemy  for  whom  the 
impartial  historian  should  reserve  his  reproaches.  They 
held  all  the  cards  in  their  hands,  and  ought  to  have 
driven  us  into  the  sea — as  they  often  boasted  they 
would — long  before  the  day  when  we  at  last  hurled 
them  from  their  mountain  ranges.  They  were  on  in- 
terior lines,  and  for  them  the  Macedonian  front  was, 
practically,  as  accessible  as  any  other  front.  They  could 
send  down  men  and  munitions  from  Germany  within 
a  few  days.  But  we  depended  on  the  long  and 
hazardous  sea  route,  and  every  man,  shell  or  tin  of 
bully  beef  that  made  that  leisurely  journey  had,  so  to 
speak,  a  price  on  his  or  its  head — a  price  that  was  often 
paid,  in  spite  of  the  vigilance  of  the  Navy.  The  enemy 
as  a  rule  considerably  outnumbered  us.  His  artillery, 
direct  from  Essen,  was  always  superior  in  weight.  And 
yet  never  once,  with  the  possible  exception  of  the  Bulgar 
summer  offensive  of  1916,  was  there  a  serious  attempt 
to  thrust  us  out  of  Macedonia,  although  there  were 
times  when  our  lines  were  so  thin,  and  so  weakly  sup- 

202 


THE  ALLIED  OPERATIONS 

ported,  that  a  full-dress  offensive,  if  backed  by  the 
lavish  German  support  so  often  displayed  elsewhere, 
must  almost  certainly  have  broken  us.  That  the  enemy 
forces  never  really  tried  to  put  their  boasts  into  execu- 
tion must  be  ascribed  largely  to  the  fact  that  the  Bul- 
gars  had  obtained,  at  relatively  small  cost,  most  of 
what  they  exi)ected  to  get  out  of  the  war,  and  were  un- 
willing to  pay  on  a  rapidly  ascending  scale  the  price 
necessary  for  further  successes.  They  knew  the  quality 
of  the  Allies,  and  realised  that  on  the  defensive  we 
should  exact  a  bitter  price.  And  why  should  the 
Bulgars  (many  of  them  argued)  run  up  scores  of  thou- 
sands of  casualties  in  striving  for  Salonica,  knowing 
that  even  if  they  reached  it  the  Kaiser  would  see  that 
after  the  victory  it  remained  in  the  hands  of  his  brother- 
in-law  Const antine  ?  Again,  the  purpose  of  the  enemy 
was  almost  entirely  served  so  long  as  they  kept  us  from 
severing  the  communications  with  Turkey  and  the  East, 
and  this,  following  the  treachery  to  Roumania  and  the 
Russian  collapse,  was  an  easy  matter  to  ensure.  Fur- 
ther, there  seemed  for  a  long  period  an  excellent  chance 
of  the  intrigues  of  King  Constantine  accomplishing  at 
least  half  the  work,  and  his  final  elimination  was  un- 
doubtedly a  big  set-back  for  the  enemy. 

But  with  all  these  arguments  in  favour  of  the  enemy 
maintaining  his  defensive  role,  there  can  be  little  doubt 
that  it  would  have  paid  him  handsomely  to  have  forced 
a  decision  on  the  Balkan  front.  With  Russia  in  an- 
archy, Roumania  enslaved,  and  Salonica,  Greece,  and, 
in  fact,  the  whole  of  the  Balkans  in  his  hands,  the 
German  triumph  in  Eastern  Europe  would  have  been 
complete.  Piraeus,  the  port  of  Athens,  as  well  as  Salon- 
ica, would  have  been  a  submarine  base,  and  what  we 
accomplished  in  the  way  of  submarine  trapping  across 
the  narrow  waters  of  the  Adriatic  would  have  been  an 

203 


SALONICA  AND  AFTER 

infinitely  more  difficult  matter  in  the  deep  and  broken 
waters  of  the  Mgean,  Our  communications  with  Egypt 
and  the  East  generally  would  have  been  infinitely  more 
difficult  to  maintain.  The  Greek  Army  would  have 
belonged  to  the  Kaiser,  and  not  to  Venizelos  and  the 
Allies.  And  the  moral  effect  of  an  Allied  evacuation  of 
Salonica — whether  orderly  or  hurried — would  have 
been  immense.  It  might  not  have  won  the  war  for 
the  enemy,  but  it  would  have  immensely  lengthened  it 
for  us,  and,  as  we  now  see,  would  have  deprived  us  of 
that  "  jumping-off  place  "  for  final  victory  which  the 
Balkan  front  was  destined  to  become.  Half  the  strength 
expended  on  the  Italian  front  in  November,  1917,  or 
a  quarter  of  that  expended  on  the  Western  front  in  the 
spring  of  1918  must  have  given  the  enemy  complete 
victory  in  the  Balkans.  Had  he  obtained  this  there 
would  have  been  no  back  door  remaining  for  us  to 
prize  open,  and  so  break  up  the  Unholy  Alliance.  He 
could  have  strengthened  the  Turks  in  Palestine  and 
Mesopotamia;  the  Itahan  front  would  have  remained 
in  a  condition  of  stalemate.  Even  if  he  had  still  shot 
his  bolt,  and  failed,  in  the  West  he  could  have  held  us 
off  for  a  long  time  so  long  as  his  Allies  remained  un- 
broken. It  was  the  props  being  knocked  from  under 
him,  as  Mr.  Lloyd  George  said,  which  brought  the  end 
so  precipitately,  and  the  first  prop  to  go,  as  we  all 
know,  was  the  Balkan  front.  In  other  words,  had 
Salonica  and  Greece  been  captured  by  the  enemy  in 
1917  or  1918,  the  war  might  easily  have  lasted  for  two 
or  three  years  longer,  and  even  then  might  have  ended 
much  less  to  the  Allies'  advantage.  And  if  the  chief 
reason  which  prevailed  on  the  enemy  not  to  undertake 
a  large-scale  Balkan  offensive  was  the  unwillingness  of 
the  Bulgars  to  engage  in  an  adventure  which  was  boimd 
to  be  very  costly  to  them,  then  we  can  only  rejoice 

204 


THE  ALLIED  OPERATIONS 

that  the  Germans  also  laboured  under  the  difficulties 
which  are  common  to  most  Alliances. 

How  often  in  the  old  days  did  we  in  Salonica  argue 
on  the  role  of  the  Balkan  front.  Even  those  who  were 
serving  on  it  often  asked  :  "  Is  it  worth  while?  What 
can  we  hope  to  do  here  with  the  forces  we  have,  against 
the  positions  that  confront  us  ?  As  far  as  we  are  con- 
cerned it  is  stalemate,  and  always  will  be."  And  how 
often  did  one  argue  stoutly  something  in  this  wise  : 
"  One  day  the  enemy  ring  will  crack.  We  shall  break 
through  in  the  West,  let  us  say.  Then  Germany's 
Allies,  seeing  Germany  definitely  losing,  will  weaken 
and  think  of  making  peace.  The  fact  that  we  have  a 
force  on  hand  in  the  Balkans,  ready  to  push  in  another 
segment  of  the  weakening  circle,  will  make  all  the 
difference  to  our  affairs  in  the  West  when  the  moment 
comes.  That  is  the  role  of  the  Balkan  Armies  :  to  hang 
on  patiently  until  the  right  moment.  That  is  when  we 
shall  make  our  presence  felt,  so  that  all  our  disappoint- 
ments and  our  long  waiting  here  will  be  more  than 
justified." 

It  was  an  argument  which  did  not  always  convince. 
But  who  could  have  foreseen  how  far  it  was  to  be  from 
the  truth ;  and  not  on  the  wrong  side,  but  on  the  right 
side.  The  break-through  came  not  elsewhere  but  in  the 
Balkans  itself,  and  the  dramatic  disintegration,  ending 
in  final  and  grovelling  collapse,  came  not  so  much 
through  Germany's  Allies  weakening  because  Germany 
was  beaten  as  Germany  breaking  because  her  Allies 
were  beaten.  It  was  more  than  the  most  enthusiastic 
and  consistent  "  Balkanite  "  could  have  hoped  for. 

And  a  final  word  to  round  this  off,  by  way  of  showing 
that  the  writer  does  not  hold  an  exaggerated  view  of 
what  was  ultimately  done  in  the  Balkans,  or  of  what 
could  have  been  done  there  earlier.     The  Allied  offen- 

205 


SALONICA  AND  AFTER 

sive  in  the  Balkans  succeeded  just  at  the  one  moment 
when  it  was  pK)ssible  for  it  to  succeed.  Given  the 
troops  we  had  to  dispose  of,  or  perhaps  with  many 
more,  at  no  other  time  after  the  enemy  had  taken  up 
his  mountain  positions  in  1916  could  we  have  fought 
through  and  finally  crumpled  up  the  Balkan  Front. 
The  idea,  for  instance,  of  cutting  through  and  severing 
Turkey  from  Bulgaria  was  never  practicable — once  the 
Germano-Bulgars  had  fortified  themselves  on  the  key 
positions  of  Macedonia,  and  once  the  Russians  had 
collapsed  and  Roumania  had  been  overrun.  The  great 
body  of  troops  necessary  for  such  an  operation  simply 
could  not  have  been  properly  handled  and  supplied  in 
a  country  possessing  so  many  disadvantages.  More- 
over, at  any  earlier  period  of  the  war,  whatever  advan- 
tage we  had  gained  by  a  successful  Balkan  offensive 
could  have  been  almost  immediately  nullified  by  Ger- 
many's pwDwer  to  rush  down  reinforcements  at  a  rate 
immenselj^  superior  to  ours.  We  might  (given  we  had 
possessed  the  men)  have  captured — at  a  very*  great 
expenditure  in  lives — one  set  of  mountain  ranges.  At 
the  end  of  it,  with  our  losses  heavy  upon  us,  we  should 
have  been  confronted  with  another  series  of  positions 
just  as  strong,  and  with  powerful,  fresh  enemy  forces 
to  overcome  our  depleted  forces.  Throughout  the  war, 
almost  to  its  end,  Germany  was  always  strong  enough 
to  wipe  out  any  advantage  we  might  have  gained  in 
the  Balkans,  and  at  the  very  best  we  should  have  gained 
a  very  barren  and  costly  victory  by  capturing  a  few 
barren  mountains.* 

*  This  latter  point  is  somewhat  modified  by  the  \'iews  expressed 
by  General  Henrys,  the  distinguished  Commander-in-Chief  of  the 
French  Arm6e  d'Orient  in  a  conversation  I  had  with  him  in  Salonica, 
in  February,  1919.  *'  Germany  still  had  large  forces  within  call,  even 
at  the  moment  when  we  broke  through  in  1918,"  he  said.  **  There 
was  Mackensen  in  Roumania  with  200,000  men.  The  reason  he  could 
not  get  them  down  in  time  to  heal  the  breach  was  because  of  the 

206 


THE  ALLIED  OPERATIONS 

The  successful  offensive  in  the  Balkans  came  just  at 
the  one  moment  when  we  had  fresh  forces  (the  Greek 
Army)  and  when  Germany,  owing  to  her  failures  on 
the  West,  foimd  it  impossible  to  scrape  up  any  help 
for  the  Bulgars.  We  held  on  and  held  on — and  finally 
struck  just  at  the  right  moment.  One  need  claim  no 
more  for  the  Balkan  Army  than  this;  that  through 
three  years  of  disappointment  and  misconception  it  did 
its  job  thoroughly  by  holding  on,  occasionally  trying 
the  impossible,  and  that  when  its  moment  came  it  com- 
pleted its  job  thoroughly  by  taking  full  advantage  of 
the  occasion  offered  and  opening  the  way  to  rapid  and 
final  victory.  In  September,  1918,  it  was  impossible  to 
put  a  limit  to  the  length  of  the  war.  In  October,  1918, 
following  the  Balkan  offensive,  even  the  least  optimistic 
of  us  saw  the  great  Colossus  was  really  tottering,  and 
that  a  cessation  of  fighting  by  Christmas  was  not  a  wild 
impossibility.     It  came  in  November. 

To  all  this,  the  Home  Critic  might  reply  :  "  Yes,  no 
doubt  there  is  something  in  all  this,  but  why  didn't  we 
go  to  Serbia's  help  sooner  ?  Then  you  might  have  done 
something  in  your  Balkans  at  a  much  earlier  date." 
The  answer  is  that  we  did  not  possess  the  men.  All  our 
surplus  had  been  committed  to  the  Dardanelles,  and 
by  the  time  the  expedition  to  Salonica  had  come  into 
question  the  Dardanelles  was  as  definitely  behind  us  as 
the  battle  of  Agincourt.  It  is  true  that  if  instead  of 
engaging  originally  in  the  Dardanelles   campaign   we 

extraordinary  rapidity  with  which  the  Serbs,  once  the  breach  was 
made,  exploited  their  success  and  forged  ahead.  As  the  German 
troops  arrived  from  Roumania  they  were  pushed  to  right  or  left  by 
the  advancing  Serbs,  and  never  succeeded  in  forming  a  front."  But 
the  Germans  and  Austrians  were  by  now  shaken  and  hesitating 
before  our  continued  successes  in  France,  and  it  is  pretty  certain 
that  they  would  have  succeeded  in  doing  in  1917  what  they  failed 
to  do  in  1918.  Which  brings  us  back  to  the  point  that  the  Balkan 
offensive   succeeded  just  at   the  one   moment   ordained   for  it. 

207 


SALONICA  AND  AFTER 

had  sent  our  Divisions  to  Serbia,  tlie  war  would  have 
gone  much  better  for  us.  Bulgaria  would  almost  cer- 
tainly not  have  come  in  and  Turkey  would  never  have 
been  joined  up  to  Germany.  But  this  opens  up  an  im- 
mense vista  which  leads  back  at  least  as  far  as  the 
Treaty  of  Berlin,  and  perhaps  we  had  better  pursue  it 
no  further.  And  though  we  were  fighting  for  the  Right 
we  cannot  expect  to  have  all  the  luck  and  all  the  wis- 
dom on  our  side  all  the  time. 

And  the  Home  Critic  might  say  again  :  "Yes,  no 
doubt  you  are  doing  your  best  to  make  out  a  good 
case.  But  what  annoyed  us  at  home  was  that  on  the 
Salonica  Front  you  only  went  in  for  fighting  now  and 
again,  whereas  on  the  Western  Front  somebody  was 
fighting  all  the  time.  How  was  it  you  didn't  fight 
oftener  .^"  And  the  answer  is  that  if  the  British  Balkan 
Army  had  fought  for  a  whole  fortnight  on  end  as  it 
fought,  on  several  occasions,  two-day  and  three-day 
battles  at  Doiran,  it  would  have  been  wiped  out  entirely. 
And  then,  Mr.  Home  Critic,  you  would  have  had  to  send 
out  another  army. 

The  fighting  in  the  Balkans  may  be  divided  into  four 
main  phases: — 

(1)  The  Franco-British  expedition  to  save  Serbia  late 
in  1915,  which  failed  in  its  object  because  our  troops 
were  too  few  and  arrived  too  late,  so  that  the  Serbs 
were  driven  down  into  Albania  before  General  Sarrail 
could  effect  a  junction  with  them  far  away  up  the  Var- 
dar.  The  Allied  Forces  had  to  fall  back  on  Salonica 
after  fighting  heavy  actions  with  far  superior  forces 
of  Bulgars,  but  the  enemy  did  not  try  to  push  his  ad- 
vantage further  and  remained  on  or  near  the  Greek 
Frontier. 

(2)  The  fighting  in  the  summer  and  autumn  of  1916. 

208 


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« 


THE  ALLIED  OPERATIONS 

This  began  with  French  and  British  attacks  in  the 
region  of  Doiran,  with  the  idea  of  improving  our  posi- 
tions there  in  order  to  facilitate  a  proposed  Allied  ad- 
vance up  the  Vardar.  The  French  captured  Tortue 
Hill  and  the  British,  Horseshoe  Hill.  But  these  opera- 
tions had  to  be  abandoned  because  of  a  strong  Bulgar 
thrust  which  in  August  was  delivered  against  the  Serbs 
on  our  left  wing.  This  attack,  generally  called  the 
Battle  of  Ostrovo,  was  finally,  and  with  difficulty,  held 
up.  In  September  a  strong  Franco-Serbian  counter- 
offensive,  aided  by  the  Italians  and  Russians,  was 
started,  and  after  weeks  of  very  bitter  fighting,  par- 
ticularly on  the  part  of  the  Serbs,  Monastir  was  cap- 
tured on  November  19th,  four  years  to  the  day  after 
the  Serbs  captured  it  from  the  Turks  in  1912.  This 
success  could  not  be  pushed  thoroughly  home  owing 
to  the  fatigue  and  losses  of  all  the  Allied  troops.  To 
aid  in  the  Monastir  operations,  the  British  carried  out 
a  number  of  major  actions;  first  the  attack  on  the 
Mackukovo  lines  near  the  Vardar  on  September  11th, 
followed  by  the  very  successful  fighting  on  the  Strimia 
plain  in  late  September  and  October  when,  in  several 
battles,  notably  those  of  Bala,  Zir,  Barakli-Djuma  and 
Jenikeui,  very  heavy  losses  were  inflicted  on  the  enemy 
at  moderate  cost  to  ourselves. 

(3)  The  Allied  offensive  of  1917  which  opened  too 
^arly,  and  on  the  left,  where  the  French  were  engaged 
in  the  region  of  Monastir  and  Lake  Presba,  was  ham- 
pered by  very  bad  weather  in  extremely  difficult  coun- 
try. In  April  and  May  the  British  attacked  twice  the 
very  formidable  positions  of  ."P"  Ridge  and  ^Petit 
Couronne  near  Doiran  and  suffered  very  heavy  losses 
without  achieving  any  really  useful  result.  The  various 
Allied  attacks  of  this  year,  for  various  reasons,  lacked 
cohesion,  just  as  they  had  done  in  France. 

209  P 


SALONICA  AND  AFTER 

(4)  The  fighting  of  1918.  Raids  by  the  British  on  a 
large  scale  at  Doiran  and  on  the  Struma  in  April  and 
May.  Successful  action  in  May  by  the  Greeks  against 
the  positions  of  Skra  di  Legen  to  the  west  of  the  Vardar, 
in  which  1500  prisoners  were  taken.  In  August  the 
British  27th  Division,  which  had  moved  from  the  Struma 
to  the  west  of  the  Vardar,  engaged  in  continuous  raids 
and  attacks  which  had  the  effect  of  completely  deceiving 
the  enemy  as  to  our  intentions.  September  15th  saw 
the  opening  of  the  big  offensive  by  the  French  and  Serbs 
in  the  Sokol-Vetrenik  sector,  which  residted  in  an  im- 
mediate break-through  at  a  point  weakly  held  by  the 
enemy.  To  enable  the  success  to  be  exploited  the 
British,  in  liaison  with  the  Greeks,  carried  out  strong 
holding  attacks  against  the  formidable  positions  east 
and  west  of  Doiran,  where  they  were  faced  by  a  heavy 
concentration  of  picked  troops  and  artillery  on  practi- 
cally impregnable  positions.  A  splendidly  timed,  co- 
hesive, general  action  all  along  the  line,  which  resulted 
in  complete  Bulgar  defeat  and  capitulation,  and  the 
signing  of  the  Armistice  with  Bulgaria  on  September 
29th. 

This  compressed  recital  of  the  fighting  activities  of 
the  Allied  Armies  during  three  long  years  gives  no  idea 
of  their  gallant  work,  their  numerous  smaller  engage- 
ments, and  their  many  trials  and  disappointments  dur- 
ing the  course  of  the  campaign.  In  1916  the  Allied 
Governments  had  by  no  means  settled  down  as  to  what 
the  Balkan  Armies  were  to  be  allowed  to  attempt. 
Much  was  hoped  for  by  the  entry  of  Roumania,  which 
promised  to  hold  our  Balkan  enemies  between  a  vice, 
but  the  enemy,  just  as  desirous  as  we  were  of  impress- 
ing Roumania  with  the  idea  of  who  were  stronger  in 
the  Balkans,  opened  on  August  18th  a  powerful  sur- 
prise attack  against  the  Serbs  to  the  east  of  Lake  Os- 

210 


THE   ALLIED  OPERATIONS 

trovo.  The  situation  was  complicated  by  the  fact  that 
between  the  Serbs  and  the  enemy  were  the  Greek  fron- 
tier guards  who  allowed,  and  even  aided,  the  first  enemy 
columns  to  cross  the  frontier.  The  immediate  driving 
in  of  the  Serbian  outposts  at  Fiorina  was  followed  by 
an  attack  in  force  of  some  12,000  Bulgars,  and  after 
several  days'  heavy  fighting  Lq  fierce  heat  on  stony, 
barren  mountains  the  position  seemed  critical.  But  the 
Serbians,  fighting  with  their  customary  fierceness  and 
tenacity,  and  although  very  much  outnumbered,  gave 
ground  only  at  the  price  of  heavy  casualties  inflicted  on 
the  enemy.  Serbian  reinforcements  were  quickly  com- 
ing into  action,  and  after  nearly  a  week's  steady  ad- 
vance the  Bulgarian  push  was  definitely  stayed,  though 
not  until  the  Serbs  were  driven  right  on  to  Lake  Os- 
trovo.  The  Battle  of  Ostrovo  culminated  in  five  separ- 
ate Bulgar  attacks  in  one  day  on  the  hardened  Serbian 
line,  all  of  which  were  smashed,  the  Bulgars  suffering 
very  heavy  casualties. 

The  story  of  the  Allied  reaction  when,  very  shortly 
afterwards,  the  enemy  was  driven  back  over  all  the 
ground  he  had  taken  and  finally  out  of  and  beyond  Mon- 
astir,  is  a  magnificent  record  of  tenacious  attack  amid 
physical  conditions  which  cannot  possibly  be  apprecia- 
ted by  those  who  have  never  seen  the  Balkan  front. 
It  was  an  offensive  on  the  grand  scale,  with  nearly  the 
whole  of  the  French  forces  in  Macedonia  joined  to  the 
First  and  Third  Serbian  Armies,  with  very  useful  par- 
ticipation from  the  Italians  and  Russians,  and  with 
general  liveliness  on  our  part  in  order  to  keep  the 
enemy  thoroughly  engaged.  The  counter-offensive 
began  towards  the  middle  of  September,  and  the  Serbs 
went  for  their  hereditary  enemies  like  furies,  throwing 
them  first  of  all  off  the  steep  Gornichevo  Pass,  which 
winds  up  and  up  on  the  main  Monastir  Road.       The 

211 


SALONICA  AND  AFTER 

Serbs,  for  the  most  part,  were  fighting  on  the  right  of 
the  offensive,  amid  the  high  tumbled  mountains,  and 
the  French  on  the  broad  plain  that  runs  from  near 
Lake  Ostrovo  up  to  Monastir.  On  September  17th  the 
French  and  Russians  captured  Fiorina,  and  two  days 
later  the  Serbs  accomplished  one  of  the  finest  feats  of 
the  war  in  winning  the  highest  crest  of  Kaimakchalan, 
a  mountain  of  over  eight  thousand  feet.  It  was  stark, 
bitter  hand  to  hand  fighting  up  on  that  windy  smnmit, 
and  nothing  but  a  fierce  mixture  of  bravery  and  hate 
won  it,  for  the  Bulgars  defended  themselves  like  demons 
and  only  a  hundred  of  them  were  captured.  The  rest 
were  dead.  After  their  first  successes  the  French  were 
held  up  for  weeks  against  the  formidable,  strongly- 
organised  Kenali  lines  running  across  the  plain.  It 
was  the  amazing  onward  battling  of  the  Serbs,  fight- 
ing for  peak  after  peak,  and  winning  them,  which 
caused  the  fall  of  Monastir  by  outflanking  it,  and  the 
French  Commander-in-Chief  of  the  Allied  Armies  under- 
lined this  point  in  his  communique.  But  the  Italians 
and  Russians,  as  well  as  the  French  and  Serbs,  had  an 
appreciable  share  in  this  notable  success,  which  un- 
fortunately could  not  be  pushed  further,  in  spite  of 
repeated  Allied  attacks.  The  enemy  remained  strongly 
entrenched  on  the  hills  a  few  miles  behind  the  town, 
brought  up  strong  German  and  Bulgar  reinforcements, 
and  soon  Monastir  had  to  submit  to  continuous  bom- 
bardment. 

The  British  attack  on  the  Mackukovo  lines,  just  to 
the  west  of  the  Vardar,  occurred  on  the  night  of  Sep- 
tember 13th-14th,  after  a  three  days'  artillery  prepara- 
tion. The  attack  was  intended  purely  as  a  holding 
attack  so  as  to  enable  our  Allies  to  the  west  of  the  line 
to  progress  further  in  their  push  for  Monastir — the  kind 
of  part  which  it  was  our  fate  to  play  throughout  the  cam- 

212 


^ 


THE  ALLIED  OPERATIONS 

paign.  The  attack  was  carried  out  by  the  12th  Lanca- 
shire Fusihers  and  the  14th  Liverpools,  supported  by  the 
%th  East  Lancashires  and  11th  Royal  Welsh  Fusiliers. 
It  was  our  biggest  action  of  this  nature  so  far  in 
Macedonia,  and  the  strong  enemy  lines,  held  by  Ger- 
man troops,  were  gallantly  carried,  over  200  Germans 
being  killed  by  bomb  and  bayonet.  Our  men 
beat  off  several  counter  attacks  during  the  night,  but 
next  day  they  came  under  the  heavy  concentrated  fire 
of  the  Guevgheli  group  of  enemy  batteries,  suffering 
severely,  and  were  brought  back  to  avoid  further  losses. 
Shortly  afterwards  began  our  extensive  operations 
on  the  Struma,  equally  intended  to  keep  the  eastern 
half  of  the  enemy  line  busy  so  that  no  troops  could  be 
withdrawn  for  the  reinforcement  of  the  Monastir  sec- 
tor. These  operations  were  carried  out  in  the  last  days 
of  September  and  on  throughout  October.  At  this  time 
the  Bulgars  still  held  in  force  all  the  villages  to  the 
north  of  the  Struma,  and  we  held  the  Orljak  bridge- 
head, also  to  the  north  of  it.  The  operations  included 
the  capture  of  Karadjakeui-Zir  and  Karadjakeui-Bala 
(always  referred  to  as  Zir  and  Bala)  and  the  big  village 
of  Jenikeui.  On  the  last  day  of  October  we  carried 
out  attacks  on  a  forty  or  fifty  mile  front  in  the  valley 
beyond  the  river,  the  chief  objective  being  the  strongly- 
held  village  of  Barakli  Djuma.  Throughout,  these 
Struma  operations  were  uniformly  successful,  both  in 
holding  strong  Bulgar  forces  on  that  front,  and  in  pun- 
ishing the  enemy  wherever  we  found  him.  Artillery 
and  infantry  co-operation  were  excellent,  and  occasion- 
ally armoured  cars  were  used.  The  biggest  thrashing 
administered  to  the  enemy  was  in  the  battle  of  Bala-Zir- 
Jenikeui,  when  over  1,500  Bulgar  corpses  were  after- 
wards buried.  His  total  losses  in  this  battle  were  at 
least    5,000;  and   at    the    end   of    it    the    enemy  was 

213 


SALONICA  AND  AFTER 

thoroughly  beaten.  From  that  time  onwards  the 
Bulgars  never  gave  us  an  opportunity  of  meeting  .them 
in  any  great  force  on  the  plain  (although  we  often 
tempted  them)  but,  with  the  exception  of  strong  patrols, 
stuck  to  such  positions  as  could  be  absolutely  smothered 
by  the  artillery  posted  on  the  commanding  mountains 
in  their  hands.* 

Following  on  the  long  lull  in  the  1916-17  winter, 
during  which  period  the  menace  of  Constan tine's  Army 
occupied  a  considerable  amount  of  Allied  attention  and 
preparations,  the  Allied  1917  operations  opened  with  a 
French  attack  in  March  in  the  wild  mountainous  region 
situated  between  the  two  big  lakes  of  Presba  and  Och- 
rida,  away  on  the  far  left  of  the  AUied  line,  in  Albania. 
They  were  doomed  to  failure  because  of  the  extremely 
bad  weather  that  broke  out  shortly  after  their  com- 
mencement, so  that  the  country  was  hidden  under  a 
heavy  snowfall  and  the  roads  became  impassable. 
Another  attack  was  made  north  of  Monastir,  but 
although  a  certain  measure  of  success  was  won,  the 
French  could  not  maintain  their  hold  on  the  chief 
height,  Hill  1248,  overlooking  the  town,  and  Monastir 
still  remained  under  the  domination  of  the  enemy's 
guns. 

So  far,  since  the  enemy  took  up  his  1916  positions, 

*  The  units  of  the  10th,  27th,  and  28th  Divisions  engaged  in  these 
extensive  operations,  and  in  later  fighting  on  the  Struma,  included 
the  2nd  Gloucesters,  2nd  Camerons,  1st  Royal  Scots,  1st  A.  and  S. 
Highlanders,  1st,  6th  and  7th  Royal  Munster  Fusiliers,  6th 
and  7th  Royal  Dublin  Fusiliers,  1st  and  6th  Royal  Irish  Rifles,  5th 
Connaught  Rangers,  1st  and  6th  Leinster  Regiment,  5th  and  6th 
Royal  Inniskilling  Fusiliers,  2nd,  5th  and  6th  Royal  Irish  Fusiliers, 
2nd  Royal  Lanes.  Regiment,  2nd  East  Yorks,  Ist  York  and 
Lancaster  Regiment,  1st  K.O.Y.L.I.,  1st  SufiEolks,  2nd  Cheshires, 
Ist  Welsh  Regiment,  2nd  Northumberland  Fusiliers,  2nd  K.S.L.I., 
?rd  K.R.R.C.,  4th  Rifle  Brigade,  4th  K.R.R.C.,  7th  Mounted 
Brigade  (S.  Notts  Hussars,  Sherwood  Rangers  Yeo.,  Derby  Yeo.), 
18th  Royal  Highlanders  (Scottish  Horse),  10th  Hampshire  Regiment, 
10th  Camerons,  2nd  The  Buffs,  and  8rd  Royal  Fusiliers. 

214 


THE  ALLIED  OPERATIONS 

he  had  initiated  one  successful  *'push"  against  the  Serbs, 
which  had  been  rapidly  turned  into  a  signal  defeat 
from  the  combined  French,  Serbian,  Italian  and  Russian 
forces,  resulting  in  the  fall  of  Monastir.  On  the  Struma 
plain  he  had  met  the  British  in  three  or  four  encounters, 
and  had  been  thoroughly  beaten  on  each  occasion.  The 
French  had  made  two  further  attempts  to  dislodge  him 
from  his  mountain  strongholds  on  the  western  wing 
and  had  failed.  It  was  now  the  turn  of  the  British  to 
attack  him  in  the  very  centre  and  hinge  of  all  his  moun- 
tain line,  an  operation  which  opened  under  the  un- 
favourable auspices  of  lack  of  complete  understanding 
between  the  Allied  commands.  We  come  to  one  of  the 
greatest  moments  in  the  history  of  the  British  cam- 
paign in  the  Balkans ;  the  first  attacks  on  those  formid- 
able defences  known  as  the  "Pip"  Ridge  and  Petit 
Couronn^. 


S15 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

DOIRAN. 

The  Doiran  Sector,  where  our  trenches  ran  across  the 
Serbian-Greek  frontier,  was  the  one  which  pre-eminently 
gave  the  lie  to  the  childish  idea  which  existed  at  one 
time  that  the  British  Army  in  the  Balkans  did  not  fight. 
This  line  of  trenches,  running  through  very  hilly  ground 
from  near  Doiran  Lake  westwards  towards  the  Vardar, 
was  always  a  very  uncomfortable  region,  and  at  times 
a  very  inferno.  The  conditions  here  were  in  every  way 
comparable  to  trench  warfare  in  France,  save  that  they 
were  complicated  by  the  extraordinarily  difficult  nature 
of  the  ground.  Trench  mortars,  "crumps,"  hand  gren- 
ades, trench  raids,  snipers,  massed  machine  guns,  barra- 
ges, concrete  dug-outs,  and  all  the  other  devibies  of 
modem  warfare  played  their  usual  parts.  Counter 
battery  work  was  the  order  of  the  day,  and  round  every 
camp  and  every  twisting,  switchback  road  up  which 
our  pack-transport  came  at  night  shell  holes  were  to  be 
seen  by  the  hundred.  Our  trenches  were  cut  in  the 
rocky  side  of  ravines  and  over  the  barren  tops  of  swell- 
ing hills,  and  at  one  point,  at  Horseshoe  Hill,  passed 
over  the  lower  slope  of  the  same  long  hill,  the  famous 
*'Pip"  Ridge,  whose  higher  undulations,  or  Pips,  were 
held  by  the  enemy  himself.  Our  position  there  was 
much  as  if  one  lay  precariously  in  the  gutter  of  a  roof 
top  while  one's  enemy  lay  on  the  apex  of  the  roof 
shooting  downwards.  For  over  two  years  we  held  on 
to  this  particular  position,  and  at  one  time — to  con- 

216 


DOIRAN 

tinue  the  metaphor — established  ourselves  a  little  way 
up  the  roof  tiles,  a  position  which  we  never  abandoned, 
although  what  became  for  a  time  part  of  our  trench  line 
was  held  afterwards  only  as  advanced  posts,  owing  to 
the  cost  of  maintaining  them. 

For  weeks  and  months  on  end  the  same  infantry  man- 
ning our  trenches  up  in  these  hills  would  wake  to  the 
same  scene ;  the  tumble  of  brown  stony  hills  stretching 
for  miles  on  either  side ;  with  the  two  main  Bulgar  bas- 
tions, Pip  2  and  Grand  Couronne,  ever  frowning  down ; 
with  entrancing  peeps  down  towards  the  ruined  town 
of  Doiran  and  the  big  circular  lake,  reflecting  the  most 
wonderful  colours  at  early  morning  or  at  sunset;  and 
beyond  the  lake  the  5,000  feet  crests  of  the  impressive 
Belashitza  Range,  standing  up  like  a  purple  wall.  On 
all  the  nearer  hills,  amid  which  the  scene  of  the  fighting 
was  set,  there  was  not  a  single  tree,  hardly  a  green  blade 
of  grass.  Only  in  the  ravines  was  there  to  be  found 
occasional  scrub  clothing  the  steep  sides.  And  yet  with 
all  their  unvarying  barrenness  it  was  a  magnificent  pros- 
pect amidst  which  our  men  lived  for  so  long;  with  a 
view  that  extended  far  beyond  the  shining  ribbon  of  the 
Vardar  on  the  west,  away  to  the  mountains  overlooking 
Monastir;  with  the  broad  valley  running  eastwards 
from  the  lake,  bounded  by  the  Belashitza  and  the 
Krusha  Balkan  Hills  and,  behind,  the  flat  plain  as  far 
as  Janesh,  with  the  heights  that  enclose  Salonica  to  be 
seen  on  clear  days.  One  forgot  the  absence  of  trees  after 
a  time.  The  effect  of  light  was  so  magical  that  there 
was  beauty  and  to  spare,  of  a  wUd  untamed  kind,  even 
for  English  eyes.  In  that  little  classic  of  the  B.S.F., 
known  as  The  Song  of  Tiadathay  the  author.  Captain 
Owen  Butter,  pays  a  tribute  to  the  beauty  of  the  scene 
he  so  often  saw  from  the  trenches  of  the  7th  Wiltshires 
down  near  the  Lake  : 

217 


SALONICA  AND  AFTER 

**  Very  lovely  is  Kyoto 
In  the  days  of  cherry  blossom ; 
Very  lovely  is  the  splendour 
Of  the  snow-capped  Rocky  Mountains; 
Lovely  are  the  coral  islands 
Strung  like  jade  in  the  Pacific; 
And  the  palm  trees  of  Malaya, 
Black  against  an  orange  sunset. 
Lovely  are  the  long  white  breakers 
On  the  beach  of  Honolulu, 
Even  as  the  Thames  Embankment 
On  a  misty  day  in  Autumn. 
Gib.   at  dawn,  Hong   Kong  at  evening. 
Lights  of  Rio,  in  the  darkness, 
And  the  Golden  Gate  of  'Frisco, 
All  of  these  are  very  lovely, 
Yet  I  know  a  sight  still  fairer, 
Doiran  red  and  grey  and  yellow, 
Clustered  on  the  Serbian  hillside. 
Gleaming  in  the  morning  sunlight. 
Ever  gazing  like  Narcissus, 
Down  upon  its  own  reflection 
In  the  lake  that  laps  its  houses." 

But  one  may  at  last  have  one's  fill  even  of  beauty, 
especially  when  that  beauty  conceals  within  its  fair 
bosom  the  constant  menace  of  sudden  death,  and  when 
the  fortune  of  war  forces  one  to  gaze  upon  the  same  scene 
of  exile  for  one  year,  two  years — ^nearly  three  years. 
During  nearly  the  whole  period  in  Macedonia  the  22nd 
and  26th  Divisions  shared  this  front  between  them, 
and  from  their  trenches  saw  fair  Nature's  changes; 
her  wonderful,  infinitely  varied  box  o'  tricks,  during 
three  long  baking  summers  and  two  winters.  And 
always  Grand  Couronn6  and  the  Pip  Ridge  looked  down 
on  them,  impregnable,  barring  the  way.  They  knew 
that  some  day  they  would  have  to  try  and  take  them, 
and  no  infantryman  on  the  Doiran  front  could  con- 
template that  eventual  prospect  with  a  smile. 

From  the  arid  plain  that  spread  behind  our  line,  the 
hills  rose  steeply  in  a  formless  jumble.  Our  lines  were 
planted  well  into  this  welter  of  stony  heights  \and 
ravines,   but  ahead  of  us  where  the  Bulgar  was  en- 

218 


DOIRAN 

trenched  the  hills  rose  ever  higher  and  higher.  And 
all  this  great  expanse  of  treeless,  tumbled  earth,  iai 
which  twenty  hills  looked  exactly  like  twenty  other 
hills,  and  one  depression  exactly  resembled  another, 
had  to  be  mapped  most  exactly,  and  every  feature  had 
to  be  named.  The  French  had  christened  some  of  the 
outstanding  features  before  we  came,  but  afterwards 
we  added  scores  of  names  to  the  map — The  Hilt,  The 
Knot,  The  Blade,  The  Tassel,  Sugar  Loaf,  The  Tongue, 
Dorset  Ravine,  Trout  Back,  Roach  Back,  Whale  Back — 
and  very  many  more.  The  most  striking  feature  in  our 
own  front  line  was  the  long  rounded  bulk  of  Tortoise 
Hill,  whose  name  exactly  suggests  its  shape.  It  was  a 
big  feature  in  the  landscape,  and  yet,  from  the  Bulgar 
heights  beyond,  it  seemed  one  modest  hump  amongst 
a  hundred  others.  How  safe  they  must  always  have 
felt  up  there,  on  top  of  the  roof.  No  wonder  they 
laughed  during  some  of  our  attacks,  and  cried  derisively 
to  our  men  as  they  toiled  up  the  slopes  towards  them, 
"  Come  on,  Johnny,  goddam  you  !  "  (The  Bulgar  who 
spoke  American  English  was  by  no  means  a  rare  bird.) 
From  our  own  trenches  running  along  the  crest  of 
Tortoise  Hill  one  looked  inomediately  across  a  great  ex- 
panse of  ravine  to  where,  some  six  or  seven  hundred 
yards  away  over  the  gulf,  ran  the  Bulgar  trenches  along 
the  summit  of  Petit  Couronne,  a  steep  hill  of  about  the 
same  height  as  Tortoise  Hill  and  the  main  bastion  of 
the  Bulgar  front  line.  This  deep  cleft  which  separated 
the  two  strongholds  was  known  as  Jumeaux  Ravine — a 
name  and  place  of  evil  memory,  where  many  of  our  men 
laid  down  their  lives.  Often  after  tlie  heavy  battles  of 
1917  our  night  patrols,  scrambling  in  and  out  of  the 
rocky  bed  of  the  tiny  stream  that  meandered  along  it, 
would  come  across  the  remains  or  the  smashed  equip- 
ment of  some  of  our  poor  fellows.    It  was  a  grim  place 

219 


SALONICA  AND  AFTER 

to  patrol  in  at  any  time,  with  the  steep  side  of  Petit 
Couronne  running  sheer  up  to  the  enemy  trenches  some- 
where above.  But  on  the  occasions  when  it  was  filled 
with  the  flame  and  roar  of  high  explosives,  so  that  in 
that  confined  space  men  were  killed  without  even  being 
touched  by  the  hail  of  jagged  fragments  of  eight  and 
twelve  inch  shell,  it  must  have  been  the  gaping,  roaring 
mouth  of  Hell  itself. 

There  was  much  else  to  be  seen  from  the  trenches  on 
Tortoise.  To  the  right  and  left  serpent ed  our  own 
line ;  down  towards  the  lake  and  up  over  the  crest  of 
Horseshoe.  Ahead,  looking  over  and  beyond  Petit 
Couronne  the  ground  rose  in  fold  after  fold  cut  across 
bj^  innumerable  ravines  running  in  all  directions  until 
at  last  the  eye  was  arrested  by  two  outstanding  sum- 
mits— on  the  right  near  the  lake  Grand  Couronne,  and  a 
little  to  the  left  of  it  (joined  by  the  saddle  known  as  the 
Koh-i-noor),  P.  2.,  the  vital  point  of  the  Pip  Ridge. 

As  mountains  go,  these  two  main  Bulgar  strongholds 
were  not  enormous  to  look  at.  In  the  great  panorama 
stretched  before  one  they  were  backed  by  high  snow- 
topped  mountains  which  made  the  nearer  heights  look 
exactly  what  they  were ;  rolling,  rounded  hills  such  as 
you  might  find  in  Cumberland,  but  as  bare  of  vegeta- 
tion as  the  Downs  of  Sussex.  The  highest  point  of  Pip 
Ridge  was  somewhere  about  2,200  feet,  and  Grand 
Couronne  was  some  two  or  three  hundred  feet  less.  It 
needed  more  than  one  visit  to  the  front,  and  more  than 
one  study  of  that  rolling  panorama,  for  their  full  signi- 
ficance to  sink  in.  And  then  at  last  it  began  to  be 
plain  that  the  two  bald  crests,  with  the  tumble  of 
smaller  hills  leading  to  them,  constituted,  as  one 
General  who  had  much  to  do  with  them  said,  "  the 
strongest  natural  fortress  in  Europe."  I  have  seen 
Messines  Ridge,  and  Vimy,  and  Achi  Baba,  but  they 

220 


DOIRAN 

do  not  begin  to  compare  with  Doiran,  although  the 
famous  hill  at  the  Dardanelles  is  a  smaller  edition  of 
Grand  Couronne.  All  the  way  up  to  the  crests  the 
ground  in  front  makes  a  natural  glacis.  Each  succeed- 
ing ripple  or  height  is  dominated  by  the  next  above  it. 
The  Grand  Couronne,  securely  based  on  the  lake,  helps 
the  Pip  Ridge,  and  from  the  Ridge  overwhelming  artil- 
lery or  machine-gun  fire  could  be — and  was — directed 
to  smother  anything  happening  on  the  slopes  of  Grand 
Couronne.  Every  detail  in  the  whole  position  interlocks 
with  all  the  others,  and  running  westwards  from  the 
Pip  Ridge  down  towards  the  lower  ground,  in  the  direc- 
tion of  the  Vardar,  were  two  spurs,  Dolina  and  Little 
Dolina,  which  diabolically  completed  Nature's  perfect 
scheme  of  defence  and  made  any  attempt  to  advance 
up  the  narrow,  elevated  causeway  on  top  of  the  Ridge 
a  thing  as  near  the  impossible  as  anything  can  be. 

From  many  miles  away  one  saw  the  great  hump  of 
Grand  Couronne,  always  in  view  as  one  crossed  the  last 
plain  towards  the  hills  of  the  front.  At  its  crest  was  a 
great  white  scar,  due  to  the  continual  pounding  of  our 
guns  which  smashed  and  re-smashed  and  then  disinte- 
grated the  rocks  near  its  summit.  And  just  above  the 
white  scar  could  be  discerned  a  tiny  black  dot.  This 
represented  the  narrow  look-out  slits  of  the  iron  and 
concrete  observation  pK)st  built  at  the  summit.  Some 
body  named  this  the  Evil  Eye,  and  nothing  could  des- 
cribe it  better.  Everything  we  had  and  nearly  every- 
thing we  did  was  overlooked  by  this  baleful  O.P. 
Practically  the  whole  of  our  lines  were  an  open  book 
to  the  enemy.  They  could  look  down  on  all  our  trenches 
zig-zagging  across  the  landscape ;  look  into  them  even, 
so  that  every  corner  had  to  have  its  leafy  screen,  and, 
behind,  our  roads  up  which  the  transport  came  had  to 
be  similarly  screened  at  all  sorts  of  points  which  at 

221 


SALONICA  AND  AFTER 

first  one  would  never  dream  were  overlooked.  But 
nothing  oould  screen  the  plain  beyond,  and  it  was  an 
open  book  to  them,  and  on  the  clearest  days  they  could 
trace  our  roads  practically  to  the  edge  of  Salonica  itself 
and  with  glasses  oould  pick  out  what  was  coming  up 
them.  We  looked  up  and  saw  only  their  roof  top.  They 
looked  down  and  saw  everything  that  was  going  on  in 
our  drawing-room  or  garden.  We  should  have  been  lost 
indeed  without  our  splendid  aviation"  service  which, 
here  as  in  France,  completely  outclassed  the  enemy  in 
individual  work  and  dash  and  whose  photographs,  taken 
by  the  thousand,  were  the  only  offset  we  had  against 
the  Bulgar's  superiority  of  positions.  And  the  big 
white  scar  on  top  of  Grand  Couronn6  showed  the  only 
method  we  had  of  temporarily  blinding  the  Evil  Eye. 
Our  shells  that  burst  there  in  the  crumbled  and  pul- 
verised rock  threw  up  clouds  of  dust  which  hung  in  front 
of  the  watchers  embedded  in  their  concrete  and  steel. 
We  put  many  direct  hits  on  to  the  O.P.,  but  we  had 
nothing  heavy  enough  to  destroy  it,  as  one  realised  when 
the  opportunity  came  to  examine  it.  On  top  of  the  Pip 
Ridge  was  another  O.P.  much  less  easy  to  see,  but  our 
gunners  knew  exactly  where  it  was,  and  at  one  time 
and  another  dropped  hundreds  of  shells  round  it. 

But  much  as  one  realised  the  strength  of  the  enemy 
positions  by  looking  up  at  them,  it  was  only  when- 
after  the  victory — we  were  able  to  ascend  them  and 
look  down  on  ours  that  it  became  apparent  what  a  tre- 
mendous, if  not  impossible,  task  we  had  been  "  up 
against  "  in  trying  to  storm  these  hill  fortresses  streng- 
thened as  they  were  by  ample  heavy  artillery,  by  every 
device  known  to  the  science  of  modem  warfare,  and 
manned  by  strong  garrisons  of  picked  troops,  who  lived 
for  the  most  part  in  security  in  their  great  dug-outs 
blasted  'm  the  solid  rock  and  who  wanted  for  nothing, 

222 


DOIRAN 

either  in  clothing,  food,  comfort,  munitions  or  equip- 
ment. Some  time  after  the  victory  I  spent  three  days 
in  clambering  up  and  down  the  ground  over  which  our 
men  had  fought.  And  as  two  of  us  stood  on  the  summit 
of  the  Grand  Couronn^,  just  in  front  of  the  famous  O.P., 
looking  away  down  the  slopes  to  what  were  once  our 
lines,  my  companion,  an  artillery  Colonel,  said,  "  Well, 
no  wonder  the  Bulgars  used  to  laugh  at  us  and  say  we 
were  mad !  " 

Those  three  days  were  really  hard  work,  although  the 
weather  was  cool  and  we  were  travelling  light.  And 
throughout  them  I  thought  of  our  poor  chaps  lighting 
over  the  same  groimd  in  grilling  hot  weather,  encum- 
bered with  their  equipment  and  their  bombs,  gasping  in 
their  gas  masks,  and  knowing  that  when  they  arrived 
breathless  at  the  top  of  a  slope  they  would,  if  they  were 
not  shot  down  immediately,  have  to  fight  at  close  quar- 
ters with  a  hardy  Bulgar  peasant  who  had  only  been 
lying  down  on  the  top  of  the  ridge,  working  the  bolt  of 
his  rifle  or  helping  to  fire  a  machine-gun.  One's  legs 
ached  with  the  climbing  and  scrambling,  but  one's  heart 
ached  more  at  the  idea  that  after  their  three  years  of 
sticking  it  through  the  campaign  6o  many  of  our  lads 
from  the  English  shires  or  from  Wales  and  Scotland 
should  have  fallen  on  these  barren  slopes ;  weary  men, 
burdened  with  their  loads,  gasping  in  the  heat,  perhaps 
almost  welcoming  the  bullet  that  added  their  clay  to 
the  clay  of  this  alien  land. 

To  explore  Grand  Couronn6,  the  little  Ford  van  took 
us  along  the  lake  road,  through  mined  Doiran  Town, 
and  so  up  the  steep  winding  road  to  the  back  of  the 
fortress.  There  were  heaps  of  every  kind  of  munitions 
and  equipment  still  lying  about — treasures  for  a  whole 
army  of  souvenir  hunters.  Then  we  explored  the  mas- 
sive dug-outs  with  their  huge  timber  baulks  support- 

223 


SALONICA  AND  AFTER 

ing  the  roofs  of  solid  or  piled-up  rock.  For  the  officers 
there  were  wonderful  little  houses,  steel-lined,  solid  and 
comfortable ;  the  sort  of  place  a  British  battalion  com- 
mander would  have  blushed  to  live  in,  feeling  that  he 
was  even  better  off  than  the  gorgeous  people  who  fought 
their  war  in  Whitehall.  For  all  the  men,  too,  there  was 
accommodation  infinitely  better  than  ours  dreamed  of. 
The  Bulgar  is  generally  a  brutish,  low-grade  peasant, 
but  in  the  war  of  positions  at  Doiran  he  was  a  much 
more  favoured  individual  than  our  men — with  the  ex- 
ception that  in  the  cold  weather  he  suffered  more  from 
the  north  wind. 

But  it  was  when  we  had  climbed  up  the  winding, 
rocky  communication  trench  up  to  the  O.P.  at  the  sum- 
mit that  we  realised  what  Grand  Couronne  meant. 
There  lay  what  for  so  long  were  our  positions,  an  aver- 
age of  a  thousand  feet  below.  Between  us  and  them 
were  three  strong  Bulgar  lines,  clearly  defined,  the  near- 
est only  a  couple  of  hundred  feet  below  us  down  the  bare 
slope  with  its  smashed  rocks.  And  there,  just  imme- 
diately in  front  of  the  final  Bulgar  line,  was  the  position 
known  as  the  Rockies,  to  which  a  few  of  our  men  fought 
their  way  in  the  final  offensive,  and  where  Lieut.-Colonel 
Burges,  of  the  7th  South  Wales  Borderers,  won  his  V.C. 
We  clambered  down  the  slope,  and  at  every  step  kicked 
against  the  fragments  of  our  own  shells;  marked  the 
steeply  rising  ground  cut  across  by  ravine  after  ravine 
up  which  our  men  had  come  on  to  the  attack,  and  mar- 
velled again  how  they  had  managed  tu  win  so  far  with 
scores  of  securely  placed  machine-guns  playing  on  them. 
From  where  we  were  the  rounded  Tortoise  Hill  seemed 
a  very  modest  eminence.  It  was  not  a  very  clear  day, 
but  the  whole  of  the  Janesh  plain  was  open  to  view,  and 
at  one  moment  we  caught  a  glimpse  of  the  sea  near 
Salonica.       One  could  imagine  how  on  one  of  those 

224 


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DOIRAN 

startlingly  clear  days  which  are  frequent  in  Macedonia 
the  whole  of  the  British  territory  was  laid  bare  to  the 
view. 

But  impressive  as  it  was  in  its  overpowering  strength, 
Grand  Couronne  paled  before  the  sinister  perfection  of 
the  Pip  Ridge  as  a  place  to  defend  against  attacking 
troops.  The  day  after  visiting  Grand  Couronne,  we 
climbed  up  to  where  our  trenches  crossed  over  Horse- 
shoe Hill  at  a  height  of  a  little  over  1,500  feet,  the  same 
trenches  won  by  the  Oxford  and  Bucks  Light  Infantry 
in  August,  1916.  Out  of  these  we  scrambled  on  to  the 
smashed,  scarred  ground  which  had  been  pounded  by 
thousands  of  shells,  trench  mortars,  bombs  and  aerial 
torpedoes,  whose  fragments  (with  a  considerable  ad- 
mixture of  "  duds  ")  were  lying  everywhere.  Horse- 
shoe Hill  is  really  a  part  of  Pip  Ridge  itself.  We  walked 
on  through  the  tangles  of  wire  up  the  Ridge,  churned 
up,  every  foot  of  it,  by  explosives,  until  we  came  to  the 
knolls  known  as  P.  5.  and  P.  4 J.  This  latter  was  the 
furthest  point  up  the  ridge  on  which  we  were  able  to 
establish  ourselves  in  the  Spring  offensive  of  1917,  and 
for  a  time  this  murderous  spot  was  part  of  our  trench 
line.  But  we  had  to  withdraw  from  both  positions  as 
continuous  trenches  and  retain  them  only  as  strong 
points;  not  only  because  of  the  cost  of  holding  them, 
but  because  it  was  impossible,  owing  to  the  exposed 
position,  to  run  communication  trenches  directly  back 
to  our  line  on  Horseshoe,  and  communication  had  to  be 
maintained  obliquely  up  and  down  the  steep  sides  of 
the  ridge. 

Just  beyond  here,  to  the  right,  the  hill-side  runs  down 
steeply  through  the  Corne  du  Bois  (an  isolated  patch 
bi  stunted  trees)  down  to  Jackson's  Ravine,  a  bit  of 
country  hidden  from  the  enemy,  and  on  the  hillside  we 
could  see  the  lines  of  white  tape  still  lying  there  which 

225  Q 


SALONICA  AND  AFTER 

marked  out  the  assembly  points  in  the  1918  attack. 

And  here  also  were  even  more  touching  relics  of  an 
attack  which  was  a  sacrifice  in  order  that  victory  might 
be  won  elsewhere.  There  were  many  British  graves, 
with  sad,  gruesome  reminders  of  what  we  all  return  to, 
sticking  up  out  of  the  soil.  Most  of  our  troops  fell  at 
P.  4 J  and  P.  4.,  but  far  onwards,  up  the  Ridge  towards 
P.  3.,  were  found  the  bodies  of  some  of  our  men  who 
had  gallantly  struggled  forward. 

The  Pip  Ridge  is  an  inclined  causeway  up  in  the 
clouds,  in  parts  no  more  than  forty  feet  wide  and  with 
the  sides  dropping  steeply  away  to  right  and  left.  It 
may  be  fairly  likened  to  a  railway  embankment  lifted 
up  to  a  great  height,  and  with  one  end  tilted  up  so 
that  a  heavy  gradient  is  formed.  Up  the  sides  of  the 
hill,  over  the  narrow  crest  and  down  the  other  side,  our 
advanced  trenches  ran,  the  Bulgar  wire  beginning  at 
P.  4j.,  five  or  six  hundred  yards  or  so  further  on.  It 
can  be  imagined  what  it  was  like  to  charge  up  this 
steep  road,  with  the  Bulgar s  barring  the  way  with 
machine  guns.  It  was  hard  work  even  walking  up  the 
Ridge.  At  P.  4 J.,  the  scene  of  several  desperate  hand- 
to-hand  encounters,  we  found  the  Bulgar  trenches  prac- 
tically obliterated.  Hundreds  and  hundreds  of  tons  of 
metal  had  been  thrown  up  there  by  our  guns  far  below. 
The  trenches  at  P.  4.  were  also  badly  smashed.  Here  the 
heaviest  fighting  and  our  heaviest  losses  occurred  in  the 
opening  attack  of  1918.  A  further  500  yards  upwards 
and  we  came  to  Pip.  3.  Here,  to  the  left,  runs  out  and 
down  the  spur  of  Little  Dolina,  seamed  with  Bulgar 
trenches,  an  extra  buttress  to  the  defences  of  the  Ridge, 
and  if  this  combination  were  not  enough,  a  little  way 
beyond  runs  out  the  bigger  and  parallel  spur  of  Dolina 
which  was  the  final  touch  of  perfection  in  the  defence 
of  the  ridge.    It  was  an  amazingly  formidable  combina- 

226 


DOIRAN 

tion.  At  P.  8.  the  deep  trenches  were  badly  smashed 
by  our  artillery,  but  not  almost  entirely  flattened  out 
as  were  those  on  P.  4 J.  Many  of  the  deep  rock-cut 
dug-outs  were  still  intact,  even  though  some  of  our 
heaviest  shells  had  thudded  on  them,  and  from  out  of 
these  the  machine-guns  came  which  largely  caused  our 
attacks  to  wither  away.  An  unobtrusive  little  chimney 
or  ventilating  shaft  poked  its  nose  up  above  the  ground. 
One  traced  it  down  below,  and  there,  thirty  or  forty 
feet  under  the  surface  of  this  high  stronghold,  the  enemy 
sat  in  comparative  security  from  the  "  heavy  stuff  " 
(eight-inch  was  the  heaviest  we  had)  which  we  flung 
from  miles  away  down  below. 

A  further  stiff  walk  and  at  last  we  were  up  on  P. 2., 
long  known  as  Hill  535,  although  its  height  in  metres  is 
really  692.  This  was  the  chief  objective  of  the  British 
attacks,  both  in  1917  and  1918,  and  standing  on  it  one 
realised  the  appalling  task  set  any  troops  in  trying  to 
capture  it.  From  here  even  Grand  Couronne  is  domin- 
ated, away  across  the  saddle  of  Koh-i-noor,  and  if  we 
had  gained  it  and  held  it  firmly,  the  whole  Bulgar 
defence  system  from  the  "^^ardar  to  Doiran  would  have 
fallen.  But  in  spite  of  repeated  bravery  and  sacrifice 
of  the  highest  order,  in  which  our  precious,  sparse  bat- 
talions lost  up  to  sixty  and  seventy  per  cent,  in  casual- 
ties, we  never  succeeded  in  driving  him  off  these  twin 
strongholds.  They  were  held  in  strong  force  by  picked 
troops  who,  when  our  barrage  had  lifted,  came  out  of 
their  rocky  dungeons  and  raked  our  men  with  machine 
gun  fire ;  our  poor  pigmies  labouring  up  those  vast  hill- 
sides. But  the  attacks  had  to  be  made  both  in  1917 
and  1918,  and  without  the  sacrifice  paid  there  victory 
could  not  have  been  bought.  But  as  one  stood  on  the 
battered  observation  post  at  the  summit  of  P.  2.  and 
looked  across  at  the  parallel  slopes  of  Grand  Couronne, 

227 


SALONICA  AND  AFTER 

one  felt  sad  to  think  that  men  who  in  1915  could  not 
have  told  you  where  Macedonia  was,  should  have  to  lay 
down  their  lives  in  such  an  unfriendly  and  hostile  place 
in  attempting  the  impossible.  In  January,  1918, 
General  Henrys,  the  Commander-in-Chief  of  the  French 
Army  in  the  Balkans,  visited  this  ground  in  company 
with  Majojr-General  Duncan,  commanding  the  22nd 
Division.  I  talked  to  him  shortly  afterwards  of  his  im- 
pressions up  there,  and  he  agreed  that  he  had  never 
seen  ground  so  wonderfully  adapted  for  defence,  and  so 
hopeless  for  the  attacker. 

A  third  day  we  devoted  to  an  exploration  of  the 
Jumeaux  Ravine,  Petit  Couronne,  and  the  ground  im- 
mediately around  it.  And  in  quite  a  different  fashion 
this  was  as  impressive  as  the  Pip  Ridge.  When  at  the 
bottom  of  the  Jumeaux  Ravine,  you  are  in  a  deep  F- 
shaped  cleft  whose  walls  run  up  the  sides  of  the  Tor- 
toise and  Petit  Couronne  to  a  height  of  three  or  four 
hundred  feet.  At  other  times  it  might  attract  as  a 
jolly  place  to  explore;  the  sort  of  wild  spot  in  which 
an  adventurous  boy  would  feel  just  a  little  scared 
if  alone.  But  as  a  battleground,  a  place  where  men 
were  caught  under  a  barrage  of  heavy  shells,  it  is  too 
dreadful  to  contemplate.  All  along  the  sandy  floor  of 
the  ravine  we  saw  the  remains  of  Bulgar  heavy  shell, 
eight-inch  and  twelve-inch,  and  various  unexploded 
trench-mortar  bombs  as  big  as  footballs.  In  no  place 
could  one  imagine  the  blasting  and  rending  power  of 
modern  projectiles  being  so  terrible  as  down  at  the 
bottom  of  this  gorge,  in  the  darkness  of  the  night  with 
the  air  split  by  blinding  light  and  the  rocky  walls  re- 
sounding to  the  deafening  crash  of  high  explosive.  In 
the  1917  attack  our  men  came  down  the  tributary 
ravines — Dorset,  Hand,  Claw,  and  the  rest — leading 
from  our  positions  on  Tortoise.    Each  narrow  tributary 

228 


DOIRAN 

gully  was  heavily  barraged,  but  the  main  enemy  fire 
was  reserved  for  Jumeaux,  and  this  was  a  blazing, 
crashing  Hell.  And  yet  they  crossed  it  and  swarmed 
up  the  steep  sides  of  Petit  Couronne  and  captured  the 
trenches,  and  remained  there  until  well  on  in  the  next 
day. 

Having  explored  the  entire  length  of  Jumeaux,  we 
climbed  up  to  Petit  Couronne  itself,  and  walked  along 
or  near  the  trenches  on  its  crest ;  in  and  out  of  the  wire, 
stumbling,  jumping.  To  our  right  yawned  the  deep 
Ravine,  and  rising  up  from  it  on  the  other  side  was  the 
steep  flank  of  Tortoise.  The  Bulgar  never  attacked  us 
on  our  chief  stronghold.  It  was  our  grim  fate  to  have 
to  try  four  times  to  drive  him  from  his. 

It  was  in  such  country  as  this,  down  and  across  these 
deep  ravines,  and  up  the  sides  of  the  opposing  hills, 
and  on  the  long  slope  of  Pip  Ridge,  that  the  British 
Forces  had  to  make  their  Spring  offensive  in  1917.  The 
conflicting  factors  which  go  to  make  iip  an  Allied  Com- 
mand, which  is  in  turn  one  small  branch  of  a  world- war, 
willed  that  we  should  attack  this  iron,  impregnable 
front  at  a  time  when  no  operations  were  going  on  else- 
where in  the  Balkans.  The  enemy  knew  that  we  were 
going  to  attack,  and  made  elaborate  preparations  to 
receive  us.  Our  new  preparations,  such  as  the  regis- 
tration of  the  artillery,  inevitably  gave  him  a  pretty 
shrewd  idea  of  what  we  were  about  to  attempt.  His 
formidable  positions  were  now  organised  to  the  highest 
pitch  of  perfection.  We  knew  that  his  artillery  was 
at  least  as  strong  as  ours,  and  that  he  had  far  more 
heavy  guns  than  we  possessed,  our  highest  calibre  at 
that  time  being  six-inch.  But  the  battles  that  followed 
revealed  that  he  was  much  stronger  than  we  ever 
thought;  that  he  had  been  keeping  quite  a  lot  of  artil- 

229 


SALONICA  AND  AFTER 

lery  **up  his  sleeve."  He  had  no  lack  of  troops  to  hold 
his  hill  fortresses,  and  no  lack  of  reserves  in  easy  call. 
He  held  ninety-nine  per  cent,  of  advantage  in  the  general 
situation.  It  was  to  be  an  uphill  fight  for  us  in  every 
sense  of  the  word.  It  was  understood  that  there  was 
to  be  Allied  support  elsewhere  on  the  line,  but  this  was 
not  forthcoming,  and  we  had  to  attack  the  pivot  of  the 
whole  enemy  line  with  nothing  happening  to  distract 
him  elsewhere. 

The  chief  objectives  of  the  offensive  were  the  Pip 
Ridge  and  Petit  Couronne.  The  task  of  attacking  the 
first,  on  the  left  of  the  operations,  fell  to  the  22nd  Divi- 
sion, their  line  of  attack  running  from  the  Ridge  down 
to  Hill  880.  To  the  26th  Division  fell  the  task  of  attack- 
ing the  very  strong  Bulgar  line  on  a  front  of  about  8,000 
yards  from  a  point  known  as  0.6  down  to  the  lake,  in- 
cluding the  main  bastion  of  this  line.  Petit  Couronne. 
There  were  two  attacks ;  the  first  on  the  night  of  April 
24-25th,  and  the  second  on  the  night  of  May  8-9th. 

The  fighting  was  on  as  fierce  a  scale  as  any  yet  seen 
in  the  Balkans,  and  the  artillery  concentration  was  the 
heaviest  yet  known.  In  the  first  attack  the  65th  and 
66th  Brigades  of  the  22nd  Division  gained  a  good  deal 
of  ground,  pushing  their  way  up  from  Horseshoe  for 
some  four  or  five  hundred  yards  on  the  Ridge  and  cap- 
turing the  Mamelon  and  Hill  880.  At  the  same  time 
the  78th  and  79th  Brigades  of  the  26th  Division  at- 
tacked the  Bulgar  line  from  Petit  Couronne  down  to 
the  lake.  Our  troops  entered  the  Bulgar  line  at  many 
points  but  had  heavy  losses,  particularly  in  the  Jum- 
eaux  Ravine,  both  going  and  returning,  and  were  forced 
back  to  their  trenches.  The  bright  side  to  this  costly 
operation  was  that  between  April  26th  and  28th  the 
Bulgars  launched  four  heavy  counter-attacks  against 
the  new  line  held  by  the  22nd  Division,  and  were  each 

280 


DOIRAN 

time  thrown  back  with  great  losses,  the  18th  MancheS- 
ters  and  8th  K.S.L.I.'s  doing  especially  heavy 
execution. 

In  the  second  attack  the  60th,  22nd,  and  26th  Divi- 
sions took  part,  but  the  brunt  of  the  fighting  fell  on 
the  latter.  Their  objective  was  again  from  Petit  Cour- 
onne  down  to  the  lake.  Our  men  showed  amazing 
courage  and  fortitude  in  the  most  forbidding  circum- 
stances. They  knew  that  it  was  practically  a  forlorn 
hope.  Again  the  Jumeaux  Ravine  claimed  many 
victims,  but  in  spite  of  very  heavy  losses  the  7th  Oxford 
and  Bucks  Light  Infantry  and  two  companies  of  the 
7th  Berkshires  fought  their  way  right  up  the  precipitous 
side  of  Petit  Couronne,  and  after  further  heavy  losses 
from  a  fierce  trench  mortar  barrage  finally  took  and 
held  the  trenches  on  the  summit,  practically  all  the 
officers  now  being  killed  or  wounded.  But  their  posi- 
tion became  hopeless,  and  they  had  to  withdraw  next 
day.  Both  battalions  were  specially  commended  for 
their  "  splendid  gallantry  and  determination." 

Further  down  the  line  towards  the  lake  English  and 
Scotch  battalions  (10th  Black  Watch,  9th  Gloucesters, 
11th  Scottish  Rifles,  12th  Argylls,  11th  Worcesters,  and 
8th  R.S.F.)  had  some  very  fierce  and  costly  fighting  in 
the  Bulgar  lines,  but  had  finally  to  withdraw.  The 
Bulgar  barrage,  both  artillery  and  trench  mortar,  every- 
where claimed  many  victims,  and  the  conditions  of 
fighting  in  the  dark  in  such  rugged  ground  cannot  possi- 
bly be  conceived  by  those  who  do  not  know  the  tumbled 
surface  of  Macedonia.* 

We  had  tried  the  impossible  and  failed.     We  had 

*  Other  battalions  who  played  a  gallant  part  in  these  operations 
were  the  7th  Wiltshires,  12th  Hants,  10th  Devons,  8th  D.C.L.I.,  9th 
Border  Regiment,  9th  South  Lanes.,  2/20th  London  Regiment,  8th 
S.  Wales  Borderers,  12th  Lanes.  Fusiliers,  9th  K.O.R.L.,  7th  S. 
Wales  Borderers,  and  11th  Welsh  Fusili»rs. 

231 


SALONICA  AND  AFTER 

fought  two  major  battles,  against  terrible  positions,  in 
which  the  volume  of  artillery  fire  was  such  as  the  Bal- 
kans had  never  echoed  to  before.  But  it  was  not  a 
success — and  consequently  little  or  nothing  was  heard 
of  it  all  at  home.  It  was  not  altogether  the  fault  either 
of  the  Press  or  the  Public  that  the  courage  and  losses 
of  our  men  at  Doiran  were  so  little  known  or  talked 
about.  The  enemy  knew  that,  in  spite  of  the  ground 
we  had  gained,  he  had  generally  repulsed  us  with  heavy 
losses,  but  after  all  it  was  not  the  business  of  our  Com- 
mand to  let  the  enemy  know  exactly  how  much  we 
had  suffered.  In  history  a  nation  may  be  proud  of  a 
reverse,  but  it  can  quite  easily  be  a  piece  of  mihtary 
stupidity  to  blazon  it  forth  at  the  time.  But  the  men, 
or  the  officers  either  for  that  matter,  could  not  think  on 
these  lines.  They  were  conscious  only  of  the  fact  that 
they  had  fought  two  battles  against  great  odds,  in  which 
two  Divisions  had  suffered  over  6,000  casualties,  and  in 
which  certain  battalions  had  lost  up  to  seventy  per  cent, 
of  their  strength.  The  men  who  had  crossed  over  the 
flaming,  crashing  Jumeaux  Ravine,  hung  on  to  Petit 
Couronne,  and  crossed  back  again,  or  the  men  who  had 
fought  their  way  from  Horseshoe  up  to  the  Pip  Ridge, 
or  who  had  won  and  retained  Hill  380  and  Mamelon — 
these  men  knew  that  they  had  been  through  an  ordeal 
as  fierce  as  anything  that  could  be  conjured  up  in  the 
hell  of  trench  warfare  in  France,  and  they  naturally 
wanted  it  to  be  known.  It  was  the  fact  that  Home  knew 
nothing  of  the  battles  of  Doiran,  and  still  talked  about 
there  being  "  no  fighting  on  the  Salonica  Front,"  which 
accounted  in  a  large  measure  for  the  soreness  and  sense 
of  injustice  of  the  whole  B.S.F.  Our  men  felt  that  in 
order  for  it  to  be  good  to  die  for  one's  country  one 
should  first  of  all  possess  a  country  which  appreciates 
and  acknowledges  the  sacrifice. 

282 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

Victory. 

The  year  1918,  which  was  to  bring  victory  in  the 
Balkans  as  the  prelude  to  final  victory  elsewhere,  threat- 
ened for  the  greater  part  of  its  length  to  be  more  diffi- 
cult than  any  of  those  preceding  it — at  times,  indeed, 
threatened  to  bring  disaster.  The  grave  turn  of  affairs 
which  came  on  the  Western  Front  in  the  last  days  of 
March  had  for  everybody  in  the  Balkans  a  particular 
as  well  as  a  general  significance.  As  we  breathlessly 
followed  the  giant  struggle  that  was  proceeding  there 
we  were  subject  to  a  twofold  anxiety;  an  anxiety  that 
occupied  two  separate  compa'rtiments  in  the  mind. 
While  a  decisive  German  success  in  the  West  might 
or  might  not  mean  the  end  of  all  things  we  knew  that 
it  certainly  would  mean  the  end  of  everything  in  the 
Balkans,  and  although  those  at  home  might  easily 
forget  the  lesser  in  the  greater,  those  in  the  Balkans 
had  their  own  immediate  affairs  to  think  about  as  well 
as  those  of  greater  majesty  that  were  happening  else- 
where. A  German  break-through  in  the  West  must 
necessarily  have  meant  that  sooner  or  later  the  Balkan 
Armies  would  be  attacked  in  overwhelming  force.  In 
the  West  civilization  was  really  at  stake;  had  fortune 
and  our  own  strength  failed  us  it  is  impossible  to  con- 
jecture all  that  is  dreadful  that  would  have  followed. 
But  one  sequel  was  clear  in  the  Balkans,  and  that  was 
that  sooner  or  later  our  forces  there  would  have  been 

238 


SALONICA  AND  AFTER 

swept  away.  As  the  Army  has  it,  we  should  have  been 
"scuppered." 

As  far  as  the  British  Army  in  the  Balkans  was  par- 
ticularly concerned  we  were  never  in  a  worse  condition, 
materially,  to  meet  a  great  strain  than  throughout  the 
summer  of  1918.  We  had  sustained  heavy  losses  in 
1917,  which  had  not  been  replaced  by  reinforcements. 
Our  four  Divisions  were  all  much  below  strength,  and 
during  the  whole  of  the  year  the  steady  drain  of  the 
''Y"  scheme  went  on.  A  large  proportion  of  the  men 
left  were  in  an  indifferent  state  of  health.  And  in 
June,  to  meet  the  great  and  immediate  danger  on  the 
West,  twelve  of  our  Infantry  battalions  were  sent  there, 
reducing  our  strength  at  a  stroke  by  one  quarter.  The 
battalions  sent  to  France  were  the  13th  Royal  High- 
landers (Scottish  Horse),  14th  King's  Liverpool  Regi- 
ment, 4th  K.R.R.C,  7th  Wiltshires,  2nd  Northumber- 
land Fusiliers,  1st  K. O. Y.L.I. ,  10th  Camerons,  3rd 
Royal  Fusiliers,  13th  Manchesters,  10th  Royal  High- 
landers, 12th  Lancashire  Fusiliers  and  9th  Gloucesters. 

The  men  from  Salonica  were  received  rather  coldly 
at  first.  The  general  impression  among  their  new  com- 
rades was  that  they  had  never  seen  any  fighting. 
Officers  in  their  new  messes  were  asked  naively  if  they 
had  ever  been  "over  the  top."  Their  statements  of 
battalions  which  had  lost  sixty  and  seventy  per  cent,  of 
their  strength  in  attacks  in  Macedonia  in  1917  were  re- 
ceived with  incredulity,  which  became  amazement  when 
it  was  realised  that  such  statements  were  the  plain 
truth.  Why  had  they  never  heard  these  things  ?  And 
the  Salonica  men  soon  showed,  what  indeed  must  have 
been  plain  to  anybody  who  thought  for  a  moment,  that 
they  were  made  of  the  same  stuff  as  the  best  in  France, 
and  they  distinguished  themselves  signally  in  the  fight- 
ing with  the  50th  and  66th  Divisions.    Before  this  heavy 

284 


VICTORY 

demand  on  our  Balkan  troops  came  there  had  been  d 
previous  call  for  commanding  officers  and  seconds-in- 
command  of  line  battalions  for  France.  This  was  in 
the  darkest  days  following  March,  and  the  call  was 
answered  immediately.  I  saw  one  of  my  best  B.S.F. 
friends  off  at  the  dusty  Orient  Station.  He  had  no  il- 
lusions as  to  what  he  was  going  out  to  see,  but  said, 
laughingly,  "Anything  to  get  away  from  this  damned 
country."  In  France  he  gained  a  bar  to  his  D.S.O. — 
but  died  of  the  third  wound  he  received  on  the  day  he 
earned  that  proud  distinction. 

Summer  found  the  British  forces,  then,  at  their  very 
lowest  ebb,  and  with  the  usual  hot-weather  ailments 
playing  their  usual  part.  And  as  if  fate  had  not  already 
been  unkind  enough  a  sudden  and  severe  outbreak  of 
influenza,  which  broke  out  in  August,  caused  great 
ravages  among  our  tried  and  weary  troops,  who  were 
as  little  fitted  as  could  be  to  resist  this  terrible  malady. 
And  though  the  B.S.F.  had  long  previous  to  this  begun 
to  comb  itself  out,  so  as  to  try  and  meet  its  own  re- 
quirements from  within,  we  see  from  General  Sir  George 
Milne's  despatch  of  December  1st,  1918,  that  at  the 
moment  of  the  final  offensive  our  fighting  strength  had 
fallen  below  one-half  the  normal  establishment.  The 
epidemic  of  influenza  spread  with  "almost  explosive 
force,"  to  quote  a  report  on  the  subject.  During  Sep- 
tember and  October  there  were  nearly  12,000  admissions 
to  hospital  for  influenza  and  over  1,000  for  pneumonia. 
The  mortality  amongst  the  pneumonia  cases  was,  very 
high,  the  prevailing  debility  following  on  malaria 
largely  accounting  for  this. 

In  the  months  of  May,  June,  and  July  the  situation 
was  in  a  curiously  delicate  and  uncertain  condition.  It 
was  to  be  expected  that  with  the  Germans  obtaining 
apparently  overwhelming  successes  on  the  West  they 

285 


SALONICA  AND  AFTER 

would,  if  possible,  stimulate  their  Bulgarian  Allies  into 
a  keener  manifestation  of  the  offensive  spirit  than  they 
had  shown  for  two  years  past.  The  strength,  or  lack 
of  it,  of  the  British  forces  must  have  been  well-known 
to  the  enemy.  But  coincidently  with  this  critical  period 
in  our  own  affairs  a  very  distinct  spirjt  of  war-weariness 
began  to  manifest  itself  in  the  Bulgarian  ranks.  There 
were  reports  of  mutinies,  which  were  later  confirmed. 
Deserters,  who  throughout  the  campaign  had  always 
trickled  steadily  over  to  us,  began  to  arrive  in  greater 
numbers.  From  these  and  other  sources  it  was  learned 
that  the  Bulgarians  were  contemplating  an  attack  in 
force  on  the  lightest  held  part  of  the  Balkan  line — the 
long  British  front  from  Doiran  to  the  sea.  We  had 
every  reason  not  to  desire  any  such  trial  of  strength, 
because  we  simply  did  not  possess  the  forces  adequate 
to  hold  up  a  determined  offensive.  But  all  the  same 
we  took  every  possible  step  to  meet  it  and  completed 
the  strategic  roads  which  would  have  facilitated  us  in 
getting  back  to  the  Lahana  ridge  in  rear,  where  we  had 
strengthened  our  second  line.  From  there  further  stra- 
tegic roads  had  long  been  constructed  back  towards 
the  "Birdcage"  in  case  it  ever  came  to  the  worst — or 
the  nearly  worst. 

On  our  side,  however,  there  was  the  favourable  factor 
that  the  new  Greek  Armies  were  rapidly  coming  into 
line.  How  far  this  weighed  with  the  Bulgarian  Com- 
mand it  is  not  easy  to  say.  The  Bulgar  has  the  in- 
grained habit  of  despising  the  Greek — in  spite  of  the 
drubbing  he  received  in  1913 — and  the  events  of  1916, 
when  he  was  allowed  to  invade  the  country,  are  not 
likely  to  have  done  much  to  remove  this  impression. 
From  what  we  know  of  him,  then,  it  is  not  likely 
that  the  "  Prussian  of  the  Balkans "  was  very 
greatly  influenced  by  the  coming  in  of  our  new  ally. 

236 


VICTORY 

What  did  weigh  mofe  with  the  Bulgarian  High  Com- 
mand was  the  increasing  war-weariness  among  its 
troops.  The  * 'fed-up"  feeling  developed  rapidly  during 
the  summer.  The  Bulgars  are  a  mulish,  obstinate 
people.  They  did  not  want  to  attack  at  any  price, 
and  the  temper  of  the  troops  was  too  dangerous  to 
try  and  force  them  at  this  stage  to  play  Germany's 
game.  The  German  element  in  the  Bulgarian  Army 
was  now  much  less  numerous.  A  strong  leaven  of 
specialist  troops  still  remained — artillery,  trench  mor- 
tars, machine  guns  and  aviation — with  German  officers 
in  command  and  German  staffs,  but  nearly  all  the 
German  divisions  had  gone  elsewhere.  And  by  the 
middle  of  the  summer  the  Allies  had  every  reason  to 
come  to  this  definite  conclusion — that  the  Bulgars  were 
determined  not  to  make  any  kind  of  attack  on  us,  but 
that  they  were  equally  determined  to  resist  to  the  last 
any  offensive  by  us.  They  were  superbly  entrenched, 
well  supplied  and  munitioned,  and  had  no  lack  of  troops 
who  could  he  relied  on  to  fight  indefinitely  on  the  de- 
fensive. J'y  suiSf  fy  teste  was  their  policy,  and  this 
being  so,  the  Allies  made  up  their  minds  to  try  and 
shift  them.  As  the  Bulgars  did  not  feel  inclined  to 
attack  us  we  decided  to  attack  them.  We  had  now  nine 
Greek  divisions  coming  into  line,  and  their  presence 
made  a  vital  difference,  whatever  the  enemy  may  have 
thought  about  it. 

The  coming  of  the  Greeks  soon  produced  a  change  in 
the  British  line.  Gradually  they  took  over  the  Struma 
Valley,  from  the  Seres  Road  eastwards  to  the  sea,  and 
the  27th  Division,  which  had  held  this  line  for  over 
two-and-a-half  years  was  moved  over  to  a  section  of 
trenches  running  westwards  from  the  Vardar,  just  south 
of  the  important  town  of  Guevgheli.  The  28th  Division 
moved  a  little  westwards  along  the  Krusha  Balkan,  and 

287 


SALONICA  AND  AFTER 

took  up  a  shorter  line  nearer  Lake  Doiran.  We  thus 
had  the  four  British  Divisions  concentrated — if  one  may 
apply  such  a  word  to  Divisions  which  were  so  much 
below  strength — on  a  front  of  some  35  miles,  they  being, 
from  west  to  east,  the  27th,  26th,  22nd,  and  28th. 
The  first  Greek  troops  to  come  under  General  Milne's 
command  were  those  of  the  Larissa  Division.  Later 
they  were  joined  by  the  Seres  and  Cretan  Divisions. 
The  Seres  Division  went  into  line  with  the  22nd  Division 
in  front  of  Doiran,  and  immediately  on  every  notice 
board  in  the  trenches  and  back  areas  was  seen  a  Greek 
legend  under  the  English.  The  Cretan  Division  went 
into  line  with  the  28th,  on  the  Krusha-Balkan  hills, 
just  to  the  right  of  the  lake.  On  the  French  front 
similar  re-arrangements  were  taking  place  between 
French,  Greek,  and  Serbian  Divisions. 

The  enemy,  still  firm  in  his  policy  of  "Here  I  am ; 
here  I  stop,"  took  a  great  interest  in  all  these  proceed- 
ings, but  was  able  to  find  out  very  little.  We  kept  him 
''guessing"  all  the  time.  The  27th  Division  (Maj.-Gen. 
G.  T.  Forest ier-Walker)  played  a  great  part  in  this 
game.  Immediately  they  went  into  their  new  line  to 
the  west  of  the  Vardar  they  began  to  take  the  keenest 
interest  in  the  ground  that  lay  before  them.  Patrols 
were  out  every  night,  and  in  two  or  three  weeks  the 
Division  knew  every  inch  of  the  new  territory.  Late  in 
the  month  of  August  a  series  of  heavy  bombardments 
was  directed  on  the  enemy  lines.  Trench  raids  were 
of  frequent  occurrence,  and  we  were  constantly  cap- 
turing prisoners.  Our  men  showed  themselves  thor- 
oughly superior  at  the  game,  and  kept  the  enemy  in  a 
state  of  nervous  tension.  A  month  or  more  of  this  sort 
of  work  culminated  on  the  afternoon  of  September  1st 
in  an  attack  against  the  rocky  and  strongly-fortified 
salient  of  Alchak  Mahale,  which,  after  an  intensive  bom- 

288 


VICTORY 

bardment,  was  carried  splendidly  at  the  first  assault 
by  the  2nd  Gloucesters  and  the  10th  Hampshires.  The 
enemy  launched  several  determined  counter-attacks 
against  the  lost  position,  all  of  which  were  repulsed 
with  heavy  losses.  A  week  later  the  Greeks  in  the 
Struma  Valley  advanced  their  line  on  a  wide  front 
without  any  opposition,  taking  up  positions  well  in 
advance  of  the  river.  These  were  the  chief  operations 
on  the  Anglo-Greek  front  preliminary  to  the  launching 
of  the  offensive. 

The  British  role  was  now  to  await  the  result  of  the 
Franco-Serbian  attack  to  the  west.  The  idea  of  trying 
for  a  really  decisive  blow  on  the  vital  and  almost  in- 
accessible but  thinly-held  line  of  peaks  on  the  Serbian 
front  between  Vetrenik  and  Sokol  was  no  new  one. 
After  the  abortive  offensive  of  May,  1917,  the  plan  of 
this  same  attack  was  drawn  up  by  Voivode  Mischitch, 
the  details  being  worked  out  at  French  G.H.Q.,  chiefly 
by  Lieut. -Col.  Errard.  The  plan  of  the  Serbian  Marshal 
was  approved  by  General  Sarrail,  but  was  not  put  into 
operation.  General  Guillaumat's  plan  was  of  much 
smaller  scope,  its  principal  aim  being  to  pin  down  the 
Bulgars  and  prevent  enemy  reinforcement's  of  his 
front  in  France.  General  Franchet  d'Esperey  adopted 
the  Mischitch-Errard  plan,  and  carried  it  out  practically 
to  the  letter.  Shortly  after  his  arrival  in  Macedonia 
he  held  a  conference,  on  July  27th,  at  which  were 
present  the  Serbian  Crown  Prince,  Voivode  Mischitch 
(Serbian  Chief  of  Staff),  General  Boyovitch  (Command- 
ing the  1st  Army),  and  Voivode  Stepan  Stepanovitch 
(Commanding  the  2nd  Army).  The  Prince  was  in  favour 
of  an  attack  on  the  Serbian  front.  The  final  decision  to 
put  the  plan  into  execution  was  taken  on  August  8th. 

The  idea  was  by  a  carefully  prepared  and  powerful 
surprise  attack  to  break  the  enemy  front  at  the  point 

289 


SALONICA  AND  AFTER 

where  it  was  held  in  weakest  force,  and  where  a  break 
would  be  most  decisive,  and  by  pouring  troops  through 
the  gap  to  exploit  the  rupture  to  the  utmost  extent. 
Nature  had  here  made  the  enemy  lines  on  the  Serbian 
front  immensely  strong,  but  his  defensive  organization 
had  little  depth,  and  he  was  weak  in  artillery.  More- 
over, a  detailed  study  of  the  whole  of  the  front  showed 
that  this  sector  was  particularly  favourable  for  attack, 
because,  once  the  line  was  broken,  the  enemy  would 
find  himself  faced  with  great  difficulties  in  the  way  of 
reinforcement  and  the  power  to  manoeuvre ;  and  more- 
over, once  the  Allies  had  forced  the  line  here  they  would 
occupy  dominating  positions,  and  be  almost  immedi- 
ately within  measurable  striking  distance  of  the 
enemy's  chief  communications.  The  Allied  objective 
was  to  reach  the  line  running  from  Demir  Kapu  on  the 
Vardar  westwards  to  Kavardartzi.  By  this  means  it 
was  hoped  to  arrive  at  two  main  results  : 

(a)  Separate  the  Bulgar  forces  in  the  Vardar  Valley 
from  the  Bulgar  forces  round  Monastir. 

(b)  Cut  the  principal  enemy  communications — viz., 
the  road  and  railway  running  down  the  Vardar  and  the 
road  and  railway  between  Prilep  and  Gradsko. 

Extensive  preparations  were  made  for  a  powerful 
attack  which  would  come  as  a  complete  surprise.  New 
roads  were  made  and  a  plentiful  supply  of  heavy  artil- 
lery was  moved  up.  The  French  and  Serbs  had  to  un- 
dertake a  great  amount  of  work,  and  most  of  it  had 
to  be  done  at  night.  The  enemy  had  to  be  kept  entirely 
unsuspicious.  The  line  held  by  the  Serbs  was  shortened 
by  half — from  38  miles  to  about  19.  To  add  further  to 
the  weight  of  the  attack  two  French  Divisions  were  in- 
corporated in  the  2nd  Serbian  Army ;  the  17th  (Colonial) 
and  122nd  Divisions.  These  two  Divisions  together  with 
the  Schumadia   (Serbian)  Division  were  to  make  the 

240 


VICTORY 

actual  assault  on  the  heights  and  break  through.  The 
Yugo-Slav  and  Timok  Divisions  of  the  2nd  Army  were 
held  in  reserve  to  pour  through  immediately  the  breach 
was  made.  On  the  left  the  1st  Serbian  Army  (Drina 
and  Danube  Divisions,  with  the  Morava  Division  and 
the  Cavalry  Division  in  reserve)  was  to  attack  in  con- 
junction, and  further  exploit  the  success.  The  Serbian 
troops  were  j>erhaps  the  finest  in  the  world  for  such  an 
operation,  which  meant  pushing  ahead  rapidly  in  very 
mountainous  country  and  being  able,  if  necessary,  to 
do  without  food  supplies  for  days  together. 

Even  with  the  nine  Greek  Divisions  now  in  line  the 
Allies  had  obtained  only  a  very  slight  numerical  superi- 
ority, although  in  material  strength  we  were  at  last 
much  ahead  of  the  enemy.  The  Allies  had  now  28  In- 
fantry Divisions — 8  French,  9  Greek,  6  Serbian,  4 
British,  and  one  Italian;  the  effectives  of  the  latter, 
however,  being  considerably  larger  than  those  of  the 
ordinary  Italian  Division.  The  following  table  gives  a 
fairly  exact  idea  of  the  comparative  strength  of  the 
Allied  and  enemy  forces : 

ON  THE  WHOLE  OF  THE  MACEDONIAN  FRONT. 

Allies.  Enemy. 

Battalions             889  ...  208 

EfEective  rifle  strength           177562  ...  172200 

Machine    guns               2682  ...  2068 

Light  machine  guns  (including  very 

light     French     gun     and     British 

Lewis  guns)     ...  64i24  ...  ? 

Guns,  including  heavy  trench  artillery    2069  ...  1810 

Cavalry    squadrons        47^  ...  26 

Aeroplanes    (about)       200  ...  80 

Our  greatest  concentration  was  on  the  Serbian  front, 
at  the  point  where  it  was  intended  to  break  through. 
On  the  eve  of  the  attack,  following  on  the  rapid  trans- 

241  K 


SALONICA  AND  AFTER 


ference  there  of  the  two  French  Divisions,  the  com- 
parative strengths  were : 

ON  THE  SERBIAN  FRONT  ONLY. 

Allies.  Enemy. 


Battalions             

75 

26 

Effective  rifle  strength           

86500 

11600 

Machine   guns               

756 

245 

Light   do.            

2610 

? 

Guns   (including   trench   mortars)  ... 

580 

146 

Cavalry  squadrons                  

18 

— 

Aeroplanes         

81 

24 

It  will  be  seen  that  at  the  point  selected  for  the  first 
attack  we  were  at  an  advantage  of  about  three  to  one 
all  round.  But  against  this  Allied  superiority  the  Bul- 
gars  had  positions  of  immense  natural  strength  which, 
without  the  element  of  surprise,  might  easily  have  more 
than  neutralised  our  advantage.* 

It  is  interesting  to  note  that  at  this  period  the  total 
strength  of  the  operative  Serbian  Army  was  79,413,  and 
the  grand  total  of  Serbian  troops  of  all  kinds  83,767. 
After  Corfu  they  had  gone  up  the  line  again  in  1916 
little  more  than  120,000  strong,  and  in  eight  months' 
time  they  had  lost  half  these,  and  of  their  losses  nearly 
one-half  were  killed.  The  above  force  of  roughly  80,000 
men  included  some  10,000  Yugo-Slav  troops  who  had 
come  from  Russia  (some  round  by  Vladivostock  and 
some  via  England  and  France).  We  see  therefore  that 
of  the  650,000  men  mobilised  by  Serbia  from  first  to 

*  In  September,  1918,  the  entire  ration  strength  of  the  B.S.F. 
was  round  about  175,000,  and  on  the  14th  of  the  month  touched 
177,865.  Our  effective  Fighting  Strength  in  this  month  (Infantry, 
Artillery,  Machine-gun  Companies,  Trench  Mortar  Batteries,  R.E. 
Field  Companies,  Cavalry,  Cyclists  and  Signals)  varied  between 
65,000  and  50,000.  Our  *  effective  Trench  Strength  (Infantry— less 
Pioneer  Battalions — M.G.  Companies  and  T.M.  Batteries)  varied  be- 
tween 35,000  and  25,000,  and  at  the  time  of  our  attacks  at  Doiran 
was  about  30,000.  At  one  period  during  the  month  the  number  of 
sick  in  hospital  reached  20,000. 

242 


VICTORY 

last  only  about  70,000  troops  of  all  kinds,  including  all 
services,  were  left  to  take  part  in  the  victory  which 
gave  them  back  their  country.  History  surely  can  give 
few  cases  of  such  unswerving  loyalty  and  tenacity. 

The  region  in  which  the  attack  was  to  be  launched 
was  on  the  line  of  heights  known  as  the  Moglenitza 
Range,  whose  major  peaks,  Sokol,  Dobropolje  and 
Vetl-enik  run  to  an  average  altitude  of  5,000  feet.  The 
enemy,  of  course,  held  all  the  commanding  points  on 
this  range,  and  it  was  the  last  point  at  which  he  ex- 
pected to  be  attacked.  He  had  been  thoroughly  de- 
ceived by  the  Allied  preparations,  and  one  of  his  main 
concentrations  was  on  the  short  Vardar-Doiran  sector 
of  the  British  front,  where  he  had  33  full  strength  Bat- 
talions in  line  and  many  more  within  easy  call. 

By  the  end  of  the  second  week  in  September  the 
Allied  preparations  were  complete.  Our  Armies,  eager 
to  make  an  end  of  the  Macedonian  stalemate,  faced  a 
worried  and  anxious  enemy  who  sensed  that  something 
serious  was  about  to  happen  but  had  no  idea  when 
or  how.  On  the  morning  of  September  14th  the 
Allied  artillery  crashed  out  all  along  the  line.  From 
Monastir  to  Doiran,  along  eighty  miles  of  mountain 
ranges,  the  enemy  positions  were  heavily  bombarded. 
He  certainly  had  no  doubt  now  that  an  attack  was 
coming,  but  there  was  still  nothing  to  show  where  the 
blow  was  to  fall.  It  came  at  5.30  next  morning,  the  15th, 
in  the  place  least  expected.  The  122nd  (French)  Divi- 
sion attacked  the  beetling  crags  of  Sokol  on  the  left, 
and  the  Schumadia  Division  attacked  on  the  right.  It 
had  been  hoped  that  all  the  crests  would  be  carried 
within  four  hours,  and  that  the  Yugo-Slav  and  Timok 
Divisions  would  immediately  pour  through  the  gap. 
But  the  enemy  resistance  was  strong  and  the  slopes 
were  so  steep  that  in  places  scaling  ladders  had  to  be 

248 


SALONfCA  AND  AFTER 

used.  The  122nd  Division  was  held  off  its  final  objective 
until  nine  at  night.  The  Schumadia  Division  had  done 
splendid  work,  and  on  the  left  the  first  Serbian  Army 
was  now  supporting  the  final  attack  of  the  122nd  Division 
on  Sokol.  By  night  a  breach  of  eight  miles  had  been 
definitely  made.  Over  3,000  prisoners  had  been  taken, 
and  33  guns  captured.  The  Serbian  Reserve  Divisions 
poured  through  in  the  night,  and  pressed  on  towards 
the  dominating  height  of  Koziak  (about  5,500  feet), 
which  it  had  been  hoped  would  be  taken  the  first  day. 
It  fell  at  noon  on  the  16th,  and  the  enemy,  knowing 
its  importance,  made  desperate  efforts  to  re-take  it. 
The  enemy  flanks  were  now  pushed  back  until  the 
breach  was  16  miles  wide.  The  whole  of  the  six  Ser- 
bian Divisions,  with  their  one  Cavalry  Division,  were 
now  moving  forward,  attacking  over  the  tumbled  moun- 
tainous country,  and  left  and  right  the  action  extended, 
like  a  prairie  fire — to  Albania  on  the  west  and  Doiran 
on  the  east.  On  either  side  French  and  Greeks  joined 
in,  and  at  Doiran  the  British  bombardment  swelled 
into  a  majestic  roar.  The  Serbs  in  the  centre  were 
pushing  ever  further  forward.  By  September  21st  they 
had  reached  the  Vardar  and  the  Bulgarians,  now  divi- 
ded, were  trembling  on  the  edge  of  final  disaster. 

But  before  this  point  was  reached  the  British  Front 
had  made  its  contribution  to  the  beginning  of  the 
general  debacle.  The  breach  had  been  made,  but  to 
exploit  the  success  thoroughly  and  make  it  finally  de- 
cisive it  must  be  widened  further  and  further,  and  the 
enemy  prevented  at  all  costs  from  mending  it  by  bring- 
ing further  troops  from  the  east,  from  the  British  front. 
As  they  pressed  forward  the  Serbian  and  French  troops 
found  practically  no  fresh  enemy  troops  thrown  in  to 
bar  their  way.     This  was  the  result  of  the  fighting  on 

244 


VICTORY 

the  British  front,  where  the  attacks  against  the  for- 
midable positions  east  and  west  of  Doiran  had  now 
been  launched.  On  the  Serb  front  the  Allies  heavily 
outnumbered  the  enemy.  On  the  Doiran  front  the 
enemy  heavily  outnumbered  us.  But  not  a  single  enemy 
battalion  must  be  allowed  to  proceed  from  Doiran  to 
help  in  retrieving  the  beginnings  of  disaster  whi^h  had 
declared  themselves  further  west.  There  was  little  or 
no  hope  of  the  British  attack  succeeding  in  itself.  It 
was  to  be  a  sacrifice  to  ensure  victory  elsewhere.  But 
it  had  to  be  done  and  General  Franchet  d'Esperey,  the 
Commander  in-Chief  of  the  Allied  Forces,  gave  the  word. 
The  British  were  to  try  again  where  they  had  already 
twice  failed  to  achieve  the  impossible.  And  our  men, 
who  had  already  charged  up  those  pitiless  bullet  and 
shell  swept  slopes  in  1917,  knew  exactly  what  was  before 
them. 

The  British  attack  opened  at  5.15  on  the  morning  of 
the  18th.  It  was  the  beginning  of  a  beautifully  fine 
September  day — too  fine,  for  the  September  sun  in 
Macedonia  is  very  hot,  and  on  both  days  of  the  Doiran 
attacks  there  was  a  shade  temperature  of  100  deg.  The 
panorama  of  mountain  lake  and  valley  was  looking  its 
loveliest.  But  the  slopes  of  Pip  Ridge  and  Grand 
Couronne  were  already  veiled  in  a  cloud  of  dust  from 
the  incessant  pounding  which  our  guns  were  giving  them 
and  soon,  as  the  attack  progressed  and  the  Bulgar  guns 
opened  out  to  their  fullest  extent,  the  whole  region  of 
the  battle  was  enveloped  in  a  smother  of  dust  and 
smoke  from  the  midst  of  which  came  the  flash  and  crash 
of  bursting  shell.  And  into  this  roaring  inferno  our 
troops  went,  with  the  Greeks  by  their  side,  to  one  of 
the  hardest  tasks  ever  given  soldiers  to  do. 

Although  our  leaders  knew  only  too  well  the  naturt 
of  the  enterprise  to  which  they  were  committed,  they 

241 


SALONICA  AND  AFTER 

aimed  at  nothing  short  of  complete  success — viz.,  the 
capture  of  Pip  Ridge  and  Grand  Couronne.  Our  ob- 
jectives were  the  key  positions  to  the  whole  of  this 
sector  of  the  enemy  front.  Though  the  attack  was 
primarily  intended  as  a  holding  attack,  with  little  hope 
of  anything  more,  we  were  determined,  in  the  unlikely 
event  of  fortune  smiling  on  us,  to  push  our  success  to 
its  furthest  limit.  In  other  words,  we  thought  it  as 
well  to  be  killed  for  a  sheep  as  a  lamb.  It  is  a  homely 
phrase  to  use  in  such  a  connection,  but  it  exactly  fits 
the  situation.  All  the  odds  were  against  us,  but  it  was 
a  real  and  not  a  half  attack. 

The  assault  against  the  jumble  of  hills  and  ravineg^ 
culminating  in  the  Pip  Ridge  and  Grand  Couronne  was 
divided  into  two  halves,  with  the  Bui  gar  trench  position 
known  as  0. 6  as  the  central  point  of  attack.  From  here 
down  to  the  lake  the  Greeks  of  the  Seres  Division  had 
the  right  or  eastern  half  to  themselves.  The  western 
half  was  divided  into  three  sectors.  On  the  left  the 
66th  Brigade  (Brig.-Gen.  F.  S.  Montague-Bates)  of  the 
22nd  Division  (Major-Gen.  J.  Duncan)  was  to  attack 
the  Pip  Ridge.  The  12th  Cheshires  were  to  lead  off  up 
the  side  of  Jackson's  Ravine  and  captured  P.4j  and  P. 4. 
The  9th  South  Lanes,  were  then  to  advance  through 
them,  and  pushing  on  some  five  hundred  yards  beyond 
up  the  steep  and  narrow  causeway  of  the  ridge,  were 
to  try  and  capture  P. 3  and  the  two  fortified  spurs,  run- 
ning off  west,  of  Little  Dolina  and  Dolina — a  formidable 
task  indeed.  And  if  everything  went  well  the  8th 
King's  Shropshire  Light  Infantry  were  to  push  further 
on  through  the  South  Lanes,  and  capture  P. 2.  (692 
metres  or  about  2,100  feet  high),  the  point  of  the  ridge 
nearest  to  and  several  hundreds  of  feet  higher  than 
Grand  Couronne. 

In  the  centre  of  the  Western  half  the  2nd  Greek 

246 


VICTORY 

Regiment  (2  battalions  with  one  in  reserve)  was  told 
off  to  take  the  series  of  rounded  hills  running  up  to 
the  left  flank  of  Grand  Couronne  known  as  Sugar  Loaf, 
The  Tongue,  The  Plume,  and  then  over  the  Grand 
Shoulder  to  the  position  known  as  Koh-i-noor,  out- 
flanking the  crest  of  Grand  Couronne  itself.  And  on 
the  right  of  the  western  half  of  the  attack  the  67th 
Brigade  (7th  South  Wales  Borderers,  11th  Welsh  Regi- 
ment, the  11th  Welsh  Fusiliers)  were  to  over-run  the 
Bulgar  first  line  up  the  steep  slopes  of  0.6,  and  then 
after  taking  in  their  stride  the  tangle  of  formidable 
but  lesser  hills  known  as  The  Knot,  the  Hilt  and  The 
Tassel  which  formed  the  second  line,  were  to  attack  the 
west  face  of  Grand  Couronne  itself,  which  was  defended 
by  a  strong  third  line.  On  the  eastern  half  the  two 
remaining  regiments  of  the  Seres  Division  had  to  attack 
Petit  Couronne  and  the  formidable  front  line  of  which 
it  formed  part,  advance  up  over  Red  Scar  Hill  towards 
Doiran  Hill,  overlooking  the  little  ruined  town,  and 
from  there  push  on  as  far  as  possible  up  the  western 
slope  of  Grand  Couronne.  In  the  extent  of  ground 
gained  this  attack  proved  to  be  the  most  successful  of 
all,  although  it  was  the  67th  Brigade  which  penetrated 
furthest  into  the  enemy  positions  towards  Grand 
Couronne.  And  while  all  this  was  going  on  between 
the  lake  and  Pip  Ridge  two  battalions  (8th  D. C.L.I. 
and  12th  Hants)  of  the  26th  Division  (Maj.-Gen.  A.  W. 
Gay)  were  to  demonstrate  west  of  the  ridge ;  and  east 
of  the  lake  the  Cretan  Division,  supported  by  the  28th 
Division  (Maj.-Gen.  H.  L.  Croker)  were  to  advance 
against  the  mountain  wall  of  the  Belashitza. 

For  four  days  our  artillery  had  maintained  its  un- 
ceasing thunder,  pounding  the  triple  line  of  trenches, 
smashing  in  many  dugouts  (but  leaving  many  of  the 
strongest  rock-hewn  caverns  untouched)  and  smothering 

247 


SALONICA  AND  AFTER 

the  Bulgar  lines  up  to  the  crests  with  high  explosive. 
We  now  had  several  batteries  of  eight-inch  howitzers 
in  action,  and  they  did  splendid  work.  In  the  hot 
September  sunshine  and  throughout  the  nights  the  gun- 
ners sweated  away  unceasingly,  often  under  a  very 
heavy  fire. 

On  the  night  of  the  17th-18th  the  bombardment 
swelled  up  into  a  more  majestic  roar,  and  for  over  six 
hours  before  the  assault  we  drenched  the  enemy's  posi- 
tions with  gas  shells,  this  being  the  first  time  we  had 
used  them  on  the  Balkan  front.  They  proved  of  little 
service  to  us,  as  the  fumes  had  very  little  effect  on  the 
enemy  heights,  where  the  slightest  breath  of  wind  was 
sufficient  to  dissipate  them.  And  whether  because  of 
our  own  gas  or — as  was  probable — the  enemy  was  using 
gas  shell  himself,  some  of  our  battalions  had  to  assemble 
and  make  their  first  attack  up  the  steep  slopes  wearing 
masks,  which  added  much  to  their  exhaustion.  The 
assembly  of  our  troops  was  a  difficult  matter  as  all  the 
roads  were  in  view  of  the  enemy  and  the  night  was 
clear.  But  we  put  down  a  smoke  barrage  on  the 
enemy's  front  system,  and  by  this  means  we  were  able 
to  assemble  in  the  various  ravines  just  behind  our  lines 
and  deploy  our  troops  without  a  hitch. 

The  12th  Cheshires  led  off  on  the  extreme  left.  Just 
before  the  barrage  lifted  at  eleven  minutes  past  five 
they  climbed  up  the  steep  side  of  Jackson's  Ravine  on 
to  the  Ridge.  The  barrage  moved  on  ahead,  and  "A" 
Company  went  with  a  rush  for  P.4J.  As  they  reached 
the  first  enemy  work  on  the  Ridge  some  forty  Bulgars 
poured  out  of  it,  and  there  was  a  check  and  some  sharp 
hand  to  hand  fighting.  Three  of  the  Bulgars  were  taken 
prisoners  and  the  rest  disposed  of.  During  the  progress 
of  this  the  remaining  three  Companies  came  on  up  to 
P. 4 J.,  but  as  the  first  of  them  reached  it  there  was  a 

Q48 


VICTORY 

heavy  explosion — due  either  to  a  mine  or  an  ammuni- 
tion dump — which  caused  many  casualties.  By  this  time, 
owing  to  the  unexpected  check,  our  barrage  had  trav- 
elled far  up  the  ridge  in  advance  of  the  attacking  troops. 
Machine  gun  fire  developed  from  all  directions,  and  in 
addition  the  enemy  at  P. 4.  opened  with  a  trench  mortar 
barrage.  In  spite  of  serious  casualties  the  Cheshires 
pushed  on  up  the  causeway  to  P. 4.  The  eastern  end 
of  this  very  strong  work  was  now  alive  with  Bulgars 
who  had  come  up  from  their  dugouts.  As  our  men 
reached  it  a  flammenwerfer  came  into  action.  The 
operator  was  killed,  but  this  apparatus  also  blew  up, 
causing  casualties  and  delay.  On  the  right  of  this 
second  fortress  "D"  Company  found  itself  fronted  with 
heavy  rifle  fire  and  bombs.  What  was  left  of  ''A"  Com- 
pany penetrated  the  centre,  and  "B"  and  '*C"  Com- 
panies pushed  on  rapidly  up  the  long  slope  leading  to 
P. 8.,  four  or  five  hundred  yards  ahead.  But  by  this 
time  the  trenches  on  the  spur  of  Little  Dolina  were 
manned  and  from  here  and  from  P.3.  a  sheet  of  machine 
gun  bullets  poured  down.  Behind  them,  too,  in  P. 4. 
the  Bulgars  turned  machine  guns  on  them.  Our  men 
just  melted  away  and  lay  on  the  parched  brown  grass 
of  the  slope  up  which  they  were  labouring.  Lieut. -Col. 
the  Hon.  A.  R.  Clegg-Hill,  D.S.O.,  fell,  mortally 
wounded.  In  a  few  minutes  the  battalion  had  practi- 
cally ceased  to  exist. 

The  9th  South  Lanes.,  following  close  behind  the 
Cheshires,  ran  into  a  sheet  of  machine  gun  bullets,  the 
enemy  now  being  untroubled  for  the  time  being  by  our 
artillery,  and  having  only  to  shoot.  By  the  time  they 
had  rushed  up  the  ridge  to  P. 4.  they  had  lost  so  terribly 
that  they  were  unable  to  carry  their  attack  further 
than  that  work.  Lieut. -Col.  B.  F.  Bishop,  M.C.,  was 
killed  there,  and  the  battalion,  as  an  ofiEicial  report  said 

249 


SALONICA  AND  AFTER 

bluntly,  was  "more  or  less  annihilated."  As  the  8th 
K.S.L.I.'s  pressed  on  behind  the  South  Lanes,  they 
also  suffered  very  heavy  casualties  in  that  stretch  of 
about  three  hundred  yards.  The  Bulgars  now  attacked 
heavily  down  the  slope  on  to  P. 4.  and,  fighting  stub- 
bornly, our  men  were  pressed  back  down  to  P.4j. 
Lieut.-Col.  J.  D.  B.  Erskine,  of  the  K.S.L.I.'s,  realis- 
ing that  it  was  impossible  to  continue  the  attack,  col- 
lected what  men  and  officers  he  could  from  all  three 
battalions,  and  withdrew  them  to  the  shelter  of  Jack- 
son's Ravine,  down  to  the  right  of  the  slope.  For  a  time 
he  commanded  only  four  officers  and  240  men,  but 
others  gradually  came  in.  The  average  strength  of  the 
attacking  battalions  was  about  four  hundred.  In  this 
short  but  murderous  attack  we  lost  37  officers  and  800 
other  ranks,  or  about  65  per  cent,  of  the  Brigade.  Later 
in  the  morning  a  further  attempt  was  made  to  occupy 
P.  4j,  but  this  had  to  be  abandoned.  The  enemy's 
hold  on  the  ridge  was  quite  unshaken.  There  was  no 
reward  for  British  heroism  on  this  September  morning. 
The  fortunes  of  the  3rd  Greek  Regiment  of  the  Seres 
Division,  sandwiched  between  our  66th  and  67th  Bri- 
gades, were  much  the  same.  They  went  up  into  the 
crashing  and  smoke  with  great  dash,  broke  through  the 
front  line  at  the  hill  known  as  the  Sugar  Loaf,  and  half 
an  hour  after  starting  were  assaulting  the  enemy's  main 
line,  consisting  of  the  very  formidable  works  of  The 
Plume  and  The  Warren.  They  captured  the  whole 
strongly  defended  system,  killed  many  Bulgars  and  took 
about  eighty  prisoners.  But  about  this  time  the  dust  and 
smoke  clouds  of  the  bombardment  began  to  lift.  From 
the  Ridge,  now  clear  of  our  men  but  for  the  dead  and 
wounded,  and  from  Grand  Couronne,  the  machine  guns 
began  to  rattle  and  chatter  by  the  dozen,  causing  many 
casualties  to  the  Greeks.     The  Bulgars  then  heavily 

250 


VICTORY 

counter-attacked  from  the  Grand  Ravine,  and  drove 
the  Greeks  out  of  their  main  line.  And  as  the  Greeks 
had  no  support  on  their  left  owing  to  our  failure  on  the 
Ridge,  they  fell  back  to  their  point  of  assembly,  in  the 
shelter  of  one  of  our  own  ravines.  As  a  consequence  of 
this  an  order  to  the  77th  Brigade,  in  reserve,  to  move 
up  to  the  Warren  to  the  left  of  the  Greeks  and  attack 
P.3,  sheer  up  the  mountain  side  from  the  east,  was 
immediately  cancelled. 

On  the  right  of  the  western  half  of  the  attack,  the 
Welshmen  of  the  67th  Brigade  (Brig.-Gen.  A.  D.  Mac- 
pherson)  fought  their  way  magnificently  up  the  string 
of  heights  leading  up  to  their  main  objective.  Grand 
Couronne,  but  it  was  only  at  the  cost  of  heavy  sacrifices 
all  the  way.  Two  companies  of  the  11th  Welsh  Fusi- 
liers (Lieut. -Col.  A.  H.  Yatman),  had  some  stem  and 
bitter  fighting  before  they  could  carry  and  retain  posses- 
siion  of  the  strongly  defended  works  in  and  about  0.6  in 
the  enemy  front  line.  The  two  remaining  companies  of 
the  battalion  broke  the  line  just  east  of  the  Sugar  Loaf 
hill,  rushed  and  killed  the  garrison  on  The  Knot,  and 
pressed  on  to  the  very  strongly  protected  hill  called  The 
Hilt.  The  enemy  trenches  were  heavily  manned  and 
there  was  concentrated  machine  gun  and  trench 
mortar  fire.  This  stronghold,  too,  was  overcome,  but 
only  after  half  the  two  companies  had  become  casualties. 
They  were  finally  forced  back  by  strong  counter  attacks 
from  The  Knot.  The  Fusiliers  were  compelled  to  wear 
their  gas  masks  all  the  way  from  the  assembly  point,  and 
were  much  exhausted  by  it.  They  were  in  no  condition 
to  withstand  heavy  attacks  by  fresh  troops  coming 
downhill.  Every  officer  and  all  but  two  N.C.O.'s  had 
become  casualties. 

Following  the  Fusiliers,  the  11th  Welsh  (Lieut.-Col. 
L.  H.  Trist),  also  wearing  masks,  attacked  from  Shrop- 

251 


SALONICA  AND  AFTER 

shire  Ravine.  They  tried  to  exploit  the  advance  of 
the  Fusiliers,  and  from  The  Tassel  got  into  touch  with 
them  over  the  ravine,  on  The  Hilt.  But  from  the  top 
slopes  of  The  Hilt  the  enemy  launched  another 
formidable  counter  attack.  The  Greeks  on  the 
left  were  now  retiring,  and  the  11th  Welsh  col- 
lected its  remnants  and  also  retired.  Later  in  the 
morning  they  made  two  further  attempts  to  occupy 
Sugar  Loaf,  but  were  driven  back  by  heavy  fire. 

The  7th  S.  Wales  Borderers  (Lieut.-Col.  D.  Burgee) 
followed  on  the  track  of  the  Greeks  in  the  centre,  but 
all  the  same  found  much  resistance  all  the  way  from  the 
Bulgars  who  had  filtered  back  into  the  trenches.  With 
but  few  losses  they  went  through  the  first  and  second 
lines  and  attacked  the  slopes  of  The  Feather,  in  the 
third  line.  Some  Greeks  had  joined  them  on  their  way 
up,  and  remained  with  them.  Up  to  now  they  had 
been  fighting  in  a  gigantic  dust  cloud,  in  and  out  of 
which,  at  very  low  heights,  hovered  our  aeroplanes  on 
contact  patrol.  As  the  S.W.B.'s  progressed  up  The 
Feather  they  were  met  by  intense  machine  gun  fire. 
But  they  reached  the  gaps  in  the  wire  at  the  top,  and  lay 
there  for  our  barrage  to  lift.  As  it  did  so  the  smoke  and 
dust  cloud  cleared.  Our  men  were  in  full  view  at  close 
range  from  many  machine  guns.  The  trenches  they 
were  now  attacking  were  far  up  on  the  slopes  of  Grand 
Couronne,  only  about  250  yards  from  the  summit.  The 
trenches  were  very  strongly  manned  and  a  terrific  rifle 
and  machine  gun  fire  was  poured  down  the  spur,  and 
from  the  surrounding  ridges  other  machine  guns  concen- 
trated. A  great  many  of  the  Borderers  fell,  but  the 
rest — just  a  brave  remnant — rushed  the  trenches  and, 
spent  and  weary  as  they  were,  grappled  with  the  de- 
fenders, who  had  done  nothing  more  exhausting  than 
sit  in  their  dug-outs.       The  gallant  few  wert  se%n  to 

252 


VICTORY 

reach  the  trenches,  and  were  seen  to  fall.  They  had 
attained  almost  the  summit  of  Grand  Couronn^,  but 
only  to  die  there.  The  last  to  leave  those  tragic  slopes 
were  the  sole  survivors  of  the  South  Wales  Borderers — 
eighteen  unwounded  men  and  one  wounded  officer"^. 
Out  of  all  the  gallantry  and  horror  and  raging  inferno 
of  that  early  morning  this  was  their  reward — to  come 
back  leaving  all  their  comrades  lying  on  the  hot,  bare 
rocks  and  in  the  sparse  scrub  above.  True,  the  bat- 
talion only  started  a  few  hundreds  strong.  But  is  there 
anything  in  our  history  to  surpass  it  ?  Balaklava 
grows  dim  beside  it.  But  it  is  unlikely  that  any 
Laureate  will  sing  the  story  of  Grand  Couronne. 

In  all  the  murderous  and  confused  fighting  of  that 
terrible  morning  we  had  apparently  made  sure  of  only 
one  thing — our  honour.  But  the  sacrifice  was  a  sacrifice 
to  victory.  While  our  troops  were  falling  at  Doiran 
the  Serbs  were  forging  ahead,  far  away  to  the  westward. 

On  the  right  half  of  the  attack,  which  was  carried  out 
by  the  Greek  troops,  under  British  direction,  and  with 
one  of  our  battalions — ^the  2nd  King's  Own  Regiment — 
in  support,  we  had  more  material  gains  to  register. 
The  British  command  profited  by  our  previous  experi- 
ence with  Petit  Couronne,  and  no  direct  attack  was 
made  on  it.     This  stronghold  was  *'  pinched  out "  by 

*  Lieut. -Col.  Dan  Burges,  D.S.O.,  of  the  7th  S.  Wales  Borderers, 
was  badly  wounded  three  times,  and  was  later  picked  up  by  Germans 
and  carried  into  a  Bulgar  dug-out  behind  Grand  Couronn^,  wh©r« 
he  was  attended  to.  He  was  recovered  in  the  advance,  and  was  later 
awarded  the  Victoria  Cross.  The  award  said :  "  His  coolness  and 
personal  courage  was  most  marked  throughout  the  advance  and 
afforded  a  magnificent  example  to  officers  and  men  of  his  battalion. 
The  ability  he  displayed  in  preparing  and  executing  a  most  difficult 
operation  is  worthy  of  all  praise."  Before  the  attack  Lieut. -Colonel 
Burges  had  made  several  personal  reconnaissances  up  to  the  enemy's 
first  line,  and  during  the  attack  he  was  able  to  keep  direction 
although  every  landmark  was  completely  hidden  in  smoke  and  dust. 

Lieut.-Colonel  L.  H.  Trist,  M.C.,  of  the  11th  Welsh  Regiment,  was 
wovmded,  but  remained  on  duty. 

258 


SALONICA  AND  AFTER 

an  advance  along  ravines  to  right  and  left  of  it.  The 
Greek  troops  were  taken  to  their  line  of  departure  by  a 
body  of  guides  from  the  2nd  King's  Own.  Preceded 
by  a  heavy  barrage  (and  accompanied  by  two  sections 
of  the  83rd  Trench  Mortar  Battery)  they  soon  breached 
the  front  line,  and  within  two  hours  had  taken  their 
first  objectives — the  line  Doiran  Hill,  Teton  Hill  and 
Hill  340.  Shortly  after  nine  o'clock  they  pushed  on  up 
the  slopes  leading  to  Grand  Couronne,  their  principal 
objective  being  the  strong  work  known  as  The  Orb,  just 
above  The  Hilt.  The  1st  Regiment  got  there  and  held 
it  for  a  little  while,  but  it  had  to  be  abandoned  owing 
to  our  ill-success  to  the  left.  At  smaller  cost  than  our- 
selves, the  Greeks  had  advanced  their  line  in  places  over 
1,500  yards,  and  were  able  to  hold  most  of  their  gains, 
Doiran  Town  being  one  of  them.  Some  700  prisoners 
also  remained  in  their  hands. 

While  all  this  was  going  on  the  Cretan  Division,  sup- 
ported by  the  28th  Division,  on  the  east  side  of  the  lake, 
had  advanced  across  the  broad  plain — some  six  miles 
wide  at  this  point — to  attack  the  Bulgar  positions  at 
the  foot  of  the  high  Belashitza  Range,  and  if  possible 
to  turn  the  lake  from  the  north.  Advancing  from  the 
foot  of  the  Krusha  Balkan  Hills,  under  cover  of  dark- 
ness, they  went  forward  over  the  plain,  formed  up  under 
cover  of  a  railway  embankment,  and  from  here  started 
for  the  enemy  positions,  the  strange  sight  being  seen  of 
Greek  company  commanders  leading  their  men  mounted 
on  little  ponies.  It  was  a  difficult  operation,  which 
began  in  the  darkness  and  continued  in  hot  sunshine 
across  the  open  plain  over  which  the  enemy  had  a  per- 
fect view.  By  half-past  seven  the  strongly  defended 
village  of  Akindzali  had  been  carried  by  assault.  The 
main  Bulgar  line  was  not  reached  until  late  in  the  after- 
noon.   There  was  some  heavy  fighting  there  and  the 

254 


VICTORY 

line  was  breached  in  two  places,  but  it  was  impossible  to 
think  of  holding  on  against  the  artillery  fire  directed 
against  them.  Nothing  could  now  be  gained  by  press- 
ing the  attack,  and  the  troops  were  ordered  to  with- 
draw. 

On  the  whole  the  situation  remained  "  as  you  were," 
although  we  had  captured  some  important  ground  on 
the  centre  and  the  right.  And  as  we  found  out  later  the 
enemy's  losses  were  also  heavy,  chiefly  from  our  artil- 
lery. 

But  the  tale  of  sacrifice  was  not  yet  ended.  All  day 
long  our  artillery  hammered  the  enemy  positions.  What 
was  left  of  the  66th  Brigade  was  withdrawn  and  the  65th 
Brigade  (Brig.-Gen.  B.  J.  Majendie),  very  weak  in 
numbers,  were  brought  from  a  camp  where  they  were 
under  observation  for  influenza,  to  take  their  places. 
They  consisted  of  the  9th  King's  Own  Royal  Lancasters, 
the  8th  South  Wales  Borderers,  and  the  9th  East  Lanes. 
To  take  the  place  of  the  Greeks  in  the  left  centre, 
three  battalions  of  French  Zouaves  were  brought  up, 
and  during  the  night  occupied  the  trenches  near  the  heap 
of  rubble  that  goes  by  the  name  of  Doldzeli  village.  On 
the  right  of  the  western  half,  the  77th  Brigade  (Brig.- 
Gen.  W.  A.  Blake)  of  the  26th  Division  (12th  Argyll  and 
Sutherlands,  8th  Royal  Scots  Fusiliers  and  11th  Scottish 
Rifles)  took  the  place  of  the  67th  Brigade.  The  1st  and 
2nd  Regiments  of  the  Seres  Division  were  to  attack 
again  on  the  right,  from  their  new  line,  their  objectives 
being  The  Orb  and  The  Hilt. 

The  second  day  was  much  the  same  glorious  but  tragic 
story,  with  some  variations.  To  the  Scotch  Brigade  fell 
the  task  allotted  to  the  Welsh  Brigade  the  day  before. 
The  Zouaves  were  to  attack  parallel  with  them  and 
then,  swinging  left,  attack  the  Pip  Ridge  direct  up  its 
steep  eastern  side — a  most  forbidding  task — while  the 

255 


SALONICA  AND  AFTER 

65th  Brigade  attacked  the  ridge  along  its  crest.  But  the 
Zouave  attack  never  developed  at  all,  there  being  much 
confusion  in  their  trenches  due  to  the  Bulgar  barrage, 
and  from  the  first  the  Scots  found  themselves  with  their 
left  in  the  air  and  open  to  flank  machine  gun  fire. 

Attacking  up  over  the  corpse-strewn  way  of  the  day 
before,  the  Scots,  after  heavy  fighting  and  resistance, 
took  Sugar  Loaf  and  The  Tongue.  Finding  nobody  on 
their  left  they  consolidated  this  position,  which  the 
Bulgars  counter-attacked  three  times.  The  enemy 
were  driven  off  with  heavy  loss.  The  Greeks  on  the 
right  had  now  reached  The  Orb  and  The  Hilt,  but  fol- 
lowing this  time  (about  nine  o'clock)  there  was  much 
confusion. 

From  the  heights  of  the  Pip  Ridge  and  the  nearer 
eminence  of  The  Hilt,  a  storm  of  machine  gun  bullets 
was  poured  on  the  Scottish  troops  on  The  Tongue.  The 
Greeks  were  now  streaming  back  from  their  advanced 
positions.  As  a  result  of  the  non-development  of  the 
Zouave  attack,  the  9th  East  Lanes,  were  sent  up  to 
support  the  Scotch  troops  on  the  left,  being  diverted 
from  any  attack  on  the  Pip  Ridge.  Gallantly  led  by 
Lieut.-Colonel  J.  A.  Campbell,  D.S.O.,  who  was  twice 
wounded,  they  reached  the  position  known  as  The 
Come,  but  found  further  advance  impossible  owing  to 
wire  and  heavy  fire.  As  the  Scots  were  unsupported 
on  either  side,  steps  were  now  taken  to  withdraw  them 
from  The  Tongue.  At  this  time  at  least  thirty  machine 
guns  were  concentrating  on  them.  The  Scottish  Rifles 
and  Royal  Scots  got  back  in  good  order,  but  before  the 
Highlanders  could  withdraw  the  enemy  had  enveloped 
their  left  flank,  and  they  had  great  difficulty  in  getting 
away,  the  Bulgars  pursuing  them  with  heavy  shell  and 
machine  gun  fire.  Again  the  dust  had  largely  lifted, 
and  the  enemy  had  an  easy  target.     Severe  losses  had 

256 


VICTORY 

be^n  inflicted  on  the  Bulgars  during  their  fruitless 
counter-attacks.  But  the  Argyll  and  Sutherland  High- 
landers had  lost  seventy-five  per  cent,  in  casualties,  and 
the  other  two  Scottish  battalions  fifty  per  cent,  each.* 

This  time  the  attack  along  the  Pip  Ridge  was  carried 
out  by  the  9th  King's  Own  Royal  Lancaster  Regiment. 
Owing  to  the  failure  in  the  left  centre  a  message  was 
sent  to  them  not  to  advance  at  all,  but  it  reached  them 
too  late.  P.  4j.  was  empty,  but  on  reaching  the  wire  at 
P.  4.  they  found  the  trenches  heavily  manned  and  the 
air  full  of  machine  gun  bullets  from  all  directions.  The 
attack  was  persisted  in  and  gallantly  led  by  Captain 
C.  M.  Whitehead,  M.C.,  who  had  already  been  twice 
wounded.  But  only  a  few  men  were  able  to  enter  an 
advance  trench,  and  the  survivors  were  withdrawn  to 
the  friendly  shelter  of  Jackson's  Ravine.  In  this  attack 
Lieut  .-Colonel  B.  A.  Jackson  was  wounded. 

By  mid-day  on  the  19th  our  two  attacks  had  been 
pushed  to  their  utmost — and  failed  to  dislodge  the 
enemy  from  either  of  his  major  positions.  The  British 
casualties  in  the  two  days'  fighting  were  3,871  killed, 
wounded  and  missing,  t  Fortunately  most  of  the 
wounds  were  caused  by  machine  gun  fire,  and  many 
were  comparatively  light,  and  when  the  advance  came 
two  days  later  over  a  hundred  of  our  wounded  men  were 

*  Lieut. -Colonel  R.  Falconer  Stewart,  D.S.O.,  of  the  12th  A.  and 
S.  Highlanders  was  killed.  Lieut. -Colonel  G.  W,  G.  Lindesay,  of 
the  8th  R.S.F.,  was  wounded,  and  Major  Scougal,  who  was  in  tem- 
porary command  of  the  11th  Scottish  Rifles,  was  killed.  Major 
Scougal  left  his  work  as  a  missionary  in  China  to  join  up,  and  always 
insisted  on  being  in  a  fighting  regiment. 

t  It  is  interesting  to  compare  with  these  the  losses  sustained  by 
the  French  and  Serbs  in  carrying  the  Sokol-Vetrenik  Ridge.  The 
17th  French  (Colonial)  Division  had  1200  killed  and  wounded;  the 
122nd  Division  about  500  killed  and  wounded,  and  the  Drina  Divisior 
about  200.  The  other  Serbian  Divisions  sustained  very  small  casual- 
ties. It  will  be  seen,  therefore,  that  the  holding  attack  at  Doirar 
was  a  much  more  costly  operation  than  the  break-through  on  the 
Serbian  sector.  A  French  Colonial  Division  consists  generally  of 
six  white  and  three  black  battalions. 

257  S 


SALONICA  AND  AFTER 

recovered.  The  casualties  of  the  3rd  Greek  Regiment, 
who  attacked  between  our  own  troops  on  the  first  day, 
were  1,350 ;  the  losses  in  the  other  two  Regiments  were 
proportionately  heavy.  Against  this  the  Bulgars  had 
suffered  4,600  casualties,  including  the  1,200  prisoners 
taken,  and  in  their  case  a  large  proportion  of  their 
casualties  were  caused  by  heavy  shell  fire.  When  it  is 
remembered  that  the  average  strength  of  our  battahons 
was  400  rifles,  it  will  be  seen  how  heavy  was  the  toll 
taken.  Our  poor  fellows  lay  thick  up  on  the  roof  of 
Pip  Ridge,  and  on  the  right  the  track  of  the  heroic 
dead  ran  almost  up  to  the  summit  of  Grand  Couronne. 
There  was  no  question  of  attacking  further.  We  did 
not  possess  the  men.  There  was  nothing  to  do  but  to 
hold  on  to  what  we  had  gained.  On  the  night  of  the 
19th  the  Zouaves  went  into  the  trenches  on  Horseshoe, 
we  not  having  sufficient  troops  available  to  man  them. 
The  Bulgars  had  received  a  severe  hammering,  and  for 
four  days  their  troops  had  been  practically  without  food, 
cut  off  by  our  artillery  fire.  But  the  Bulgars  still  lay 
on  their  ridges,  looking  down,  and  one  wonders  what 
our  men  must  have  felt  as  they  were  withdrawn  into 
reserve.  In  four  furious  battles,  in  1917  and  1918,  they 
had  tried  to  carry  those  rocky  heights,  and  they  had 
little  to  show  for  it  but  the  loss  of  most  of  their  com- 
rades. It  is  unlikely  that  they  thoroughly  understood 
why  the  British  should  have  to  fling  themselves  against 
the  Doiran  fortress.  The  bitterness  of  defeat  and 
wasted  effort  must  have  lain  heavy  on  their  souls. 
Their  spirit  had  been  simply  magnificent.  *'  Rather 
than  miss  the  opportunity  for  which  they  had  waited 
three  years,  officers  and  men  remained  in  the  ranks 
until  often  they  dropped  from  sheer  exhaustion,"  said 
General  Milne  in  his  dispatch.  And  it  all  seemed  to 
have  led  to  nothing. 

258 


VICTORY 

And  then  came  the  magic  change — the  great  reward. 
By  the  21st  the  Serbs  had  forged  so  far  ahead  that  they 
had  cut  the  vital  Bulgarian  communications  on  the 
Vardar.  Our  aeroplanes,  humming  constantly  over 
the  enemy  lines,  reported  great  signs  of  movement  to 
the  rear,  with  dumps  blazing  and  exploding.  Could  it 
be  that  the  impossible  had  happened  ?  It  really 
seemed  like  it.  That  night  the  Zouaves  creeping  for- 
ward up  the  Pip  Ridge  reported  that  the  trenches  there 
were  empty.  By  Sunday  morning,  the  22nd,  the  in- 
credible news  was  known  to  everybody.  After  two  and 
a  half  years'  occupation  of  that  mighty  fortress  the 
enemy  was  at  last  abandoning  it.  The  news  ran  through 
the  tired  and  depleted  British  forces  like  lightning.  And 
then  gradually  the  meaning  of  it  all  came  to  them. 

Victory !  Their  sacrifice  had  brought  its  reward. 
Alas  that  all  their  comrades  lying  so  stiffly  on  those 
peaceful,  undulating  slopes  might  not  share  that 
moment  with  them  ! 


259 


CHAPTER   XIX. 

The  Pursuit. 

The  whole  line  moved  forward,  and  though  victory  was 
in  the  air  it  was  in  many  ways  a  sad  sight  to  look  upon 
"all  that  was  left  of  them"  pressing  in  pursuit; 
skeleton  Brigades  of  a  few  hundred  tired  men,  many  of 
them  weak  with  fever,  with  a  long  string  of  transport 
following  behind.  These  the  battalions  which  had 
ambled  through  a  pleasant  campaign !  Our  troops 
marched  unmolested  up  the  heights  they  had  battled 
so  hard  to  gain ;  examined  the  great  dugouts  with  their 
many  Bulgar  dead,  and  at  the  summit  turned  to  look 
down  on  the  positions  which  had  for  so  long  been  their 
abiding  place,  which  they  had  now  left  behind  for 
ever. 

It  was  now  the  turn  of  our  aviators,  and  they  exacted 
a  terrible  revenge.  In  common  with  the  rest  of  the 
Salonica  Forces,  very  little  had  been  heard  of  them  at 
home.  In  activity  and  dash  they  were  far  and  away 
ahead  of  anything  else  on  the  Balkan  Front.  Perhaps 
if  they  had  been  merely  a  good  second  we  should  have 
heard  more  of  them.  But  their  superiority  was  so 
obvious  to  anybody  who  knew  anything  of  the  results 
obtained  on  the  Balkan  front  that  little  was  said  about 
the  Allied  aviators  at  all. 

They  had  helped  all  they  could  in  the  battle,  flying 
at  heights  of  less  than  three  hundred  feet  on  contact 
patrols,  in  and  out  of  the  clouds  of  dust  and  smoke, 
maintaining  contact  with  the  infantry  while  themselves 

260 


THE  PURSUIT 

being  hundreds  of  feet  below  the  enemy  machine  gun- 
ners on  the  Ridge  and  Grand  Couronne.  And  now  they 
sailed  in  to  administer  punishment.  The  retreating 
Bulgarian  Army  was  offering  targets  such  as  aviators 
dream  of  when  they  are  sleeping  badly.  Horse,  foot 
and  guns  were  streaming  up  the  narrow,  precipitous 
road — the  only  practicable  line  of  retreat — leading  over 
into  the  StiTunitza  valley,  into  Bulgaria.  Our  airmen, 
like  avenging  eagles,  swooped  down  on  them,  dropping 
bombs  at  low  heights  and  firing  thousands  of  rounds 
from  their  machine  guns.  For  ten  days,  while  the 
Bulgar  retreat  continued,  this  work  went  on.  Guns, 
motor-cars,  transport  wagons,  every  kind  of  vehicle  was 
abandoned  in  the  hilly  roads  and  passes  as  the  aero- 
planes came  humming  over.  And  all  this  was  accom- 
plished without  the  slightest  sign  of  opposition  from 
the  enemy  aviators.  Our  own  flying  men  had  so 
thoroughly  worn  them  down  that  following  the  aerial 
combats  of  the  18th,  during  the  first  battle,  only  one 
enemy  machine  was  encountered  up  to  the  cessation  of 
hostilities,  and  this  was  promptly  driven  down. 

Fitted  with  a  specially  strong  wireless  apparatus,  one 
of  our  D.H.  9's  cruised  constantly  over  the  country 
through  which  the  enemy  was  retreating.  Whatever 
the  observer  saw  that  was  good  to  look  upon  he 
promptly  wirelessed  back  to  the  aerodrome  at  Janesh, 
and  from  there  machines  were  sent  at  once  to  bomb  it. 
To  and  fro  they  went  ail  the  time,  like  homing  pigeons, 
bombing  or  machine-gunning  dumps,  camps,  convoys 
and  troops  on  the  roads.  These  were  often  black  with 
fugitives  and  traffic  and  very  great  execution  was  done. 
In  the  Kosturino  Pass  the  retreating  enemy  was  scat- 
tered time  after  time,  and  men,  transport  and  animals 
blown  to  bits.  Wagons  were  lifted  off  the  road  and 
flung  down  ravines.     But  the  greatest  execution  of  all 

261 


SALONICA  AND  AFTER 

was  done  in  the  narrow  Kresna  Pass,  a  wonderful  defile 
through  which  the  Struma  River  comes  down  from  Sofia, 
and  up  which  the  Struma  Army  was  escaping.  Here,  as 
elsewhere,  our  aviators  flew  as  low  as  20  feet  above  the 
fugitives,  machine-gunning  constantly,  and  killing  hun- 
dreds. This  target  was  sixty  miles  from  the  most  ad- 
vanced aerodrome,  and  with  mountains  of  over  5,000 
feet  between. 

In  those  hectic  days  of  aerial  pursuit,  our  aviators 
dropped  just  short  of  20,000  lbs.  of  high  explosive  on 
the  retreating  enemy,  and  fired  30,000  rounds  of 
machine  gun  ammunition  on  them.  And  only  the  com- 
ing of  the  Armistice  saved  the  Bulgars  from  further 
unlimited  punishment  of  the  same  kind.  They  would 
have  been  harried  and  scattered  and  bombed  all  the 
way  to  Sofia,  and  they  would  have  had  no  reply  to  it. 

For  over  two  years  our  aviators  in  the  Balkans 
worked  under  a  very  great  handicap.  They  had  to  be 
content  with  what  machines  were  left  over  at  home, 
and  on  these  had  to  face  enemy  aviators  flying  greatly 
superior  machines.  It  was  only  that  wonderful  and 
mysterious  "  something "  which  marks  the  British 
aviator  out  from  all  others  wliich  enabled  them  to 
more  than  hold  their  own.  Even  the  great  flying  circus 
of  Richthofen  himself  came  to  Salonica.  On  February 
27th,  1917,  twenty  fast  German  machines  suddenly  ap- 
peared over  the  Summer  Hill  camps  and  bombed  them 
heavily,  causing  many  hundreds  of  casualties.  This 
squadron  caused  much  trouble  during  the  two  or  three 
months  it  was  on  the  Balkan  Front,  but  with  the  assis- 
tance of  the  R.N.A.S.  our  flying  men  tackled  it  at 
every  opportunity  and  brought  down  a  number  of 
machines.  Nearly  every  flying  day,  for  years,  they 
were  out  bombing  the  enemy  dumps,  making  them- 
selves a  terror  by  day  and  night,  and  the  later  immu- 

262 


THE  PURSUIT 

nity  of  Salonica  and  the  British  area  was  due  to  their 
constant  and  devoted  efforts.  They  cannot  be  praised 
too  highly  for  the  splendid  work  they  did.  And  gradu- 
ally their  machines  improved,  until  in  November,  1918, 
the  Army  Commander  was  able  to  write  of  them,  "Once 
adequately  provided  with  up-to-date  aeroplanes  our 
pilots  rapidly  gained  command  of  the  air,  and  have 
succeeded  in  accounting  for  eight  hostile  machines  for 
every  one  of  our  own  missing."  The  crown  of  all  their 
work  came  in  the  final  offensive ;  it  was  at  once  their 
greatest  achievement  and  their  reward.  They  swept 
the  enemy  from  the  air,  and  brought  terror  and  disaster 
among  the  retreating  columns.  Never  once  had  they 
refused  battle.  And  at  the  end  they  found  no  enemr 
of  their  own  kind  with  which  to  fight. 

From  Monastir  to  Doiran  the  pursuit  was  now  going 
on — Serbs,  British,  French,  Greeks  and  Italians  all 
pressing  and  harassing  the  enemy.  The  story  of  the 
Serbian  pursuit  is  one  of  the  most  romantic  chapters  in 
military  history.  Treading  their  own  soil  they  forged 
ahead  unceasingly.  Mahogany  coloured  men  to  begin 
with  they  became,  as  the  pursuit  went  on  day  after  day, 
as  white  as  wax.  For  weeks  on  end  there  was  never 
enough  to  give  them  a  square  meal ;  they  went  ahead  so 
fast  in  front  of  the  transport.  There  was  no  bread,  and 
flour  had  to  be  served  out,  which  was  made  into  sticky 
"  dampers  "  when  fuel  could  not  be  found.  They  were 
once  told  that  it  was  impossible  for  both  food  and 
munitions  to  reach  them,  and  being  asked  to  choose, 
asked  for  the  munitions.  So  they  pushed  on,  living  on 
the  country — which  had  next  to  nothing  to  give  them. 
The  strange  sight  was  seen  of  thousands  of  Bulgar 
troops,  complete  with  their  officers,  coming  down  to 
surrender  to  the  Serbs  as  they  advanced.  The  Bul- 
garian armies  were  smashed  into  three  portions.     Bul- 

263 


SALONICA  AND  Af^TER 

garia  capitulated — and  still  they  pushed  on.  There 
were  Germans  and  Austrians  still  to  fight  before  their 
country  was  cleared.  Veles,  Uskub,  Nish — the  towns 
of  Serbia  passed  one  after  another  into  their  hands. 
And  finally  they  entered  Belgrade  itself,  masters  once 
more  in  their  own  capital.  They  reached  there  on 
November  1st,  forty-five  days  after  the  line  was  broken 
at  Sokol,  having  covered  in  that  time  well  over  three 
hundred  miles,  and  fighting  most  of  the  way.  It  was  a 
magnificent  achievement  and  the  world  would  have 
thrilled  to  it  but  for  the  fact  that  just  then  the  world 
had  too  much  to  think  about. 

The  British  troops  followed  hot  on  the  heels  of  the 
retreating  enemy,  and  we  were  the  first  to  enter  Bul- 
garia, this  honour  falling  to  the  Derbyshire  Yeomanry, 
who  for  three  years  had  kept  up  their  patient  watch  on 
the  Struma.  They  led  the  troops  of  the  16th  Corps 
under  Lieut. -General  C.  J.  Briggs,  whose  troops  now 
comprised  the  26th  and  27th  Divisions,  the  14th  Greek 
Division  and  the  Lothians  and  Border  Horse.  The 
12th  Corps,  on  the  right,  under  Lieut. -General  Sir 
Henry  Wilson,  now  comprised  the  22nd  and  28th  Divi- 
sions, the  228th  Brigade,  the  Cretan  Division,  the  2me 
his  Zouaves,  and  the  Surrey  Yeomanry. 

Our  pursuit  now  took  on  a  fantastic  shape.  While 
the  cavalry  and  infantry  of  the  16th  Corps,  overcoming 
strong  opposition,  advanced  along  the  Strumitsa 
Valley,  into  Bulgaria,  the  22nd  and  28th  Divisions, 
together  with  the  Cretans  and  Zouaves,  made  a  com- 
bined attack  on  the  towering  Belashitza  Range,  which 
was  still  strongly  held  by  the  enemy.  The  Bulgars 
were  entrenched  on  summits  nearly  5,000  feet  high. 
The  depleted  22nd  Division  began  to  climb  the  precipi- 
tous slopes  of  the  mountain  wall  which  for  so  long 
had  seemed  to  them,  looming  behind  the  Doiran  heights, 

264 


THE  PtTRSUlT 

the  final  barrier  to  all  progress.  For  years  they  had 
looked  on  them,  swathed  in  a  blue  mist,  infinitely  far 
away,  and  now  they  were  climbing  up  goat  tracks  to 
the  rugged  summits.  Our  progress  up  the  range  met 
with  considerable  resistance,  and  once  near  the  summit 
there  followed  three  days  of  confused  and  difficult 
fighting  for  the  various  peaks.  Had  the  enemy  still 
been  what  he  was  only  a  week  before  it  would  have 
been  impossible  for  our  troops  to  win  those  towering 
strongholds.  But  he  was  now  a  beaten  enemy,  fighting 
only  to  gain  time.  One  by  one  he  abandoned  the  peaks, 
and  we  were  on  top  of  the  range  and  over.  We  cap- 
tured five  guns  up  there,  and  much  material.  The  8th 
South  Wales  Borderers,  of  the  65th  Brigade,  specially 
distinguished  themselves  in  these  difficult  operations. 
On  September  28th  the  Cretan  Division  was  ordered 
to  sweep  the  Belashitza  Range  from  west  to  east,  one 
regiment  to  make  its  way  along  the  crest  and  another 
(together  with  the  228th  Brigade)  to  take  a  parallel 
course  down  the  Butkova  Valley,  five  thousand  feet 
below.  To  the  north  of  the  range  the  troops  of  the 
16th  Corps  were  making  their  way  in  the  same  direction. 
In  three  lines  we  were  advancing  to  cut  off  the  enemy 
forces  on  the  Struma. 

After  looking  at  the  Rupel  Pass  for  so  long  across 
the  valley  of  the  Struma  we  were  now  outflanking  it 
from  the  west.  The  Bulgarians  were  streaming  up 
through  the  pass  and  on  through  the  narrower  defile  of 
the  Kresna  Pass,  where  our  airmen  were  causing  such 
havoc.  Two  days  before  this,  down  through  the  con- 
fusion and  the  slaughter,  the  Bulgarian  peace  envoys, 
M.  Lyaptcheff,  Minister  of  Marine,  General  Lukoff, 
Commander  of  the  2nd  Army,  and  M.  Radeff,  had  passed 
on  their  way  to  Salonica.  And  when  our  advanced 
troops  were  only  fifteen  miles  from  the  Rupel  Pass, 

265 


SALONICA  AND  AFTER 

whose  capture  would  have  cut  off  many  thousands  of 
Bulgarian  troops,  word  came  that  an  armistice  had 
been  signed  at  Salonica  at  10  p.m.  on  Sunday,- the  29th, 
and  that  hostilities  would  cease  at  noon  on  the  Monday. 
The  aeroplanes,  with  their  fresh  loads  of  bombs,  were 
retained  in  the  hangars,  and  as  if  by  magic  the  sound 
of  war  died  out  among  the  mountains. 

Bulgaria  had  capitulated  unconditionally.  There  was 
a  general  idea  at  one  time,  largely  fostered  by  the  Bul- 
gars  themselves,  that  her  defeat  was  largely  "political." 
On  the  contrary,  there  could  not  have  been  a  more 
decisive  military  defeat.  The  Bulgarian  front  had  been 
broken  into  three  pieces,  and  was  on  the  point  of  being 
smashed  into  fragments,  and  the  various  parts  had  no 
hope  of  re-uniting  to  form  a  homogeneous  front.  Under 
the  shock  of  danger  the  Bulgarian  army  had  gone  to 
pieces.  Its  situation  following  the  opening  of  the  offen- 
sive was  by  no  means  desperate,  but  it  had  utterly  failed 
to  recover  itself,  as  so  many  other  armies  had  done  dur- 
ing the  war.  The  Allied  surprise  was  not  strategical  but 
tactical.  The  Bulgars  knew  an  attack  was  coming, 
but  failed  to  gauge  both  its  direction  and  its  weight  and 
once  the  first  shrewd  blow  was  delivered  they — like 
some  over-estimated  boxers — fought  wildly,  and  finally 
went  utterly  to  pieces.  Never  once  were  they  within 
measurable  distance  of  staying  the  avalanche  of  defeat 
once  it  had  set  in.  Nowhere  could  they  throw  in  a  full 
reserve  division  (and  here  we  see  again  the  value  of  the 
British  holding  attacks).  Their  reserves  came  into  the 
fight  by  regiments,  and  each  one  as  it  came  up  was 
"  mopped  up  "  in  the  irresistible  advance,  or  joined 
the  others  in  retreat  without  even  coming  into  action. 
The  difficult  lateral  communications  of  the  enemy  had 
always  been  his  one  great  handicap,  and  the  Allies, 
once  the  chance  of  victory  had  come  into  their  grasp, 

266 


THE  PURSUIT 

exploited  this  weakness  to  the  utmost.  An  army  of  just 
on  half  a  million  men  was  broken,  bustled,  harried, 
pursued  without  relaxation,  and  finally  beaten  to  its 
knees,  with  its  country  already  invaded. 

On  the  far  left  the  so-called  11th  German  Army — a 
Bulgarian  Army  heavily  staffed  by  Germans — made  at 
first  a  desperate  resistance  and  so  consummated  its  own 
destruction.  The  French  cavalry  entered  Prilep  on 
September  28rd,  the  Serbs  were  forging  further  ahead, 
and  the  French  pressed  on  to  Uskub.  The  11th  Army 
was  cut  off,  its  only  possible  retreat  now  being  through 
Albania.  The  German  Staff,  seeing  the  hopeless  con- 
dition of  affairs,  behaved  in  true  German  fashion,  and, 
first  cutting  all  telegraphic  and  telephonic  communi- 
cation, fled  in  their  motor-cars,  leaving  the  Bulgarians 
to  extricate  themselves  as  best  they  could.  The  Bul- 
garians continued  to  resist  strongly,  and  even  counter- 
attacked, and  for  three  days  there  was  heavy  fighting 
on  the  heights  of  Sop,  between  Monastir  and  Kichevo. 
But  they  were  now  a  lost  Army.  When  the  Armistice 
was  signed  the  abandoned  Bulgarians  refused  to  believe 
it.  They  were  practically  surrounded  and  quite  with- 
out communications  with  the  rest  of  the  Bulgarian 
forces  for  two  days,  and  only  consented  to  believe  in  the 
Armistice  when  a  Bulgarian  officer  was  sent  from  Sofia 
by  aeroplane  to  explain  the  situation.  Then  11,000  of 
them  surrendered  to  the  French  and  9,000  to  the 
Italians.  The  French,  with  the  Serbs,  Greeks  and 
Italians  under  their  command,  took  77,000  prisoners, 
including  8  generals  and  1,500  officers;  850  guns,  10,000 
horses  and  20,000  cattle  and  sheep.  The  final  captures 
of  the  Allies  amounted  to  100,000  prisoners  and  over 
2,000  guns,  with  an  immense  booty  of  all  kinds.  The 
British  were  in  Bulgarian  territory,  and  would  have 
taken  thousands  more  prisoners  from  Struma  but  for 

267 


SALONiCA  AND  AFTER 

the  signing  of  the  Armistice.  The  fighting  went  on  with- 
out cessation  for  twelve  days  following  the  break 
through.  The  Bulgarian  Armies  were  disunited,  routed, 
scattered.  They  could  not  re-form.  Their  military 
situation  was  hopeless.  They  surrendered  uncondition- 
ally because  there  was  nothing  else  for  them  to  do.  The 
Germans  could  no  longer  help  them,  and  they  could  not 
help  themselves.  The  first  prop  of  the  Central  Alliance 
had  snapped  before  the  onslaught  of  the  Balkan 
Armies. 


268 


CHAPTER  XX. 

....  And  After. 

And  after?      Well,  everything  happened  very  shortly 
after. 

The  British  forces  had  some  extraordinary  adven- 
tures following  on  Bulgaria's  capitulation.  They  were 
first  of  all  ordered  to  co-operate  with  the  French  and 
Serbs  against  Austria,  and  Widin  on  the  far  Danube 
was  their  first  objective.  We  were  already  on  the 
move,  and  the  faces  of  our  men  were  set  northwards, 
when,  by  one  of  those  brusque  changes  which  emanate 
from  Allied  War  Councils  and  make  the  private  soldier 
wonder  whether  he  is  the  sport  of  a  gigantic  game,  our 
men  were  turned  to  march  eastwards  on  Turkey, 
General  Milne  having  received  instructions  to  take 
command  of  the  Allied  troops  operating  against  that 
Power.  This  advance  began  on  October  10th.  Less 
than  a  month  before  few  people  knew  that  there  was  to 
be  an  offensive  on  the  Balkan  Front.  And  now  Bul- 
garia was  out  of  the  war,  and  we  were  marching  on 
Constantinople.  History  was  being  made  at  lightning 
speed.  But  one  shock  of  success  followed  so  swiftly  on 
another  that  the  world  could  not  realise  all  that  was 
happening.  Allenby's  smashing  success  in  Palestine ; 
the  Balkan  corridor  cut,  and  Turkey  left  to  her  own 
devices;  Haig  and  his  victorious  armies  driving  ever 
forward  in  the  West — there  was  too  much  wonderful 
news  in  the  newspapers  for  the  public  at  home  to  digest. 
They  found  the  pibce  de  resistance  of  the  banquet— 


SALONICA  AND  AFTER 

the  Hindenburg  Line,  Cambrai  and  Le  Cateau — quite 
enough  for  their  appetite  and  only  toyed  with  the  en- 
tries and  savouries  from  the  Near  East.  The  imminent 
elimination  of  Turkey  from  the  war — the  ardent  desire 
of  all  the  Allies  in  1915 — was  now  an  event  discounted 
in  advance. 

But  shrouded  in  its  usual  fog  of  silence  the  B.S.F. 
was  finding  the  investiture  of  Turkey  no  easy  matter. 
The  roads  in  Eastern  Macedonia  leading  to  the  Turkish 
frontier  were  practically  non-existent ;  at  the  best  they 
were  merely  mud  tracks.  The  railway  between  Doiran 
and  Seres  had  been  largely  destroyed,  and  could  not 
be  used  in  any  way.  Here  our  experience  in  road 
making  and  our  excellently  organised  mechanical  trans- 
port came  to  the  rescue  again.  An  Army  without  these 
advantages  could  not  have  concentrated  on  the  Turkish 
frontier  in  double  the  time  taken  by  the  B.S.F.  The 
22nd  Division  trekked  down  the  Seres  Road,  along  the 
valley  to  Stavros,  and  from  there  were  transported  in 
seventeen  destroyers  to  Dedeagatch,  the  small  Bulgar- 
ian port.  The  Navy  did  wonderful  things  in  clearing 
mine-swept  areas,  and  in  assisting  in  the  transfer  of 
troops  and  stores.  In  less  than  twenty  days,  in  spite 
of  the  enormous  difficulties  of  moving  troops,  we  had 
concentrated  the  26th  and  22nd  Divisions  and  the  122nd 
French  Division  along  the  River  Maritza,  the  Turkish 
frontier  line.  At  Mustapha  Pasha  we  were  all  ready 
for  an  immediate  advance  on  Adrianople.  In  less  than 
twenty  days  we  had  moved  the  troops  250  miles,  and 
were  using  the  poor  little  ports  of  Kavalla  and 
Dedeagatch  as  bases.     It  was  quite  a  striking  feat. 

Meanwhile  at  Mudros,  the  port  of  the  big,  bare  island 
of  Lemnos,  a  great  Allied  fleet  was  concentrated.  For 
some  time  past  the  power  of  mischief  which  lay  in  the 
Russian  Black  Sea  Fleet,  now  in  German  hands,  had 

270 


.     .     .    AND   AFTER 

been  taken  into  consideration.  A  sortie  from  the  Dar- 
danelles with  the  Go  eh  en  at  the  head  of  the  Russian 
ships  was  always  a  possibility,  and  we  had  nothing  in 
the  iEgean  capable  of  standing  up  either  to  the  Go  eh  en 
or  the  Russian  Dreadnoughts.  (We  did  not  know  then 
to  what  a  state  of  inefficiency  the  Bolsheviks  and  the 
Germans  had  reduced  the  Russian  ships.)  The  French 
had  no  big  ships  so  far  East.  Consequently  the 
T  enter  aire  and  Superh,  sister  Dreadnoughts,  came  out 
from  home  to  Mudros,  where  up  to  that  time  our  biggest 
ships  were  the  pre-Dreadnoughts  Lord  Nelson  and  Aga- 
memnon. The  British  Naval  Forces  were  under  the 
command  of  Vice- Admiral  Sir  S.  A.  Gough-Calthorpe. 
And  soon  after  the  arrival  of  our  two  big  ships,  the 
warships  of  France,  Italy,  and  Greece  began  to  concen- 
trate on  Mudros.  By  the  end  of  September  some  hun- 
dreds of  war  vessels  of  all  kinds — battleships,  cruisers, 
destroyers,  aeroplane-carriers,  oil  ships,  store  ships, 
sweepers,  patrol  launches,  and  the  rest — were  lying  in 
the  great  harbour.  Turkey  began  to  feel  very  alone 
and  friendless.  She  knew  of  the  formidable  prepara- 
tions going  on  by  sea  and  by  land  to  exact  the  payment 
for  her  misdeeds,  which  must  follow  as  the  night  follows 
the  day  on  the  Balkan  victory.  Her  leaders  knew  what 
had  happened  in  Palestine,  even  if  the  people  in  the 
capital  did  not.  And  the  "  traditional  friendship  "  for 
France  and  Britain  began  to  re-assert  itself — ^now  that 
the  German  game  was  lost.  Turks  who  whispered  that 
it  was  time  to  try  and  patch  up  an  arrangement  with 
the  Entente  were  no  longer  in  danger  of  instant  ex- 
tinction. The  two  chief  evil  genii  of  the  Turkish  Em- 
pire, Enver  and  Talaat,  judged  it  wise  to  disappear, 
with  as  much  money  as  they  could  carry.  A  new 
cabinet  was  formed  with  tendencies  moderated  to  suit 
the  hour.    Various  envoys,  more  or  less  official,  began 

271 


SALONICA  AND  AFTER 

to  filter  from  the  Asia  Minor  coast,  across  the  Mge&n, 
to  prepare  the  way  for  others,  and  to  find  out  what 
crumbs  of  magnanimity  could  be  picked  up  from  the 
table  of  the  Allies.  Some  of  them  saw  the  formidable 
naval  preparations  at  Mudros,  and,  impressed,  were 
allowed  to  go  back  to  spread  the  news.  And  finally 
came  the  real  envoys.  They  went  to  Smyrna  by  rail, 
drove  some  distance  along  the  coast,  were  picked  up  by 
H.M.S.  Liverpool  and  brought  to  Mudros.  They  were 
Raouf  Bey,  Minister  of  Marine,  Reched  Hikmet  Bey, 
Under  Secretary  for  Foreign  Affairs,  and  Lieut. -Colonel 
Saadullah  Bey,  of  the  Turkish  General  Staff.  They 
were  accommodated  on  board  the  Agamemnon  and 
from  the  port-holes  of  their  cabins  looked  up  and  down 
vistas  of  warships,  and  across  serried  rows  of  warships. 
There  was  quite  enough  to  make  them  think.  And  on 
October  30th  the  Armistice  was  signed  on  board  the 
Agamemnon,  the  first  clause  of  which  was  :  "  Opening 
of  Dardanelles  and  Bosphorus,  and  secure  access  to  the 
Black  Sea.  Allied  occupation  of  Dardanelles  and  Bos- 
phorus forts."  Turkey's  grasp  on  one  of  the  world's 
key  geographical  positions  was  at  last  unloosened — let 
us  hope  for  all  time.  The  inviolate  straits,  up  which 
no  foreign  warship  could  sail  without  the  express  per- 
mission of  the  Sultan's  Government,  were  thrown  open. 

The  second  prop  was  knocked  away.  The  breach  in 
the  enemy  ring  made  by  the  Balkan  Armies  was  widen- 
ing and  widening.  Even  Germany  began  to  see  that  the 
game  was  up. 

Following  the  elimination  of  Bulgaria  the  Turkish 
Empire  had  fallen  without  a  blow — if  we  except  our 
aeroplane  raids  on  Constantinople.  Our  troops  were 
called  off  the  Maritza  line,  which  they  had  taken  up 
with  so  much  sweat  and  trouble.  The  26th  Division 
went  up  through  Bulgaria  to  the  Danube,  and  the  22nd 

272 


.    .     .    AND   AFTER 

trekked  back  to  Stavros.  Ordered  to  march  on  Austria, 
then  sent  to  Turkey,  then  brought  back  again ;  weeks 
of  marching  on  bad  roads  and  bivouacing  in  mud — no 
wonder  the  man  who  shoulders  the  pack  and  carries  the 
rifle  doubts  at  times  whether  those  who  guide  his  move- 
ments really  know  what  they  do  want.  A  sore  heel 
or  a  strap  that  pinches  on  the  shoulder,  and  miles  of 
muddy  roads  ahead — these  are  not  the  things  that  help 
in  a  calm  and  proper  appreciation  of  what  lies  behind 
the  apparent  unreason  of  his  movements. 

On  November  12th  the  Allied  Fleets  passed  up  the 
Dardanelles.  There  had  been  delay  owing  to  diflicul- 
ties  in  sweeping  up  the  mines — a  dangerous  task  which 
our  unassuming  trawler  skippers  and  their  crews  tackled 
with  their  usual  efficiency.  But  short  as  that  delay 
had  been  in  the  eye  of  history — a  mere  flicker  of  time, 
an  instant  gone  before  it  was  perceived — tremendous 
things  had  happened  to  the  world  while  the  Fleet  was 
waiting  for  the  "  all  clear  "  from  the  sweepers.  Aus- 
tria, yielding  to  the  imperious  message  of  events,  had 
capitulated,  and  a  few  days  later  the  evil  Colossus  her- 
self, Germany,  bowed  to  the  inevitable — while  hoping 
for  better  luck  next  time.  On  the  morning  of  November 
11th  I  read  Marshal  Foch's  historic  telegram  posted  up 
in  the  anteroom  of  the  naval  camp  at  Mudros.  People 
read  it  languidly  and  said,  "Well,  well."  A  few 
trawler  skippers  playing  solo  whist  while  waiting  for 
lunch  opined  that  Germany  had  done  it  only  just  in 
time  to  escape  a  "  damned  good  hiding."  Nobody 
seemed  elated  or  excited.  The  earth  had  thrown  a 
somersault — the  firmament  had  cracked — Germany  was 
definitely  beaten  !  And  yet  nobody  seemed  inclined  to 
shout  "  hooray,"  and  I  did  not  see  one  single  person 
shake  hands  with  another.  Out  in  the  harbour  the 
impassive  Fleet  did  not  shriek  with  a  single  siren,  nor 

27S  T 


SALONICA  AND  AFTER 

speak  with  the  voice  of  a  single  gun.  Mudros  is  a  dull 
place;  a  place  which  wears  down  high  spirits,  and 
deadens  the  soul.  No  doubt  that  was  the  reason  for 
the  general  apathy.  It  could  not  be,  surely,  that  while 
London  was  cheering  itself  hoarse  with  joy  and  relief 
there  was  something  in  the  air  of  Mudros  which  enabled 
us  to  see  beyond  the  excitement  of  the  moment ;  which 
foreshadowed  what  may  come  to  be  regarded  as  the 
greatest  error  of  judgment  in  all  history — that  we 
should  have  stayed  the  avenging  sword  at  the  very 
moment  when  the  Brute  was  finally  at  our  mercy  ? 

And  this  cataclysmic  crumbling  of  the  might  of  our 
enemies;  this  consummation  of  all  that  we  had  been 
fighting  for  (and  sometimes  a  little  despairing  of)  during 
four  long  years  had  come  within  a  little  over  six  weeks 
after  the  first  breach  on  the  Balkan  Front.  The  final 
props  had  gone,  and  we  could  look  on  the  wreck  and 
ruin  of  what  had  once  seemed  too  powerful  a  structure 
even  for  Might  with  Right  to  conquer. 

But  all  the  same  Mudros  did  move  a  little  in  its  sleep 
on  that  day  of  the  Great  Armistice.  In  the  afternoon 
we  heard  that  the  Fleet  was  certainly  moving  up  to 
Constantinople  next  day.  I  went  on  board  the  Aga- 
memnon that  night,  was  given  excellent  quarters  by  its 
excellent  Captain,  and  shown  the  famous  table  on  which 
the  Armistice  with  Turkey  was  signed. 

The  Fleet  moved  out  of  Mudros  harbour  at  four 
o'clock  on  the  morning  of  the  12th,  and  by  nine  we 
were  off  Cape  Helles.  There  in  the  cold,  leaden  light 
of  an  unpleasing  November  morning  was  the  tragic 
Peninsula;  the  River  Clyde,  from  which  our  troops 
had  poured  at  the  first  landing ;  the  repellent  shore  of 
V.  Beach,  ugly  and  unpleasant  as  earth  could  possibly 
be;  the  ruined  fort  of  Seddul  Bahr,  and,  far  off,  the 
rounded  crest  of  Achi  Baba.     Everybody  on  the  ship 

274 


4  »  » 


AND  AFTER 


was  silent  as  we  passed  "  this  corner  of  a  foreign  l^nd 
which  is  for  ever  England  " ;  this  bare  and  narrow 
patch  of  earth  which  holds  such  tragic  and  glorious 
memories  for  our  race.  For  very  many  on  board  it 
was  their  first  sight  of  the  Peninsula,  and  all  gazed  at 
the  shore  with  an  intensity  of  expression  which  showed 
how  deeply  they  were  feeling,  and  spoke  in  low  tones 
as  they  indicated  this  point  or  that.  The  general  de- 
meanour was  that  of  somebody  who  had  suddenly  en- 
countered the  grave  of  an  old  friend.  And  all  our 
thoughts  ran  on  much  the  same  lines.  There  on  shore 
was  the  first  tragic  chapter  of  a  great  epic,  and  the 
ships  we  were  now  on,  steaming  majestically  up  the 
Straits,  represented  its  triumphal  end.  This,  and  not 
the  withdrawal  in  1915,  was  the  true  end  to  the  Dar- 
danelles campaign. 

Preceded  by  two  destroyers  and  by  new  high-speed 
sweepers  just  out  from  England,  the  Superb,  the  flag- 
ship, led  the  way  up  the  Straits,  followed  by  Temeraire, 
Lord  Nelson,  and  Agamemnon,  and  with  a  tail  of  light 
cruisers  and  destroyers  stretching  far  behind.  The 
French  Fleet  was  not  yet  in  sight,  and  behind  them 
were  the  Italians  and  the  Greeks.  On  shore  we  could 
see  parties  of  our  men  of  the  28th  Division,  who  had 
just  been  put  on  shore  to  garrison  the  forts,  waving 
to  us  as  we  passed.  The  leading  battleships  seemed  to 
fill  the  Straits,  and  we  must  have  looked  a  brave  sight 
to  those  on  shore.  Past  Hamidieh  fort,  with  its  14-inch 
guns,  and  then  the  bend  past  Chanak,  and  here,  as  the 
straight  line  of  great  ships  suddenly  crooked  into  an 
elbow,  one  could  look  ahead  and  astern  and  see  all 
the  line,  and  what  a  gallant  sight  we  made.  It  was 
good  to  see  the  string  of  Whitef  Ensigns  fluttering  here, 
where  for  so  many  centuries  the  barbarous  power  of 
the  Turk  had  been  all-powerful.     The  flag  whieh  means 

275 


SALONICA  AND  AFTER 

liberty  for  all,  which  meant  ''  the  freedom  of  the  seas  " 
long  before  ignorant  or  ill-disposed  parrots  discovered 
that  high-sounding  catchword,  had  taken  the  place  of 
the  flag  that  stands  for  deceit  and  oppression. 

And  next  morning  at  eight  o'clock,  as  quiet  as  mice, 
and  with  no  thunderous  broadside  to  announce  the 
coming  of  the  conqueror,  our  great  ships  were  lying  in 
line  off  the  Sultan's  Palace  at  Constantinople.  It  im- 
pressed us  who  were  on  the  ships  to  see  the  White 
Ensign  flying  there.  But  there  were  certain  people  on 
shore  to  whom  it  meant  infinitely  more.  Some  of  them 
stood  drawn  up  on  the  quay,  waiting  for  the  British 
General,  Sir  Henry  Wilson,  to  come  ashore.  They  wore 
slop  suits  of  a  curious  baggy  cut,  and  caps  or  wide- 
awake hats,  and  many  of  them  had  pinched  faces.  They 
were  British  prisoners,  survivors  from  Kut  and  else- 
where, and  they  had  known  in  full  measure  all  the  hell 
that  Turkish  cynicism  and  neglect,  or  active  Turkish 
cruelty,  could  mean.  And  up  on  the  high  Galata  Tower 
were  others  looking  down  with  hungry  eyes  as  the  ships 
came  up  from  the  Sea  of  Marmora  into  the  Bosphorus ; 
British  officers,  these,  who  up  to  a  fortnight  before  had 
been  treated  like  dogs  in  the  foetid  gaols  of  old  Stam- 
boul,  but  suddenly  found  that  a  magic  change  had  come 
over  everything,  so  that  those  who  were  harsh  or  dis- 
dainful became  fawning  and  amiable,  and  then 
announced,  with  many  bows,  that  liberty  was  theirs. 
And  to  these  the  White  Ensign  fluttering  down  below 
there,  over  the  waters  that  know  so  much  of  tragedy 
and  cruelty,  meant  the  deliverance  from  all  evil. 

Since  that  day  the  men  of  the  B.S.F.  have  scattered 
far  and  wide,  and  have  taken  the  flag  to  lands  they 
never  dreamed  of  seeing.  The  quagmires  of  Serbian 
mountain  passes  and  the  squalor  of  little  Serbian  or 
Bulgarian  towns  in  mid-winter ;   the  ostentatious  new- 

276 


.     .     .    AND   AFTER 

ness  of  Sofia;  the  broad  Danube,  and  Bucharest;  the 
beauty  of  the  Bosphorus ;  Batoum,  Tiflis,  and  the  flat 
shores  of  the  Caspian — all  these  they  have  known. 
Already  Salonica  and  Macedonia  must  seem  like  the 
echo  of  a  dream — a  long  and  bad  and  vivid 
dream.  Their  work  there  is  done,  and  the 
B.S.F.  has  ceased  to  be,  and  belongs  only  to  history. 
But  the  memory  of  Macedonia  will  never  fade,  and  in 
after  years  they  will  look  back  on  it  all,  and  let  their 
minds  roam  through  a  thousand  scenes  and  incidents,  a 
little  surprised,  perhaps,  that  in  looking  backwards  the 
ugly  and  unpleasant  grows  dim,  and  their  thoughts  dwell 
chiefly  on  the  pleasanter  side.  They  will  think  of  the 
Vardar  wind,  which  scorches  and  parches  in  summer, 
and  pierces  to  the  bone  in  winter — but  they  will  think 
also  of  the  Struma  Plain  with  its  wonderful  variegated 
carpet  of  wild  flowers  in  early  Spring,  and  its  fields  of 
crimson  poppies,  or  of  the  Krusha  Balkan  hills  in  the 
warm  golden  sunlight  of  autumn.  What  does  Tiadatha 
say? 

**  There  was  blue  smoke  curling  upwards 
From  a  company  headquarters. 
And  he  saw  some  soldiers  bathing 
In  a  pool  beside  the  village — 
From  below  the  voices  reached  him. 
In  the  honey-coloured  sunshine. 
And  beyond  the  line  of  trenches. 
Just  beyond  the  wooded  foothills 
Lay  the  smiling,  open  valley. 
Threaded  by  the  Hodza  Suju, 
By  the  sandy  Hodza  river. 
Bright  as  mackerel  in  the  sunshine. 
Brighter  than  a  string  of  opals." 

Salonica  with  its  dirty  crowded  streets,  its  cheap 
tawdry  amusements  and  unclean  restaurants ;  the  Staff 
Colonels  and  M.T.  officers  in  imposing  cars ;  the  nurses, 
pretty  and  otherwise — English,  Australian,  Scottish 
and  French ;  the  sunsets  over  mountain  and  plain  ;  the 
wonderful  pictures  of  Olympus  seen  down  the  funnel 

277 


SALONICA  AND  AFTER 

of  Venizelos  Street  on  those  startlingly  clear  evenings 
of  winter ;  the  cheerful  times  in  mess  or  canteen ;  the 
dust  and  mules  along  the  Karasuli-Gugunci  road ;  the 
Serbs;  the  baggy  trousered  peasants  of  all  kinds  and 
colours ;  the  thin  starved  ponies  of  the  Greek  transport 
columns;  the  ladies  of  the  White  Tower,  the  Odeon 
and  the  Skating  Rink;  the  bumps  on  the  Monastir 
Road ;  the  rumbling  lorries ;  the  eternal  growl  of  gun 
fire;  the  "crumps";  the  night  patrols;  the  happy 
days  at  Summer  Hill  (  !);  the  long-delayed  mails  from 
home,  and  the  joy  of  receiving  them;  tlie  aching, 
maddening  longing  for  leave ;  the  Fire  and  The  Balkan 
News ;  the  ration  rabbit  and  the  chlorinated  water ;  the 
misery  and  depression  of  malaria  and  dysentery;  the 
happy  days  between  cool  sheets  in  hospital — all  these, 
and  a  thousand  other  things,  will  blend  into  one  plea- 
sant picture  :  "  When  we  were  out  in  Macedonia."  And 
perhaps  even  the  terrors  of  Pip  Ridge,  Grand  Couronne 
and  the  Jumeaux  Ravine  will  bring  their  compensations, 
for  She  will  be  all  the  kinder  for  knowing  of  them,  and 
He  will  be  able  to  say  with  the  Moor  of  Venice  : — 

**  She  loved  me  for  the  dangers  I  had  passed 
And  I  loved  her  that  she  did  pity  them.'* 

And  now  that  one  has  come  to  the  end  one  finds 
that  there  still  remain  many  things  that  might  be  talked 
about.  The  shooting  trips  in  the  marshes,  for  instance, 
with  the  ducks  and  geese  whirring  over  against  the 
last,  faint  glow  of  a  winter  sunset;  the  beauty  of 
Macedonia's  many  lakes ;  or  Vodena,  with  its  tumbling 
waters,  in  Springtime.  But  it  is  too  late  and,  in  the 
lingua  franca  of  the  camps,  the  time  has  come  to  say 
Finish  Johnny. 


276 


APPENDICES 


THE  WORK  OF  THE  16th  WING,  ROYAL  AIR 
FORCE. 


The  Royal  Flying  Corps,  now  Royal  Air  Force,  was  first  represented 
in  the  Balkans  by  No.  17  Squadron,  Major  F.  N.  Fuller  being  in 
command.     This    Squadron    disembarked    at    Salonica   on    July    7th, 

1916,  one  flight  being  sent  to  Avret  Hisar  to  work  with  the  XII. 
Corps,  the  remaining  flights  working  with  the  XVI.  Corps.  During 
September  one  flight  moved  up  to  Lahana,  the  remaining  flight 
being  located  at  Salonica.  On  January  1st,  1917,  Major  J.  H. 
Herring,   D.S.O.,   M.C.,   took   over  the   command  of  the   Squadron. 

On  September  20th  the  personnel  of  No.  47  Squadron,  No.  17 
Balloon  Section  and  16th  Wing  Headquarters  arrived  at  Salonica, 
and  16th  Wing,  Roj^al  Flying  Corps  was  formed  with  effect  from  that 
date,  with  Lieut. -Colonel  G.  W.  P.  Dawes  in  command. 

On  October  20th  the  flight  of  No.  17  Squadron  at  Avret  Hisar  was 
relieved  by  a  flight  of  No.  47  Squadron,  who  proceeded  to  Janes. 
Later  in  the  month  another  flight  of  the  same  Squadron  moved  to 
Janes,  the  third  flight  proceeding  to  Kukus,  and  subsequently  to 
Snevce.  This  Squadron  was  commanded  by  Major  C.  C.  Wigram 
until  relieved  on  December  23rd,  1916,  by  Major  F.  F.  Minchin,  M.C. 

No.  17  Squadron  worked  wholly  for  the  XVI.  Corps  from  October 
20th,  1916,  and  new  aerodromes  were  occupied  at  Orljak  and  Marian. 
The  types  of  machines  used  at  this  time  were  B.E.  2c's,  A.W.'s, 
De  Havilland  2's  and  Bristol  Scouts. 

Reconnaissances  were  carried  out  daily  whenever  weather  per- 
mitted, and  artillery  co-operation,  bombing  and  photography  were 
also  undertaken  on  a  large  scale.  Contact  patrols  were  carried  out 
on  a  small  scale  at  first  but  later  developed  in  accordance  with  the 
requirements. 

No.  17  Balloon  Section  were  moved  up  to  Orljak,  and  later  to 
Kopriva,  ascents  being  undertaken  whenever  the  weather  was  favour- 
able. A  good  deal  of  hostile  activity  was  reported  on,  and  new 
defences  when  located  were  also  reported.  The  enemy  displayed  a 
good  deal  of  activity,  both  aerial  and  artillery,  against  this  balloon, 
and  during  its  stay  on  the  Struma  Front  it  was  attacked  a  large 
number  of  times  by  hostile  machines,  being  shot  down  in  flames 
on  three  occasions.  In  order  to  endeavour  to  stop  this  an  old  unser- 
viceable balloon  was  put  up  with  a  heavy  bomb  in  the  basket.  This 
bomb  was  connected  to  the  ground,  and  was  calculated  to  bring 
down  any  machine  approaching  within  100  yards.     On  November  21st, 

1917,  a  hostile  scout  attacked,  and  approached  close  to  the  balloon, 

279 


SALONICA  AND  AFTER 


when  the  charge  was  fired,  causing  the  machine  to  break  in  half.  As 
anticipated,  it  was  discovered  that  this  machine  was  piloted  by  Lieut. 
Von  £schwege,  the  German  star  pilot  on  this  front. 

On  February  12th,  1917,  Nos.  26  and  27  Balloon  Sections  disem- 
barked at  Salonica,  together  with  Headquarters  No.  22  Balloon 
Company,  Major  J.  O.  Davis  being  in  command.  Both  Sections  and 
Headquarters  No.  22  Balloon  Company  moved  into  the  XII.  Corps 
area,  the  balloons  carrying  out  observations  until  the  cessation  of 
hostilities, 

Lieut.  W.  S.  Scott,  pilot.  No.  17  Squadron,  left  Salonica  Aero- 
drome with  a  Greek  officer  as  observer,  on  December  10th,  1916,  in 
search  of  a  suitable  landing  ground  in  the  vicinity  of  Drama,  with  a 
view  to  landing  an  Agent.  On  the  return  journey  the  machine  was 
attacked  by  a  single-seater  biplane,  which  was  driven  down  by  Lieut. 
Scott,  and  seen  to  crash  by  the  Greek  observer. 

A  week  later  Lieut.  Scott  succeeded  in  landing  an  Agent  at 
Fotolievo,  in  the  Drama  Valley.  When  over  the  valley  the  pilot 
shut  off  his  engine  at  6,000  feet  and  planed  down  to  200  feet,  at 
which  height  mist  was  encountered,  and  the  centre  section  wires 
were  broken  on  landing.  As  it  was  impossible  to  see  more  than  five 
yards  around  the  machine,  it  was  assumed  the  Agent  got  away 
unobserved. 

The  same  pilot  again  landed  an  Agent  in  the  same  vicinity  on 
January  1st,  1917,  and  it  was  thought  that  he  got  away  unobserved. 
For  these  acts  of  gallantry  Lieut.  W.  S.  Scott  was  awarded  the 
Military   Cross. 

On  December  23rd,  1916,  Captain  W.  D.  Bell,  M.C.,  No.  47 
Squadron,  left  the  Aerodrome  to  bomb  a  hostile  observation  balloon 
near  Furka.  On  returning  to  our  lines,  after  dropping  his  bombs, 
he  was  attacked  in  the  rear  by  an  Albatross  two-seater.  The  hostile 
machine  dived  on  the  B.E.  12  and  lost  some  200  feet  in  height, 
whereupon  Captain  Bell  dived,  and  as  his  engine  was  full  on  he  soon 
caught  up  the  E.A.  (enemy  aircraft).  When  about  50  yards  behind. 
Captain  Bell  opened  fire  with  his  Vickers  gun  and  fired  about  20 
shots,  by  that  time  being  right  up  to  the  enemy,  the  faint  puffs  of 
smoke  from  the  hostile  observer's  gun  being  distinctly  seen.  At 
this  point  the  E.A.  dived  and  began  to  slip  and  spin,  and  some  part 
of  a  plane  becoming  detached,  the  machine  crashed  to  earth  in  no- 
man's-land. 

Towards  the  end  of  February,  1917,  a  German  Bombing  Squadron 
commenced  to  be  extremely  active  on  this  front,  as  many  as  20 
machines  taking  part  in  raids  on  Salonica,  Janes  Aerodrome,  Hadzi 
Junas  Aerodrome,  Karasouli,  and  other  targets.  This  latest  type 
German  Bombing  Squadron  was  a  considerable  source  of  trouble  to 
the  British  machines. 

The  Royal  Naval  Air  Service  were  asked  to  co-operate  against 
this  Squadron,  and  they  sent  over  a  number  of  Sopwith  Fighters 
from  Mudros,  which,  with  the  assistance  of  our  scouts,  were  made 
into  a  Composite  Fighting  Squadron  and  were  located  at  Hadzi 
Junas.  Their  duty  was  to  engage  the  hostile  formation  whenever  and 
wherever  possible.  The  R.N.A.S.  also  sent  over  a  squadron  of 
bombing  machines,  and  a  counter  bombing  offensive  on  a  large  scale 
was   inaugurated. 

280 


APPENDICES 


During  the  various  engagements  between  the  German  Bombing 
Squadron  and  our  scouts,  one  twin-engined  bomber  was  attacked  and 
came  down  in  our  lines,  although  it  was  afterwards  ascertained  that 
it  had  been  hit  by  A. A.  fire.  Three  others  were  also  brought  down 
over  the  enemy  lines.  A  Halberstadt  Scout  was  forced  to  land  in 
the  French  lines  after  having  been  hit  by   French  A.A.   fire. 

The  German  Squadron  came  to  the  Macedonian  Front  from 
Bucharest,  where  it  had  been  employed  against  the  Roumanians  and 
Russians.  Part  of  its  equipment  was  a  special  train,  which  was  used 
for  transferring  the  personnel  and  stores  rapidly  from  one  point  to 
another,  the  machines  flying  to  their  destination.  This  train  was 
located  alongside  the  aerodrome  at  Hudova,  and  during  the  many 
times  the  aerodrome  was  bombed,  both  by  day  and  night,  a 
direct  hit  was  obtained  on  the  train. 

On  May  10th  it  was  observed  that  the  Bombing  Squadron  and  train 
had  left  the  aerodrome  at  Hudova,  and  it  was  subsequently  re- 
ported as  being  identified  in  Belgium  and  being  used  for  bombing 
London. 

One  of  the  most  successful  pilots  in  the  early  days  of  the  Royal 
Flying  Corps  in  Macedonia  was  Captain  G.  W.  Murlis  Green,  and 
the  following  are  examples  of  his  fights : — 

Captain  Green  left  Orljak  Aerodrome  on  January  4th,  1917,  in 
pursuit  of  an  Albatross  two-seater.  He  caught  it  up  over  Likovan, 
and  in  the  first  burst  fired  hit  the  petrol  tanks  and  wounded  the 
hostile  observer.    The  E.A.  dived  and  landed  in  our  lines  at  Mekes. 

On  January  14th  the  same  pilot  and  Lieut.  F.  G.  Saunders,  both 
flying  B.E.12's,  engaged  an  Albatross  two-seater  of  the  then  latest 
type  and  forced  it  to  land  near  Lahana,  the  machine  being  captured 
intact.  It  was  later  flown  down  to  Salonica  by  Captain  Green, 
escorted  by  two  British  Scouts.  A  camera  captured  with  this 
machine  was  used  afterwards  with   good  effect. 

On  the  morning  of  February  12th,  Captain  Green  and  Lieut. 
J.  C.  F.  Owen  left  Orljak  Aerodrome  on  B.E.  12's  to  try  and 
destroy  a  hostile  Fokker  Scout  at  Drama  Aerodrome.  When  our 
machines  were  at  7,000  feet  over  the  aerodrome  the  Fokker  was  seen 
to  be  climbing,  and  both  of  our  pilots  dived  at  it  and  attacked  at 
about  50  yards  range  at  a  height  of  6,000  feet.  Unfortunately 
Captain  Green's  gun  jammed,  and  while  this  was  being  rectified 
Lieut.  Owen  fought  the  Fokker  at  2,000  feet,  but  apparently  had  his 
engine  or  tank  hit  by  machine-gun  fire,  as  he  was  obliged  to  land 
near  the  aerodrome.  The  Fokker  landed  beside  Lieut.  Owen's 
machine  and  the  pilot  jumped  out  and  ran  towards  Lieut.  Owen,  but 
stopped  short  suddenly,  evidently  being  covered  by  the  latter's 
automatic  pistol.  Lieut.  Owen  set  fire  to  his  machine  which  blazed 
up  and  was  completely  destroyed.  A  large  number  of  soldiers  from 
the  aerodrome  and  town  ran  towards  the  machines.  Capt.  Green 
waited  over  the  aerodrome  for  twenty  minutes,  but  as  no  further 
action  was  taken  by  hostile  aircraft  he  returned  to  our  lines. 

In  the  afternoon  of  the  same  day  Capt.  Green  again  set  out  on  the 
same  mission,  this  time  carrying  one  100-lb.  bomb.  The  bomb  was 
dropped  and  fell  about  twenty  yards  south  of  a  hanger.  When  at 
4,000  feet  over  the  aerodrome  an  Albatross  was  attacked,  but  it 
dived  and  landed,  being  placed  in  a  hangar.     Another  Albatross  was 

281 


SALONICA  AND  AFTER 


fot  out  of  a  hangar  and  took  off,  but  no  action  was  taken  by  the 
'okker.  At  this  point  the  engine  of  the  B.E.  started  to  "miss,  and 
as  both  main  spars  of  the  top  starboard  plane  had  been  shot  through 
by  A. A.  fire,  a  start  was  made  for  Lahana.  The  Albatross  followed 
as  far  as  Tolos,  where  Capt.  Green  attacked  and  drove  it  down,  but 
was  himself  obliged  to  land  at  Monhui,  just  inside  our  lines.  The 
ashes  of  Lieut  Owen's  machine  and  the  burnt  ground  around  it 
were  particularly  noticeable,  and  there  was  nothing  but  small  parts, 
such  as  separate  cylinders,  etc.,  seen  lying  about. 

On  March  18th  Captain  Green  attacked  one  of  six  twin-engined 
bombing  machines  over  Karasouli.  He  attacked  from  30  feet  below, 
and  after  firing  one  drum  of  S.A.A.  the  enemy  machine  dropped 
eight  bombs  at  our  machine,  all  of  which  fortunately  fell  clear  of  its 
tail.  Petrol  was  seen  to  be  flowing  out  of  the  bottom  of  the  fuselage 
of  the  E.A.,  and  a  second  drum  of  S.A.A.  was  fired  at  the  port 
engine,  which  stopped,  the  starboard  engine  also  subsequently  stop- 
ping. An  attempt  was  then  made  to  place  a  third  drum  on  the 
Lewis  gun,  but  the  drum  was  shot  out  of  the  pilot's  hdnd.  The 
enemy  machine  was  seen  to  fall  in  no-man's-land,  turning  over  on  its 
back  when  landing,  where  it  was  afterwards  shelled  by  our  artillery. 
Shortly  after  this  Captain  Green  again  encountered  a  formation  of 
five  twin-engined  bombers  and  attacked  one  from  below  at  20  yards 
range,  firing  three  drums  of  S.A.A.  from  his  Lewis  gun.  A  large 
amount  of  petrol  streamed  out  of  the  enemy  machine,  and  one  of  the 
observers  was  seen  to  be  hanging  over  the  side.  The  four  remaining 
machines  then  attacked  our  B.E.,  and  as  the  pilot  had  no  more 
ammunition  he  returned  to  our  lines  at  2,000  feet,  being  pursued  by 
the  hostile  machines. 

The  following  morning  the  same  pilot,  when  on  patrol,  observed 
an  Albatross,  which  he  attacked  from  about  thirty  yards  below  at 
10,500  feet  over  Lake  Doiran.  The  petrol  tanks  and  observer  were 
hit,  and  the  hostile  machine  dived  very  steeply.  It  eventually  got 
into  a  spiral  and  landed  on  one  wing,  turned  over  and  caught  fire. 

For  these  acts  of  gallantry  and  devotion  to  duty  Captain  G.  W. 
Murlis  Green  was  awarded  the  D.S.O.,  M.C.  and  Bar. 

A  large  number  of  combats  took  place  during  the  time  the  hostile 
bombing  squadron  was  active,  many  instances  occurring  of  a  single 
British  machine  attacking  anything  up  to  18  E.A.  As  an  instance 
of  this,  2nd-Lieut.  J.  L.  Bamford,  who  was  flying  a  B.E.  12,  on  the 
occasion  of  a  hostile  raid  on  Salonica,  on  February  27th,  with  com^ 
plete  disregard  for  self,  flew  into  the  middle  of  a  formation  of  18 
enemy  machines,  and  attacked  four  in  succession.  Unfortunately  a 
Halberstadt  Scout,  which  he  failed  to  see,  attacked  him  from  above 
and  shot  through  his  petrol  tanks,  causing  the  engine  of  the  B.E.  to 
st()p.     A  good  landing  was  made,  however,  on  the  aerodrome  at  Janes. 

On  March  27th,  1917,  at  about  18.00  hours  ten  enemy  machines 
attempted  to  bomb  Snevce.  They  were  at  once  engaged  by  our 
machines,  and  all  but  one  were  driven  back  over  the  lines  before  any 
bombs  could  be  dropped.  The  machine  which  succeeded  in  drop- 
ping its  bombs  caused  a  few  casualties.  After  an  engagement  the 
enemy  squadron  leader  fired  a  coloured  light,  evidently  with  the 
intention  of  calling  the  E.A.  together  for  a  combined  retirement, 
and  they  were  pursued   almost  as  far  as   Hudova  Aerodrome. 

282 


APPENDICES 

In  connection  with  the  bombing  offensive  inaugurated  by  the 
British  to  counteract  the  hostile  activity,  many  targets  were  success- 
fully bombed.  On  April  25th  our  formation,  when  on  its  way  to 
attack  an  enemy  dump,  met  the  hostile  squadron  evidently  on  their 
way  to  bomb  some  point  in  our  lines.  A  general  fight  took  place, 
and  the  E.A.  were  forced  to  return  to  their  aerodrome.  Unfortu- 
nately, one  of  our  machines  was  brought  down  in  flames,  but  against 
this  one  of  the  twin-engined  bombers  was  shot  down,  and  was  con- 
firmed to  have  been  destroj'^ed  by  fire.  Our  machines  succeeded  in 
bombing  suitable  objectives  before  returning  to  our  lines. 

One  of  the  targets  bombed  by  our  formation  during  the  bombing 
offensive  was  a  large  hostile  dump  at  Livunovo.  Two  large  fires  were 
started  there,  and  the  flares  were  visible  for  a  distance  of  20  miles. 
Confirmation  was  later  obtained  that  a  large  amount  of  stores,  etc., 
were  totally  destroyed. 

On  April  2nd,  1918,  Major  S.  G.  Hodges,  M.C.,  took  over  the 
command  of  No.  17  Squadron  from  Major  J.  H.  Herring,  D.S.O., 
M.C.,  and  Major  F.  A.  Bates,  M.C.,  assumed  command  of  No.  47 
Squadron,  vice  Major  G.  D.  Gardner,  M.C.,  with  effect  from  August 
1st,  1918.  Major  W.  R.  B.  McBain,  M.C.,  commanded  No.  150 
Squadron  from  formation. 

Bombing  was  persistently  carried  out  right  up  to  the  signing  of  the 
Armistice. 

On  January  21st,  1918,  a  request  was  received  for  assistance  in 
operations  against  the  Turkish  cruiser  Goehen,  which  was  reported 
ashore  off  Nagara,  in  the  Dardanelles,  after  a  raid  in  the  ^gean,  in 
which  the  Breslau  was  sunk  by  mines.  Two  hours  after  receipt  of 
the  request  three  machines  left  Salonica  for  Mudros,  where  they 
arrived  safely.  The  following  day  three  additional  machines  pro- 
ceeded and  also  reached  Mudros  safely.  Two  raids,  each  of  three 
machines,  were  carried  out  on  the  Ooehen,  and  another  in  the  evening 
on  Galata  Aerodrome,  9  miles  N.E.  of  the  Goeben's  position. 

Two  days  later  a  request  was  received  for  a  further  flight  of 
bombers,  and  a  reply  was  sent  that  four  machines  could  be  spared 
and  would  proceed  as  soon  as  possible.  It  was  also  asked  if  a 
machine  could  be  supplied  capable  of  carrying  a  450-lb.  depth  charge. 
No  machine  in  this  Wing  was  capable  of  doing  this,  but  on  the 
French  Aviation  being  approached  they  agreed  to  place  an  "A.R." 
at  our  disposal,  provided  we  could  supply  a  pilot.  This  was  agreed  to, 
and  on  January  28th  three  R.F.C  machines  and  the  A.R.  reached 
Mudros  in  safety.  The  French  machine  was  piloted  by  Lieut.  W.  J. 
Buchanan,  of  No.  17  Squadron,  this  being  the  first  occasion  he  had 
ever  flown  this  type  of  machine.  It  had  been  impossible  to  send  the 
machines  sooner,  owing  to  unfavourable  weather. 

On  January  23rd  three  raids  with  all  six  machines  were  made  on 
the  Goehen,'  several  direct  hits  being  obtained.  Machine-gun  fire 
was  also  brought  to  bear  on  searchlights  during  the  last  raid. 

The  following  day  one  raid  was  made,  during  which  a  formation 
of  enemy  scouts  were  engaged  and  driven  off.  During  the  same 
evening  the  Royal  Flying  Corps  Flight  bombed  the  Goehen  at  ten 
minutes  intervals,  and  a  night  reconnaissance  of  Galata  Aerodrome 
was  also  carried  out. 

Fr©m  January  25th  to  28th  strong  gales  and  clouds  prevented  anv 

288 


SALONICA  AND  AFTER 

flying,  so  the  machines  were  kept  ready  to  take  off  at  short  notice, 
in  the  event  of  the  weather  clearing. 

On  the  morning  of  the  29th  preparations  were  begun  for  a  morning 
raid  with  light  bombs,  the  object  being  to  distract  the  attention  of 
working  parties  on  the  Goehen,  while  a  submarine  attack  was  made. 
However,  before  the  machines  got  off  a  report  was  received  that  the 
Ooehen  was  no  longer  ashore,  and  our  machines  accordingly  returned 
to  Salonica,  all  landing  safely. 

On  April  1st,  1918,  No.  150  Squadron,  composed  of  single-seater 
fighters,  was  formed  in  the  field.  The  Scout  Fighters  of  No.  17  and 
47  Sauadrons  were  transferred  to  this  Squadron,  and  later  all  three 
Squadrons  were  made  up  to  strength.  The  machines  were  S.E.  5a's, 
Bristol  monoplanes,  and  Sopwith  Camels,  and  from  its  formation 
No.  150  Squadron  helped  considerably  in  bringing  the  aerial  superi- 
ority of  the  Balkans  into  the  hands  of  the  Allied  Armies. 

With  effect  from  midnight,  June  19-20th,  Lieut  .-Colonel  G.  E. 
Todd  took  over  the  command  of  16th  Wing,  Royal  Air  Force,  Lieut.- 
Colonel   G.   W.   P.    Dawes,   D.S.O.,   proceeding   to   England. 

During  the  month  of  June,  1918,  the  enemy  displayed  considerable 
activity  in  the  air  and  several  times  crossed  the  lines  at  nijrht. 

On  receipt  of  a  message  during  the  night  of  27th-28th  June 
stating  that  hostile  aircraft  were  over  our  lines,  Lieut.  G.  C. 
Gardiner  left  the  aerodrome  at  Kirec  on  a  Bristol  monoplane  at 
about  01.00  hours,  and  encountered  an  E.A.  over  Lake  Ardzan.  He 
dived  on  it  firing  several  bursts,  but  lost  sight  of  it  owing  to  being 
dazzled  by  flares  dropped  by  the  enemy  machine.  Lieut.  Gardiner 
then  proceeded  towards  Salonica  and  encountered  another  E.A. 
outside  the  town  over  Hortiach,  which  was  approaching  from  the 
East.  When  attacked  this  E.A  turned  and  was  followed  by  our 
scout,  who  fired  short  bursts  whenever  possible.  A  running  fight 
was  kept  up,  the  E.A.  making  in  the  direction  of  the  Struma 
river,  where  it  dropped  several  bombs,  evidently  intended  for 
Salonica,  in  the  vicinity  of  Gudeli  Bridge  and  Kahara.  When 
over  Porna  the  engine  of  the  monoplane  cut  out  owing  to  shortage  of 
petrol,  but  Lieut.  Gardiner  glided  to  our  lines  and  landed  by  the 
aid  of  a  grass  fire  near  Nigrita. 

No.  150  Squadron  had  a  large  number  of  combats,  the  following 
being  a  few  examples :  — 

During  a  bomb  raid  on  Cestovo  dump  on  June  1st,  1918,  a 
formation  of  twelve  hostile  scouts  were  encountered.  These  were 
engaged  by  Capt.  G.  G.  Bell  and  Lieut.  C.  B.  Green,  flying 
S.E.5a*s,  and  during  the  fight  which  followed  the  former  fired  a 
burst  of  twenty  rounds  into  a  Siemens  Schuckert  Scout,  which 
burst  into  flames.  Two  E.A.  then  got  on  to  Capt.  Bell's  tail  and 
were  attacked  by  Lieut.  Green  from  close  range.  One  was  seen 
to  go  down  out  of  control  with  smoke  coming  from  its  centre 
section.  The  fight  was  then  continued  imtil  another  E.A.,  coming 
head  on  for  Lieut.  Green,  pulled  straight  up  and  rolled  over  on 
its  back,  going  down  out  of  control.  A  third  S.E.,  piloted  by  Lieut. 
F.  D.  Travers,  then  joined  in  the  fight.  He  engaged  and  fired 
a  long  burst  into  an  enemy  scout,  which  dived  vertically  out  of 
control  and  crashed  N.W.  of  Bogdanci. 

While    on    an    offensive    patrol    on    June    12th,    1918,    four    of    our 

284 


APPENDICES 


scouts  encountered  a  formation  of  8  E.A.  near  Smokvica. 
Lieut.  D.  Davies,  on  a  Sopwith  Camel,  dived  on  a  D.5  Albatross 
Scout  and  shot  it  down  in  flames.  He  then  engaged  another  and 
sent  it  down  out  of  control,  it  being  seen  to  crash  and  burst 
into  flames.  Lieut.  C.  B.  Green,  on  an  S.E.Sa,  also  attacked  a  D.5 
Scout,  and  after  a  short  burst  the  E.A.  went  down  and  crashed  in  a 
field  S.S.E.  of  Pardovica.  He  also  engaged  a  second  machine, 
but  owing  to  engine  trouble  the  combat  was  broken  off.  Lieut. 
C.  G.  Gardiner,  on  a  Sopwith  Camel,  attacked  another  D.5 
Albatross  and  followed  it  down  to  2,500  feet,  when  it  suddenly 
dived  out  of  control  and  was  lost  to  view.  This  latter  machine  was 
subsequently  reported  to  have  crashed.  All  our  machines  returned 
safely. 

Lieut.  D.  A.  Davies,  on  a  Sopwith  Camel,  was  attacked  by  five 
E.A.  Two  of  these  attacked  from  above,  and  Lieut.  Davies  turned 
sharply  to  the  right,  when  the  two  E.A.  collided  and  went  down. 
Several  other  Scouts  engaged  the  Camel  on  the  return  journey, 
and,  finally,  Lieut.  Davies  shot  one  down  out  of  control  over  the 
vicinity  of  Balince. 

When  returning  from  escorting  a  bomb  raid  on  Miletkovo  dump 
on  September  3rd,  1918,  four  of  our  S.E.5a's  sighted  six  enemy 
machines  engaging  one  of  our  monoplanes  over  Lake  Doiran  at  a 
low  altitude.  The  S.E.'s  were  joined  by  two  Sopwith  Camels,  and 
all  six  machines  dived  from  13,000  to  1,000  feet  and  engaged  the 
six  E.A.,  but  not  in  time  to  save  the  monoplane,  which  had  been  driven 
down  into  Lake  Doiran,  The  pilot,  Lieut.  J.  P.  Cavers,  was  seen 
struggling  in  the  water,  whilst  the  E.A.  were  diving  and  firing 
at  him.  Lieut.  Cavers  was  apparently  drowned  and  was  reported 
missing. 

Lieut.  Travers,  on  an  S.E.,  then  singled  out  an  enemy  machine,  and 
after  firing  a  long  burst  into  it  from  close  range,  it  fell  out  of 
control  and  crashed  at  the  N.W.  corner  of  Lake  Doiran.  This  was 
also  seen  by  other  of  our  pilots.  Lieut.  Travers  was  then  attacked 
by  another  E.A.,  whereupon  he  turned  sharply  round  and  fired  a 
good  burst  into  it  and  sent  it  down  out  of  control.  Capt.  G.  C. 
Gardiner,  on  a  Sopwith  Camel,  followed  this  machine  down  and  saw 
it  crash  east  of  Cerniste.  Lieut.  Spackman  also  saw  this  one  crash. 
Capt.  Gardiner  then  returned,  and  when  at  2,000  feet,  observed  an 
E.A.  which  he  pursued,  firing  both  guns.  The  E.A.  dived  down 
to  fifty  feet,  when  a  further  burst  sent  it  crashing  down  to  the 
ground  close  to  the  hospital  at  Cerniste.  Our  machine  was  so  low 
at  this  point  that  Capt.  Gardiner  had  to  zoom  the  hospital  tents  to 
clear  them. 

In  the  meantime,  Lieut.  W.  Ridley,  on  an  S.E.Sa,  attacked 
another  E.A.  flying  at  low  altitude  just  north  of  Lake  Doiran. 
After  a  running  fight,  during  which  Lieut.  Ridley  fired  200  rounds, 
the  E.A.  stalled  and  then  spun  into  the  ground,  crashing  about  halt 
a  mile  south  of  Cestovo. 

In  preparation  for  the  operations  begun  on  September  18th,  1918, 
an  unusually  large  number  of  reconnaissances  were  carried  out,  and 
large  numbers  of  photographs  taken.  A  special  photographic  map  of 
the  district  between  the  Vardar  Valley  and  the  Belashitza  Mountains, 
comprising  1,250  photographs,  was  prepared,  and  many  photographic 

285 


SALONICA  AND  AFTER 

sheets  were  completed  and  forwarded  to  Corps  Headquarters.  Con- 
siderable time  was  devoted  to  artillery  work,  large  numbers  of 
registrations  being  carried  out  daily.  Three  bombing  raids  were 
also  carried  out  as  preliminary  to  the  offensive,  the  targets  being 
Hudova  Aerodrome  on  September  14th,  Demirkapu  Station  on  the 
15th,  and  Hudova  Station  and  dump  on  the  16th.  Good  results 
were  obtained  during  each  raid,  though  on  the  first  day  strong 
Vardar  winds  made  accurate  bombing  very  difficult. 

On  the  day  of  the  attack  four  contact  patrols  were  carried  out 
in  conjunction  with  the  attacking  infantry,  and  messages  were 
dropped  on  Brigade  and  Divisional  Headquarters.  Owing  to  the 
intense  dust  and  smoke  thrown  up  by  the  barrage,  the  machines 
had  to  descend  to  between  200  and  800  feet  in  order  to  carry  out 
their  mission,  often  flying  below  the  tops  of  the  Grand  Couronn^ 
and  the  Pip  Ridge,  and  were  subjected  to  intense  fire  throughout. 
One  machine  was  brought  down  in  flames  by  A. A.  fire,  the  occupants 
being  killed. 

During  a  patrol  carried  out  to  protect  our  contact  patrol  machines, 
four  of  our  scouts  engaged  a  formation  of  between  nine  and  fourteen 
E.A.  During  the  fight  which  ensued  Capt.  G.  G.  Bell,  on  an  S.E.Sa, 
got  to  close  quarters  and  fired  good  bursts  into  one  E.A.,  which 
went  down  out  of  control  with  smoke  issuing  from  the  centre  section. 
Captain  Brawley  and  Lieut.  Hamilton  got  on  the  tail  of  another 
machine,  which  finally  went  down  out  of  control.  These  were  con- 
firmed by  pilots  of  artillery  machines. 

It  was  probably  due  to  these  decisive  combats  in  our  favour  that 
the  moral  of  the  German  flying  officers  was  reduced  to  a  low  state, 
as,  from  the  morning  of  September  18th  up  to  the  cessation  of  hostili- 
ties, only  one  enemy  machine  was  encountered,  and  this  was  drivan 
down  to  its  own  aerodrome. 

During  the  battle  our  artillery  machines  played  an  important  part. 
Contact  patrols  flew  over  enemy  trenches  at  very  low  altitudes, 
observers  on  reconnaissances  watched  enemy  movements,  and  our 
bombers  attacked  trenches,  camps  and  dumps  with  bombs  and 
machine  gun  fire.  Patrols  were  kept  up  throughout  the  day  from 
dawn  until  dusk,  and  during  September  18th  and  19th  no  fewer 
than  272  hostile  batteries  were  reported  active  and  countered  by 
our  artillery.  Several  times  active  batteries  were  silenced  by  machine 
gun  fire  from  low  altitudes.  , 

A  long  distance  destructive  shoot  was  carried  out  on  Divisional 
Headquarters  at  Furka,  successful  results  being  obtained. 

Continuous  reconnaissances  were  carried  out,  and  one  of  ourD.H.9's 
was  fitted  with  a  special  long-distance  wireless  with  a  hundred  mile 
range.  This  machine  operated  over  back  areas  and  enemy  lines  of 
retreat,  the  messages  sent  being  received  with  ease  at  the  wireless 
station  near  Janes.  The  object  of  this  was  to  enable  bodies  of  troops 
and  transport  to  be  bombed  with  the  least  possible  loss  of  time. 

During  the  whole  of  the  operations  bombing  was  energetically 
carried  out,  dumps,  camps,  convoys,  and  troops  being  repeatedly 
attacked. 

On  September  21st  machines  on  artillery  and  reconnaisance  duties 
reported  that  Tatarli,  Cestovo,  Furka,  Cerniste  and  Hudova  dump^ 
were     in     flames,     and     that     ammunition     dumps    were    exploding. 

286 


APPENDICES 


Numerous  fires  were  reported  over  the  whole  of  the  Vardar  Valley, 
and  all  day  the  Rabrovo-Kosturino-Strumica  road  was  seen  to  be 
packed  with  transport  and  troops  moving  northwards. 

Every  opportunity  was  taken  by  the  Royal  Air  Force  to  bomb  and 
harass  the  retreating  enemy. 

The  retreating  troops  and  transport  were  followed  up  from  the 
time  the  retirement  started.  The  roads  running  north  from  Rabrovo, 
Kosturino,  Strumica  and  Jenikoj  were  seen  to  be  black  with  traffic 
and  were  bombed  continuously  by  our  machines.  As  soon  as  the 
machines  had  dropped  their  load  of  bombs  and  expended  their 
ammunition  they  returned  immediately  to  the  aerodrome  for  fresh 
supplies,  everyone  showing  the  greatest  keenness,  and  the  fullest 
advantage  being  taken  of  these  exceptional  targets.  During  this 
period  our  machines  came  down  to  as  low  as  50  and  20  feet  and  fired 
into  convoys  and  bodies  of  troops. 

The  following  telegram  from  Advanced  16th  Corps  testifies  to  the 
enormous  damage  inflicted  : — 

"  The  routes  from  Cestovo  Valley  to  Kosturino  show  signs  of 
the  indescribable  confusion  that  must  have  existed  in  the  retreat 
of  the  Bulgar  Army.  Guns  of  all  kinds,  motor  cars,  machine- 
guns,  rifles  and  every  kind  of  war  material  abandoned.  Dead 
animals  are  strewn  everywhere.  Indicate  that  our  R.A.F.  must 
have  contributed  largely  to  bringing  about  this  state  of  things." 

Also  the  following  from  the  C.-in-C,  British  Salonica  Force  : — 

"I  desire  to  thank  you  and  all  ranks  of  the  Royal  Air  Force 
for  the  efficient  manner  in  which  their  duties  have  been  carried 
out  since  the  commencement  of  active  operations  and  to  express 
my  admiration  of  the  skill  and  gallantry  shown  by  pilots  and 
observers  which  have  so  materially  assisted  the  success  of 
operations." 

The  most  heavily  bombed  target  was  the  Kresna  Pass,  which  wa^ 
60  miles  distant  from  the  most  advanced  aerodrome,  with  7,000  feet 
mountains  intervening.  The  shooting  here  was  good,  and  on  several 
occasions  whole  wagons  were  seen  to  be  blown  off  the  road  into  the 
ravine. 

On  one  occasion  one  of  our  machines  observing  12  guns  of  large 
calibre  on  the  road  north  of  Kresna,  came  down  to  about  500  feet  and 
machined-gunned  the  teams,  several  men  being  seen  to  fall.  This 
machine  was  badly  shot  about  by  machine-gun  fire.  Confirmation  of 
this  was  received  indirectly  from  the  American  Consul-General  at  Sofia, 
who  stated  that  he  happened  to  be  motoring  along  this  road  at  the 
time,  and  saw  several  of  the  oxen  and  drivers  killed  or  wounded,  and 
incidentally  had  a  narrow  escape  himself. 

These  same  guns  were  to  have  been  attacked  next  morning,  but 
escaped  owing  to  the  suspension  of  operations. 

From  September  21st  up  to  the  cessation  of  hostilities  our  machines 
dropped  19,570  lbs.  of  H.E.  and  fired  over  29,880  rounds  of  S.A.A. 
on  the  retiring  enemy. 

To  assist  during  these  operations  No.  17  Squadron  Headquarters 
and  "C"  Flight  were  moved  to  Amberkoj  from  Lahana  on  the  night 
of  September  22nd,  moving  up  to  Stojakovo,  in  Serbia,  on  the  26th. 

287 


SALONICA  AND  AFTER 

On  October  2nd  this  Flight  proceeded  to  a  new  aerodrome  near 
Radovo,  east  of  Strumitza  (Bulgaria),  thus  establishing  the  first 
aerodrome  of  the  Allied  nations  in  an  enemy  country  in  Europe  since 
the  commencement  of  the  war. 

Preparations  were  begun  for  a  move  northwards  to  the  Danube, 
but  this  order  was  cancelled,  and  a  move  was  instead  to  be  made  to 
the  Turkish  Frontier.  The  Flight  of  No.  17  Squadron  was  withdrawn 
from  Radovo,  and  on  October  19th  "B"  Flight  of  No.  17  Squadron 
was  sent  to  Philippopolis.  The  roads  were  in  an  extremely  bad  con- 
dition and  it  was  necessary  to  load  the  lorries  only  lightly.  A  com- 
posite Flight  of  two-seaters  and  scouts  was  also  despatched  to  a 
position  near  Gumuldzina,  later  moving  on  to  Dedeagatch.  Owing 
to  the  rapid  movement  of  the  flights,  communication  could  not  be 
established,   so  it  was  necessary  to  maintain  communication   by  air. 

Reconnaissances  of  the  new  area  were  carried  out,  and  a  new  hostile 
aerodrome  was  located,  but  no  engagements  with  enemy  aircraft  took 
place.  The  signing  of  the  Armistice  with  Turkey  being  an  accom- 
plished fact,  the  Flights  at  Philippopolis  and  Dedeagatch  were 
withdrawn. 

Total  of  enemy  machines  destroyed  over  lines     57 

Total  of  enemy  machines  brought  dovm  in  our  lines  ...  6 

Brought    down    by    balloon       1 

Driven    down    out  of   control 35 


Total 

Number  of  British  machines  missing 


99 


28 


Casualties. 

Killed  

Accidentally    killed  

Wounded   in   combat       

Wounded  by  A.A.   fire 

Wounded,    accidentally 

Wounded,   accidentally — since   died    ... 

Wounded  combat— since  died 

Wounded    during   bomb    raid 

Brought  down  over  lines  (P.  of  W.)  ... 
Prisoner  of  War — later  died  of  wounds 
Died    in   hospital 


21 
15 
13 

5 
10 

2 


Total 


81 


The  figures  stated  above  for  enemy  aircraft  brought  down  have  ail 
been  confirmed.  Many  others  were  claimed  to  have  been  shot  down, 
but  as  confirmation  was  not  forthcoming  they  are  not  included. 


288 


APPENDICES 

II. 
A  NOTE  ON  MALARIA. 

Malaria  is  due  to  the  infection  of  man  with  a  germ  inoculated  into 
him  by  a  bite  of  a  mosquito,  which  has  itself  obtained  the  germ  by 
previously  feeding  upon  a  patient  who  has  had  malaria  and  who 
continues  to  carry  the  germs  in  his  blood. 

The  importance  of  malaria  in  an  Army  depends  upon  the  large 
number  of  persons  infected  rather  than  upon  the  number  of  deaths 
which  it  causes,  and  upon  the  numerous  recurrences  of  the  disease 
in  the  patient  rather  than  upon  the  severity  of  any  single  attack. 
It  is  a  disease  of  continual  recurrences  tending  to  make  the  patient. 
if  he  remains  in  the  country,  bloodless,  debilitated,  listless  and 
apathetic,  diminishing  his  physical  ability  and  capacity  for  work  and 
placing  him  from  day  to  day  under  the  ever  present  threat  of  a 
sudden  acute  relapse. 

An  Army  carrying  out  active  operations  in  a  malarious  country  is 
certain  to  have  a  considerable  number  of  cases  during  the  first 
season  and,  if  the  troops  remain  in  the  country,  one  has  to  reckon 
during  the  following  season  not  only  with  almost  as  many  fresh 
infections  as  in  the  previous  year,  but  also  with  the  added  hospital 
admissions  due  to  relapses.  The  number  of  hospital  admissions, 
therefore,  tends  to  increase  year  by  year. 

During  1916  it  was  possible  to  evacuate  patients  from  Salonica 
freely  to  Malta  or  England.  In  April,  1917,  the  submarine  menace 
compelled  us  to  retain  practically  all  cases  in  Macedonia,  this 
fact  accounting  for  the  increase  in  hospital  beds  and  the  decrease  in 
evacuations  shown  in  the  attached  figures.  This  unavoidable  reten- 
tion of  malarial  patients  in  the  country  led  to  the  existence  of  a  large 
chronically  ill  population  which  was  fit  for  little  except  to  circulate 
between  hospitals  and  convalescent  depots,  with  perhaps  an  occa- 
sional few  days  of  duty,  and  it  was  to  get  rid  of  this  population  that 
the  *Y**  Scheme  was  introduced  in  the  beginning  of  1918.  Under 
this  scheme  nearly  30,000  malarial  patients  were  transferrewl  to 
England  during  the  ten  months  ending  31st  October,  1918. 

It  is  evident  from  the  introductory  sentences  of  these  notes  that 
preventive  measures  may  be  initiated  in  three  directions — 

Firstly,  to  protect  the  healthy  man  from  being  bitten  by  the 
mosquito. 

Secondly,  to  abolish  the  mosquito  so  far  as  possible,  and 

Thirdly,  to  cure  or  get  rid  of  the  chronic  malarial  patient  who  is 
carrying  the  germs  in  his  blood  and  by  whom  only  can  the  mosquito 
be  infected. 

Protection  of  the  healthy  man  was  carried  out  in  every  possible 
manner  by  means  of  nets,  mosquito-proof  huts  and  dug-outs,  special 
shorts,  gloves  and  head-nets,  and  ointments,  obnoxious  to  the  mos- 
quito and,  unfortunately,  seldom  less  obnoxious  to  the  user. 

The  mosquito  was  attacked  chiefly  by  widespread  attempts  to  get 
rid  of  marshes  and  stagnant  water  of  all  sorts  in  which  the  insect 
breeds,  and  by  cutting  down  brushwood,  scrub,  long  grass,  etc.,  near 
camps,  in  which  the  mosquito  rests  by  day. 

289 

u 


SALONICA  AND  AFTER 

The  record  of  this  work  in  the  Base  and  L.  of  C.  area  alone 
furnislies  some  surprising  totals.  In  oiling  the  surface  of  stagnant 
water  week  by  week  a  total  of  well  over  a  million  square  yards  was 
covered;  over  3G0,000  square  yards  of  brushwood  were  cut;  streams 
were  channelled  and  trenches  cut  or  refreshed  to  a  total  of  over  two 
million  lineal  yards;  and  close  upon  10,000  pools  were  filled  in  or 
drained. 

Attempts  to  clean  up  the  chronic  germ  carrier  by  means  of  quinine 
were  very  disappointing,  and  it  was  found  much  easier  to  get  the 
patient   out   of   the  coantrj'   under   the   "Y"    Sclieme. 

1. — Total  Admissions  ior  Malaria. 

\9\(i       29,591 

19i7       63,396 

1918       67,059 

2.— Total    Evacuated    from    Salonica    (for    Malaria,    to    England    or 
Malta). 

1916       21,902 

1917 7,298 

1918  ... 3,257 

3. — Maximum  Numbkr  of  Hospffal  Beds  during  the  Summer. 

)9Uy        11,500 

1917       26,000 

19i8       26,000 

4. — MAxriUM  NuMUFR   of   Malaria   Cases   in   Hospital  on   anv   One 
Day. 

1916       3,652 

1917 12,947 

1918       6,855* 

*  Accuracy   invalidated   by  the  epidemic  of  influenza  in   autumn. 
5.__Total  Days  Sickness  due  to  Malaria  during  the  12  Months. 

1916      — * 

19!7 1,273,480 

1918       1,970,600 

*  Figures  not  available. 

N.B.— The  figures  for  1916  refer  to  the  10  months  ending  31st 
October,  1916,  and  for  1917  and  1918  to  the  12  monthc  endinsr  31st 
October,  1917.  and  31st  October,  1918.  It  should  also  be  remembered 
that  in  all  cases  the  figtires  for  1918  refer  to  an  army  very  much 
smaller  in  numbers  than  in  the  preceding  years. 


290 


INDEX 


A. 


Abdul  Hamid,  89 

Admiral  d'Artio:e  du   Fournet,   168 

Agamemnon,  H.M.S.,  150,  271,  272, 

274 
Adrianople,  2G9 
Akindzali,  254 
Alchak  Maliale,  238 
"Aladdin,"   118 
Alexander  (King),  of  Greece,  170, 

181 
Allied  captures,  267 
Ampliipolis,  72 
Amphissa,    194 
Armistice  :  With  Bulgaria,  210,  266 

With  Turkey,  272 
Army  System.  145 
ATiatioii,  British,  259,  260 


B 


Balkan    Armies,   their   r61e  in    the 

war,   205 
Balkan  Nrws,  50 
"Balkan  Tap,"  57 
Badimal,    124 
Base  M.T.  Depot,  96,  183 
Belashitza    Iianj?e,  217,    264 
Beshik  Lake,   112 
Bestchinar  Gardens,  93 
"Birdca£?e,"  17,  19,  27,  29,  160,  176 
Bisliop  of  London,  153 
Bisliop,  Lient.-Col.  B.  F.,  249 
"Bluebeard,"   123 
Blake,    Brio-.-Gcn.  W.    A.,   254 
Black  Sea  Fleet,  269 
"Boiled  Owl,"  Order  of,  61 
British   effectives,   234,   242 


British    raids,   209 
Bulgarians :       Unwillingness      to 
attack,  203 

Contemplated  attack  on   British, 
236 

1916  Offensive,  210 

Defeat,  Scope  of,  266 
Bnraes,  Lt.-Col.  1).,  2.)2,  253 
B.S.F.    Boxing   Championship,    126 
Bralo,   190,   193 
Briirgs,   Lt.-Gen.   C.  J.,  264 
British  and   Foreign   Bible   Soc.,   9 
Battalions,   etc.  :  — 

1st   and    12th    A.    and    S.    High- 
landers, 214,  231,  254 

7th    Berks,    9th    Border    Regt., 
10th  Black  Watch,  231 

Buffs  (2nd),  214 

2nd   Camerons,  214 

10th  Camerons,  218,  234 

2nd  Cheshires,  214 

12th  (:heshires,  246,  248 

5th    Connaughts,   Derby    Yeom., 
214 

8th  D.C.L.I.,  231,  247 

2/5th  D.L.L,   123 

10th   Devon s,   231 

2nd    E.    Yorks,   214 

4th  E.  Lanes,  213 

9th  E.  Lanes.,  254 

2nd  Gloucesters,  214,  239 

9th   (7loucesters,  231,  234 

10th  Hants,  214,  239. 

12th  Hants,  231,  217 

2nd  King's  Own,  253 

14th   King's   Liverpools,  212,   234 

2nd  K.S.L.T.,  214 

8th   K.S.L.L,  231,  246,  249 

9th  K.O.R.L.,  231,  234 

1st  K.O.Y.L.L,  214 

3rd  and  4th  K.R.R.C.,  214,  234 

12th  Lanes.  Fus.,  212,  231,  234 


291 


INDEX 


Battalions — continued 
Leinsters,  214 
2/20th  London  Regt.,  231 
Lothians  and  Border  Horse,  264 
13th  Manchesters,  230,  284 
2nd  Northumberland  Fus.,  214 
7th  Ox.  and  Bucks.  L.I.,  225,  231 
Royal   Dublin    Fusiliers,   214 
3rd  Royal  Fusiliers,  214,  234 
10th  Royal  Highlanders,  234 
Royal    Irish    Fus.,    Royal    Innis- 
killing    Fus.,    R.    Irish    Rifles, 
2nd  Royal  Lanes.  Regt.,  Royal 
Munster  Fus.,  1st  Royal  Scots, 
214 
8th  Royal  Scots  Fus.,  231,  255 
nth  R.  Welsh  Fus.,  213,  231,  247 
1st   Suffolks,   214 
Surrey  Yeomanry,  264 
7th    and    8th    S.W.B.,    231,    247, 

258,  254,  265 
Sherwood   Rangers   Yeo.,   214 
9th  S.   Lanes.,  231,  246,  249 
S.  Notts  Hussars,  184,  214 
11th  Scottish  Rifles,  231,  254 
Scottish    Horse,   214,   234 
Ist  Welsh.  214 
11th  Welsh,  247 
23rd  Welsh,   123 
7th  Wilts,   21,  217,  231 
11th  Worcesters,  231 
1st  York  and  Lancaster,  214 
Brigades : — 
7th  Mounted  Bde.  8th  Mounted 

Bde.,  201,  202 
65th  Bde.,  230,  254,  265 
66th    Bde.,   230,   246,   254 
77th  Bde.,  251,  254 
78th  and  79th  Bdes,  280 
228th  Bde.,  264 

C. 

Campbell,  Lt.-Col.  J.  A.,  256 
Cassander  (King),  79 
Casualties  (at  Doiran),  282 
Chanak,    275 
Christodoulos,  Col.,  162 
Chalcis,  8 

"Chocolate  Soldier,"  124 
Clegg-Hill,  Lt.-Col.    the   Hon.   A. 

R.,  249 
Comitadjis,  26 
Comitadji,  H.M.H.  the,  60 


O)ndouriotis,  Admiral,  64,  165 
Constantino,  King,  15,  19,  22,  157, 

203 
Constantinople,  86,  269,  276 
Consuls,  Enemy,  160 
Cx)rinth,  Gulf  of,  6,  190 
Corps  (12th  and  16th) :    18,  264 

16th,   Dramatic  Soc.,   124 
Croker,  Maj.-Gen.  H.  L.,  247 
C.U.P.,  H6,  88 


D. 


Danglis,    Gen.,    64,    165 

Dardanelles,  2T3 

Dedeagatch,  269 

Delphi,  195 

Demir  Kapu,  240 

Deposition  (of   King   Constontine), 

171 
Deunmehs,  85 

"Dick   Whittington,"    118,   128 
Dimitric,   75 

Doiran,   16  28,  208,  209  245  (open- 
ing of  1918  attack) 
Doldzeli,    254 
Dolina,  221,  226 
Dudular,  67 

Duncan,  Maj.-Gen.  J.,  246 
Dushan,  Stephen,  136 
Divisions  : — 

10th  Div.,  17,  27,  176,  201,  281 

22nd  Div.,  18,  124,  126,  202,  218, 
269 

26th  Div.,  18,  123,  202,  218,  231, 
269 

27th   Div.,  18,    73,   75,   123,   126, 
210 

28th  Div.,  18,  123,  202,  214,  254 

50th  Div.,  234 

60th  Div.,  201,  231 

66th  Div.,  234 

17th   French  (Colonial),  240,  257 

122nd  French,  243,  257,  269 

14th  Greek,  264 

Cretan,  247,  254 

Danube   and    Drina,  241 

Larissa,   238 

Morava,  246,  250 

Seres,  246,  250 

Schu madia,  240,  243 

Timok,  241,  244 

Yugo  Slav,  241,  243 


292 


INDEX 


E. 

B.F.  Canteen,  24,  192 
Egnatia  Street,  91 
Ekaterini,  24,  192 
Enemy  adrantages,  202 
Envcr  Pasha,  2T1 
Errard,    Lt.-Col.,  239 
Erskine,  Lt.-Col.  J.  B.  D.,  250 
Essad  Paaha,  155 
"Eril  Eje,"  221 


Falconer  Stewart,  Lt.-Col.  R.,  257 
Field  Ambulances,  184 

84th  and  85th  F.A.   118 
Floca,   1,  22 
Fiorina,  161 
Forestier- Walker,    Maj  .-Gen .    W  . , 

288 
Franchet  d'Esperey,  Gen.,  239 
French  Club,  45 


GaHipoli,  27 

Gay,  Maj.-Gen.  A.  W.,  24T 
Germans :    With   Bulgarian   Army, 
237 

Surrender  of  11th  German  Army, 
267 
Ooehen,  271 
Gough-Calthorpe,  Vice-Admiral  Sir 

A.  S.,  271 
GomichcTo  Pass,  211 
Gramophones,    35 
Granville,  Lord,  166 
Grand  Couronn6,  41,  217 
Greek  Army,   171,  202,  236 
Gugunci,  12a 

Guillaumat,  Gen.,  126,  239 
GuTesne.  113,  183 


I* 

Influenea^  235 
Italians,  29,  189,  211 
Itea,  193 


Jackson,  Lt.-Col.   B.  A.,  257 
Jackson's   Ravine,   225 
Janesh,    74 

Jews  of  Salonica,  84,  166 
Judaeo-Espagnol,  51,  59,  88,  85 
Jumeaux  Ravine,  218 

K. 

Kaimakchalan,  107,  138,  212 
Kalamaria,  181 
Kara    Bouroun,    160 
Karasouli,  67 
Kavalla,   162 

Surrender  of,   269 
Kenali  Lines,  212 
Kilo  Seventy,  41,  115 
Kiredjkeui,   18 

King  George   (of  Greece),  89 
Kopriva,   118 
Kossovo,  136 
Kotos,  78 

Kosturino  Pass,  260 
Koziak,  244 
Kresna  Pass,  262 
Kut   (prisoners),  276 


L. 


Lahana,    114,   236 

Langaza,  27,  65,  112 

Larissa,    192 

Lembet  Road,  38 

Likovan,  114 

Lindesay,  Lt.-Col.  G.  W.   G.,  257 

Liverpool,  H.M.S.,  272 

Lord  Nehon,  H.M.S.,  271,  275 


H. 

HadjopoukM,  Col.,  20,  162 
Hamals,  82 
Hamidieh  Fort,  275 
Horseshoe  Hill,  72,  128 
HortiwJi,  27,   78 


Macedonia,   Mobilisation  of,   114 

"Macedons,  The,"   124 

Macukovo,  209,  212 

Macpherson,  Brig.-Gen.  A.  D.,  25J 

"Madelon,"    33 

Majendie,  Brig.-Gen.  B.  J.,  254 

208 


INDEX 


Malaria,   174,  235 

Maritsa,  River,  2G9 

Marsh  Pier,  96 

Messina,  5 

Milne,  General  Sir  G.  F.,  77,  126, 

154,   188,  235,   258 
Misitch,  Marshal,  139,  239 
Moglenitza  Range,  68,  213 
Monastir,  Capture  of,  209,  211 
Montagu-Bates,   Brig.-Gen.,  24C 
Moschopoulos,  Gen.,   135 
M.T.   Units,  Serbia,   107,   137 
M.T.,  Work  of,  178 
Mules,   179 
Murad   II.   81 
Mudros,  269,  273 
Mustapha    Pasha,    269 


R. 

Rendina  Gorge,  74 
Repoules,  Mr.,  134 
Revolution,   Greek,   157 

At    Salonica,    164 
River   Clyde,   274 
R.N.A.S.,  262 
Road  Making,  179 
"Robinson  Crusoe,"  123 
Ross.  Sir  Ronald,  187 
Rouniania,   28,    167 
Royalist  officers,   162 
Rupel   Pass,  20,  41,   161 
Russians,  28,  211 
Rutter,  Capt.  Owen,  217 


N. 


National  Defence,  Army  of,  163 
Navy,    British,    99,    119,    190,    202, 

269 
Nider,   Gen.,   171 
Nigrita,  124 

o. 

Ochrida,  Lake,  214 

Odeon,  30 

Olympus,  Mount,  42,  47,  192 

Orfano,   74,   110 

Ostrovo,   Battle  of,  209,  211 


P. 

Parnassus,  6,  193,  197 

Pasitch,    Mr.,   155 

Peace   Envoys,   Bulgarian,  265 

Turkish,  272 
Petit   Couronne,  209 
Pip  Ridge,  214 
Pirspus,  6,  167 
"Piccadilly  Circus,**  47 
Poets,  57 

Presba,  Lake,  209,  214 
Prilep,  267 


Q. 


Quinine,  56 


294 


S. 


Sabbati   Cevi,  86 

Sanitary  Section,  145 

Sarrail,    General,   17,  20,    155,    160, 

208 
Scougal,  Major,  257 
Schenk,  Baron,   157,   168 
Serbs : — 

Arrival  in  Salonica,  15 

Attempt  to  save  Serbia,  208 

Losses   in   battle,   242 

The  advance,  262 
Serbian  Crown  Prince,  155,  239 
Serbian    Slava,    135 
Seres  Road,  47,   64,   142 
Sisters,   22,   237 
Skra  di  Legen,  191,  210 
Sokol,  34,  239,  243 
Spies,  24,  26,  159 
St.    Denietrios,   81,    103 
St.   George,  II. M.S.,   155 
St.  George's  Church,  103 
St.   Paul,   1,   153 
St.  Sopliia,  81,  89,  103 
Stavros,  72,   111,  183,  269 
Stepan  Stepanovitch,  Marshal,  138, 

239 
Struma,  28,  175,  209,  213 
Strumitza,   260 
Submarines,  203 
Superb,  H.M.S.,  271,  275 


INDEX 


r 


Talaat   Pasha.   271 

Taliinos,    Lake,   2fi,    115 

Taranto,    198 

Tcmeraire,  II.M.S.,  261,  275 

Tiadatha,  Sonjr  of,  149,  217,  277 

"Tipperary,"  33 

Tortoise  (Tortue)  Hill,  41,  72,  218 

Trench    Mortar    Battery,  83rd,   254 

Tresina,   138 

Trist,  Lt.-Col.  C.  II.,  251,  253 


Via  Egnatia,  44 
Vodena,  278 
Vole,  9 

W. 

Whitehead,  Capt.  C. 
Wilson,    Lieut.-Gen. 
264,  276 


M.,  257 
Sir    Henry, 


Y. 


Uchantar,  46 
Uskub.  267 


U. 


"Y"  Scheme,  188,  191,  234 
Yatman,  Lieut.-Col.  A.  H.,  251 
Yenidje  Vardar,   108 
Y.M.C.A.,    192 


V. 

Vardar,  28,  68,  237,  240 
Vardar    (wind),  277 
Vasitch,   Gen.,    139 
Venizeios.  22,  64,  132,  157 


Z. 


160 


Zeppelin    raids 
Zouaves,   254 
Zymbrakakis,   Col. 


164 


*i<jr} 


^*iM^*i  ■■    Avii^^^i   r^m  A  nvAA^iLiT 


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DUE  AS  STAMPED  BELOW 

SEP  1 1  2000 


JUN  Q  6  20Q7 


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UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 


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