On arrival at Malça we were told to bivouac in a field adjoining the road, just outside the village. It had rained all day, and we ate our supper in the rain, round a wood fire, which had been difficult to light. We sat on the shafts of the wagons, or on anything that presented itself as a seat above the soaking ground, and the night was so dark, that we took the substance of the seat on trust. In the middle of supper there was a sudden earthquake, and two of the nurses were shot from their seat, over the fire, to the other side. We found that they had, unawares, seated themselves on the back of a weary ox, who had apparently found the fire a trifle too hot, and had uprisen. It was not worth while, we were told, to put up tents, so again we slept in the cars, and we revelled in the luxury of seven hours of sleep. I always now, and for the next three months, slept in my day clothes, as the order to move generally came at night, and time spent in dressing could be better spent in hastening the preparations for departure. I learned, during this journey, to economise in dressing and in sleeping, as well as in eating. Next morning (Monday, October 11th) I was up at four o'clock, and though the men had been told that we were to start at five, I found them all asleep, near the wagons, round their wood fires. No hay had been fetched, and this would mean a serious delay. I saw that the occasion required an exhibition of a little majorly wrath. So I sent for all the men, and, through the interpreter Vooitch, made them understand that a command must be obeyed. When I began speaking, I was not genuinely angry, and I only gave them the external fierce eye and a firm voice; but feelings quickly adapt themselves to contortions of the muscles, and I soon found that I was giving them the real thing, with excellent results. I had not the rifle butt or stick to back me up, but the men understood. But by the time that they had fetched the hay to take with us, for the oxen and horses, and had hauled a stuck wagon out of the mud, we were late. We did not start till 5.30, with the result that the Bakers' Column, which should have been behind us, was ahead of us--a terrible disgrace. But we caught them up, and I made them allow us to pass them, and we were never late again. We reached Nish at 10 a.m., and found that the town was indeed beflagged in honour of the arrival of the Allies! We guessed that they would not arrive now, and for many weeks to come, those flags of welcome drooped metaphorically in our hearts, reproducing that indescribable feeling of mingled hope, disappointment, and humiliation that we felt as we rode through Nish that day. We outspanned beside the Red Cross railway station, on a plain which was covered with encamped columns--cavalry, infantry, pioneers, engineers, bakers, etc.--all belonging to the Schumadia Division.