Suddenly there came an explosion like an earthquake. An immense column of yellow flame shot heavenward. The heavy girder bridge over the river had been dynamited. At the same instant three immense German shells came screaming overhead and burst with tremendous explosions, one near the town hall and two near the railway station. These nerve-shaking explosions caused a wild panic, the first I had seen in Siberia. The terrified oxen broke into a run and poured in a surging mass, with my carriage in their midst, down the road. Suddenly they came on a narrow bridge spanning a small ravine. Those on the outside were forced against the parapet. I saw the carriage balance for an instant and then with the three horses roll into the ditch thirty feet below. There was a sound of smashing glass, and it was all over with our vehicle. The only thing was to extricate the kicking horses and salve such baggage as had escaped. This was a long and difficult process in torrents of rain, but after an hour and a half of hard work we finally got our belongings ranged alongside the road. The next difficulty was a means of transport, but an obliging non-commissioned officer to the Reserve Munition Column of the Timok Division stopped a half-empty ox wagon and our belongings were hoisted in. We in turn found shelter under the tilt of another wagon and made ourselves as comfortable as the munition boxes would allow. * * * * * The German infantry was of miserable quality, men who a year ago would never have passed the doctor, they burst their way through by shell and shrapnel fire. It was during these attacks that they took hundreds of prisoners, all of them, as I have said, of miserable physique. I saw a youth in the streets of Krusevatz, who could not have been more than sixteen or seventeen years old. His "pickelhauben," much too large for him, came down over his ears. Another I saw was minus a finger on his left hand, and a French surgeon told me he had a German patient who was deaf and dumb. All were pale-faced, narrow-chested, and not the class of men one saw twelve months ago. * * * * * Then came the blizzards of snow and inundations which blotted out the road in districts hundreds of kilometers in extent. Add to this fact, all communication with the outside world was completely cut off, there were no letters, telegrams or newspapers, and such vague reports as filtered in were brought by circuitous routes over hundreds of kilometers of the worst roads in Europe. With every trump card in the hands of her enemies, Serbia's fate was sealed. All she could do was to fight to the last, and this she did. V--EVERY ROAD WAS FILLED WITH HUMAN MISERY Every road in Serbia was filled with the flowing tide of human misery. Every town and village was overcrowded. In Kroljevo in ordinary times there are 15,000. When I reached the town it contained 120,000. The same held good of every other center.