With the French in France and SalonikaDavis, Richard Harding
History
With the French in France and Salonika
Davis, Richard Harding
World War, 1914-1918 -- Personal narratives
All day long these people of all races, with conflicting purposes,
speaking, or shrieking, in a dozen different tongues, pushed, shoved,
and shouldered. At night, while the bedlam of sounds grew less, the
picture became more wonderful. The lamps of automobiles would suddenly
pierce the blackness, or the blazing doors of a cinema would show in
the dark street, the vast crowd pushing, slipping, struggling for a
foothold on the muddy stones. In the circle of light cast by the
automobiles, out of the mass a single face would flash--a face burned by
the sun of the Dardanelles or frost-bitten by the snows of the Balkans.
Above it might be the gold visor and scarlet band of a "Brass Hat,"
staff-officer, the fur kepi of a Serbian refugee, the steel helmet of a
French soldier, the "bonnet" of a Highlander, the white cap of a navy
officer, the tassel of an Evzone, a red fez, a turban of rags.
This lasted until the Allies retreated upon Salonika, and the Greek
army, to give them a clear field in which to fight, withdrew,
100,000 of them in two days, carrying with them tens of thousands
of civilians--those who were pro-Germans, and Greeks, Jews, and
Serbians. The civilians were flying before the expected advance of the
Bulgar-German forces. But the Central Powers, possibly well informed by
their spies, did not attack. That was several months ago, and at this
writing they have not yet attacked. What one man saw of the approaches
to Salonika from the north leads him to think that the longer the attack
of the Bulgar-Germans is postponed the better it will be--for the
Bulgar-Germans.
CHAPTER VII
TWO BOYS AGAINST AN ARMY
SALONIKA, December, 1915.
On the day the retreat began from Krivolak, General Sarrail, commanding
the Allies in Serbia, gave us permission to visit the French and English
front. The French advanced position, and a large amount of ammunition,
six hundred shells to each gun, were then at Krivolak, and the English
base at Doiran. We left the train at Doiran, but our French "guide" had
not informed the English a "mission militaire" was descending upon them,
and in consequence at Doiran there were no conveyances to meet us. So,
a charming English captain commandeered for us a vast motor-truck.
Stretched above it were ribs to support a canvas top, and by clinging
to these, as at home on the Elevated we hang to a strap, we managed to
avoid being bumped out into the road.
The English captain, who seemed to have nothing else on his hands,
volunteered to act as our escort, and on a splendid hunter galloped
ahead of and at the side of the lorry, and, much like a conductor on
a sight-seeing car, pointed out the objects of interest. When not
explaining he was absent-mindedly jumping his horse over swollen
streams, ravines, and fallen walls. We found him much more interesting
to watch than the scenery.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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