My Diary in Serbia

by Monica M. Stanley

  Some of the churches are full of Greek refugees from Asia Minor.

  Saturday, April 17, 1915.

  We went to see the French Hospital. An English nun took us over. We also went to see the soup kitchens, and at 12 o'clock one hundred of the refugees came with tickets for soup. We helped to serve it out to them; it was most interesting. All of them wanted more than their share. After we met the remainder of our unit, which had just arrived by the Lotos; they came overland to Marseilles, then by steamer. They had all had the most delightful time, stopping at most of the ports. We envied them after our ghastly journey. Dr. Dearmer and several others of the party and I went into the town, then to St. Nicholas, a church full of refugees—a sight I shall never forget; each family had been allotted a corner, and they just sit on a mat. One family was busy at lunch; they had one large bowl of soup in the centre of the mat, and they all sat round; father, mother and three children each had a spoon, and they all ate out of the same bowl. This seems to be the custom in the poorer quarters in Greece and Serbia. There were several little babies only a day or two old done up like brown-paper parcels.

  In the afternoon we went to see where Abdul Hamid was imprisoned. He was allowed eighteen wives. He abdicated. The Germans threatened to rescue him, so high walls were built all round so that aircraft could not get near. After eighteen months he was told he might leave the country, otherwise be shot, so he went to Asia Minor, and now the house is used for military purposes.

  Sunday, April 18, 1915.

  We had Communion Service, which Dr. Dearmer conducted at 8.30. Then went to Turkish town, which is most interesting. We then went to the Greek military prison. Then to the Turkish Church. Before entering the church we had to remove our shoes; the floor was covered with squares of carpet. In the afternoon we went to St. Demetrius and saw a christening—most interesting. The priest first covered the baby, which was naked, with oil—head, eyes, cheeks, ears, body, legs, feet, back; then the mother poured a handful of oil over the baby's head. Then the priest took the babe and put it into a font of oil and water which completely covered it; then the baby was again crossed with oil, using a brush this time and taking the oil out of a bottle; then the babe was put into a piece of flannel into the mother's arms. She held two candles, one in each hand, and the priest took incense, which he swung backwards and forwards, and then went twice round the font. Then he read and kissed the book, and the woman kissed it twice, and the ceremony was finished.

  We then went to the Greek cemetery, and saw where all the soldiers were buried in the last war. The Turkish cemetery was near by. We saw another large barracks and the Greek Military Hospital.

  Monday, April 19, 1915.

  We were shopping all morning, getting ready for our departure for Kragujevatz tomorrow, Tuesday. We leave soon after 7 o'clock. This afternoon we went with Mrs. Stobart as far as the tram went, then we walked to the beach. We were a party of twenty-four; we all had tea and then paddled and came home. I have just finished packing for Serbia.

  Tuesday, April 20, 1915.

  Got up at 6 o'clock, went to Hotel Splendide for breakfast; then we all marched behind a funny old cart, which had our luggage, to the station. I had a tin of honey, fifty-six pounds, which I bought at Salonika; the tin cracked and it began to run out; a cork came out of a paraffin bottle, and this began to run; then the luggage kept taking flying leaps off the cart: we had to keep running after it, to put it back: the man went on, never stopping for any catastrophe. When we landed at the station we had the time of our life, such a scuffle and rush to get into the train. Only twelve of us left today, and the other thirty-six follow us on Thursday. All the unit saw us off. The train left at 9.15; it was to have left at 8.

  The smell of formalin in the train was very strong, and all of us were covered with paraffin, so the two smells together were not very delightful! Besides this, some of us had carbon balls and camphor in our pockets.

  It took us about half an hour to get out of Greece. The country all along is simply wonderful; the most glorious scenery, hills, rocks and valleys, with the most gorgeous colourings. All along we saw herons, storks and eagles, vultures, magpies and jackdaws. All these birds are most plentiful and very tame. All the carts are pulled by buffalo oxen and donkeys. Most of the sheep are black; also the pigs and goats.

  The train first stopped at Topsin, then at Amatovar and then Karasuli; these are all the Greek stations we passed. The first Serbian station we stopped at one and a half hours. It was at Ghevgheli. There were many Austrian prisoners and Serbian soldiers on the platform. The Serbians looked very tired, and their clothes were very shabby. They are very badly shod, only a kind of moccasin on their feet. A good many of the Serbians have khaki clothes, but it seems that they have been given by the English. On lots of the house-tops and chimney-tops the herons have built their nests; this was most interesting to see. A great many of the soldiers have lambs following them about like dogs. They are so pretty.

  Eight lovely peacocks were on the platform, and they kept walking under the train; also one or two white guinea-fowls. We saw no end of tortoises all along the line, and we got one and brought it into the carriage, but we had to put it out again as we had no green stuff to feed it on. All the lakes and reservoirs are full of bull frogs; these make a tremendous noise just like a lot of ducks quacking. The trees in this part of the country are quite small ones, and there are no hedges; the blossom on the trees is perfectly lovely. We watched the butter being made from goat's milk, and very good it is. Most of the work in the fields is done by women and oxen, and the women look very picturesque in their different coloured garments. We had lovely flowers all the way, especially poppies. We kept passing swamps, full of different grasses. The mountains are wonderful, covered with snow, and we hear that when some of the snow melts dead bodies are found underneath. We crossed over the bridges which were blown up three weeks ago by the Bulgarians; we came through a wonderful tunnel cut in the rocks, and we passed no end of churchyards, where the men are buried in the different battles—Turks, Serbians, and Bulgarians—it is really pitiful to see them. We are guarded by soldiers all along the lines and on the trains. We passed lots of rows of little crosses where all the women, children and men were buried after the Bulgarian raid a week ago. A rope was put round their necks and they were hung up on trees to die. All the soldiers come and salute us at each station and along the line. They all look so sad. Uskub we stopped at 7 o'clock, and we were met by Sir Ralph Paget. We had dinner at the station: soup floating with grease and omelet as tough as leather; the bread was almost black and very sour. The room was very dirty, and many men were sprinkling disinfectants about. This amused me very much. We slept in the train.

  Thursday, April 22, 1915.

  We got up before 6 o'clock; had breakfast. It is much colder, and we are very near snow-clad mountains. We got to Nish at 8 and had two hours to wait. We were met by the Serbian Minister and doctor, and taken in a funny little carriage to the Reserve Hospital, where we washed.

  This was the Hospital which contained 1,500 Serbian wounded when it fell into the hands of the Bulgarians. We then had breakfast—bread, raw bacon and eggs; not good; but we must be thankful for anything in these bad times. The beds in the wards are several planks of wood, with straw mattress and pillows—quite clean. The women are not a bad-looking race. The minister showed us a terrible photograph he had taken of women and children hanging from trees, where the Bulgarians had strung them up. Two units we left at Nish; one is coming in a few days to Kragujevatz, the other to Belgrade. We drove back to the station; impossible to walk; the mud is eight or ten inches deep.

  We slept in the train, three in a compartment, and none of us got bitten. We first cleaned all the carriages out with paraffin. We passed through vineyards and maize-fields. The women do the ploughing with the oxen. There are hundreds of wounded Austrians everywhere to be seen. On arriving at Kragujevatz we were met by doctors and officers, and were taken out to dinner. Four carriages
, two horses to each carriage, a most quaint turn-out. The horses seem to fly along, and the roads are in the most awful condition; it was all we could do to prevent ourselves being pitched out.

  We first went to the sanitary department and were introduced round, and then we all washed our hands in disinfectants, and were taken on to the Prince's Palace; it is now turned into a dining club for officers. We had a big dinner, starting with very fine Russian caviare. The dinner lasted until 10 o'clock. We then returned to the station and stayed the night in the train. One vanload of luggage had not then arrived, and it was too late to pitch tents. The bull-frogs were singing all night. When a Serbian introduces his wife, he says, "Excuse me, but may I introduce my wife?" When a party is given, the wife never appears at table. They must think it strange that our women are treated so differently.

  Friday, April 23, 1915.

  Mrs. Stobart has been with some of the officers to find a site for the Hospital; it is right at the top of the hill, and before the war started it was a race-course, and it was also used for sports. We spent the afternoon putting up the tents. The custom in Serbia is, when a death occurs, they put out a black flag for six days or more, and it was sad to see two or three dozen flags all along the town. We have been hard at work all day putting away stores.

  The officers are most kind; they invited us to dinner, but we were all too busy to go, so they sent us a lovely dinner to the tents—some fried fish, a stew of beef, and a small lamb roasted whole, and a salad. One of the Government officials joined us.

  Sunday, April 25, 1915.

  We had a service at 8.30 a.m., which Dr. Dearmer conducted, and he conducted another service at 2.30 and 5.30. Several of the nurses and officers came from other hospitals. The weather is very hot, but the nights cold. We hear the owls, nightingales and cuckoo all night. Several of our staff are ill. I have delightful people to work with, and we are very comfortable. Four of us in a big tent. They call me the "Little Mother," but my general name is Cookie. The Government officials all call me Miss Cookie.

  We have now started getting up at 4.30, breakfast at 5. We have had to put on our summer clothes as it is very hot. I bought five lambs today, 15 dinas each. They eat the meat the same day it is killed. The small lambs and pigs are cooked whole. Forty wounded arrived to day; they all had a bath with disinfectant in, and then put on clean clothes, their own baked and tied up and put away with their names on. Some of the wounded look very ill, but this place will soon do them good. It makes us very happy to see them improving.

  Tuesday, April 27, 1915.

  More wounded are to arrive today. We are to have surgical cases. When the fighting starts our Field Hospital is to move on with the army. We get quite used to getting up early. We are up at 4.30 and to bed at 9 o'clock; it saves lights. I sleep outside the tent, and many of the others do likewise. It is perfectly lovely. I shall never want to sleep in again.

  The sun is glorious, rising above the mountain-tops. We are getting quite used to the noises at night. We have the nightingales, one singing against the other; the owls calling out; big black crickets, which live in holes in the ground all over our camp and fields, making their funny noise. Then there are fireflies, which at first I thought were searchlights, as they were so very bright; cocks are crowing all round at the various farms; stray dogs, which seem almost wild, visit the camp at night and try to get into the kitchens to the stores, and occasionally they will start barking and howling; in ponds near are frogs croaking.

  My staff are so nice, it makes work so much easier. I went into Kragujevatz today to do some shopping. None of us are allowed to go on account of typhus, but there is not much fear when one takes precautions. The shops are quite nice and the shoes and clothes quaint. Singer's sewing machines are seen everywhere; also Sunlight soap, Colman's mustard, Peak Frean's biscuits, Peter's milk chocolate. These things remind us of home. Rice, haricot beans and prunes are very plentiful, and they form some of the chief articles of diet.

  Wednesday, April 28, 1915.

  The wagons are drawn by oxen; they only do twenty miles a day. They are magnificent beasts and are well cared for. We have bought two of them and have called them Derry & Toms, as Derry & Toms gave us two or three of their carts to bring out here.

  We have had six officers dining with us today. The heat is terrific. I can't imagine what it will be in June. The Serbian food is very funny, but good. For breakfast they have a kind of bread-pudding; they call it our "English" bread-pudding, but the Serbian name is "Popiri." You put bread cut into dice into boiling water, with salt and fat; they beat it all together and serve. They like it so much and do not care for anything else; for a change they have stewed prunes and bread. They drink tea or coffee and the ones on special diet have eggs.

  Mrs. Stobart and part of the unit going out to Serbia on the Saidieh, having Swedish drill.

  Hospital at Nish. When captured by the Bulgarians, contained 1,500 patients.

  MAY 1915

  Sunday, May 2, 1915.

  We have so much work here we seldom know the day or the date. We have just had tent drill, as we may move on soon, then we shall have to pull down our tents ourselves. We have lost several of our stores coming out: all the bacon and lots of other things. Some of the men look dreadful and half starved; they seem to like our food. I have five Austrian prisoners working for me. It is difficult to get much work out of them, as they say, "No pay, no work"; but I said then there will be no food, and now they cannot do enough for us; they are not bad on the whole. I have a funny man who buys for me in the market. He is too fat to fight, and he is always telling me, with his arms in the air, that he works only for me. We slept outside on our camp beds last night; it began to rain and the night nurses had to carry us in. It is lovely to see how the wounded enjoy this camp life; they are so happy. When they arrive they have a paraffin bath and their clothes baked. We brought a lot of clothes with us from England. Four officers came to see us this morning, and they lent us their horses for half an hour for us to ride. I am to go next time.

  One of the doctors and I went for a lovely evening walk; the frogs were singing to each other, quite a different noise to what we heard before. This morning I took all my kitchen orderlies to have a bath, five of them.

  Mrs. Stobart took our photos and I gave the men their new clothes. I managed to get them each a blanket and they were all very happy. They built themselves a hut to sleep in. They are all Austrian prisoners.

  Monday, May 3, 1915.

  A Dispensary has been started on the road side near our Field Hospital, and people are coming for miles to get medicine and advice. There are many cases of diphtheria, typhoid, typhus, scarlet fever, consumption and other diseases. The civil population are suffering terribly on account of the war; they have been so neglected. One girl walked twenty miles to get medicine for her father, mother, sister and brother who were all down with typhus. A number of the patients come in ox carts and they travel all right; it is wonderful how quickly they have got to hear of the Dispensary. Mrs. Stobart has decided to open many more.

  Thursday, May 6, 1915.

  This has been a great festival for the Serbians—St. George's Day—they keep it as a holiday. We had two of the officers to dinner, and a bonfire at 8 o'clock, and we all danced and sang; quite a good evening. The wounded quite enjoyed themselves.

  Friday, May 7, 1915.

  I went for a walk with two of the doctors to a cemetery near here. There are thousands of little wooden crosses where the Serbians fell in the last battle, also for those who died from typhus. The Austrian prisoners are digging rows and rows of new graves. The dead are not buried in coffins; there are several empty coffins lying about.

  Many of the crosses have several numbers, so many are buried in the same grave, four and six. Our Dispensaries are getting on splendidly; some of the patients walked forty miles; one can scarcely believe it. We feed all those that come a long distance. We had over 100 patients today. I bought in the market today ten sheep,
six turkeys, five geese and nine ducks. We eat two and three lambs just for the staff at one meal; they are very small.

  Sunday, May 9, 1915.

  I was up just after 4 this morning. Mrs. Stobart and three Serbian officials went off to find another site for a Dispensary. Colonel Harrison, our English Military Attaché, has been to dinner. I gave them boiled turkey and white sauce and macaroni. Turkeys are cheap; I got six for 57 dinas, and you get 36 dinas for a sovereign. After dinner Colonel Harrison gave us some very good records on his gramaphone. Our gramaphone has been lost.

  The Austrians are still shelling Belgrade. One of my five Austrian orderlies gives me a lot of trouble. He goes off sometimes for three or four hours to get drink, so I had to report him; he has had his ears well boxed in front of me by the sergeant. If he had struck the sergeant back he would have been shot.

  We have several wounded Austrians and one German. When the German is spoken to he always stands at attention; he is really a nice man!