THE BATTLE OF MATI.

Evening Star, Issue 10340, 14 June 1897, Page 1

THE BATTLE OF MATI.

* GRAPHIC AND SPIRITED ' ' 'DESCRIPTION. [From Oor Special U>rhespondest.j London, April 30. The young and inexperienced war correspondents of the halfpenny * Daily Mail' are beating the famous old campaigners of the * Chronicle,'' Daily News,' and * Times' all to smithereens. Piles of the penny papers lie unsold on every bookstall in the mornings now, whereas 3d to 4d can readily be got tor aM ' Mail.' It must not be supposed this comes from incompetence on the pint of experienced men like Charles Williams (Kipling's "Nilghai") Villiers, and so on. No; simply Harmsworth employs more men aud spends more money, and in war correspondence, as in every other department of journalism, 'tis "money makes the mare to go." Talk to a 'Daily Mail' man and. you'll see what esprit de corps really means. The attitude of the average newspaper proprietor to his employe 1 is " Work for mt as hard as you are able, and I'll pay you as little as I can." Harmsworth started from the first on a different plan. He got good men, offered liberal salaries, was no niggard in the matter of expenses, and, ift short, compelled good service by treating others as he would wish to be treated himself. The biggest journalistic success of the age is his just reward. The following is the account of the battle of Mati wired the 1 Mail' by G. W. Steevens : The Turkish army has entered Larjssa, and it is now possible to divulge the secrets of the last few dayß' operations. On Friday came the decisive battle of the war. It raged between Mati and the small village of Deliler on the Greek right. The fighting opened as it has always done. From the ridges before me, on which our guns were poßt«d, came " bourn " and a spurt of dirty grey smoke, and then "bourn" again, and another spurt of smoke. Little figures moved to and fro close bv the larger black dot?, which were guns. After each "bourn' 1 came a whizzing noise, and then, before the echo had diudaway, the loud "crack" or'the bursting shrapnel as it exploded just sver the Greek lines. "Boum!" "bourn!" "boum!" aud " bourn "agaiu. This was the battle. It was not splendid ; it was not inspiring; it was not desperately bloody—not at all like the battles of books. Only this incessant " boum," the reports coming closer and closer together, till individual "bourns " could not be distinguished, and there was only one dull heavy deafening roar. The guns were already clouded in smoke and dust. Now and again a dot came travelling up towards us with painful slowness—a wounded artilleryman; now moaning convulsively ; now silent, and swallowing an invisible lump, with twitching eyes. The Greeks were replying to our fire. Mingling with the roar of our artillery I could hear the grinding of some strange machine a machine which ground out cracks and sharp bangs in such rapid succession that it sounded like the jarring of heavy cog-wheels, ruuning at terrific speed. It was the rifle fire of the two armirs. The Greeks did not shoot well. Their shrapnel flew over our guns, or exploded harmlessly far short of them. One burst unpleasantly near us. It lay on the giound some seconds, and, just as we were saying " How bad their ammunition is," went off with a noise that quite took away my interest in the battle for the moment. Long time the guns croaked in front ; the little ■figures scuffled"; in the dust and smoke, the shrapnel sang and screamed, the bullets whizzed. Then gradually the Greek guns slackened their fire. Our infantry were gathering for the final spring. Our guns increased their fire; their shells rained on the Greek lines, and dropped on two villages far away below. Through my glasses I could tee little figures, like the tiniest tin soldiers, upset as they burst. The word had come to assault the positions. The Turkish bugles sounded, and we rode forward to a position near our guns. We could see the lines of grey infantry below wave their fezzes and their glinting rides. We thought we could hear through the hoarse diapason of the guns the cheers of eager men. The spectacle was magnificent. Below us lay the wooded plain; to the right lay the villages we were preparing to assault. Spattered about the sheet of green were little patohes of blue smoke, where the Greek infantry were firing. In one of the villages a bouse was burning brightly. The oentre of the Greek defence was at a largo square house, standing out bright grey under the clear sun. The house was situated on a low hill, to the brilliant green grass of which 'it offered an effective contrast. To the left a little minaret glittered. All round the house and minaret swarmed little black ants. They were Greek soldiers. They fired steadily at our skiimishcrs as these went forward. Our sharpshooters were scattered in open order on the vast brown plain. Behind them were masses of men in closer order. The whole moved forward, mechanically, remorselessly. Before it went sputtering smoke ; around it was the dust from the feet of tramping men ; behind it, on the ground, a trail of prostrate figures. Here they lay far apart, aud there, there wore two or three close together, where a shell had burst and done its dreadful work. Other figures no longer advanced, but had turned and moved slowly rearward. And thi9 was a battle—the sport I was watching, the killing of men. We advanced—always advanced. The ants round the house swayed backwards and forwards, but on the whole they held their ground. The crackle of rifle firing swelled up unceasingly from the plain; there were always the same Fpirts of flime aud smoke ; the same du&t; xhe same tiny figures prostrate on the plain. Slowly our Bkirmishers neared the green slope of the little hyl on which stood the house. Now thev had gained it; they were slowly moving up it with the same machine-like precision. And now the ants round the house were in great perturbation. They scurried to and fro; they, swayed back : they retreated. AVe had taken the centre of the Greek position. Thore was no waiting for our bayonet attack, and no work with the cold steel. The ambulances drove forward to .pick up our wounded, and Kdhem Tasha pushed on behind his victorious troops. I passed a Turkish soldier who lay with both legs broten, sobbing piteously with pain. And then I hated war.

Our losses were extraordinarily small. We had only ten killed and thirty-eight wounded—of thesu few seriously hurt. In the Greek lines there were many dead and wounded. The effects .of our artillery fire were hideous to witness in places—bodies torn to bloody pulp, trunks stripped of their members, uniforms burnt and charred. The rifle does its work more cleanly. We took fifty Greek prisoners, miserable and discouraged. They were well treated bv our men.

Immediately after the battle the Greeks evacuated their position at Krisiria, which left Turnavo to our mcrov. They abandoned their entrenchments in the centre of the plain. Their whole line, in fact, retired before the Turkish advance on their right and left. We pressed forward immediately. They no longer offered any resistance, but lheir flight seemed to be degenerating into a rout. Rifles, bayonets, swords, belts, shells, cartridges, knapsacks, shakoos, and all the debris of the battlefield strewed the line of their retreat. Some of them had even cast away -their boots. Here and there, in the incredible disorder, lay a dead soldier.

On Sunday morning I went to congratulate Ed hem Pasha. He was sitting in a Greek tent —pitched for the enemy's general. As I came up to him he turned anjj said to me " Cestfini " (it is finished). He showed no exultation at his brilliant success, snatched from fortune at the very moment of his recall. He went on, in French: " I cannot imagine why the Greeks have abandoned their position. It is naturally strong, and they have spent weeks of time and thousands of money . in fortifying it. They said thev wanted to fight, and we were ready to fight. I do not understand why they have run away. It is annoyiDg. I only wanted them to stay six hours more to crush them completely." This was a long speech for Edhem, who is a man of deeds, not words. His naive tmrprise at the astutenesi of the Greeks in clear n., out before he had onolosed thtrfl in his net amused me. But his eves itid not twinkle. Me only said, slowly and"gravely : "«»ur-Albanian regiments have a bad habit. Tbey are fond of music ; they will sing when.they march. Sixbattaliorisof them were movingon a village, tocutoff theGreeklineof retreat, and a Greek priest heard them slating, as their custom is. He warned the Greek officer just is.time; else we should have had

the Crown Prince to dinner.” He ebook hie brad regretfully, and we parted. Bis success was not, -after all, complete. I rode into Larissa this afternoon. The place is deserted; the streets are empty of all but Turkish soldiers. The Greeks have abandoned vast stores of provisions. There are immense quantities of wheat, maize, sardines, and brandy —brandy, above all, here, there, and everywhere. A Turkish officer said jestingly to me: “The Greek officers must live on brandy.” There was to much of it about.