PICTURES OF WAR.

Oamaru Mail, Volume XXXVII, Issue 11806, 16 December 1912, Page 6

PICTURES OF WAR.

(Bv Alphonse C'ourlander, London Ex- ' press Correspondent with the Montenegrin Army.) Podgoritza, October 22. There is a .sudden commotion in the street The mayor, pleudidly picturesque in his cloak of turquoise blue and pcli<-hed boots reaching to the knees <>t his dark blue trousers, waves his stick at the old woman squatting by thenhacks o[ maize. Hi« .'p«ture is like that of a London policeman holding up the traffic only there is little enough traffic to hold up here- little enough but the slow oxen dr;i""ing with sure steps their wooden cart-T and the motor-omnibus that carries the post and tobacco munitions of war to the front, stirring up the dust. The few that are left behind from the eastward march <>; the Montenegrin armies—officials. Press censors. Keel Cross men. and what not—sit idly in the sunshine of the afternoon In the distance a motor-car, crowded to its fullest, speeds from the Turkish quarter of the town over the bridge that spans the river where the women do their washing. There is a scatter and commotion, a scraping of chairs on the cobbles. The mayor bares his head; the uniformed people salute. The motor-ear flashes by in a second, but it "ives a glimpse of the King with a Russian Grand Duke at his side; the Crown Prince in his uniform. Princess Xeuia in khaki, with the Red Cross on her "arm. - ~ "Jeevo!" crv the people. "Jeevo! Long live the King! Glory to the Montenegrins. His Majesty is going to the hospital. ; ■

A clump of white buildings athwart a green half-mile of open ground, once a lianacks. now the headquarters hospital, with the Red Cross flag clinging limplv to the flagstaff. Its neighborhood ' reeks with the puujrent smell of disinfectants. '- A sentry stands guard by the door. Look at him! His hand is padded with wool and line and into »a grotesque parody of a hand. Yet he js still at work for his country. All those who-are strong and whole are at the front. ''■-". A shattered, leg or-a .smashed arm; need not prevent lis from doing something. . . ... Let.us be sentries over the sick'; let us be messengers, or nurses, in our turn. That is the spirit of the Montenegrins. They are so- few >hat none can be spared, Outside, the women, sit on the grassbeside their packs and'the-wine"hot flet, looking: 'with,. patient veyes at the win;do\\:s.of tlie white' buildings. They:can :seei figures - moving- jabotrt;- nurses in white, -'and now and "again a bandaged face. They can see the flies buzzing and swarming horribly at the windows. These women are the heroines of the war; they have trudged miles, upiand down the narrow mountain roads, carrying? their/ provisions with them; cheese and urea'd'and wine, and a mattress to lie on. They follow the army everywhere and to-the forefront of the battle, only to return and rest outside the hospitals when they see their men fall bloody ■._. and broken in battle. .. ' *' ; The •courtyard within is .splashed with the carmine -stains' of carbolic powder. On one-side-there is -a, 'rough bivouac, further down'haystacks, fodder for the horses, and here and there spades and pickaxes and implements of trenchmaking. ' It is an arsenal, tool Stacks of ;qm-' munition and rifles ...are stored here. And .thc.-'place-, is alive Tvjth wounded men,- walking with broken .steps and torn,bodies, and eyes that have looked inwardly .and silently ;• on -. agonising pain.

I see them still; their faces and figures haiint me; the sunshine is full of maimed men, limping about on rough crutches; faces swathed in white; foreheads circled in lint; arm-slings of gaily colored nebkerchiefs, and splints made hurriedly from rough bits of wood. The wounded men crawl carefully .about, smoking cigarettes, consciously ;proud' of .their- wounds.. They 'axe /praying: that the war may last long enough-for them to recover and to do battle once again. The doctor in charge passes. . A heap of old bandages makes a dreadful litter by .the window, , He. gives orders sharply. Three Turkish prisoners, sweeping the courtyard with brooms made from the branches of trees, clear them away.

The'Rinj£ comes. "Jeevo!" "May the King'" live for ever!" the wounded men cry aloud, -and one of them waves a crutch feebly. Another points with his unbroken fingers to his smashed hand. And the Kin": talks to them, just as a Father talks to his sons,, and tells them they, have done well for' Montenegro.

Inside the at: the end of a long room, where Albanians and Malissori and Montenegrins, lie-side by side beneath the coarse grey blankets, two women watch over a bedside. One is very old, with a face as wrinkled as a , witliered grape; the other is a fine darkl eyed woman of middle age. They watch over the bed where a man lies with half-closed eyes, breathing: t>iteously. Mother and wife, one would say. The..old woman reaches.to a- shelf now and again and puts ai phial to the unresisting lips of the man; the younger ,fans away'the'-flies-that drop and settle and_ rise and drop again relentlessly. : This man was operated on. yesterday. There were no anaesthetics. And, until a few days ago, there were only four doctors who could operate. The Montenegrins do not need anaesthetics. Their endurance' is something superhuman. They have suffered "indescribable pain in this hospital of Podgoritza without flinching' or shrinking. ; Thirteen men, who might have been, saved if the instruments and drugs had .been, here, have died, out of the hundreds of. wounded. '. '-..-'. . ' The old woman by the bedside ceased to put the phial to the lips of the man. .She leaned over him and touched the half-closed lids. . The younger woman gathered her shawl' about''her face as a sign ofwidowhood. and looked before her with the eyes of one to whom the world is desolate. -jThis man was the fourteenth. '; , : *•••.•■ ;■■ i\r\ ■::■.. . "i;

Tho market-place is a maze, of men and women, and. the morning 'is full of the jabber and chatter of business. Old women, down.from the mountains, sit on the pavement, surrounded bv p|n.sivo hens .that can be VoughtT for!a shilling each; old.women, sit surrounded by little rips pomegranates ahdi : grapes; white cheeses, red wine, toma-r toes the size. of. plums, draggled-"cah-hages, green figs, and maize in sacks—these are the" things" thev sell in the. market-place. A giant of an Albanian strides by with/a g'rave, majestic.step,, 'smoking a cigarette through a graven holder of silver with "a great ' amber mouthpiece; his rifle hangs across his back; wagon-loads of rTtirkish prisoners, dirty arid' unkempt, slide slowly bv; the. prefect—the dictator' 1 of this - town under martial law—rolls past in his carriage, ignoring the hiimble salutes' of the crowd as/ naughtily as any Russian;bureauera£ •""■".". : " - ...'-.

Then the sound of d«ep-throatedi masculine'voice's singing,, cuts into the .chatter and barter, arid, across the picture of fez 1 and shawl 'and: khaki arid' colored dress, there comes the picture of a battalion marching to the front. Marching -and singing, they pass on, the flag of Montenegro fluttering abovethem; fierce, uncontrollable passion is written in' the farces of these, men. The : song'that they sing has a wild and barbarous swing with it. It is made, up of two notes only, and to and fro the tune runs, dominant and free. The haggle and murmur of the marketplace cease. Hot and dusty and rodfaced, the soldiors swing along by their flag. "Jeevo!" the ocnple shout. "Montenegro shall live for ever." And, the evening falls, and out of the shadows pomes the noise of the clatter of hoof.= over cobbles: and. under the trees, by the riverside, another procession passes like ;i shadow. A pro-

cession of stopping srinjiorly. like tijrht-ropp walkers. bsil:inor>cl by flip panniers that li"b at their fat sides. \ man with a ride and :i bavon?+ shilling sullenly in tile evening li'iht walks lio.-itlc each mule. AVliito boxes are strapped, with the panniers, and tb:?. white boxes contain cartridges for tbe : armv. So they nass through Pod"joritza. round the Turkish Quarter, towards Tiizi and beyond, simply shadows "nd.T the trees, in tb r evening. Very" few Dpopln notice thrm. Tliov riass out of the town, and in the nijrht thov will bo over tb--' mountains trudging towards some battlefield. They arc carrying the food of war. V. .Tlie yojitn'M fi])fieni; VMldeitly j|i tli?''

-street corners. It is nearly ten o'clock, and by ten o'clock, according to the order of our good prefect, every citizen and stranger should be within doors and the lights should go out. Outside the town the Albanians sib round their fires, telling each other what they will do to the Turks should they he delivered into their hands; the Montenegrin diplomats, returned from their posts, are discussing maps and calculating how long it will h* before Tiirabosh falls. The censor's office is closed, for who would want to send off telegrams so late hi the present tangle of telegraphic communication? A ftw Montenegrin horsemen canter up the street on their ponies: a few beggars lurk in the darkness, hiding and /nigging their rags, and beg for smalt money. The bakers are hard at it baking bread for the prisoners. A belated carriage from C'attaro drives in with a, clatter, bearing yet another correspondent to see this war. Tli<> sentry fixes his bayonet and walks to and fro. One by one the lights go out. It is ten o'clock, and the streets are dark.

Podgoritz;i goes to bed, hoping to awake to the news of the capture of Scutari. - ■'..._