THE FIRST SHOT.

Stratford Evening Post, Volume XXXIV, Issue 85, 5 December 1912, Page 6

THE FIRST SHOT.

From M. EDITH DURHAM. (‘Manchester Guardian.’) Podgoritsa, Montenegro, Oct. 9. Already on the 4th 1 had it from one of tin; generals that, if 4 meant to see the first shot fired, 1 must hasten to tin; front. But every vehicle and horse had been, commandeered by the Government. A seat in a carriage was,

however, courteously assigned to me, and 1 arrived at Podgoritsa on Sunday night with five officials, having, indeed, Walked a considerable part ol the way, for the horses were heavily overladen. Hero at Podgoritsa almost every shop was already closed; troops streaming in; old men (decked with the medals they won in tlie last war) begging to be accepted as volunteers ; boys of fifteen vow mg they wore eighteen in hope of being enrolled. But no noise, no undue excitement. Rather a calm determination and a high hope that the day was about to clawm w'licn the long slavery, of the Turks’ Christian subjects would end. Yesterday morning I was told, in confidence, that the proclamation of war was fixed for the morrow. Events followed rapidly. The members of the Royal Family arrived. The troops ivero inspected by Prince Danilo. I think everyone knew that wo Avero on the brink, but no one talked openly of immediate war'. in the evening we watched troops file through the town and go to encamp on the plain beyond. Later came artillery. (In the open staircase at the back of the inn 1 met an old hero of the last war, one of the Voivad'as. “Good night,” he said, “we must sleep early if we mean to rest tonight.” ••Then we begin to-morroAV?” “God willing,” said the old man, gravely, “and ; then God’s will be done 1”

We turned out before the dawn, in a fine drizzle. A long lino of packhorses and men showed dim under the trees. It was 5 a.m. Already the Bishop of Ostrog had blessed the great banner, in the church. The whole atmosphere seemed tense with restrained excitement. Ail was ready. A few officers were still dashing about with messages, and mutton was being piled on the pack-horses. Then a periaidk, one of the King’s Guards, said:’ “The King has gone up to Gontza.” Goritza is the little hill above the town. The rain was ceasing, and the sun came out as I scrambled over rock and wet grass towards the summit, where, against the sky, was standing, conspicuous, the,stalwart figure of the old King, surrounded by his suite, while the perianiks kept guard a little below.

It was clear I had come to the right viewpoint. But even then I could not realise that a European war was about to begin, that the status quo under which the people had been suffering so long and so cruelly was about to be upset, that the Boom! thundered a big gun from the heights of Gradian and struck accurately on the Turkish fortified camp at Planinitza, hig;h on the mountain side across the valley. The sun shone brilliantly and illuminated the white column of smoke that rose. The mountain was deep purple' under a sullen rain cloud. The military band struck up the national hymn, “God Help Montenegro!” All uncovered and, as the hymn died away, erica aloud “Zhivio, zhivio!” (viva!). The church bell rang out from the little white church below. It was exactly 8 a.m. War had begun. Shot after shot struck Planinitza. The sun rays broke through the storm clouds fitfully, now showing the dark ramparts distinctly, now hiding the whole iu shadow. Then the - small guns from the plain below opened fire on the fortifications of the low hill Rogom, and, far in the distance, puffs of smoke showed that the Montenegrin artillery of the Zeta was firing on the fortifications of Branje—another little liill that rises, island like, from the plain across which the frontier lino is drawn. Still the Turks made no reply, except two small shells that fell short. And after two great masses of smoke, indicating an explosion of ammunition, had rolled up from Planinitza, the Turkish soldiers were visible in retreat. 1

The King and suite loft Goritza and wc returned to the town, whore tho Turkish standard was already hauled down from the Turkish Consulate. The fortress of Shipchanik, that protects the little border town of Tu/.i, and the defences on the summit of Detcliich, the mountain that Towers highest on the frontier, gave-no sign of life. But wo know that there are 20,000 troops awaiting us not far across the border. War has begun.