Kingdoms Fall - The Laxenburg Message (24 page)

“Well, you see, it’s just that I had really
wanted to return to Valjevo as I know a number of people there,” Sandes replied
hopefully.

“Well, you’d better pray they’re not there
anymore: We’ve heard terrible reports from the north – attacks on civilians,
executions, that sort of thing.”

“Oh dear, we’d heard the rumors, but I had
hoped ... I suppose I haven’t any choice, then,” Sandes said with
determination. “If this is as far into Serbia as I can go, then I must stay to
work in Prilep.”

“I understand what you’re saying, Miss, and
you’d be very useful, believe me; but right now I can only ask the Serbian Red
Cross volunteers to stay. The war is thirty-five miles east of us:  The
Serbians are trying to keep the Bulgarians from coming through the mountain
passes, but I think it’s just a matter of time before the Bulgarians push
through.”

“I’ve come such long way to return to Serbia,
doctor, and I will stay and help,” she said definitively.

“Are you quite certain you wish to stay here,
Miss Sandes?” Gresham asked with concern. He had come to admire Miss Sandes and
hated the idea of leaving her in Prilep. “It seems likely this area will be
overrun before too long as well.”

“Who are two – British?” Costa asked.

“Yes that’s right, sir,” said Gresham.

“We heard there were British troops landing at
Salonika. There’s not going to be a Serbia here much longer if you boys don’t
get up here. How many of you are there?”

“Just the two of us,” Gresham replied.

“Sorry, what?”

“He means to say there are several British
battalions at Salonika now,” said Wilkins, “and a transport ship is overdue to
arrive from France. However, it seems unlikely there will be enough men here
soon enough to make a difference.”

“Well, well, that’s about what I’d expect from
you damned Limeys,” said Costa, shaking his head in disbelief. “A lot of
promises about protecting Serbia and now you’re just running off.”

“I understand what you mean to say,” Wilkins
said. “My fellow Captain and I must discuss that with the Serbian commander.
Will it be agreeable to you, however, if Miss Sandes stays to assist you at the
hospital? Is that what you want, Miss Sandes?”

“Yes, certainly,” said Miss Sandes. “I’m sure I
will be fine, Captain. I do wish to stay, and if need be, I will evacuate with
the Serbian army.”

“If that’s what you want, I’m not going to try
and stop you. I’d be grateful for the help,” said Costa as he gathered his
supplies.

The door then opened suddenly and a tall,
fierce-looking Serbian officer whipped into the room. He wore a field uniform
with two bandoliers, a sword, and a traditional round black Serbian hat with a
large brass shield emblem. “Captains, welcome,” he said. “I am Colonel Jovan
Dikovich. We are delighted to have British officers visit. I have many
questions for you.”

“We have questions for you as well, Colonel,”
said Gresham.

           
“You have no doubt had a long journey from Salonika. Please take some wine,” he
said, offering a bottle but no cups or glasses. “You must already know much of
our terrible situation, but let me assure you it is far, far worse than you
have heard.”

“Is the situation deteriorating that rapidly?”
Gresham asked.

“Doctor, Miss Sandes,” said Wilkins, “I’m
afraid we will bore you with the minutia of war when the sick and wounded are
in need of your care. Perhaps you would excuse us.”

“Of course,” said Sandes. “Thank you so much
for escorting me to Prilep, gentlemen. Perhaps you will stop back when you have
completed your mission?”

“If you know how to use that revolver you
brought from England, Miss Sandes,” said Gresham, “keep it close.”

She shook hands warmly with Gresham and
Wilkins, and then followed Doctor Costa out into the rain.

“Now then,” Dikovich continued, “the Bulgarian
Second Division is right now attacking my regiments guarding the Babuna
mountain passes. We desperately need the British and French to march north to
attack the Bulgarian’s left flank. Indeed, an allied attack into Bulgaria
itself would undoubtedly bring their advance into Serbia to a complete halt.
One division, advancing towards Plovdiv, is all we need. When can it be
arranged?”

           
“Now that we are alone, Colonel Dikovich, let me speak plainly, as we are both
soldiers,” said Wilkins. “The Bulgarians have advanced far too quickly for the
British and French to be of any assistance to you. Yes, the allied Salonika
Force of twenty or perhaps thirty thousand will march north as soon as they are
prepared to do so, but it will not be soon enough or in large enough numbers to
stop the Bulgarians. At best, the allied forces can only draw away some part of
the Bulgarian divisions from your heels. But you cannot expect more than that.
You must be prepared to evacuate west to Albania.”

“This is not good news. Not at all. We had
assurances that our allies would come to our aid. Now you tell me there is no
hope for Serbia?”

           
“It is not in our power to change that, Colonel, although, for my part, I wish
it were otherwise. But as I’m sure you know, the political situation in Greece
is unsettled and, after the campaign in Gallipoli, I fear the situation in
Great Britain will be more difficult as well. It is these specific issues that
we were sent to discuss with Premier Pashitch and King Peter. More to the
point, there is tremendous concern abroad that either the King or his son or
the Premier will be captured, and we are anxious to find them before it is too
late. Beyond that, I’m afraid I can say no more.”

           
The Colonel stared at Wilkins. The only sound was the crackle of the wet
firewood in the hearth and a slow steady drip of rain outdoors. “So Britain has
nothing to offer us,” said Dikovich with great disappointment. “If we must
fight to the bitter end then we will do so. My men will hold the mountain
passes, and we will gather our army and march north to take back Belgrade.”

           
“If that is what King Peter chooses to do, then I wish you the greatest
success,” said Gresham with mild sarcasm.

“We really must find the King at once,” added
Wilkins, “and I wonder if you have any notion of where he can be found.”

“You must speak to Alexander, the Prince
Regent. We are expecting him in Prilep today, perhaps tomorrow. I cannot say
for certain when he will arrive.”

“Then we must wait for him, of course. But what
of the King?”

“I have no idea where King Peter is now. He is
an old man and has been in the mountains with the
Chetniks
. But you must
understand that Peter has already made his son Prince Alexander his Regent, so
there is no longer any need for you to speak with him. You may wait for
Alexander at the
Bella Kaphana
in the city and I will summon you when he
arrives.” The room grew silent again. At last, the Colonel walked to the door
and opened it. “I need to ready these men for their next march to the Babuna
Pass,” he said, and then he simply walked off into the rain. Gresham and
Wilkins understood well why he was disappointed:  It was perfectly clear
that Serbia had been abandoned by its allies. The Colonel slogged through the
mud to the remnants of his regiments without even saying goodbye.

In Prilep, Gresham and Wilkins located the
small public house called the
Bella Kaphana
and were able to secure
rooms. Gresham was asleep on a bed of old, moldy straw at the small inn when
someone began pounding on his door in the middle of the night, yelling at him
in a language he didn’t understand. He brought his gun with him to the door
and, through signs and gestures, understood from the Serbian soldier there that
he was being summoned. Together, they awakened Wilkins, who gathered that the
Prince Regent had arrived and they were being asked to come immediately. To
have awakened them and bid them come in the middle of the night could only mean
bad news, they thought. Anxiously, Gresham and Wilkins left the hotel quickly
and ran with the Serbian soldier through the darkened streets to a private
townhouse nearby.

           
“Does this fellow have any idea what’s going on?” Gresham asked Wilkins, as
they approached the door.

           
“He only knows that we are wanted at once. The Prince Regent arrived this
evening and is meeting with Colonel Dikovich now.”

           
The house, a modest white-washed but muddy three story building with a red tile
roof, had a large number of soldiers in battle-stained uniforms standing
outside, and it appeared that every room in the house was brightly lit even
though it was well after midnight. People and dogs walked in and out the front
door at will. To Wilkins, who as a boy had visited the grandest palaces in
Europe, it seemed an unusual way to meet a Prince, but he guessed that war had
put an end to the usual protocols.

           
They were directed to a sitting room in the front of the house, but remained
standing in expectation of being summoned to meet the Prince. There was some
sort of a row upstairs; they could hear a man and woman screaming at each
other, and a full banquet seemed to be underway in the kitchens as groups of
soldiers streamed in and out with plates of food. One young soldier entered the
room in a wet and muddy uniform; his riding boots had been removed and his feet
were bare.

           
“Good evening, gentlemen” he said, in passable English, shaking Wilkins’ and
Gresham warmly by the hand. “Can I get you anything? Will you have some
whisky?”

           
“Yes, thank you,” said Gresham.

           
The soldier screamed in Serbian to the kitchen to bring liquor. “Please, be
seated,” he then said calmly. The soldier sat a high-backed wooden chair beside
the fire and put his feet up on the warm bricks as he gestured with his glass
to the two upholstered chairs beside him. A bottle of whisky and two glasses
were brought into the room by another soldier and placed unceremoniously on the
table. Gresham poured for himself and Wilkins.

           
As Wilkins sat uncertainly and waved off the glass offered by Gresham, he at
last drew up the courage to ask: “Are you, in fact, the Prince Regent?”

           
“Yes, you have it,” said the young man. “I am Alexander. Are you sure you won’t
have a whisky?”

           
“No, thank you, your majesty,” said Wilkins.

           
“There is no need for such formalities, Captain. I understand you have come
from Salonika with very bad news. Truly disappointing news, if I may say so. It
seems we have been abandoned by our allies, as we have long feared: Russia is
fighting its own battles, Greece is in turmoil, and the British and French send
us a small fraction of the forces we were promised. Is this not the case?”

           
“You haven’t actually been sent any forces so far,” said Gresham bluntly,
“unless you count the two of us.”

           
“How many of the French and British troops are at Salonika?”

           
“For now,” Wilkins continued, “there will be fewer than forty thousand arriving
in stages over the next few weeks, and, of those, the British have been
instructed not to advance north of Lake Doiran on your southern border.
However, there may be many more men later if the circumstances warrant.”

           
“When?” said the Prince grimly.

           
“We cannot make you any promises about when, sir, but Captain Gresham and I
were sent to propose a plan of action to your government. More importantly, we
were sent to ensure that you, your father and your government are secure.”

           
“Our plan is to fight, Captain. This is our homeland, and we will fight until
we prevail or die.”

           
“Then you will die,” said Gresham. “Only it won’t be you doing the dying
yourself, sir, of course. Your government will certainly flee to Albania and
you will leave as well, before long. It will be the men and women of Serbia who
die, the soldiers killed on the battlefield. Most civilians, it appears, are
already fleeing because they do not expect your army to save them. From what I
have seen, your army is ill prepared to fight the Bulgarians or, for that
matter, anyone else.”

           
“Who is to blame for that, Captain?! Have we not asked for artillery, guns,
ammunition, soldiers? France has given us money to pay. When shall we have our
supplies? When!?” demanded the Prince. “I am not a callous man, Captain. I am
not nearly as callous as your government, I assure you. I do care for my
people. My country has worked many years to force the Ottomans from the Balkans
and maintain our independence from the Hapsburgs. Now the Austrians have come
and they are killing my people, even the old women and children, they are
killing us all, do you understand?”

           
“I cannot make excuses for my government, sir,” said Gresham, “but you should
know that Great Britain and France themselves have too few guns, too few
shells, and too few soldiers. In London there is a great hue and cry over the
inadequate supplies of ammunition. Everywhere it is lacking. No one expected
this war to go on as long as it has.”