Kingdoms Fall - The Laxenburg Message (25 page)

           
“Then tell me of this plan you have been sent to offer us.”

           
“Prime Minister Venizelos invites you, your government, and your army to
retreat to the Greek island of Corfu,” explained Wilkins, “over the mountains
to Albania and then by sea on British and French transport ships. Your men will
be supplied on Corfu by the French, and your security at Corfu will be
guaranteed by the British Navy. Next year, I suspect, Greece will no longer be
a neutral country. Then your allies will stand beside you to take back your
homeland.”

           
“This is not a plan, it is an ultimatum. The war will end, and we will be
forgotten on an isolated Greek island in the middle of the sea. Most Serbians
have never even seen the sea!”

           
“Sir,” said Gresham, “I speak to you as a soldier who has seen this war from
the trenches, not from an office in London or Paris, and I say you are wrong.
This war will
not
end. It is fatally deadlocked. In France and Belgium,
hundreds of thousands of men die in pitched battles over mere yards of
territory, territory that was first made into a wasteland by millions of
artillery shells. There are areas in Belgium where, for mile upon mile, not a house
nor church nor even a tree remains standing. Believe me when I say to you that
this war is nowhere near ending. Both sides will fight on until one no longer
has the machinery to wage war or men who can die. You
will
have your
opportunity to return to Serbia with your army.”

           
“But your government must be kept safe,” added Wilkins. “And at Corfu, you may
bring your army with you. Otherwise they are certain to be forced into
surrender in your homeland, and if you or your father is captured, you will be
forced to abdicate. We cannot let our enemies lay hands on either of you. That
is why we have been sent to assure your security. I know you will do what you
must, but we must find your father, as well.”

           
The Prince considered a moment. “You speak with passion, gentlemen, and I do
know that you speak the truth. Perhaps this is the best plan for now.
Regardless, it is not a decision I would make alone. Premier Pashitch speaks
for the people and Marshal Putnik for the army; they must agree to this plan,
but I tell you they will be more skeptical than I.”

“And your father?” ask Wilkins.

“If my father were to approve of the plan, the
rest would likely agree. I may be the Prince Regent, but my father still
commands their respect.”

“Then I must insist you tell us where we can
find King Peter,” said Wilkins.

“Well, truthfully, I do not know. He is with
the
Chetniks
. They are perhaps in the mountains north of Prishtina.
Since my father made me his Regent, he has often done as he pleases.”

           
“Then with your permission,” said Gresham, “Captain Wilkins and I would like to
find your father and escort him to meet with you, Premier Pashitch and Marshal
Putnik before it is too late.”

           
“I understand. You wish to convince him that this plan of retreat has merit.
Well, he must be found either way, as we cannot leave my father in Serbia while
the rest of us escape to Greece, as you say. I will send you to him with a
detachment of the Fourteenth Regiment. And I will send messengers to Putnik and
Pashitch to meet us.” The Prince stood, and Gresham and Wilkins quickly rose
from their seats. He stepped to Gresham and shook his hand heartily. “Thank
you, Captains, and I wish you good luck in finding my father.”

           
Gresham and Wilkins departed the next morning in the company of twenty men from
the Serbian Army’s Fourteenth Regiment. The officers were traveling on
horseback and searching in the mountains north of Prishtina for the
Chetnik
camp. Because they moved frequently, the
Chetniks
were difficult to
locate. Gresham and Wilkins were growing anxious to find King Peter and running
out of time before the date of the meeting that was to be held in the town of
Petch, a few miles over the border into Montenegro. Each day the Austrians and
Bulgarians advanced further into Serbia, and the noose was drawing tight. The
Germans and Austrians were battering the Serbian army at Kraljevo, less than
100 miles to the north.

Gresham and Wilkins rose early each morning,
shook the new snow or the frost from their tents and blankets, drank a cup of
extremely strong tea with sugar, and rode through the plains, forests and
villages questioning anyone they found. Although many Serbians had fled from
the north and east towards the south and west, around the city of Prishtina
there were still many small villages where the peasants remained. At times,
Austrian aircraft flew overhead, and the sight of them put everyone in a bad
mood. Once, a low flying aeroplane dropped bombs which exploded harmlessly
fifty yards to the side or behind them, but after a few attempts the pilot ran
out of ammunition and simply flew off. Later that day, from a bluff on the
mountainside, they could see Austrian soldiers marching not far to the east.

The Serbian soldiers in the company were
excellent foragers. They were careful not to loot from their own countrymen,
but there were many stray pigs and goats wandering in barren fields. Something
would be caught and roasted over a campfire each night, and that, together with
stale bread and hard cheese, made up their only meal each day. Then they would
drink by the fire to keep warm. “Do you know how this war started, Captain?”
one of the Serbian soldiers asked Wilkins one night. “You don’t? Well, then I
will tell you. The Sultan of Turkey sent King Peter a sack of rice. King Peter
looked at the sack, smiled, then took a very small bag and went into the garden
and filled it with red peppers. He sent the bag of red peppers to the Sultan of
Turkey. Now, my friend, you can see what that means. The Sultan of Turkey said
to Peter, ‘my army is as numerous as the grains of rice in this sack,’ and by
sending back the small bag of red peppers to the Sultan, the King replied, ‘my
army is not very numerous, but it is mighty hot stuff!’ Ha, ha, ha, ha!”

Bad news also found them each day and increased
their anxiety. There were reports from refugee families that the city of Nish
was under siege by the Bulgarians and that huge battles were being fought in
the plains of Ovche Pole and in the Morava River valley to the southeast of
Nish. Time was quickly running out.

One afternoon, they were riding through a cold,
grey forest when a band of Bulgarian
Comitadjes
found them. As usual,
the company had spread out as they rode through the trees. Gresham and Wilkins
were riding together over the light snow that had fallen during the night when
they heard shots fired to their right. At once, the members of the company
turned and rode to the sound of the small arms fire. A band of Bulgarian
irregulars had ambushed one of the Serbians, mistakenly believing him to be
alone. The Bulgarians chose to stand and fight, simply ducking into a thick
copse of trees from which to fire. Gresham sent half the company with Wilkins
around the right to attack the
Comitadjes
from the rear, as he and the
remaining Serbian troops pinned down the Bulgarians. Within minutes, Wilkins
had brought his men up behind and slaughtered the Bulgarians with no
difficulty. Just then, another group of well-armed men on horseback, rifles
drawn, emerged from the woods on their left.

           
“
који сте ви
људи и ко је у
команди
овде?”
said their leader, a tall, thin man with a
large mustache and small eyes. He wore an unusual uniform with a bandolier,
carried a rifle, and looked very angry.

           
“
Јеси ли
Српске
?
”
Wilkins said, in reply.

“
Ја
сам
мајор
Танкосић
,
а ја
понављам
:
Ко је
главни
?
”

“This is Major
Tankosich,
the leader of the
Chetnik
fighters hereabouts,” Wilkins said to Gresham,
who nodded and lowered his rifle.

“
Мој
пријатељ и
британски
сам послао је
кнез. Ми смо
били
замољени да
пронађете
свог оца и
замолите га
да дође на
конференцију
са премијером
и маршала
Путника
,” Wilkins told the
Serbian Major.

Tankosich
looked disdainful of
the British officers. He spoke to one of the Serbian soldiers who had been
traveling with Wilkins and Gresham, then dismounted and spoke to several more.
His countenance remained dark but he at last walked over to speak to Wilkins
directly.

“
Ја сам
уверавања да
говорим
истину. Краљ
Петар је са
нама на нашем
кампу. Ја ћу
вам донети
тамо
,” Tankosich said coldly, and then returned to
his horse and mounted.

“He means to take us to King Peter. The king is
at the Major’s camp and we are to go there directly.”

“Excellent,” Gresham said without enthusiasm as
he turned to his own mount.

They followed Major
Tankosich and his men for an hour through a maze of
trees clearly intended to keep the visiting British officers confused. The
forest was dense, dark and veiled in fog, and very soon Gresham and Wilkins were
quite lost. They climbed down into a deep ravine, and then at last up onto a
sheltered recess on the mountainside where tents were scattered about and a
fair number of extremely large and sinister-looking men were tending to their
dinner.

“
Сачекајте
овде. Ја ћу
видети краља
Петра
,” Tankosich said as he dismounted and
walked into the largest tent. After only a moment, he emerged with an older man
in a stained and dusty royal blue uniform, who strode quickly towards Gresham
and Wilkins. The old soldier was a tall, wiry man with a great drooping grey
mustache and very short grey hair. His eyes were serious, sad and clever at
once, like a fox’s eyes. He walked first to Wilkins and held out his hand.

“Gentlemen, it is very
kind of you to come. I am Peter. Please tell me your names.”

“I am Captain James
Wilkins, your majesty, and this is my comrade Captain David Gresham,’ he said,
shaking the King’s hand.

“I am honored, truly,
gentlemen, to have you visit our camp. I understand you have been looking for us
for many days. Please, come inside so we may talk comfortably.” The King led
them to his large tent and held the flap open for them to enter. King Peter had
a small wood stove inside his tent and a camp bed, a few chairs and boxes, a
phonograph and a fine buffet on which stood a large and gem-encrusted gold
crucifix.

“You’ll forgive an old
man his comforts,” the King continued. “The crucifix we rescued from a church
that the Austrians had set ablaze. They did not think to steal the contents
first. No doubt that is an error for which someone paid dearly. Please sit.”

“Thank you, your
majesty,” said Wilkins.

“Please, call me Peter,
or ‘Pierre Kara.’ That is the name everyone uses here; it’s the name I was
given when I served in the French Foreign Legion.”

“When did you serve
with the French, sir?” Gresham asked.

“I fought in the
Franco-Prussian war, after attending university in Paris.”

“You were raised in
France, Sir?”

“No, no. In Romania mostly,
and Geneva; in those days, my family was still in exile, you see. But, please,
tell me why you are here, Captains. Is it true that my son sent you?”

“Yes, sir,” said
Wilkins. “You see, your allies and your son are quite anxious that your
security be guaranteed and that there exist no possibility that you might be
captured. In that regard, there’s to be a meeting in the town of
Petch in three days
where your son the Prince Regent will discuss a proposal that Captain Gresham
and I have presented on behalf of the Prime Minister of Greece and the British
and French governments. Marshal Putnik and Premier Pashitch will also be there.
However, your son thought it would be of tremendous value to have you attend as
well.”

“My son tends to be a bit imperious, and if he
is discussing this proposal of yours with Putnik and Pashitch, it must be a
very serious and delicate matter. So of course I am now anxious to hear it.
Please, tell me why you are here.”

“Sir, have you, in fact, been able to stay
informed of the situation in Serbia now that you are living in the mountains
with Major
Tankosich?” Wilkins asked gently.

The king was chuckling
as he went to pour a glass of brandy for himself and two more for Gresham and
Wilkins. As he handed them the glasses, he replied: “You think perhaps I am a
tin soldier playing in the mountains while my people are massacred and our
country is taken from us by force. No, I am not that old, Captain. But you do
not appreciate, perhaps, that I have already placed the powers of the throne
into the hands of my son. He is my Regent, the one playing at being king now,
just as I did for many years.”