HALF an hour before dawn one day in November 1915 an Italian destroyer lowered a boat off the Bay of San Giovanni di Medua and landed some nine British officers (quorum pars magna) on the beach. Medua consists of a cluster of stone cottages in a strip of marsh, just large enough to make the malaria endemic, which nestles at the foot of the Albanian coast hills. It has no inn, but there is a sort of village shop which sells liquor, and to this we were conducted. Our baggage, including stores with which we were to feed ourselves for a period of two months, had all been sent off the day before by an Italian fishing-boat, but we had not been landed half an hour before the news arrived that the baggage-ship had been sunk by an Austrian submarine three miles down the coast. For the next five For the next five months the wardrobe of the party consisted of the clothes in which they then stood. In this disaster the writer had a private grief. Having travelled in these parts before, I had taken the precaution on my way through Rome to lay in a store of Alban wine in large demijohns containing ten or twelve firkins apiece. One of these demijohns I had managed to bring with me on the destroyer, so that the party

was not without the rudiments of a breakfast. But there were five more, like unto it, lying at the bottom of the Adriatic.

It now appeared, however, that Judson, also a traveller, had similarly retained by way of hand-luggage a "ohop-box," one of these wooden boxes fitted with the tinned delicacies which British officers like. Judson is a very remarkable man. He has spent his life travelling all over the world, and has learnt no language but English in the course of it. Judson says, "I cannot see the use of other languages. I always get on perfectly well with the natives," and it is quite true. He now set the natives to work to make porridge with a tin of Quaker Oats.

"I daresay you've not seen Quaker Oats before," said Judson, speaking slowly, so that the Albanian housewife could understand, "but you make it just the same as with oatmeal."

"Po! Po!" said the Albanian respectfully. "Tcha thot xotnia?" ("What does the lord say?") she added, when Judson had finished his instructions.

While we were sitting down to the upshot of these instructions, the Austrian submarine

turned up. Proceeding insolently right into the bay not more than 250 yards from

land, she fired three torpedoes, sinking a fishing-boat. One of the torpedoes landed on the beach but did not explode. The Albanians gathered round, and began to mock it and poke it with sticks.

we

On the following day we proceeded to Scutari, one day's drive when the road is in a tolerable state. Scutari is a city of rumours, and our arrival caused some sensation. Monastir had just fallen, and the columns of the Serbian Army were retreating through the snows of High Albania. Gruesome rumours as to their reception by the Albanian tribesmen filled the town. Our arrival at this juncture gave rise to the belief that were the advance party of an Anglo-French Armywell-informed persons said half a million strong-which was to take the Germans in flank from the Adriatic. That tall officer was the Commanderin-Chief, the favourite brother of Lord Kičnér. The cousin of the Kavass at the Italian Consulate had told some one that very morning at the Post Office that a fleet of 1000 aeroplanes had already landed at Medua, but an Austrian submarine had destroyed some of them. Small wonder, therefore, that we had the best rooms at the Soutari Hotel that night.

It may at once be explained that all these surmises were incorrect. The sole purpose of our Mission was to make arrangements for the feeding and supplying of the Serbian

Army, which it was then hoped would be able to maintain itself through the winter on the Serbian side of the Albanian Alps. The news which we received on our arrival made it clear that there was no chance of this being done, and done, and that the Army itself would soon be upon us in Scutari. We further began to perceive that the Austrian submarines might constitute a complication of greater magnitude than had been anticipated. For the moment there was nothing to be done except telegraph to expedite the food-ships, and wait till the Serbians arrived.

We had about a week before they came, a happy week when the Bazaar was full of coffee and sugar and eggs and vegetables. We took over an Albanian house for our headquarters, and engaged an admirable Albanian cook. We bought a flock of turkeys and a number of fowls, and flour and rice and about a ton of onions, which afterwards when the famine began were our salvation. In the afternoons we would walk down to the Bazaar, and sit cross-legged on the floor of the shops, while the merchants gave us coffee and cigarettes, and sold us scarlet cloaks and embroidered waistcoats at exorbitant prices. We had plenty of gold Napoleons, which the merchants were delighted to get. A gold Napoleon was then worth about 30 paper perpers (Montenegrin francs). Two months later, just before the Austrian advance, you could

get 150 for it anywhere in the Bazaar; and the Serbian silver dinar (franc) and paper 10-frano note were worth about the same-24d. or 3d. The Turkish money, which still circulates largely in Albania, maintained its exchange value with very little fluctuation throughout the Austrian campaign.

Towards the end of November the Serbians began to arrive. The retreat of an army can never be a satisfactory operation for the troops taking part in it, and its effects are not less demoralising because it is described as "strategio," or "planmässig," or "in consolidation of our positions.' From the point when baggage has to be abandoned selfishness begins and discipline declines, and in proportion as the conditions approach those of the natural struggle for existence the process is accelerated. No retreating army can keep its morale. The Serbians in this retreat had come about as near exhaustion as an army can get. The column to which my servant Milivoj (of whom more later) belonged had no rations issued for the last six days before they reached Scutari. For weeks after he would pick up any stray piece of food he saw lying about, not because he was hungry, but from the same sort of instinct that makes some people save the string off parcels "Never know when that may come in useful."

The Crown Prince made a state entry into Soutari at the head of his bodyguard, "una cinquantina di cavalleria bellis

sima," in claret-coloured Hussar uniforms with blue trousers. This seemed a good move, and impressed the Soutarenes, who are accustomed from old Turkish times to bedraggled soldiery and brilliant High Commands, and no doubt base their impressions mainly on the latter. The General Staff arrived the day after. The first news we had of their arrival was the sudden appearance in our Mess of two distinguished British officers, hoarse, hungry, bearded and bootless, one in a naval and the other in a military uniform. One was Admiral Troubridge, commanding the British Naval Brigade in the Serbian Army. The other was Colonel Phillips, then Military Attaché in Serbia, but formerly Governor of Soutari in 1913, and a name to conjure with in that city.

Meanwhile with many delays, and a heavy toll of losses, due to the Austrian submarines, food supplies began to come over and did something to check the famine which had set in after Scutari had been stripped. England and France provided these supplies, but it was mainly Italian vessels which took the risk and paid the price of the price of bringing them across the Adriatic. When one hears of "Italo-Serb antipathy," and the like, it is worth remembering, on the other side of the account, that the Serbian Army owes it in the first place to Italy that they were kept alive during these critical months. There was never much margin, how

In December Admiral Troubridge, at the request of the Serbian General Staff, took over the command of the Port of Medua. There was a pleasant incident when the Admiral rode into Medua at the head of the Naval Brigade, in their patched and ragged uniforms, mounted on the shaggy mountain ponies with which they had made the passage of the Albanian Alps. The Serbian officer commanding had collected some sixty Serbians, not less ragged than the Naval Brigade, given them each an extra piece of bread, and lined them up on either side of the road as a Guard of Honour. When the Admiral saw them he stopped in surprise, reined in his horse, and saluted them with the words: "Pažame Bog junaci!" ("God be with you heroes!") When a Serbian General reviews troops in peace time, it is the custom for him to greet them with the words, "Pažame Bog voinici!" ("God be with you soldiers !") In war, or as a special compliment, "Voinici" (soldiers) becomes "Junaci" (heroes). It was a long time since these men had stood on a parade-ground or heard this greeting. It brought back Serbia to them, and made them forget their sufferings.

Every day Austrian aeroplanes from Cattaro would fly over Scutari and Medua and drop bombs. The Montenegrin authorities used to telegraph to Soutari and Medua when

Thereupon the Admiral used to hoist the Union Jack, and the men at work unloading the ships would run up the mountain side for cover. At Scutari the bells of the Cathedral were tolled for a warning. When the bells rang my Serbian servant, Milivoj, used to observe, "Mili Boga Catolici !" ("the Catholics are praying to God!"). This was a pleasantry on Milivoj's part, as the Albanian Christians in Scutari are Catholics, while Milivoj, being Serbian, is Orthodox, It certainly never failed to elicit heated protest from our Albanian house-boys, one of whom understood a little Serb, as it was felt the remark implied that when an Orthodox prays to God he gets something better from the Almighty in the way of an answer than bombs.

In January rumours of the impending Montenegrin capitulation grew stronger, and we began to prepare for the inevitable retreat. The Serbian troops began to move southward, while the civilian refugees were shipped to Italy from Medua and Durazzo. Our Mission had by now been very much split up. Large detachments of A.S.C. had been landed at Durazzo and Valona, and a party of Engineers had been at work on the roads. The writer and one other officer were the only military members of the Mission left at Scutari at the last. When the news came that the Austrians were over the Lovčen, we held a