< Section Ten (First part)

 

AN ATTACK AND AN ADVANCE --- THE ALBANIAN NAVY

 

On September 5 Section Ten followed the Albanian offensive from Lake Malik to Lake Ochrida. In five days the attacking divisions drove the Boches back some fifty kilometres more than the schedule laid out for two weeks' operations. Section Ten had to move postes northward day and night every few hours to keep up with the attack. An Austrian hospital one morning in Pogredec on Lake Ochrida was a French hospital in the evening --- beds, instruments, buildings, long, thin German Red Crosses, and all. Once the ambulances got ahead of the attack and established a poste in front of the infantry and artillery, with only a few cavalry to keep it company in case the Boches stopped running. Nothing could stop the wild charges of the Moroccan spahis except the order of the French General to slow down until the food trains could catch up. Only pack-mules and Ford ambulances were able to follow the army over the pontoon bridges and the bad roads left by the Austrians. On the steep hill coming out of Pogredec from Lake Ochrida, the General happened one day to see Lieutenant Daniel Faure and Chef Carl A. Randau. pushing an ambulance up the grade; so he ordered a dozen poilus to be stationed there to do nothing but this work. It was too steep even for Fords to climb without help. At a number of other places men had to be stationed to help machines through mud and bad places.

The success of the attack gave Section Ten two new cantonments, one at Lesnicha, where the hastily deserted headquarters of the Boche officers were turned over to the Unit, and another at Pogredec on Lake Ochrida. This latter cantonment was on a sandy shore, with a fine swimming-beach, of as pretty a mountain lake as can be found anywhere. Before the war the place was noted as a resort. Across the water was Ochrida, held by the Austrians, whence rafts armed with machine guns came out to worry the French. But the latter were more than masters of the naval situation with their two launches armed with cannon. These boats had been brought over the mountains on trucks and trains from Salonica and were manned by French sailors from the navy.

With no two weeks of work ever the same, life in the Balkans did not grow monotonous, largely because we were always busy. Thus, our repos consisted of coming in to the Koritza cantonment, where the men were always on call helping out the French ambulance service. The Unit averaged twelve cars on duty for eighty-four days without a break, and many times we had all twenty cars "rolling" up and down the mountains. In August, 2675 men were carried 40,506 kilometres. In September, 1779 men were carried 18,840 kilometres. The first twenty days of October saw 12,000 miles covered and some 800 men moved. At the end, three cars were always without wheels, owing to shortage of supplies, the wheels being switched from one machine to another as it went on duty.

Everywhere in the Balkans we encountered natives who spoke English and who had lived in America or had relatives who had been there. A large percentage of the Albanian population was of this sort, and all wanted to move to "the States" after the war. Their "Hullo, Johnny, how are you? What you want?" was the greeting everywhere, and their friendliness often came in handy when the Section wanted to buy something, or when we got lost on a strange road. John, the barber, became our authority for after-dinner discussions on Albanian life.

Food conditions in Albania were bad. People actually starved, and it was a common sight to see women and children picking up grains of corn and wheat from the filth of the gutter in front of the French supply headquarters. Sugar and flour could not be bought. The Army was forbidden to get grain from the natives, for the production of the soil was to be reserved for the civilian population which almost starved the year before. Army supplies were better, but were not sufficiently good to keep the men well even when they lived up to the rule of the doctors, "never eat anything not cooked an hour." Finally, Vern Caughell and Sedley Peck took over the cooking end of the Section's activities and we lived à l'américaine so far as style of cooking was concerned.

The valley in which the Section worked was, with the adjacent hills, known. as the Republic of Koritza, and with the help of the French the natives were improving conditions considerably. Toward the end of our stay the Albanians won to our good graces, though for a long time we considered them only a ragged, dirty, ignorant, and starving people who let the women do all the work while the men fought among themselves. The women were rough and ragged. Both sexes were hard to deal with as regards business, which could be conducted only after much Oriental bartering. But gradually we concluded that these were conditions brought on by over six years of war, in which the Albanians had been the victims of other Powers.

 

THE FAMOUS BAZAAR

In two ways the Section won for America immortal fame among the Albanians. The first was due to our bazaar. When the Section was ordered back to France, we were told to travel without much baggage. Having come down with a full winter equipment, we had much to dispose of, and an auction was started in the reception-room of our Koritza house. The word quickly passed around, and for a week the place was packed with bartering and bickering natives. They were eager to get anything American, having had no foreign goods for years, but insisted on the Oriental haggling before buying. Prices soared, but the goods sold.

The other cause of American renown was a farewell reception given us by the missionaries and Albanians --- Mahometans and Christians alike, where more than half of the natives were of Turkish faith. They called for musical selections from the Americans when we had gathered in the missionary school. So the missionaries asked Aupperle for some lively airs, explaining that he was an artist at "rag music." Aupperle took the stool, and as the piano began to shake and "Oh, Johnny, oh, Johnny" thundered out, heads began to rise out of the crowd everywhere to see what he was doing to the piano. The Albanians were dumbfounded. Then the reception needed a fitting climax. Translated speeches on both sides did not seem ample. Finally some one had the happy thought to suggest a college yell, and we gave a "Skyrocket" for Albania. When we had finished, they were too amazed for words, and it was several minutes before they could recover breath enough to clamor, "Do it again." We did, but even then they were not convinced that it was a human effort, and some of them visited the missionaries next morning to ask how it was that "the Americans cheered like a machine."

 

LEAVING ALBANIA FOR GOOD

Monday, October 22, after barely three months of service, the Section bumped for the last time over the narrow, cobbled, crooked streets of Koritza in the White truck and saw for the last time the Republic of Koritza.

The Field Service sections in France were being taken over by the newly arrived American Army, but the United States War Department, we subsequently learned, had refused to adopt the Field Service sections in the Balkans, because the United States was as yet at war only with Germany, and there were no German troops engaged on the Balkan front. It was considered unneutral to have ambulance sections serving with troops opposed to the Austrian and Bulgarian armies. Hence we had been recalled to France. Under orders from the Field Service Headquarters we turned over all our cars, tools, spare parts, and equipment to the French formations with which we had been serving, and made a rather hasty departure.

After twice almost going over embankments as the lorry skidded on the muddy Pisadori Pass, we arrived at Florina Station, and soon were off again on our wandering, going first to Salonica now ruined and blackened, then down the Greek coast in a little Greek liner, to Athens, where we spent a week, and then up to Bralo in Central Greece, over the Parnassus Pass to Itea, and on the Gulf of Corinth; to Italy, and thence by train to France, following in the wake of the Italian reserves.

Paris seemed like home after the crude customs of Albania, and it was days before we could pass pastryshops without entering them, or keep from staring blankly at every good-looking girl. A week after the arrival in Paris, we were in eight different branches of service, and Section Ten became only a fine memory of a wonderful five months of our lives.

 

FRANK J. TAYLOR*
*Of Los Angeles, California; Stanford University; served with Section Ten in the Orient from July to November, 1917.

 

VI
AFTER THE BATTLE

 

Koritza, Albania, September 21, 1917

Fighting on this front is very different from the species presented on the Western Front. There are few heavy guns and no massing even of soixante-quinzes. The French used only thirty, tout-ensemble, in this last "drive." The two factors which necessitate this difference are the great distance from supplies and the mountainous nature of the battle-front. All supplies from Salonica come on a little single track, then must be loaded on camions, the number of which is not sufficient to handle a great offensive; and from camions they must be again transferred to mules or two-wheeled wagons, on which they make another journey of some thirty kilometres to the front. The roads are not good, and lead over strenuous hills, making the camion part of the journey slow, tedious, and expensive.

The French attack occurred in the region of Lake Ochrida, the objective being to push the line forward to a point where it would interrupt the German supply artery from Durazzo to Monastir. Also the French wished to gain a road from Koritza to Monastir previously held by the Boche, and which wound around the northern end of Lake Presba. I was wakened at three the morning the attack started and was sent out to poste. I made the acquaintance of a French lieutenant, and we climbed up a hill to watch the sport. The French held one range of hills and the Austrians a parallel range of loftier mountains. Between was a green valley traversed by a small river. French batteries in the valley and others behind the French line of hills undertook to silence the Boche guns on the opposing mountains. We could see the flashes of the French battery in front of us in the valley, concealed from the enemy by a high grove of trees, then hear the nervous, metallic crack of the guns, and then, straining our eyes, could see the sudden burst of dust as the shell broke near the enemy trench. The French maintained a superior fire throughout, silencing most of the enemy guns, and ripping up some of their trenches. Then the infantry charged up the hill and took it. It was certainly some feat, for the other day Aupperle and I climbed up to the German positions, taking our time, and we were certainly winded and tired when we finally gained the summit. However, I am not sure how much resistance they met with, as they were opposed by Czech-Bohemians who surrendered more than willingly in the majority of instances.

From the first attack on it was "duck soup" for the French, who chased them over a dozen succeeding ranges of hills. The major part of the fighting was done by Moroccan horsemen, a wonderful body of troops, riding splendid stallions, who preceded the infantry, driving back the Boches and charging the most stubborn heights on foot. A regiment of Senegalese from Africa --towering, jet-black negroes --- also participated to a large and satisfactory extent.

Altogether the French pierced to a distance of some fifty-five kilometres, a distance, if gained on the Western Front, which would certainly make consternation reign in Berlin. We followed close behind the troops, preceding the ravitaillement, and driving over some of the damnedest roads I have ever seen. In some places it was so steep that every one, even the assis, had to get out and walk. On one grade a squad of brancardiers was detailed to help us over; they have a regular camp there now, whence they sally forth at the despairing sounds of our approaching Fords.

The French now have a boat on Lake Ochrida, to clear the lake of hostile craft, part of the shores of which they at present occupy. It was put on a train at Salonica, and then trucked by camion over all sorts of roads the last hundred kilometres. It weighs nine tons, and has a 58 mm. cannon, and a couple of machine guns. No "Dutch" periscopes have as yet been sighted on the lake, but they are expected daily. The whole business makes quite a refreshing piece of news after all the scientific and precisely manipulated warfare of the Western Front.

They took a bunch of prisoners, most of whom come either from Dalmatia or Bohemia. We talked with a lot of them, and they all seemed sincerely glad to be captured, as they had had little to eat and showed that plainly by the emaciated condition of their bodies. Most of them cared not a bit which side won, and some seemed to be in sympathy with the cause of the Allies. A few, however, thought that the war would last a considerable time, and the Boches be finally victorious.

Almost all of the French poilus whom I carry and ask when they think the war will end, say " Bientôt --- trois mois." They are all very fed up with being so far away from "la belle France."

 

BURNET C. WOHLFORD*
*Of Escondido, California; Stanford University, '18; in S.S.U. 10 of the Field Service, June, 1917, to November, 1917; served with the U.S.A. Ambulance Service during the war.

 

VII
MADE AN OFFICER

Albania, August 8

I am now an officer, the Sous-Chef of the Section, and quite largely responsible for the actual condition of the Corps, so that with the fearful rush we stepped into, I've been kept humping. And so, since it is my duty to supervise the spare parts department and be in command of the French mechanics who repair the cars, the combination of circumstances has provided what I've long been longing for on this side --- something real to do. The past ten days I have risen promptly at 6 A.M., worked all day with time out for meals, and knocked off at 8 P.M., reading from then until 9 or 10, when I have rolled under for the "eight hours."

Being an officer certainly has its advantages and its drawbacks. The chief of the latter is the being called on to order men I've "bummed" through college with as friends for two, three, or four years. I think it's as hard for them to obey, or rather acquiesce. The privileges are, primarily, better quarters, better accommodations, and better food when travelling, more opportunity for work, and a valet. Oh, yes, a valet! He's an Albanian who has been to America, and speaks English, Albanian, Greek, Serbian, and French. We call him "Rapide," because he is slow, and he helps in the kitchen outside of "office hours."

Carl Randau and I have for quarters a large room with five barred windows, in a one-story Albanian stone bungalow, quite near the Section's main quarters. The place is surrounded by a three-foot-thick, ten-foot-high stone wall, with a mediaeval fortress gate, barred at night by eight-inch square oak timbers. All this because of bandits, you see. The walls and ceiling of the room are tinted an exquisite pink; the fireplace and mantel between the two front windows are a glowing Lake Tahoe blue; while the row of closets at the back of the room is a livid green. The door matches the fireplace. The floor is bare, with holes in it. We each have a folding iron bed brought from the French front, and over them we have draped mosquito nettings, completely encircling each bed and extending five feet above them. They look like posters. Each of us has unearthed a table, and these are already covered with the usual litter of books and papers and lamps. With the officership goes a big, ugly automatic, all loaded, to lay on the table against assault and as a paper-weight. On the whole, everything is O.K., and we have made ourselves quite comfortable here.

 

FROM PITTSBURGH TO ALBANIA --- BARTERING

August 18

Recently I was sitting on my running-board waiting for my engine to cool after a steep hill, when along came a ballet-skirted Albanian clubbing a donkey. I was feeling "funny," so I called out in English, "Hello, Joe, what ye beating that donkey for?" And he came right back, "Hello!" And then admitted that he was from Pittsburgh, Pa., U.S.A. What a reversion! From Pittsburgh to beating a donkey across a lonely Albanian pass, the while clothed in that incongruous garb!

The Road is life! There's more music and religion in the Road, especially the Mountain Road, than in all the stone temples of the world.

September 17

I'm preparing to go to Koritza on the 1st and celebrate my twenty-first birthday. Such an unthought-of place for me to celebrate my majority! Still, I look at it as an omen of an interesting life. If I'm here now and I've seen what I have seen when I'm only twenty, what shall I not have seen and done when I'm fifty? It's a question and a promise, if only the war don't last too long to bring about a tragedy of lost ambitions and energies. If it lasts many years longer, that will be one of the tragedies --- broken, dismayed youth.

 

WILLIAM J. LOSH*
*Of San Francisco; Stanford, '17; in the Field Service, Section Fourteen, March to June, 1917; Section Ten, July to November, 1917, as Sous-Chef; subsequently First Lieutenant, U.S.A. Ambulance Service, with the French Army. These are extracts from home letters.