Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1915-12-10
GLAD OF SAL0N|KI
DESPITE M|SER|ES
Troops From the GaIIipoIi
Peninsula Find II a We'll
come Change.
IT RAINS ALL THE TIME;
FOOD POOR AND SCARCE
But British and French Soldiers
Manage to Extract Enjoyment
From Existence.
Correspondence Of the Associated Press.

From Existence.
Correspondence Of the Associated Press
SALONIKI Greece, November 10
The camp of the British Mediterranean
expeditionary force lies to the west of
Saloniki-or Thesaloniki as the Greeks
have it-among the rolling foothills Of
Mount Kortchou. Although a very con-
siderable force has already left for
Dorian. on the Serbo-Bulgarian from
tier. there still are some 1900 men
gathered in the camp.
The first lot of British troops landed
in Greece were Irish, as the command
ing officer. Gen. Sir Bryan Mahan, is
Irish. They were what was left of the
Irish division sent out to Gallipoh,
whence they came on to Saloniki. But,
as the general told the Associated
Press: They are not as Irish as they
were" Not he added, that they are
any less Irish-only there are fewer of
them" For a great many were killed.
wounded and taken prisoner in CALI
poll, and have been replaced by what
material was at hand.
Content to Leave Gallipoli.
Whatever they are. they are beyond
any doubt content to leave Gallipoli.
The climate of Saloniki is nothing to
boast of at this season. 1t rains every
day. The rough, badly paved streets
are muddy and full of chuck holes. The
roads-such as they are-are knee-deep
in mud. Flour is scarce and the food is
bad and dear. The price of everything
has gone up three times. since the ar
rival of the foreign troops. A Brlt1sh
sovereign. for the first time in its life
in a bankrupt country like Greece, is
worth less than its face value in local
money. While French Is fairly current
as a language. English is not spoken
at all. Yet despite all Of these material
drawbacks, the British Tommy in his
camp outside Saloniki is so delighted
to escape the heat, the flies. the thirst
and the stenches of Gallipoli that he
finds Macedonia sort of paradise by
comparison.
The road from the harbor to his
camp lies through the old Turkish
quarter of the town, at a. steep angle
up narrow, winding streets. From al
most every house hangs a projecting
second story in which the latticed win
dows of the haremlike do not always
conceal the eager, curious. unveiled
faces of Turkish women watching the
soldiers. Shops open their whole fronts
direct onto the street. The shoe
maker or tinsmith sits, cross-legged, at
his work in what would be the show
window.
All Clamor for Food.
The camp bound British Tommy, like
every one else, is forced to bargain
for his purchases from the Sidewalk
a proceeding which does not improve
the. already badly. jumbled traffic ar
rangements. At the bakeries there Ia
always a mob of clamoring humanity.
struggling. for the chance to buy the
round, fiat foaves of black bread. made
with fourth-grade f1our-tl1e only -four
availa ble-of which there is never
enough to supply the current. daily
needs of the inhabitants of Saloniki,
the refugees and the Greek army. The
foreigners bring their own food with
them: if they did not they would run
serious risks of starvation.
At every crossroad the returning
Tommy loses himself in a dense crowd
of Greek soldiers. SO slight in COM
parison with the stocky. deep-chested
French, SO diminutive in comparison
with the tall, wiry British. The Greeks
seem to be gathered just where the
foreign soldiers must pass in going to
and from camp. Whether the purpose
be to give the Greeks an object lesson
In soldierly bearing or to impress the
not clear. Greek army pack mules
choke the way at every turn. The
streets are scarcely passable. The
noise. the confusion, the mixture of
half dozen strangersEall of this in
contrast to the SILENCE and the pat
tering of the wind-blowsn sand In the
desert land of Gallipoli, enchants the
British Tommy. He is as one intoxi-
Gated with a revelation that there is
still normal life in the world.
Turks No Longer Masters.
Finally the way to the camp leaves
the town. between the high walls Of
twin burial grounds-one Jewish, the
other Greek. A little further ON is the
old Turkish cemetery. But the Turks
are no longer masters of Macedonia
The headstones of their graves are
scattered and broken; the graves them
selves no longer marked. The cemetery
has become the corral of hundreds Of
Greek army mules-the dusty, I'M
watered expresses shade the mule
drivers rather than the tombs Of the
Mussulman dead, their faces. toward
the east. Close by, a long series of
barracks built of brick shelters tens
of thousands of refugees from Mace
donna and Thrace and from Serbia, the
dereiicts of war.
The road In the open country be-
comes an incredible succession of mud
holes along which swing columns of
broa shouIdered, blue-clad Frenchmen
making their way to their own camp
lying to the south of the British com
pound. Trains of supply wagons. off,
GERS automobiles, motor trucks, or
Tories" as the English call them, force
Tommies and .poilus" alike into the
soggy fields. Two huge tractors draw
each a gray-painted French four-inch
long range gun. on whose muzzIes are
painted their names. One is 'Coche
Chaser" the other is Death Splitter"
Along the road hundreds Of itinerant
mprovised stands in the fields. Neck
ties. hot chestnuts. suspenders. writing
paper, raw shrimDs. socks. sweetmeats.
fortunes told. photographs taken-and
bang goes Tommy's pay. Enterprising
Semitic merchants have even installed
barrels of beer in the fields as stations
OF refuge for the thirsty soldier too
long on the way. Beggars. Of course
cripples, little girls in tsttered, hol-
low-cheeked misery. the old of every
race and kind.
Enending Acres Of Tents.
Finally the tent city appears. seem
Ing to cover amending acreH of hilltops.
The road and a stream separate tho
French from the. British. Along. the
stream the British Tommies kneel,
| washing their clothes against the rocks
as any French washwoman might.
Where the stream frfck1ea oyAr q 6va :