Harrisburg telegraph. [volume] (Harrisburg, Pa.) 1879-1948, 1915-12-17
RAIN TRANSFERS
SALONIKI CAMP
INTO MUDHOLE
Wet Season Makes Things IN
pleasant For British Ex-
peditionary Force
PICTURESQUE OLD TOWN
Soldiers of Many Nationalities
Rub Elbows in Parked
Little Streets
PICTURESQUE OLD TOWN

Saloniki, Greece. Dec. 9 (corre-
spondence of the Associated Press).-
The camp of the British Mediter-
ranean eXpeditionary force lies to the
west of Saloniki-or Thesaloniki as
the Greeks have it-among the rolling
foothills of Mount Kortchou. AL
though a very considerable force has
already left for Doiran, on the Serb
Bulgarian frontier. there are still some
1000 men gathered in the camp.
The first lot of British troops landed
in Greece were Irish. as the command
ing officer, General Sir Bryan Mahan,
is Irish. They were what was left of
the Irish division sent out to Gallipoli,
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 pris-
oner in Gallipoli, and have been re-
placed by what material was at hand.
Whatever they are, they are beyond
any doubt content to leave Gallipoh
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 arrival of the foreign
troops. A British 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
VN,Iz t. c,t,-
English is not spoken at all. Yet
despite all of these mateial drawbacks,
the British Tommy in his camp out
side Saloniki is so delighted to escape
the heat, the flies, the unslaked thirst
and the Stenches of Gallipoli that he
finds Macedonia a sort of paradise by
comparison.
Through Turkish Quarter
The road from the harbor to his
camp lies through the old Turkish
quarter of the town, at steep angle
up narrow, winding streets. From
almost every house hangs a projecting
second story in which the latticed win
dows of the haremlik do not always
conceal the eager, curious, unveiled
faces of Turkish women watching the
passage to and fro of so many strange
soldiers. Shops open their whole
fronts direct onto the street. The
shoemaker or tinsmith sits, cross
legged, at his work in what would be
the show window. The camp bound
Tommy, like everyone else, is forced
to bargain for his purchases from the
sidewalk proceeding which does not
improve the already badly jumbled
traffic arrangements. At the bakeries
there is always a mob of clamoring
humanity, struggling for the chance
to buy the round, fiat loaves of black
bread made wifi fourth grad foiI--
the only flour available-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.
Easy to Get Lost
At every cross road the returning
Tommy loses himself in a dense crowd
of Greek soldiers. SO slight in compari-
son 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
allies with the number of Greeks. is
not clear. Greek army packmules
choke the way at every turn. The
streets are scarcely passable. The
noise. the confusion, tie mixture of
half dozen strangers-all of this in
contrast to the silence and the patter-
ing of the wind-blown 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.
Finally the way to the camp leaves