The Chickasha daily express. (Chickasha, Indian Territory [Okla.]) 1899-current, 1916-01-06
SOLDIERS STANDING
WITH RIFLES READY
Old Men Fill Trenches, Last Reserves o
Little Nation, Living in Misery But
Eager to Fight to
Death
BY WILLIAM g. SHEPHERD.
U. P. staff correspondent.

MoNASTIR, Serbia, Dec. 1.-(By
mail "A man sanding in the middle
OF the road locking through tele-
scope on tripod
That's our 'front.'" says Colonel
vassich, pointing at the man. The
car stops and we get out. On our
left a gentle slope runs from the road,
on our right there is also a slope and
stretching up these are ribbons of red,
winding along the face Of the hills.
'SThey are the Serbian trenches.
Before us unfolds a flat. beautiful
valley, the valley OF Halinchi. Six
miles across this valley rise noun
tain sides: The Golden Cross, 5000
feet high and other topping peaks.
Over there are the Bulgars; If they
can come across this flat valley, Mon
astir, eighteen miles behind us, is
theirs with all the women and chill
dren, churches, schools and homes at
their mercy.
Look through your glasses and you
will see hem," says Commander Vas
sich. His voice is tired and his eyes
are dark and dropping; he wears two
! coats, though the sunshine is warm
and a huge muffler is about his neck.
The three hundred battles he has
passed through in the various Serbian
wars have left their mark upon his
body, but IL is his mind that has
planned this position that is keeping
the Bulgar regiments away from Mon
astir. You find yourself more inter
ested in him and in his muffled form
than in what the telescope may reveal.
There they arel The Bulgarsi A
wagon. train is marching along road
at the foot OF the distant hills, soldiers
tramp behind IT. It's the same road
you've been riding on, only you have
-@not been on that particular section
OF It.
They're human beings over there,
as we are. But they seem Of an
other world. Death lies between here
and there. Through glasses over
there. men are looking at us, perhaps
To them we seem inhuman and the
Serbian trenches along the hill slopes
are places of death, the width Of the
world away. And yet we two sets OF
humans are only six, sunshiny miles
apart, across a beautiful valley filled
with ploughed farms. It's the black
! magic Of war.
pick them upl Pick them up"
You turn from the telescope at the
sound OF the commanders voice. He
is standing at the edge of the trench
talking to a soldier and pointing down
at the ground where a score of cart.
ridge clips are lying; they are full
clips, too, five cartridges in each
frame.
~They wouldn't fit my gun" said
the soldier.
''What kind of gun have you got?'
asked Colonel Vassich.
"A Bulgarian gun that | took away
from a Bulgar at Babouna Pass"
But you haven't got any ammuni-
tion for it," said the Colonel
"Oh, took that from him, too"
The colonels smile of pleasure is
praise enough. The soldier, standing
in his waist deep trench, looking up
/, at his commander seems surprised
and astonished when, in addition to
the colonel's smile, he feels the colo
nel's hand upon his shoulder and
hears the Serbian equivalent for
good boy"
We climb the slope. walking behind
the trench. The Bulgars are too far
away for rifle fire and their cannon
for some reason we do not know, are
just now silent. But the men remain
in the trenches. according to orders
Each man has his rifle ready, resting
on the ridge of earth before him
They are elderly men; not one ap
pears to be less than IS.
tlrT,. ...... - f,...,, Xroni - av