Memoirs of the World War I
1914 - 1918
by Josef Sramek from Usti nad Labem

Prisoner in Serbia - 1915

Kraguyevats! It took three days to get there, and they were filled with trouble. The first thing that our brothers the Serbs did was take off our coats and put them on themselves. The same with shoes. All that had any value - underwear, blankets, watches, money - everything comes in handy for them. All that we ate in 3 days was 3 halves of a bread loaf. We slept on the snow and saw the first swamps the first 2 two nights.

December 12.

We arrived at Skoplye today, crammed in boxcars for three days and three nights, not being able to even sit down. First, they took us there and back all over the town and then they gave each of us one loaf and a piece of bacon and that was it! The journey was terrible. It was here that I caught lice for the first time - that Serb specialty that no one can do without. I could not get rid of them all the time I was in Serbia.

December 15.

We have our lodging now. It is a former stable that's too bad for cattle but good enough for the "Schwabs". There are several thousands of us crammed in here. Food is the same all the time - cabbage soup and mutton. I am writing my first post card home. No work so far. The weather here is beautiful, like in May back home.

December 2O.

Diseases spread among us - typhus and dysentery. More and more people die every day. Bad food, foul water and dirt are to blame. They forbid us to drink the water but there is none else and the soup is all pepper. The lice proliferate. We cannot wash clothes as there is nowhere to do so, to say nothing about drying. So, instead of picking them out, I brush them away. They're everywhere - in the shirt, socks, blouse, coat and hat. You can find them in your hair, beard - simply everywhere. If you find 150 of them in your shirt, it's not so many! If you pick them all one day, you're full of them the next morning again. We lie on the ground, there is no straw and we must not lie on our backs but only on our sides as there is no room. It's worst at night - whoever goes out, cannot get through and stomps on feet or heads. Batina rules here. You get hit with a fist or stick for nothing and if you can get away soon, good for you. The almighty master here is captain Dogitch, a true animal. "I am your God, I can kill you" is his favorite proverb. And our feldwebels, the Croats and the Bosnians help him bravely, hitting everyone they meet.

December 24.

Christmas Eve. How many memories run through my head! What a difference between now and a year ago! What are my parents doing at this moment? It is getting dark and I am lying on my elevated bed (I sleep in a trough). I got in here to avoid the dirt and the lice that cannot get here so easily. I am laying and recalling, so far from my homeland. My Christmas Eve dinner is a few apples and l Dinar's worth of chocolate. And there are many here who don't even have that. All is quiet - perhaps everyone is thinking and, if there were more light, I could a tear in many an eye! We are so sad at heart. I am listening - there, in the corner, the 102^nd Regiment starts to sing "Where is my home". Everyone is trembling. Other voices join in and our sty resounds with a sublime song, illustrating our feelings! Deep silence - and then, a carol. And then silence again. Everybody is recalling. Now, there is supper and then everybody is getting ready for the midnight mass. And many of those who have not prayed long are now praying the one who gave the world peace, asking for peace soon and that they may return happily! Will this ever be?

December 27.

Christmas is over. On Christmas day, I worked all day and fasted. My whole lunch was a bit of cheese and bread. We work every day, doing various things. We go to the station, to building sites, to clean, dig, press hay or to build roads. They drive us out to the courtyard at half past five in the morning. There we are, standing in the rain and cold for an hour, most of us are barefoot. Dogitch walks by with his stick, our feldwebels and gendarmes divide us in teams. At last, all are divided. But not much work gets done. Those who work on the roads end up searching for lice; those who pass through the town dismiss somehow - some go drinking to a cafe, some go making money, some go begging. When the guard arrives at the station with 80 people out of 300, he swears: "I fuck their Schwabish mother in the ass" and that's it. They could never count us all, even if we were to be here for the next five years.

December 3l.

The last day of the year. Devil may take that year - it has dealt us bad. Recalling how nicely we welcomed that year (I think it was in Krasne Brezno in the Czech House), I am getting angry!

1915

January 1.

New year, what news are you bringing? The beginning of the year was pretty bad - I carried sacks at the station all day. I could not slip away today.

January 5.

I am sick. I have fever, cannot eat anything, I just want to drink but this water is deadly. I am lying on the ground like a dog, nobody cares, nobody notices. I am not alone, more than half of the men are lying. Epidemic. And the town is not better off! Hospitals are overfilled, there are no doctors, and the prisoners - who have never even treated a sick person - are the nurses. They are masterful in robbing the sick!

January 10.

I feel better so that I can walk again. They drove me out to work today. I was to drag flour sacks - barely able to walk. I asked for an examination. They lined us up in the yard, Dogitch came on with his stick and the examination begun: "What's the matter with you?" - "My head hurts."- "Your cunt...." and the stick dances on his back. The rest of us did not wait and the examination was over.

January 14.

The first post card from home. Karel is writing: Daddy is glad that you are out of danger. If only he knew what dangers are here. Hundreds of prisoners die daily in the worst dirt. There are so many lice that one cannot stand it anymore. I haven't washed my shirt for a month. In hospitals, people die helpless, there are no doctors, no medicine, no beds, no food.

January 17.

More news about peace. The shortage is getting worse. There is no bread; sometimes it is purple and sometimes it is yellow. We've had no meal for 6 days now - first, there was no wood, then there was no water and now there is no meat. I am waiting for money from home, but it is in vain - the officers here steal everything.

January 23.

I work every day, we get damson-cheese instead of meals, and there is beating every day. They have no prison here and trials are wonderfully easy: "Twenty five blows on the butt". Those who are beaten stay marked for several days.

January 28.

The epidemic is peaking. Our crammed sties got terribly empty - more than half of the men moved beyond that white wall. Men who are full of life in the evening cannot get up in the morning.

February 5.

A Greek countess visited us and brought us boxes of underwear, sugar and tea. I got a shirt, two handkerchiefs and some sugar. We press hay and I drive oxen. Now and then I get a post card from home, but the deliveries are bad.

February 14.

They commanded me to go to the hospital as a nurse, but when I saw the mess there, I ran away. Here in Skoplye, just a handful of us prisoners was left from 1200. Again, several days with no meal, just some spoilt cheese and damson-cheese for lunch.

February 26.

Leaving Skoplye for Djevdjekia. It is on the very border with Greece, on the track that goes Nish-Skoplye-Salonica. There are 15 of us, and we are assigned nurses. The town is nice, and there are Turks, Bulgarians, Greeks etc. The weather is lovely. There are about 500 Austrians serving within an American medicinal mission. Some of them enjoyed golden age - the Americans brought just about everything - underwear, medication, beds, cans, sugar, tee, kerosene, boots - everything.

They are putting everything in order, setting up hospitals and separating the injured from the typhus-infected.

February 28.

I am a nurse. The hospital is a former Turkish state magazine, an enormous building of 5 floors. I got Soba VI. There are 5 of us as nurses, serving more than 80 people sick of typhus. Shudder to look. The majority of them are Serbs, thin recruits with frost bitten legs. They lie on mattresses on the ground, in a dirt I have never seen in my life. They cannot walk, the toilets are too far - and the ceiling is made of planks so it's dripping and running upon them from above - it's hell. 6 or 8 of them die every day and others take their places.

The lice seem to move the entire building. There is no medication, a doctor comes once in 3 days. We have a lot to do. We carry meals and divide them, clean the rooms, carry water (to the 3^rd floor) and apply compresses. I don't know how long I can take it, we must be on duty and apply compresses at night, too. And all you get for that toil is swearing. All you hear in a day is just swearing and yebat (fuck). The Croats and Bosnians rob the dead and search them - I would not touch them even if they had thousands on them. They immediately sell the clothes and shoes they take off the dead.

March 2.

I have a fever - 39°C, but I keep on working as I am afraid to lie down: few of those, who lay down, can get up again.

March 22.

Finally, I came round again. I don't know what was going on with me for 20 days. They say I could not accept anything for seven days; later I could only accept tea and milk. My fever reached 4l°C. I got a grip on myself slowly. I did not know where I was or what my name was. I am too weak to I stand up.

March 25.

I am slowly regaining power and hunger. I could eat five times as much as they give me. In the meantime, they stole my uniform and coat, so I am naked. They also stole my purse, I had my letters and about four Crowns in it. I saw the purse with one of the Serbs, but when I demanded it, he hit me. I am so hungry and penniless. I spent the last 2 Dinars on bread, roast meat and wine.

March 28.

Today, I was dismissed from the hospital and sent to the headquarters. Harsh wind came and the sick in the hospital got their feet frost bitten.

April 4.

I'm a nurse again, this time in "Hotel Magasin". It is an old Turkish tobacco magazine. Here, there are just the injured or frost bitten. The order here is much better. The Americans and our fellows manage it. There is a lot to do, but food enough, too. I like it here. Figs are blossoming out in our garden.

[An incomplete article from Samostatnost ("Independence") dated Feb. 15, 1918 is inserted here. It is transcribed as follows:]

There were no weapons, no ammunition, no clothes or sanitary aids. The lack of means of communication caused bad food deliveries. The result was that we ran from the larger centers, where people were really friendly to us, to the newly won countries of Serbia where most people, although they were good in their hearts and hospitable as true Slavs, did not understand our rebellion the way it deserved to be understood due to their ignorance. Only the lucky ones could join the heroic defenders of the still endangered small homeland of Serbia. And then, at our heels, the terrible typhus epidemic crawled to Serbia. So many Czech heads and hands helped in insufficient hospitals in Serbia to beat this vigorous enemy. And the reason, why hundreds and thousands of our boys died along with those who faced the insidious disease with superhuman zeal but insufficient means, was that they fulfilled their helping duty with true understanding, self-sacrifice and love in the harsh Balkan conditions. Small wooden crosses on Serb cemeteries are aching memorials of those terrible times; but this sublime effort and work of ours so endeared us to .... [the rest is missing].

April 20.

The Americans left and Dr. Borssitch took over the hospital. There was a massive alarm - the Bulgarians assaulted Serb corps near Strumtets. They killed many. The inhabitants move out for fear of the Bulgarians. We receive a full train of injured soldiers in terrible condition! All covered with blood, unconscious, dying. We have been bandaging and washing all night and all day. Many of them died the very first night, some are in agony, some are wounded horribly. One was stabbed by a bayonet 16 times. The Bulgarians were like animals.

April 26.

Now we are taking care of the wounded only - those with fever are moved to the other hospital. I am well off now. We have abundance of everything - milk, tea and eggs. I seldom receive anything from home. I am still looking forward to a near end - and, meanwhile, newspapers say that Italy has declared war.

April 30.

The new Serb sobar started off being rough, but slackened off soon. I discovered his dirty deals and now he has to be quiet. I met Roubik. The first batch of prisoners leaves to build the railway to Knyezhevats. We all will leave.

May 5.

I am leaving Djevdekiya for Nish to build the railway. We got 2 Dinars for the journey. Before we got from the station to the stables in Nish, we got all wet. This is our lodging with a new surprise - fleas. They are as big as flies and you get hundreds of them within half an hour. Nobody can even think about sleep.

May 7.

Each of us got 3 loaves of bread and a piece of smoked meat for the journey, and here we go through Nish to Knazhevats. We spent the first night in a forest. I froze to the bone - having no coat, no blanket and sleeping in damp grass. The other night was better - we slept in an abandoned school. The journey is getting harder, going over hills and ravines unlike anything I have ever seen.

May 15.

Having rested for two days in Knazhevats where we were accommodated in a cafe and slept under the tables, we went to the Section. Everyone got a pair of sandals and some were hit with a stick.

We arrived in Banitsa in late afternoon. We bathed there in a thermal well while our uniforms were boiled in cauldrons. When they were so-so dry, we went to sleep in Ragost where I and several boys slept in a chicken shack.

May 23.

We finally arrived, having marched all day in immense danger. We are to live in a large cave where a kitchen is set up. Rocks are all around us, wild Timok is underneath, a bit of blue sky is above and eagles are our partners. One can't see grass anywhere - it is all bare rocks. A real waste land. We have to dig our paths - make a bad move and fall down. There are 35 of us, mostly Czechs with sergeant Roubík. Our commander is certain Theodor Tcheikovitch from Monte Negro, a first class bastard. He looks like a fugitive convict. The boys immediately nicknamed him Babinsky, it fits him perfectly. With an oak stick, he is always ready to earn recognition through slaps and blows and becomes a real nightmare for everyone. They are building a railway here. It is routed along nothing but bridges, tunnels and embankments. They have to use dynamite to dig everything. The work is very hard. We sleep in the rocks like badgers and I am cold as I have neither coat nor blanket. Meals are all the same: beans with a bit of goat's meat for lunch and supper, thickened soup in the morning and l loaf of bread daily.

June 3.

I do not work the rock but go for bread and kitchen stuff everyday. I must get at 4 a.m. to bring the meat before 7. They carry it from the slaughterhouse to Glisura on carts. From there, we have to drag it on our backs across the rocks for almost one hour's distance.

When there is no rain it is good. But when the rain starts, it goes on for days and days and you can't get your feet off the mud.

June 20.

120 new men arrived and we work hard. Our wage is from 50 Hellers up to 1 Dinar but it's worth nothing because we can't buy anything but rakiya. The Section pays when they want (well, when they have).

June 28.

Two prisoners were wounded during the explosions today. You can't hear anything but thundering noise all day long. Instead of soup, we get damson cheese in the morning. It is great. We have coffee - we are not hungry. I am glad for one thing - we got rid of the lice. Well, one can be found here or there, but we got cleaned. But fleas start to pop up.

July 12.

Our team grew up to 300 men. They came from Skoplye and Brtolye. Everyone has a nice new pair of boots that arrived from the American Czechs. They say 30 thousand pairs had arrived but the Czechs only got about 3,000 of them. The Serbs "took care" of the rest. With the transport, Salomon Hruska arrived among others.

July 25.

I got a card from Karel, he's been drafted. Messages from home arrive seldom. Sometimes, I get cards from Ústí from F.T. or A.M., but also one from S.F. We still think that the end will be there soon. We don't hear any news of the world, we are here like on a bare island. They have built a provisionary track so we carry bread on trolleys. People get hurt in explosions every day.

August 10.

Days pass on by and we keep working like slaves. God knows, maybe it's our fate not to return. Here, one is permanently in danger of being hit with a stone.

August 25.

Babinsky wheedled my watch, that didn't work, from me for 5 Dinars, but he raised my wage. Now I get 80 H.

September 12.

The construction goes on well. The tunnels have been made, very high bridges cemented. This costly track is made of calluses and sweat of the zaroblyeniks. People who had never seen such work in their lives work with hammers and wedges as if they had done it from their birth. Nobody here asks about your profession - you get a pickaxe or a wheelbarrow and go!

September 25.

These days I only go for meat and bargain with fruits: plums, pears, nuts, cucumbers, even sausages. The butchers at the slaughterhouse made sausages. I brought 200 of them and they were all gone in a moment.

October 2.

Last night, 7 boys ran to Bulgaria. It is not far, about six hours. Men from other units escape every day. We fear the winter, it will be rough here: I bought a blanket and a fur coat. This week, I received money from home two times: First 10 Dinars and then 12.

October 6.

News are here that the Germans assaulted Belgrade and that the Bulgarians counter-acted. Many run away and accidents happen almost every day, mostly in tunnels. At nights, we hear guns firing. Babinsky assures us that the Bulgarians do maneuvers. But we think it stinks.

October 10.

Last night there was alarm. We heard firing clearly. Bulgarians clashed with the Serbs on the border.

About 800 people left Glysuca to dig trenches near Kralyevo. Knazhevats got very upset. Civilians flee. Each of us got two blankets, two pairs of sandals and some underwear for the journey.

October 16.

We run away from the Bulgarians who have gained Knazhevats. At 11 we received a command to run: We threw away our meals, got our sacks on our backs and off we go to Nish. We are taking the tools and kazans with us.

It is a huge procession: prisoners, Serbs, civilians, all the Section flee using the tunnels as the road to Nish has been cut.

October 19.

In Nish. We spent the first night in a tunnel and, in the morning, we hassle over the hill and over the unfinished bridges towards Gramada. The journey is extremely dangerous and, on top of it all, we drag all the tools and heavy kazans. The other night, I found a post card from home for Tonik (my stepbrother) in the mail bag. There are wagons of bread and many barrels with damson-cheese. We arrived in Nish at night and went to sleep to an engine room.

The city is in great confusion and panic. Everything is moving, they say that the government is now in Prokuplya.

October 20.

Our fellows have a camp beyond the town. They brought an immense quantity of Austrian shoes, the prisoners fight for them and I, too, was lucky to win a pair - it was worth being hit with a stick. About 8,000 prisoners have gathered here. Bread and damson-cheese are given away again. It rains all day long. For the night, I ran to the engine room again.

October 22.

Having marched all day, we arrived in Prokuplya at 10. They crammed us into cafes. We sleep crowded on the floor. The next day, we moved to a meadow. It keeps on raining all day and all night, I am drenched. It keeps on raining. I bought timber for 3 D, made a campfire and tried to dry myself a bit. We moved to another meadow.

October 25.

We arrived in Korshumliya and slept in a cafe the first night. They divided our team here. One half goes with Theodor to repair roads somewhere. Our officers are camped here. Misery, hunger and lice begin to appear. We go all day over hills, forests, road or no road, mud is everywhere and it keeps on raining. We reached a village in early evening, but there is no place for us so we go to a meadow. Sitting in the water, I am trembling from cold as it is raining hard. When the rain stopped for a while, we made a fire with great efforts. But storm came and we had to run away from flood. It rains very hard and the thunder roars all the night. This was one of the worst nights I've experienced.

In the morning we march on. My wet blankets weigh three times their weight, we are fatigued, sleepless, hungry (we have l/2 of a bread per day). Happily, I have saved some money.

October 28.

Prishtina. We got here after 2 days of an immensely demanding march across forests, hills and rivers without bridges! Misery arrived. The 2-day dose of bread gets eaten easily in one day and if you want to buy some, you pay 2 or 3 D. The boys sell underwear, blankets and boots for a piece of bread. Our guards rob us - shame to think. They never let us buy anything, but bring it themselves and collect 10 times the price.

We walk all day without stopping - those who stay behind get beaten with stick or butt ends or stabbed with bayonets. You mustn't have a sip of water as they keep on screaming "four and four". The road is flooded, we walk in water that reaches up to our waists for almost four hours.

Prishtina is an old Turkish town. It is half-empty and its mosques offer a beautiful sight. We sleep in a stinking sty full of dung, but we're glad to be in a shelter. We got 2 breads for 5 days.

October 30.

Last night we slept in the rain again. Our guards rage as mad - they hit, kick and rob. In the evening we reached Orekhovatch and slept crammed shoulder to shoulder. Actually, there was no sleep as we could not even sit.

November 2.

We were able to see the goal of our yesterday's journey - Prizren - as early as noon of that day. A beautiful Turkish town with a great Turkish castle and many mosques. Surrounded by high mountains, it offers a beautiful sight. This is a border point of three territories - Serbia, Monte Negro and Albania. We are lodged in large Turkish barracks. We lie on the ground but we are happy to be in a shelter and to stretch out as much as we like. We stayed there for two days. I used that time to inspect my shirt and to get rid of at least some of those white parasites.

Our daily dose is the same - l bread for 2 days. If I had no money, I would have to sell my blankets as others, or maybe even my shoes and walk barefoot. And I am lucky to have my cash in silver coins: Nobody wants bank notes, one can hardly sell them for 6 Dinars. Rumors spread that we are going to go to Dratch and then to Italy! I don't care as long as we escape those Serb bastards.

November 4.

Marching on, we hear Bulgarian guns from Skoplye and our commander orders "Eilmarsch" (fast march). We sleep at Kosovo Pole. They say Kumanovo was won. We pass many hills and ravines. The Albanians are not bad, but they are also hungry.

November 6.

We march on and on through barren lands. No sign of a road, a broken shack here and there. We have to wade through creeks deep up to our knees as there are no bridges. We sleep outside every night - in the rain, happy to make a fire in the evening. We look like Gypsies - torn, barefoot, hungry and full of lice. Last night, we walked for 10 hours and reached a village called Preshkoplye where there are field bakeries.

It takes a whole day to wait before they have baked bread for us. We get bread for 4 days. I bought two more so that I have a good stock.

November 8.

We reached Debro after a day of climbing and descending hills. We stay in old Turkish barracks, half crumbled. There is one transport of Bulgarians taken prisoners and several Germans. We are hungry and the Serbs rob us of our last money. It is terrible to be at the mercy of several yokels who can rob you, strip you and beat you to death whenever they wish. I stick to the fore, those who get late or cannot go are beaten and robbed. I don't know if I'll be strong enough - the sea is still very far and the misery is growing harder! God help us!

November 10.

Our platoon was divided yesterday: We were called the Radnitchka platoon and took off to build a road. Our commander is (reportedly) professor Zhizhkovitch, a man with the eyes of a basilisk. We marched all day; in the evening we arrived in an Arnaut (Albanian) village as it rained hard. The commander wants us to live in kutchas but the Arnauts locked in and don't want to open. Our guards broke the gates after a long and useless negotiation, and we moved in. But we are in the rain again because the roof is full of holes. Steblova is a small village. We buy potatoes small as cherries. Arnauts sell us baked pumpkins and corn flour - for underwear or boots. A kitchen was established here, they boil water with a few green leaves twice a day. Bread is available only sometimes. We dig the road. It started to freeze and snow, we look for timber and dismantle the fences. There is no sign of a fence in 3 days. Arnauts themselves dismantled and hid the rest. I make pasta balls and other specialties from corn flour. It is not greasy and unsalted but everybody likes it (not even dogs would eat it back home).

November 12.

Sad times - no bread and meals for 3 days and yet we have to work. We are dying for food. It is raining, the creek flooded the road and the supplies can't reach us. Eman Ruzicka left for kitchen. We boil corn and rose hips. I bought a little corn flour for a shirt and underwear. The Arnauts do not want Serb money. The boys buy flour for their last blankets. Nobody wants to go to work. Today, they shouted at the narednik: "Give us bread or shoot us, we cannot live like this." We're hopeless.

November 16.

Finally, bread arrived today after six days. Thank God! We got 3/4 kg of bread for five days! But still, there are no meals. Hunger is there still. It's freezing and snowing all night long, we are pretty high. There are huge snowdrifts and many men are barefoot.

November 19.

Still freezing and snowing. The supplies arrived today again, and everybody got 3/4 kg of bread again, but it was completely drenched. Our guards were called to Debro at night, we are alone here and perhaps we will stay here. We're so hungry that we lose our minds; it's still snowing and freezing. There are news that the Bulgarians won Nish. We are convinced that we cannot get to Italy; but if Bulgarians do not come, we will perish here.

November 20.

There was alarm at midnight. Our commander Zhizhkovitch arrived and commanded us to leave. Instead of bread for the journey, we have to carry all the tools and the entire kitchen. We are going to Elbasan. Still descending, it's getting warmer. At about 9 in the morning, the commander noticed that several people threw away their tools on the way. He ordered to stop, separate those with no tools, and give them twenty five blows. A terrible theater. There were more than 80 people, and most of them never got any tools. All pleas were in vain, a stone would be more merciful than he. I was one of them, but managed to get away. Those who were proven to have thrown away the crowbars received 50 blows, and never got up again.

We went past a cornfield in the afternoon. Being hungry, some men grabbed a few ears. When we stopped in the evening, the commander summoned all six Zugskommandants (including Roubik and Salomon), ordered them to lay down on the road and each received ten blows as a punishment. Thereafter, he forgave them the punishment and said there would be no meal tonight as a punishment. We are sleeping in a shed.

November 21.

Cabbage soup was our breakfast and we set out at 6. River Shkomba lay in front of us. We have to wade through. It took us almost fifteen minutes, the water reached up to our waists and even breasts and the stream was very strong. Several men got carried away by the stream. We are on the other shore - drenched and it's freezing! We descend from the hill to the lowlands, walking a rocky path in a terrible blizzard. We catch on the wall of rock not to get blown away down into the river below. We got to an old Turkish road - the sights are beautiful. On the south, there are the great Bitolye icebergs, on the north there is the Albanian snow plain, and opposite us there is the Elbasan valley with palms and cypresses. But we cannot appreciate this natural beauty. Our minds are occupied with Elbasan and the bread that awaits us there.

At last, we arrived in Elbasan at ten p. m. The Turks gave us lodging in the town. I am staying in a Turkish mosque. The Turks are very genial and nice to us. The town is a real El Dorado for the smokers since l kg of tobacco costs just 2 Dinars 60 Para here.

[Inserted: a cutout article and picture - no source given. Transcription follows.]

The clever Albanians knew, as always, how to make the best out of the situation. As they were afraid to kill and rob among the large groups of refugees, they robbed us in another way - selling food. A piece of bread here - actually, a hard and musty corn cake of disgusting taste, a piece of bacon there, a corn ear or a potato elsewhere - everything was worth gold. Other sorts of money became totally useless. Those who had gold could eat some. Those with bank notes from Monte Negro or Serbia were worse off - they were at the mercy of others. But there were also many places where even gold would not buy anything as Albania was eaten almost completely by those who got there before us. In fact, we were the last ones to escape. We were to cross Albania - a country perhaps less explored today than central Africa. There is no such traveler who would dare go among the wild Albanian tribes that only live in never ending disputes and fighting, where human life has no value, where an Albanian who gets a new gun will rather try it out on the first person he meets, feeling more sorry for the bullet than for his victim.

It was much worse with food. Anyone who had any, however few, they hid them jealously. A piece of corn bread weighing about a pound was worth 40 to 50 crowns, only if the seller was greatly kind and merciful.

Pitiful was the look at Austrian prisoners. Among them, a great percentage of Czech was who perhaps chose to become prisoners. Everybody forgot about them in general confusion, nobody cared about them any longer. Worn and gaunt, they wandered the streets and rags that used to be Austrian uniforms failed to cover their miserable bodies. Similar to skeletons rather to human beings, they begged for a bit of bread.

[Attachment: A magazine photograph of approx. 6 people and 3 horses crossing a mountain comb. Note: The font type suggests that these cutouts are not from the Samostatnost magazine, but more likely from a picture weekly].

November 25.

Not only tobacco, but also bread and meat are cheap here. l kg of mutton costs 7O Hellers. But alas - Serb bank notes are worth nothing here. You can be glad if you get 2 or 3 Dinars (that is, Chereks) for one. We get a meal and half-a-bread daily. The town is full of mosques, but one can also find shops that are European style. There are oranges, cypresses and olives. Unfortunately, it started to freeze on the third day after our arrival and it kept snowing for three days. The oranges were gone immediately.

So far, more than 2,000 prisoners arrived. They tell about how many of our fellows froze and died in the Bitolye mountains. They got a cup of flour after five or six days and, having no timber, they ate it as it was.

My colleague Vlcek arrived. I was happy to have money so I could buy him bread and give him my meals for a couple of days. Reportedly, Bulgarians won Debro and Bitolye, and we cannot go to Dratch - we will have to go to Valona and then to France! Oh God, let me withstand it all! A disease has spread among us. They say it's typhus but I think it's out of hunger.

December 2.

We left Elbasan yesterday. The town is packed with prisoners and civilians. 400 men with Roubik left to repair a road. We had to wade through a river right beyond the town. We meet convoys with American flour on their way from Dratch. We stay in an Arnaut kutcha, the others built deckungs. No meals and no bread for two days now. Not knowing what to do out of hunger, I and Roubik caught a little goat, slaughtered it and boiled at night. The boys steal calves, turkeys etc. all about. Arnauts shoot at them with guns.

December 4.

About 15 sick Austrian officers arrived in the evening. In total, more than 600 officers passed through here today. They were torn, tired and hungry, and there were even oberleutnants among them. The road is always busy. Thousands and thousands of prisoners pass every day. They are torn, barefoot and they look more like gypsies. They beg, steal and all of them look ahead - towards the sea and the liberation. Unfortunately, hundreds and hundreds of them drop down out of hunger, fatigue and sickness. Once in three days, we get soup with zwiebackem (biscuits). Usually, the kettles are stormed and one needs a stick to maintain some order.

December 7.

The commander arrived with his brother yesterday and they spread fear. Some four Hungarians sold their shovels in Elbasan, were denounced and now he is punishing them. He has them tied to a tree for 3 hours till they faint of pain. Then he seats them at a table and talks to them while violins play. The next day, he has them tied again and watches the torture.

Three prisoners ran away from their unit, were led back and had to dig a grave for themselves. He commanded soldiers to shoot them. He then pardoned them the death sentence but left them tied up.

The top of his animality he did today. The cooks in lack of firewood went to cut a tree about 600 steps from the mess. Zizkovic saw them and brought a rifle from the tent saying that he must test the aim. He aimed and shot cook Janota in his belly. When they brought the victim he said "My arm fell down - I was aiming at the head." When medic Krticka requested to have the wounded transported to Elbasan he refused saying "Let him die, he killed enough Serbs." Poor Janota died the next day in terrible pain. Such a monster has power over us!
 
December 9.

Once every 3 days we get a few biscuits or a half of bread. Weather is nice warm. We go 4km further where we build camp. I go for 2 hours to Arnaut houses to get something to eat. In vain. Already from afar the Arnaut shouts "Ska ic buka", waves his rifle and releases dogs. Somehow I am not surprised. The captives pass through the country like robbers, attacking houses at night, stealing cattle, chicken and corn. They risk their lives; many get killed by Arnauts, many starve to death in valleys and swamps. These are not people any more but animals who murder their own friend for a piece of bread.

I saw the following incident: There was an Austrian laying by the road and near him two Bosnians standing. A group of Czechs comes along asking "What are you doing?" "Our brother cannot go." The sick man opens his eyes and whispers: "I am not Bosnian, I am Czech, they want to beat me and strip me." And the sticks got to work on the Bosnians' backs. Here nobody goes out without a good stick. Law of the fist rules here.
 
Inserted is a cutout from an unidentified magazine. On one side a picture "Serbian army retreating. Poor Albanian cottage where the Serbian king Peter spent the night with a few of his soldiers."

On the other side following text:

On this improptu road it was possible to advance only slowly one man after another and every step had to be considered. Every once in a while the road was blocked by a fallen horse who either broke his leg or fell deep into the mud. Soon there were dead horses in heaps on both sides of the road, in places one had to walk over piles of carcasses, feet slipping on the soft flesh of freshly fallen horses, then again old carcasses surrounded by swarms of flies stinking intolerably, and hen again a horse who was being walked over still raising his head as if begging for death. In palces Albanians were seen cutting off the skin from the carcasses to make their sandals.

Cholera, hunger and suffering were taking more and more victims from among the the fugitives and who fell down from fatigue never rose up again. Like rows of madmen, with eyes staring, themselves close to falling down walked the fugitives along the dying, everyone looking only after himself. The instict for survival controlled everyone. Forward, was the motto, forward until I fall myself. A son forgot his father, brother forgot his brother, a friend forgot his friend. Often mothers threw away their toddlers to be more free to drag themselves forward. The fallen were immediately robbed by the Albanians of the last things they had on them.

Hard to imagine for someone who did see it himself the miserable state of the once victorious army, now fleeing. The soldiers were just skeletons covered with yellow skin who were already two months fleeing, clad in muddy rags, mostly barefoot, throwing away their weapons, not one in a hundred had his rifle, and soundlessly they dragged themselves forward. Legs up to the knees in mud and it was most difficult to advance step by step. Everyone was throwing away everything unnecessary and soon unnecessary was everything except for remainders of food that were being saved for the worst .
 
December 11.

We lay indifferently expecting death of starvation. For three days already I had nothing to put in my mouth.

The Serbian cavalry was passing nearby pitiful, exhausted and that was our salvation. In the most critical moment God sent us help. There are fallen horses laying on the road. We attack them like pack of wolves, cut off pieces of meat, male fires and cook and smoke. We are saved by fallen horses. The half raw piece of meat dirty from smoke tastes like best pork to me. We even fried some meat to store! What a scene. Everybody full of blood is cutting and tearing. One searching for the heart, another one trying to break a skull with a stone to get the horse brain which should be even better than pig's! Joy is shining from everyone's eyes as today we have filled up after a long time. Unfortunately many have paid the price of death for their voracity. Further along the way every 10 steps lays a corpse of an Austrian or Serb who will disappear here unrecognized and whose dear ones at home will be waiting in vain.
 
December 13.

Yesterday we arrived in Lesino and in the evening we had to wade over the river Semeni. The river was deep and wild, above my chest. One moment the current started to carry me away. I felt dizzy and thought I was lost. From the other side they started to shout at me and that brought me to my senses somewhat. Many captives stayed in the river and many died during the night. We made a fire and spent the whole night drying ourselves. In the morning the commander allowed us to cook two "magorce" who were almost dying. From the city they brought corn lapjacks, each got one and we went on. To Valona where supposedly ships were already being boarded by prisoners. Before leaving the commander beat about 50 people for coming late. He beat them on their faces with a bullwhip! For the night we got to Rezna where we each got half a flapjack. We carry the "kazans" with us. Today my platoon had to carry them. The Hungarians got into an argument because no one wanted to carry and the commander had 12 blows given to every man. It was my first beating in Serbia. It was not so terrible because it was delivered to me by a friendly guard but if I had a gun I would have shot the bastard. He rages like a mad dog, worse every day. Sometimes we think he is out of his mind.
 
December 14.

Today we set out early. Our goal we see before us: dark hills.There we have to be at night. As no road leads there we go straight through marshes. Our platoon carries the "kazans" again as a punishment. At first it goes well but the going is getting worse all the time. Legs sink into mud. Often we have to jump over wide trenches. They are rice fields underwater. After noon water is up to our thighs, then knees, then waist. Our feet sink, we fall and above that we carry kettles which weigh 80 kg. So we go into the evening in resignation. I wonder where we got that strength! We thought about nothing, we were just being pulled forward over the hills where liberation was. Many poor men were left in the water - they fell from exhaustion and sank into the mud! Oh Serbia you have much on your conscience! In the evening we reached the hills and slowly scrambled uphill. There are giant cypresses and olive trees here. We camp in the forest from where we see the wide valley and the rolling river Semeni. Thousands of fires shine along it's banks. Those are captives coming from Drac.
 
December 16.

In the evening we were soaked wet.  When we made camp and got some firewood Zizkovic ordered: Only one fire per platoon meaning 80 people. When the guys lighted more fires he went in the dark from one fire to another and beat the poor guys with his bullwhip in their faces. It was a scene I will not forget until my death. I wonder why among the 400 men not one was found who would do away with him. We were so downhearted that nothing mattered to us and we were calling for death to set us free! He being aware of his crimes was trying to retain his authority through cruelty and lead us all the way to Valona where he would get money for supporting us on the way. Today at 11 A.M. we reached a wide river. I was afraid we would have to wade again but there are raft here and Arnauts do the transporting. At 11 at night we go to the other bank where thousands of captives acmp who came from Drac. They tell how much flour and american bread they got while we were starving to death. Drac is being bombed both from sea and air. Serbian soldiers and civilians are embarking there to sail to Corfu.
 
December 17.

Today we passed through the town of Fiera which is full of Italian soldiers of all kinds. What a difference between them and us. They are well clad, well fed and we look like gypsies, torn, barefoot, burnt. Just stinking corpses along the way, both our and Serbian. We have been walking for 3 hours in ankle deep water. No road. In some places we have to wade across ditches up to our waists in water.

Afternoon we have reached the river Vojusa. On the other side Italians are accepting us and it is just 2 days to Valona. I am happy that our travel will finally end and so will our suffering. However on the river bank several thousand hungry captives are camping because Italians transport no more than 1000 men per day and there are 8000 of us here. The "Section" came here with us but must go to Drac along with all the Serbian soldiers. Theodor too must go back. Here is great misery and hunger. Long distance from here there is nothing available, no firewood. We break the brushes. Nobody gives anything for Serbian money and if they did I would not have any left.

A piece of corn "broj" costs 8 cereks! Here only cereks and liras pay. Nobody cares about us. Our sole hope is the other bank.
 
December 18.

This night I wil never forget. I laid down in a thorny ditch. At night a storm came and I did not wake up until I was all lying in water. It kept raining the whole night and then the whole day. Our situation is hopeless. The river is overflooding and ferrying is impossible. Today they picked 60 dead from exhaustion. We are a terrible sight. Rags hanging from everyone, barefoot with frostbitten legs, unshaved, unwashed, all the suffering of the way mirroring in their faces. You have no certitude - at night they take your "brotsack" from under your head, your blanket, coat - anything you may have. Those who cannot raise up have their coats and boots stolen from them for resale. 400 people from the "Raducka" platoon today carry "kazans" and tools back to Fiera where Zizkovic sold these.
 
December 19.

It rains all the time. No ferrying, the river is flooding. Italians brought rations: One biscuit is food for 3 days. The second day we each got 2 spoons of rice. We boil it - water is unavailable, dirty. No firewood. God free us!
 
December 20.

More that 200 dead collected today. Misery reaches it's peak. Albanians came and brought "broja". If you have good boots they give you about 1 kg but you have to be careful.Our commander left today. Thanks God that we got rid of that monster! The number of people is still rising because the Italians ferry only 600 people daily. Serbian soldiers steal publicly. Who has good boots gets beaten to withdraw them, they steal your coat, blanket and anything of value. They steal the rations sent by Italians and then sell us a biscuit for 3 cereks. No appeal possible. What do we live on? We brew a tea from raspberry leaves, look for snails, turtles and dig up roots. I hear that even human meat was eaten in places. In resignation we look toward the future.We are destined to die here looking at the other bank. There is liberation, here is slow dying. Several people have turned mad - others unable to rise beg for death. And it is still raining, day and night. River is rising again and water took tomorrow's rations.
 
December 21.

No ferrying today because the river is flooding again. There was a terrible storm, ligtnings, rain. We sit in water. In the morning 300 dead lay on the riverbank. And still new thousands captives are coming. Today we got a cup of flour for the whole day. No drinking water. In the slop I took water from several dead people were laying. Still raining! One was laying beside me, I saw him dying! When will my turn come? Tomorrow? The next day?
 
December 22.

Tey do ferry today but only the sick! Undesribable scenes take place at the raft. People rush like mad, push each other, fight. Serbians beat them with sticks and gun butts. Many people beaten and kicked to death, thrown into the river.

Everyone is trying to save himself from death of hunger. Our platoon's turn should be tomorrow. We got 3 spoons of flour for today and set out to look for places to sleep in the thorns. We picked some grass and lay. Around us bullets from Albanian guns fly.
 
December 23.

Not our turn yet. They were still ferrying the sick who numbered more than the healthy. The night was freezing, many people got frostbitten and had to be supported to warm up. Arnauts give a piece of broj in exchange for boots. I gave them my blanket fro a piece. People walk around like mad. They bite leaves, grass, tree bark. Tomorrow they say we will go for sure.
 
December 24.

Christmas Eve day - how sad and miserable. I fast really because the sergeant stole our rations. In the morning I was already by the raft when the order came: Enough and I had to go back. The Italians will celebrate the holidays and will not ferry. In the evening I recognize that I have a fever, I am ill. Is this the beginnig of end? God, don't let me give in. We got 2 biscuits but can't eat! I remember home. So sad a Christmas Eve - I lay burning in the thorns and praying like never in my life! I wonder what my parents are doing now!
 
December 25.

Christmas feast! "Radnicka" platoon embark! I stand in queue for departure. Our sergeant is missing, my platoon is not going. All my friends left and I stayed here. I join the 10. platoon but when we reach the raft they stopped ferrying. I am hopeless! I give my last underwear for a piece of "broj" and also my last 3 dinars. Now I am penniless.
 
December 26.

Again no ferrying today! Horror is reaching it's peak here. Full of corpses which no one collects, no one cares to bury. Ugly stinch is in the air. Flocks of  ravens circle the sky, they smell a good feast.
 
December 27.

No ferrying today. I lost all hope and gave in to the destiny. The Serbs steal all that is still left. More than 2000 people left for the woods but keep coming back - there is much snow there and Albanians who beat them to death and rob. They say that Zizkovic too was robbed and killed there.
 
December 28.

A sunrise I was at the raft in vain. The night was very freezing, more than 200 dead about half of them frozen. At 3 P.M. suddenly the order came: "Embark" and in less than an hour we cross the river. Thanks God, we are saved! Farewell! Dammed Serbia!
 
Inserted is a cutout from "Samostatnost" dated 15.II.1918

Then came Albania, those terrible alleys of death where the Czech man opted for death in it's strictest form - from hunger - rather than be returned to the Austrian army. We went through deserted Albania. Corpses marked our path to the unknown through forbidding mountains. Barefoot, hungry, naked, half alive we dragged not like humans but like frightening miserable human resemblances through those valleys and swamps between the rivers Skumpi, Semeni and Vojusa feeding on grass, tree bark, worms - even (responsibly without exeggaration) human meat. Bitter remembrances.