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"The Luck of Thirteen Wanderings and Flight through Montenegro and Serbia"

More wounded were
expected, so we got into our war paint, and they arrived five hours
later than we had expected them. They came in "fiacres," and climbed off
very easily. We inquired, "Where wounded?" "Belgrade." "When?" "Three
months ago." Not a serious case amongst them, and we had heard that the
badly equipped hospitals at Krusevatz were crowded with the most
frightful cases. We were furious. A lot more wounded came to the "State"
cafe. None seriously hurt, and after examination one man had no wound to
show at all, nor shock, nor anything. He had simply run away. There were
several hand cases, some blackened with powder, proving that the poor
devils had shot themselves to get out of it. One man would not have his
hair cut because he said that he was in mourning for his brother, and
his hat was decorated with a crown of black lace. At the same time some
serious cases came to the main hospital; one man seemed to have been
shot the whole length of his body, the bullet entering at the shoulder
and emerging behind the hip.


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