A smartly dressed family was picnicking by the roadside,
sitting on deck-chairs. Colonel P---- and Admiral T---- slipped by in a
shabby little red motor. They stopped and told us they were going to
Rashka. It was good to see English faces again. A familiar figure went
by. It was the brave young officer from Uzhitze. We gave a lift to a
footsore lieutenant, who laughed as we trudged in the mud.
"Ah, English and sport," he said.
Crowds were congregated round a man who was carrying over his shoulder a
whole sheep on a spit and chopping bits off for buyers. On a hillside a
woman was handing out rakia. We thought she was selling it, but were
told that it was a funeral and she was giving rakia to all who wanted
it. Starving Austrian prisoners rushed for a glass and were not refused.
The Crown Prince passed, touching his hat to fifty kilometres of his
people. This time we were not going to be caught by the darkness, so we
stopped near a village at half-past three. The sides of the two tents
made good shelters for us.
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