As we came round the corner into sight of the town a large block of
temporary encampments stretched away beyond the river to our left.
Beyond them was a flat plain on which was a large tent with a red cross
painted over it. High behind the town towered a grey hill on which was a
white Turkish blockhouse, for though where we were driving had always
been Serbia, Rashka lay just on the boundary. We drove into a narrow
street, presently coming to a stop where two motor cars blocked the
way.
The Commandant from Kragujevatz, who had promised transport to all
English hospitals, was standing on the road. He seemed very flustered
and bothered lest we should want him to do something for us. We assured
him we wanted nothing except bread, for neither we nor our drivers had
had bread for three days. The colonel shrugged his shoulders and made a
face.
"You might get it perhaps at the hospital."
Another officer, in a long black staff coat, laughed. He pulled a hard
biscuit out of each pocket, looked at them fondly and pushed them back
again.
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