God
knows what has happened to them. The rest of us are all coming along on
foot. We burnt fifty motor cars yesterday, monsieur, that made a blaze."
We asked them what sort of a time they had had in Serbia; but much of
their answer is unpublishable.
"Each time we ascended every Serbian regiment fired at us. Once we came
down over a battalion and the whole lot fired volleys, and when we
landed and stood in front of our machine holding up our hands," they
pantomimed, "they continued to fire at us. Then they came and took us
prisoners, and were going to shoot us, although one of us had a military
medal. A schoolmaster recognised us as French and rescued us. Our
machine was broken; but we could get no transport and had to walk thirty
kilometres back to our base without food.
"Another time we were chasing an Austrian, the Serbian batteries fired
at us, monsieur, not at the enemy. Our officers had to send from the
aerodrome to tell them to stop."
As we were going to bed the Montenegrin doctor came in.
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