The Serbs Chose War, Ruth Mitchel 14. THE SAINTS FIGHT TOO I BEGAN TO TRAVEL WIDELY about the country, by train, by air, by bus. I photographed, sometimes at the request of the Government, special ceremonies and mass gatherings, where I saw local customs and costumes beautifully shown. National costume is a sign of self-respect in a race with pride in the achievements of its forefathers. It signifies a proper appreciation of racial history, an admirable self-confidence. Unfortunately most national costumes, beautified with laborious handwork, are exceedingly expensive. It is mainly for that reason that they are slowly disappearing in the Balkans before the shoddy, cheap, mass-produced "Western" clothes. A serious effort must be made to keep them in constant use: they have a very significant effect on public morale. I went to Bulgaria to make special inquiries. My conclusions were that the Bulgarians as a people felt themselves drawn more and more sympathetically toward the Serbs, partly because of their fast-growing contempt for their own king, Boris. I felt justified in seeing a not too distant possibility of union. Later that belief was confirmed when learned that the Germans, when they attacked Yugoslavia, had to withdraw the Bulgarian troops from the Serbian to the Greek and Turkish frontiers, because they refused to fight the Serbs. But the Germans, by deliberately fomenting Bulgarian atrocities in Macedonia when they handed it over to Bulgaria, have weakened the hope of a political union. Again and again in Serbian village restaurants I witnessed a significant scene. Groups of men engaged in friendly chat would suddenly raise their voices in impassioned argument. Red faces, glaring eyes banging of tables, seemed to presage the flashing of knives. "What is it?" I would ask in alarm. "What are they so furious about ? " "The same old thing," would come the calm answer. "They're only arguing which family gave the most men in the last war." Not "lost," you notice, but "gave"-still, twenty years after, a cause for passionate pride. Serbian memory is exceedingly tenacious. The Powers will be making a serious mistake if later they ignore this fact. When Germany entered Serbia I could not help thinking with some relief that at least the Serbs would have something new to argue about. I do not feel so relieved now. We could not then envisage quite the extent of Croat treachery and the Croat massacres of defenseless Serb peasants in Croatia. The memory which those crimes will leave is more damaging to the hope of world peace than the bitter Serb hatred of the Germans. It is useless-worse than useless ignore these facts. They must be faced and remembered. In Macedonia I visited Prilep, its houses garlanded with drying tobacco leaves, its land, because of the fine quality of the tobacco, among the most valuable in the Balkans. The possibilities of this almost depopulated land are insufficiently appreciated. I climbed to the top of King's Son Marko's old fortress (no traveler I have ever met has done it, as it is really dangerous) and gazed out across the rolling plains of Macedonia, which during the past centuries since before the time of Alexander the Great has been the battleground of so many nations. There, in World War I the Serbs, then as now our firm allies, were the first decisively to defeat the German armies and to free their country from the invader. (Will history repeat itself?) After the Italians dropped the first bombs on Bitolj (Monastir) I went along almost the whole Yugoslav-Albanian frontier and saw the Serb troops ready, eager to attack the Italians. General Nedich, then Yugoslav Minister of War, advised, pressed, urged, that Yugoslavia should instantly declare war on Italy. If his advice had been followed he would unquestionably have had the whole country behind him. And with the Greeks hounding their rear, the pathetic Italians would have been quickly disposed of. How different would have been the history of this war-how many lives, how much treasure saved to the Allies if Nedich's counsel had prevailed! Instead Prince Paul's government removed General Nedich from office disgraced him, and "sent him to the country." An incompetent nonentity, persona grata to Germany, was put in his place. (A recent book purporting to give a picture of the Belgrade situation at the outbreak of war makes General Nedich, as Minister of War, play a prominent and disgraceful part in the coup d'etat of March 27 1941 There was no truth whatever in this allegation. Nedich was out of office and not even in Belgrade at the time.) Ochrid on its exquisite lake was, after Montenegro, my favorite place in the whole country. Once a Mohammedan town of considerable importance, its tall, quaint wooden houses now lean awry in slow decay. Few indeed are the foreigners who come to see its ancient fortress, its almond groves, its mosques, its strange, secret water grotto painted with old frescoes. Among Ochrid's many churches is one dedicated to Saint Clement. An elderly, intelligent custodian showed us its lovely Byzantine frescoes and its other humble treasures. At the end I said thoughtfully, "I hope the Germans will not get all this." "Of course not," said the man. Surprised at his conviction, I hazarded: "They do, you know. They steal everything." "Not this, they won't. The Turks tried that for hundreds of years. They never succeeded. The Saint would not let them. He won't let them now!" "But he has been dead for such a long, long time." "Dead?" cried the man, now really angry. "Dead! He is as alive today as ever he was. Every night he walks round his church to see that it is safe. No enemy will ever set foot in it. Our Saint will fight." Good God, I thought, if even her long-dead saints stand ready to do battle, who then shall hope to down Serbia? Previous Chapter | Content | Next Chapter The Serbs Chose War, Ruth Mitchel