The Serbs Chose War, Ruth Mitchel 26. SOME TO FLIGHT AND SOME TO FIGHT UJITSE is a little sleepy upland town, with sawmills surrounded by gigantic stacks of golden boards cut from logs felled in the near-by mountain forests. There many Belgrade families, like that of my friend Mrs. C., had summer homes. Because of its spreading orchards and the fine grass of neighboring valleys, Ujitse was famous for the quality of its plum brandy and for its delicate jerked, dried mutton. To our surprise we found the one street of the town crowded with handsome cars. The few small inns were packed. Among the refugees who had arrived was young King Peter II, for almost two weeks now the ruler of Yugoslavia, with his court, his ministers, and most of the foreign diplomats from Belgrade. I met many acquaintances and was able to replenish my finances by the kindness of the popular and efficient American consul general, Mr. Robert T. Macattee, and of Count Stenbock, the British consul general. Although I was ravenous, I almost forgot the food when lunching with Mr. Murphy, of the British Legation, for the funny tale this tall, red-headed, humorous Irishman had to unfold. Was he a secretary of the British Legation at Belgrade-or was he? Following his appointment, it had taken him sixty-five days to reach Yugoslavia via South Africa from London. He arrived within ten miles of Belgrade on Sunday morning in the midst of the bombardment. There his train stopped, to proceed no farther. Now what? He was accompanied by a King's Messenger, Mr. Rutherford, who afterwards behaved with thoughtful circumspection when in prison with me in Belgrade. Mr. Murphy decided to proceed on foot but had walked barely a mile when he was arrested and marched to a village police station. Not knowing a word of the language, he had to convince the excited gendarme, who threatened to shoot him on the spot as a fifth columnist, that he was an English diplomat lost in the wilds. At last an interpreter was dug up, and he was told: "All right, you can go!" Wisely Mr. Murphy refused to go further without a police escort. Just then troops were passing on their hurried march to regarrison the city. So he was put into the front rank and thus marched into Belgrade. Arrived that night at the Legation, he found it deserted. He managed to get in, went down into the cellar, chose a nice bottle of wine and, using a sofa in the drawing room, snatched what sleep he could between bombs. Next morning he found someone to take him south and soon caught up with the retiring legation staff. I remember that luncheon gratefully, as it was the last time for many months that I laughed really heartily. Suddenly the news came that the German radio had sent out a broadcast to this effect: "The so-called King of Yugoslavia has cravenly fled. But our brave airmen will pursue him and find him, even if he is hiding in Ujitse." Within half an hour the town was completely deserted by all its birds of passage. Every car was gone. The trains stopped too. Two young Red Cross nurses, the Misses M., sisters, who in the general mix-up had become separated from their unit, came up to me and asked what they should do. Their father and brother were both Chetniks away on active duty, and they turned to me apparently as a matter of course to take charge of them. I came to the conclusion that it was hopeless to try to find out what had become of their unit, much less try to follow it. I decided to take them with me, since there would certainly be great need for their services in Montenegro. For their part they felt themselves dedicated and eager to go wherever they could be most useful. These calm, capable and handsome girls were representative of a particularly fine type of Jew to be found in the Balkans, descendants of those Jews who had been hounded out of Spain by Ferdinand and Isabella. After many generations they had come to feel themselves heart and soul as Serbs. Few in number, they were loved and respected by their fellow countrymen, and thus there had come about here a spiritual fusion of races such as I personally have not observed elsewhere, with the possible exception of England. As the trains had stopped I was forced to spend the night there. Next morning my dear friends, B. and her mother, Mrs. C., departed for their country house after earnestly entreating me to come with them. Many times afterwards I wished that I had done so. I could certainly have ridden or walked across the mountains to Vukosava in the Sanjak and I would now be with General Mihailovich. Mrs. C. took for safekeeping certain notebooks of mine and all my portable valuables. I kept no jewelry, not even my favorite ring, an emerald which my brother, General Billy Mitchell, had given me years before with certain unforgettable words of affection and which I had never taken off since. I knew the Germans robbed not only the living but also the dead. If a bullet should find me, they should not be richer by even a little circlet of gold. At seven that morning the two nurses and I were waiting on the station platform. A train came in. It consisted of great Pullmans such as I had almost forgotten existed. They were filled, but only sparsely so, with beautifully dressed gentlemen, some noticeably of military age. There, just beyond clean sheets of glass, they were enjoying a luxurious breakfast in the society of their alluringly dressed and carefully made-up wives, lady friends, and secretaries. They gazed out with palpable disgust upon us lesser rabble. I signaled that I wished to board the train but was curtly given to understand that it could not be opened. These orchidaceous people were the heads of certain government departments and banking houses of Belgrade with their ladies. This was the fine flower of Western culture as it blossomed in Yugoslavia. Unhappily, many foreign-educated Serbs in government office exhibit an attitude of snobbish superiority toward the selyaks, the peasants, who represent the real heart and meaning of the country and who, of course, pay their salaries. Attached to this train in Ujitse station I saw something that might interest a Chicago gangster: two ordinary wooden freight cars containing the state treasure of Yugoslavia and all the cash assets of its banks. There were no gunslits or armed guards. The cars were "sealed" with two small lead seals and fastened with two little pieces of string. Previous Chapter | Content | Next Chapter The Serbs Chose War, Ruth Mitchel