THE GREAT BATTLES BEGIN

On August 14, 1914, began the first battle of the Serbian campaign. The Austrians proceeded to storm the heights from which the small outpost detachments had all the time been bombarding them with its old-fashioned guns. The Serbians, though few in number, made a desperate resistance. It was their business to hold back the enemy as long as possible, even until the reenforcements should arrive.

Early in the morning of August 14, 1914, the Austrians advanced in a great mass, then charged up the hillsides toward the Serbian position. The Serbians waited until they were well up the steep slopes and the rush of the enemy had subsided to a more toilsome climb. Then they sent down volley after volley from every available weapon.

The Austrian soldiers, who had until then never experienced anything more warlike than field maneuvers, lost their nerves; the first line broke and ran at the first fire. However, that was likely to happen to any troops under fire for the first time. Down in the plain they formed again, and again they swept up the slopes. This time they did not turn at the first volley. On they came, with fixed bayonets. And presently the first line reached the top of the heights, and the fighting was hand-to-hand. For a moment the Serbians, overwhelmed by numbers, were on the point of fleeing. But these same men had been through many a hand-to-hand encounter with both Turks and Bulgars; that experience stood them in good stead. And again they swept back the attacking masses of Austria-Hungary.

By evening, August 14, 1914, the Austrians had not yet taken the heights. But the Serbians, most of them middle-aged and old men, had spent their vitality. As the dark night lowered over the scene, they fell back, until, at Jarebitze, they met the first advance guards of the oncoming Serbian main army. And here they halted, and the united forces proceeded to dig a trench on a ten-mile front, extending from north to south, through the town and clear across the Jadar Valley. Nor did the Austrians then attempt to follow up this first success. Thus the Serbians were allowed to intrench themselves unmolested until, next day, August 15, 1914, they were joined by the balance of their forces.

Now, by studying the map, it will be seen at a glance that it was only the Tzer Mountains which separated the Austrian column crossing the Drina at Losnitza and the column which had crossed the Save and had occupied Shabatz. Should the Austrians from over the Drina get possession of the Tzer ridges, they would thus effect a junction with the forces in Shabatz, and so form a line that would cut off a large portion of northwestern Serbia. Aside from that, they would have a solid front. But should the Serbians possess themselves of the Tzer ridges first, then they would have driven a wedge in between their two main forces. This would make it difficult for either to advance, for then they would be exposing a flank to the enemy, who would also have a great advantage in position. Moreover, the Serbians would be in a position to turn immediately toward either of the Austrians' columns, whichever might need most attention.

Meanwhile, the Serbian cavalry had made a reconnaissance toward Shabatz. They immediately sent back reports of overwhelming forces occupying the town. It was out of the question to make any attack there for the present.

It was now learned, for the first time, that another of the enemy's columns had crossed the Drina far down in the south, and was marching on Krupanie, just below the Guchevo Mountains and on the way to the upper part of the Jadar Valley. However, as the first report seemed to indicate that this was only a minor force, a small force of third reserve men was detached to hold this force back and prevent its entrance into the main field of operations.

During the day and night of August 15,1914, the two opposing forces were moving into position for battle: setting the pawns for the game of strategy that was to be played. The Austrians at Losnitza were advancing up the mountain slopes and took possession of the Tzer and Iverak ridges, straddling the Leshnitza Valley.

Up in Shabatz, Austrian troops were pouring across the pontoon bridges. A flanking column, coming from the Drina, had arrived at Slepehevitch. Another force was stationed with its left and center on Krupani, its right spread out into the mountains north of Liubovia.

On the Serbian side the right wing of the Second Army, screened by the cavalry division, were preparing to cut off the Austrian forces in the north from their juncture with those advancing along the Tzer ridges; the center and left was marching on the enemy on the Iverak ridges, in conjunction with the right of the Third Army, then north of Jarebitze. The center of the Third held the positions south of Jarebitze, while its left, split into small detachments, had been directed to oppose the invasion toward Krupanie and the advance from Liubovia.

Such were the positions of the various forces as dawn broke brightly on the morning of August 16, 1914. As the growing light made objects visible, the extreme right division of the Serbian front, which was creeping northward to cut off Shabatz, discovered a strong Austrian column moving along the lower spurs of the Tzer Mountains. Obviously this body was clearing the ground for a general descent of the forces up along the ridges; a whole army corps. This movement threatened to become a serious obstacle to the Serbian plan of separating the Austrians in Shabatz from those farther south. But the situation was saved by one of those incidents which sometimes stand out above the savagery of warfare and give to it a touch of grandeur.

A young artillery officer, Major Djukitch, of the Fourth Artillery Regiment, asked permission to go out and meet this body of advancing Austrians with but a single cannon. He would create a diversion which would give the Serbians time to adapt themselves to the changed conditions, though the chances were very largely in favor of his losing his life on this mission. Permission was granted. Calling on volunteers from his command, he advanced with his single cannon and took up a position in the path of the approaching enemy. The moment he opened fire the Austrians, naturally not realizing that only one cannon was opposing them, and believing that a large Serbian force had surprised them, broke into a panic. Half an hour after he had opened fire, the Serbian field commander sent a messenger to Major Djukitch, ordering him to retire. In reply he sent a message to the commander, describing the confusion he had created in the Austrian ranks, and instead of retiring, he asked for reenforcements. The balance of his own battery, a detachment of infantry, and a cavalry division was sent him. The result was that the Austrian column was temporarily driven back into the mountains. Hastily re-forming, the Austrians now massed along a line extending from Belikamen to Radlovatz, while the Serbians deployed along a front running from Slatina through Metkovitch to Gusingrob.

At 11 a. m., August 16, 1914, the two opposing forces opened fire in earnest, up and down the line. All day the cannon roared and the rifles and machine guns crackled; now and again the Austrians would shoot forth from their line a sharp infantry attack, but these were repulsed, with more and more difficulty as the day advanced, for the Serbians were much inferior in numbers. Toward evening their situation became very critical. Yet every part of the line held out desperately, knowing that reenforcements were being hurried forward from the rear as fast as men could move.

And just before dark, along the roads from the eastward, came the distant cheers from the advancing columns. An officer dashed up on horseback shouting encouragement to the battered men in the trenches. A cheer arose, which rolled up and down the line. Again it rose, then, even before it had died out, with wild yells the Serbians sprang over their breastworks and swept madly across the intervening space to the Austrian lines; smashing through cornfields, over rocks, through the tall grass of orchards. At their heels followed the reenforcing soldiers, though they had that day marched nearly sixty miles. Over the Austrian breastworks they surged, like an angry wave from the sea, their bayonets gleaming in the sunset glow. It was the kind of fighting they knew best; the kind that both Serbians and Bulgars know best, the kind they had practiced most.

Small wonder if the inexperienced peasants from the plains of Hungary, unused till then to any sight more bloody than a brawl in the village inn, trembled before this onslaught. Their officers shouted encouragement and oaths, barely audible above the mad yells of the Serbians. Nevertheless, they gave way before the gleaming line of bayonet blades before them. Some few rose to fight, stirred by some long-submerged instinct generated in the days of Genghis Khan. But the majority turned and fled, helter-skelter, down the sides of the mountains toward the valleys, leaving behind guns, ammunition, and cannon. One regiment, the Hundred and Second, stood its ground and fought. As a result it was almost completely annihilated. The same fate befell the Ninety-fourth Regiment. But the majority sought and found safety in flight. By dark the whole Austrian center was beaten back, leaving behind great quantities of war material.