I saw the following incident: There was an Austrian lying by the road, and near him two Bosnians stood. A group of Czechs came along and asked, "What are you doing?"
"Our brother cannot go," said one of the Bosnians.
The sick man opened his eyes and whispered, "I am not Bosnian, I am Czech. They want to beat me and strip me."
And the sticks got to work on the Bosnians' backs. Here nobody goes out without a good stick. Law of the fist rules here.
Inserted is a cutout from an unidentified magazine. On one side is a picture with the caption, "Serbian army retreating. Poor Albanian cottage where the Serbian king Peter spent the night with a few of his soldiers."
On the other side is the following text:
On this impromptu road it was possible to advance only slowly one man after another and every step had to be considered. Every once in a while the road was blocked by a fallen horse who either broke his leg or fell deep into the mud. Soon there were dead horses in heaps on both sides of the road, in places
48
