"Now for it!" repeated X----, focussing down his telescope and steadying
himself with his elbows. "I think you'll find the show from now on worth
all the trouble of coming up to see."
[Sidenote: the Bulgars break and retreat.]
I do not attempt to account for what happened now; I only record it. It
may have been that the Allied artillery had wrought more havoc in that
advancing wave of men than had been apparent from a distance, or it may
have been that the enemy artillery had done less to the entrenched
defenders than it was expected to do; at any rate, the line of gray
began to break at almost the first impact of the line of brown, and the
great hand-to-hand fight that X---- had promised me was transformed into
a Marathon.
[Sidenote: Greeks have always beaten the Bulgars.]
"As I expected," muttered my companion. "'Boris' has no stomach for a
fight to-day with the man who licked him yesterday, and will lick him
to-morrow and go right on licking him to the end if they'll only give
him a show. The Bulgar never has stood up to the Greek, and he never
will."
[Sidenote: The Greek Staff is in a mountain valley.]
[Sidenote: Scarcity of nurses.]
The Greek Staff shared a round bowl of a mountain valley, a few miles
back from the front lines, with a clearing station. The equipment of the
little hospital had mostly been provided by the British Red Cross, but
the Venizelists had made a brave effort to furnish the staff themselves.
There were two French-trained Greek surgeons, a Greek matron, Greek
orderlies, and two Greek nurses.
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