company
formed itself into a ring and defended itself as best it could. These
rings gradually grew smaller as bullet and bayonet claimed their
victims; many of them were wiped out altogether, and when the battle
was over it was possible to find the places where these companies had
made their last stands, for there was not a single survivor--the
wounded were killed by the victors.

But the victory was short-lived. True, the right of the 6th Division
had crumpled up, but a regiment of the 1st Division came up at the
critical moment and stiffened up the left and center, and again the
tide of battle swayed irresolute; then, ten minutes later perhaps, a
regiment from the 5th Division came up at the double on the right rear
of the Bulgarians, taking them in reverse and enfilade. The Bulgarian
right and center crumpled like a rotten egg, while their left fell
hastily back. The Bulgars had thrown their last hazard and had lost.
The carnage was appalling on both sides. The Greek 6th Division had
commenced the day with about 6,000 men; at sunset barely 2,000
remained. Opposite the Greek positions nearly 10,000 Bulgarians were
buried next day, which speaks well for the fighting power of the Greek
when he is making his last stand.

The holocaust of wounded beggars description, but that eminent French
painter, George Scott, told me an incident which came to his own
notice. He was riding up to the front the day after Semitli, and was
just emerging from the awesome Kresna Pass, when he and his companion
came upon a Greek dressing station. The narrow space between cliff and
river was entirely occupied by some hundreds of Greek wounded, some of
them already dead, many dying, and others fainting. They were lying
about awaiting their turn for the surgeon's knife. In the center stood
the surgeon, with the sleeves of his operating-coat turned up, his arms
red to the elbow in blood, all about him blood-stained bandages and
wads of cotton-wool. They reined in their horses and surveyed the
scene; as one patient was being removed from the packing-case that
served as operating-table, the surgeon raised his weary eyes and saw
them, the only unwounded men in all that vast and silent gathering.
"You are newspaper correspondents?" he asked. "Well, tell me, tell me
when this butchery will cease! For seventy-two hours I have been plying
my knife, and look at those who have yet to come"--he swept the circle
of wounded with an outstretched bloody han