National Geographic : 1917 May
Photograph by Herbert Corey MACEDONIAN TYPES AT SOUBOTSKO ON A MARKET DAY "But there is always something at hand which marks this land as the East. . . . It may be a cynical and discontented peasant in a town that has escaped injury." gained in five years of almost constant fighting. Another factor was the spirit of the men. They no longer hoped for anything for themselves. They expected to die. Those who still remain expect to be killed in action. But they intend that the bill of Serbia shall be paid. If one could forget the foreground, a Macedonian winter landscape would re mind one of Wyoming or Montana. There are the same brown, shallow swells with patches of scrubby brush. There are the same washed-out ravines, the same distant hills clothed with dark wood, while here and there a great bare eminence thrusts upward. Shepherds herd their sheep within sound of the guns. Women wash their clothes at the river side, and do not even look up when the infantry tramp by on the Monastir road. Little black, galloping figures might be cowboys if the glasses did not prove them to be uniformed men. But there is always something at hand which marks this land as of the east. It may be a Turkish drinking fountain through whose old pipes the water still trickles. Perhaps it is a Turkish grave yard - neglected, weedgrown - among whose tumbled stones the cattle graze. It may be a cynical and discontented peasant in one of the towns that has escaped injury. "Neither Bulgar nor Serb," said one such old woman, defiantly, when we left the Monastir road at Dobraveni. "I am Macedonian only and I am sick of war." MASTERLESS DOGS ROAM THE BARREN HILLS And everywhere are the dogs. In this country of shepherds every peasant's cot tage has a moving fringe of dogs. In the East the dog is neither fed nor petted, so that he feels himself outcast and de spised. During this war first one army and then the other has swept over north ern Macedonia, driving the peasants be fore them. The dogs have been left be hind. At night one hears them howling on the desolate hills.