The road to Skopje was filled with the retreating Ottoman army.
Columns of soldiers moved slowly, raising thick dust. Many walked in silence with their heads lowered. Some supported wounded comrades. Abandoned wagons and broken ammunition crates stood along the roadside.
Occasionally short conversations could be heard among the soldiers.
—"Will we stop in Skopje?"
—"No one knows."
—"They say the Serbs are already following us."
No one answered.
After the Battle of Kumanovo the army had lost its order. Some units still maintained formation, but others moved almost without officers. Communication between units had broken down, and orders reached the soldiers too late.
Supply wagons moved at the front of the columns. Horses dragged artillery guns covered in mud. Sometimes the wheels became stuck in the soft ground, and the artillerymen had to push them forward with their hands.
A heavy silence hung over the road.
Everyone understood what had happened.
Kumanovo had become a catastrophe for the Ottoman army.
The army headquarters was located in a small house on the edge of a village.
Kerosene lamps burned in the room. A map of Macedonia lay on the table, covered with pencil lines and notes.
General Zeki Pasha stood beside the map.
One officer had just finished his report.
—"Communication with the right flank could not be restored. Some units are retreating without orders."
For several seconds no one in the room spoke.
Zeki Pasha slowly moved his hand across the map.
—"Where are the main forces now?"
—"They are retreating toward Skopje."
—"How many men remain in formation?"
—"Exact numbers are unknown."
The general remained silent for a moment.
Then he said quietly:
—"We must restore order."
One officer spoke carefully.
—"Pasha… if the Serbs continue advancing, we may not have time to regroup."
Zeki Pasha looked at him.
—"Then we must gain time. The army will continue retreating toward Skopje. There we will attempt to gather the scattered units."
The officers exchanged glances.
Everyone understood the situation was worse than the reports suggested.
The army had lost the initiative.
And if the Serbs moved quickly, the retreat could become a rout.
Meanwhile north of Kumanovo the Serbian army was already preparing for further advance.
On a command hill several officers stood around a large map.
General Radomir Putnik listened carefully to a reconnaissance report.
—"The Ottoman army is retreating."
—"In which direction?"
—"Toward Skopje."
Putnik nodded.
—"So they are not preparing for another battle."
One officer said:
—"Their units are badly damaged."
Another added:
—"If we move quickly, we may not allow them to stop."
Putnik remained silent for a moment.
Then he said:
—"Then we will move quickly."
—"Send the order."
—"The army begins its advance."
The adjutant quickly left the tent.
Within minutes new orders began spreading along the Serbian lines.
Officers gathered their soldiers.
Artillery crews prepared their guns.
Columns slowly began to move.
Skoropadsky stood beside Putnik and looked at the map.
—"The Ottoman army has lost order."
Putnik nodded.
—"Yes."
He pointed to the road leading south.
—"If they manage to stop in Skopje, they may still attempt to restore the front."
Skoropadsky studied the map.
—"But if we do not give them time…"
Putnik finished the thought.
—"Then the front will collapse."
They were silent for a moment.
Then Skoropadsky said:
—"Wars in the Balkans are often decided quickly."
Putnik smiled faintly.
—"Which is why we must move faster than the enemy."
By noon the Serbian army was already advancing south.
Infantry columns stretched along the roads.
Soldiers marched quickly, sometimes almost running. The victory at Kumanovo had raised their spirits, and many were already speaking about the war ending sooner than expected.
—"They say the Turks are already fleeing."
—"Then we will soon be in Skopje."
Some soldiers laughed.
But the officers remained serious.
They knew that a retreating army could still be dangerous.
Cavalry units moved ahead of the columns.
Scouts carefully examined roads and villages.
Sometimes they returned with new reports.
—"Ottoman units continue retreating. There is abandoned equipment along the roads. Some villages still contain Turkish soldiers."
Gradually it became clear that the Ottoman army had indeed lost order.
And the Serbian army moved faster and faster.
The war in the Balkans was entering a new phase.
The road to Skopje had turned into a river of retreat.
Ottoman infantry, artillery wagons, supply carts, and wounded soldiers moved along the muddy Macedonian road in a long and disordered column. Dust mixed with autumn mist hung low above the fields.
Occasionally officers rode along the line trying to restore order.
—"Close the ranks! Stay with your units!"
But many soldiers barely reacted.
Some had lost their regiments during the retreat from Kumanovo. Others had simply joined the nearest column moving south.
Near a crossroads an artillery battery struggled with its guns.
The wheels of one cannon had sunk deeply into the mud.
Four soldiers pushed against the spokes while another shouted commands.
—"Again! Push!"
The cannon moved only a few centimeters before sinking again into the mud.
One of the soldiers wiped sweat and dirt from his face.
—"If the Serbs appear now, we will have to abandon the guns."
The officer supervising the battery turned sharply.
—"No guns are to be abandoned."
—"Pasha's order?"
—"Army order."
The soldier looked at the cannon again.
—"Then the army should send us more horses."
The officer did not answer.
Behind them more columns were arriving from the north.
Some units still marched in formation, their officers maintaining discipline. Others moved like scattered groups of survivors.
The defeat at Kumanovo had shaken the army more deeply than many commanders wished to admit.
Several kilometers ahead, the road descended toward the wide valley of the Vardar River.
Beyond the valley lay Skopje.
The city had already begun to feel the consequences of the battle.
In the courtyard of the Ottoman administrative building, several officials stood near a carriage loaded with documents and sealed chests.
Inside the building, hurried voices echoed through the corridors.
An Ottoman administrator spoke quietly to a military officer.
—"Is it true the army is retreating?"
—"Yes."
—"Completely?"
The officer hesitated.
—"The situation is still developing."
The administrator sighed.
—"That usually means the army has been defeated."
The officer did not argue.
Instead he looked toward the northern road.
—"We are expecting the first units within the hour."
—"And after that?"
—"More will follow."
The administrator rubbed his forehead.
—"How long before the Serbs arrive?"
The officer answered honestly.
—"That depends on how quickly they move."
For a moment both men remained silent.
Finally the administrator said quietly:
—"Then we must prepare the archives."
In the central square of Skopje soldiers were already gathering.
Some were exhausted infantrymen who had marched through the night. Others were cavalry units sent to organize the defense of the city.
A young officer spoke with a colonel near the fountain.
—"Do we defend the city?"
The colonel looked toward the northern road.
—"With what army?"
—"We still have several regiments."
The colonel shook his head.
—"Regiments without artillery."
He lowered his voice.
—"And without ammunition."
The younger officer frowned.
—"Then what are our orders?"
The colonel answered calmly.
—"Delay the enemy if possible."
—"And if that is impossible?"
The colonel looked at him carefully.
—"Then we withdraw further south."
The officer was silent for a moment.
—"To Salonika?"
—"Perhaps."
—"Or perhaps even farther."
Meanwhile the first Ottoman units were already entering the outskirts of the city.
The soldiers looked exhausted.
Some walked with bandaged arms. Others leaned on rifles as if they were walking sticks.
Civilians watched silently from doorways and windows.
A shopkeeper spoke quietly to his neighbor.
—"They look like defeated men."
The neighbor nodded.
—"Because they are."
—"Do you think the Serbs will come?"
—"After such a victory?"
He shrugged.
—"Of course they will."
North of the city the Serbian cavalry was already approaching the valley.
A group of mounted scouts rode along the ridge overlooking the Vardar River.
The commander of the patrol raised his binoculars.
For a moment he studied the road leading to Skopje.
Then he turned to his lieutenant.
—"The Turks are still moving."
—"How many?"
—"Thousands."
The lieutenant looked toward the distant city.
—"Then they are trying to regroup there."
The commander lowered the binoculars.
—"Perhaps."
He pointed toward the smoke rising above the valley.
—"But not for long."
The lieutenant smiled slightly.
—"Should we send the report?"
—"Immediately."
He turned his horse.
—"The army must know that Skopje is within reach."
The cavalry patrol rode back toward the advancing Serbian columns.
Behind them, far across the valley, the minarets of Skopje rose above the city.
And beyond the hills to the north, the victorious Serbian army was already moving forward.
Morning in the Vardar valley began quietly.
Fog slowly lifted above the river, revealing roads, fields, and scattered villages. An uneasy silence hung above the rooftops of Skopje.
The city was waiting in silence.
On the northern road a small Ottoman rearguard had taken position.
About a hundred soldiers occupied positions behind a stone wall and overturned wagons. Their officer carefully watched the road through binoculars.
A sergeant stood nearby.
—"Any news from headquarters?"
The officer shook his head.
—"No."
The sergeant looked north.
—"How long are we supposed to delay them?"
The officer remained silent for a moment.
Then he said quietly:
—"As long as we can."
The sergeant smirked.
—"That means not very long."
After some time riders appeared on the road.
At first a small group.
Then another.
The sergeant narrowed his eyes.
—"Cavalry."
The officer raised his binoculars.
For a moment he said nothing.
—"Serbian."
The sergeant muttered quietly.
—"More than we expected."
The cavalry moved quickly and confidently. They advanced in a wide line, carefully observing the terrain.
After a few minutes one of them raised his hand.
The column stopped.
—"They spotted us," the sergeant said.
The officer lowered the binoculars.
—"Of course they did."
He turned to the soldiers.
—"Prepare yourselves."
The first shot came suddenly.
A Serbian cavalryman who had ridden too close to the stone wall pulled his horse aside as a bullet struck the ground nearby.
A second later the firefight began.
Ottoman soldiers fired from behind cover.
Serbian cavalry dismounted and took positions along the road.
The sergeant loaded his rifle.
—"They are flanking us from the left."
The officer nodded.
—"I see them."
After a few minutes it became clear the fight would not last long.
Serbian cavalry gradually surrounded the position.
The sergeant looked at his commander.
—"We cannot stop them."
The officer lowered his rifle.
—"Our task was never to stop them."
—"Only to delay them."
He looked toward the road leading to the city.
—"We have given them time."
The sergeant nodded.
—"Then it is time to leave."
The Ottoman soldiers began to withdraw.
Within minutes the road was clear.
By noon the first Serbian units were already entering Skopje.
Infantry moved through the streets cautiously, carefully watching houses and intersections.
Residents watched from windows.
Some doors were closed.
Others stood directly in the streets.
An elderly man said to his neighbor:
—"They arrived faster than I expected."
His neighbor replied quietly:
—"After such a battle, it was inevitable."
In the central square a Serbian cavalry squadron stopped.
An officer dismounted and looked toward the administrative building.
The Ottoman flag still hung from the roof.
He turned to a soldier.
—"Take it down."
The soldier quickly climbed the ladder.
A few minutes later the flag was removed.
Silence filled the square.
Some residents watched without speaking.
Others whispered quietly among themselves.
War changed cities faster than people could grow accustomed to it.
By evening the Serbian army had established its headquarters in the city.
In a large hall of the administrative building officers gathered around a map.
Putnik stood near the table.
One officer delivered a report.
—"Ottoman units continue retreating south."
—"In which direction?"
—"Most likely toward Salonika."
Putnik nodded.
—"Then they do not intend to hold Macedonia."
The officer added:
—"Their army is badly disorganized."
Putnik remained silent for a moment.
Then he said:
—"This is only the beginning."
He looked at the map of the Balkans.
—"The war is far from over."
Skoropadsky stood by the window and watched the evening city.
Lanterns were already lit in the streets.
Soldiers were taking positions at intersections.
He heard footsteps behind him.
It was Putnik.
—"What do you think about today's events, Colonel?"
Skoropadsky did not answer immediately.
—"Today we saw how quickly an old system can collapse."
Putnik looked at him.
—"The Ottoman Empire?"
—"Not only."
Skoropadsky turned toward the map.
—"The Balkans have always been a place where great changes begin."
Putnik smiled slightly.
—"You believe this is only the beginning?"
Skoropadsky answered calmly.
—"Yes."
He looked at the map of Europe.
—"And I suspect this war will not be the last."
Silence returned to the room.
Outside, the sound of soldiers' footsteps echoed through the streets.
Skopje was now under the authority of a new army.
But the war in the Balkans had only just begun.