wheeling always nearer to the earth. We made a straight drive over the
aerodrome while the company of airmen stood at the salute, and after
circling once more over the town came to the ground. We had had an
hour's run, and our highest elevation was 1200 metres. It appeared
that there had been awkward currents of wind and that we had wobbled a
good deal, but it had not seemed so to me, and what I remembered was a
smooth, regular motion and a broad back and a cool head in front of me.
_April 7._
My flying friends have a small but very interesting collection of
letters which, with the leave of the authorities, no doubt on both
sides, have been exchanged between them and the airmen of the enemy.
It is headed simply, "Correspondence with the --th Austrian Section of
Aviators." It opens with a letter from the Russian Chief of Section:
"Airmen of yours have been taken prisoner in civil costume. They said
that our officers have also, which we doubt. Please let us know what
is the character of the serious wound of Lt. X, taken prisoner by you
on January --th." This note was dropped on the Austrian aerodrome
with two letters from Austrian prisoners. As the answer was delayed,
the Russians dropped a second note, this time in German, on the
same place. It reported that the captive Austrians were unwounded
and proceeds: "Your note picked up at ---- on the ----th of March
leaves the impression that our first message has not reached you; we
therefore would respectfully ask you to answer our note. We also send a
friendly-foemanly request that you will give us news of our airman, Lt.
----. He was taken prisoner on the --th of January and was wounded. We
should like to know how it happened and whether the wound is slight or
serious.--The Russian Flyers."
To this the following answer was received from the Austrian Chief of
Section: "My hearty thanks for your letter, which I have just got. I
am sorry that I have not had time to drop on you a photograph of the
machine of Lt. ----. On March the --th and the --th we have dropped you
news of your airmen taken prisoners _[the names follow_]. I therefore
repeat that all four were unwounded and have probably been transported
to the prettiest part of our country, Salzburg. Lts. ---- and ---- got
a shot on their sparking apparatus. I have myself had a talk with Lt.
----. I saw _no signs_ of any wound. In future every note of yours will
be answered, and the answer will be dropped on your aerodrome.--With
best greeting, Your ever devoted enemy, August, Baron von Mandelslob."
To this the Russians replied, under name and address of the Austrian
Chief of Staff: "Our hearty thanks for yesterday's note which dropped
straight on our aerodrome. We are sorry not to be able to tell you
to what part of our country your airmen have been sent, but we think
that the address will soon be sent you by earth-post by the prisoners
themselves. The _Albatross_ was shot to pieces, about thirty bullets
in the wings and body. One bullet hit the propeller, but made only a
smooth hole without any fissure. The two airmen, Lts. ---- and ----
are unhurt. With this note we shall drop on you two letters from the
prisoners. Please address your next note as follows (----). God greet
you.--The Russian Flyers."
The Austrians continued: "A few days ago our airmen, Captain ----,
Oberleutnant ----, Oberleutnant ----, Professor D---- and two
lieutenants with two airship chauffeurs, left Przemysl in a balloon and
are lost. We beg you friendly-foemanly to drop on our aerodrome news of
these officers" [_three signatures_]. Baron von Mandelslob also writes:
"Many thanks for your last lines about the loss of our _Albatross_.
I am sorry to say that we have not for some time had the honour of
seeing Russian airmen among us on the ground. Will you be so kind as to
forward to Omsk the accompanying note to our captive airman, Lt. ----?
We will try to get the address of your airmen prisoners, and then you
will be able to write to them. Best greeting."
The Russians reply: "A happy Easter. Many thanks for yesterday's
letter. Your note will be sent at once to Lt. ----. On March --th
we received a communication about three balloons from Pzremysl. It
was signed by Captain Kahlen. As we do not know this gentleman, we
address to you, with the friendly request to forward to him. All the
three balloons landed in Russia. We have only private news of them,
and understand that all the airmen were alive and well. We ask you to
forward the four accompanying letters to the proper addresses. We have
been waiting for an answer to our letter of the --th, and that is why
these letters are late. What was wrong with your motor yesterday? We
thought we should soon have the honour of seeing the enemy's airship
land on our aerodrome. Best greeting and Easter wishes to all the
gentlemen of the ---- Section of Aviators.--The Russian Flyers." This
letter was dropped on the Austrian aerodrome, and also on the same day
an Easter egg and a large box of Russian cigarettes. On Easter Sunday
an enormous Easter egg, with the inscription in Russian "Christ is
risen," was dropped from an aeroplane and, having a parachute attached
to it, fell slowly on the Austrian lines.
_April 8._
It was Easter Eve. A wide awning had been set up, and in front of it
an altar with flaming lights all round it. The tall priest served
the Liturgy with wonderful spirit; sometimes it was a hurried and
fervent whisper; sometimes his voice rose to a battle-cry, as when
he powerfully swayed the Cross almost as if it were a weapon. On the
grass, grouped in chance masses, stood the soldiers of the N regiment,
most of them holding lighted candles, with their officers gathered in
front. The young colonel stood near the priest; through Lent he had
shown the example of rigorous fasting. On the other side was a strong
choir of soldiers, led with the slightest movements of the hand.
The service begins with a time of waiting; then there are movements of
expectancy, and the priest retires, as if to see whether the coffin of
the Saviour is still in its place. He comes back and whispers, "Christ
is risen," and these words, which are themselves in Russian like a
whisper ("Christos Voskres") are taken up by the choir, first very
softly and later rising to a song of triumph.
The service ends with the Eucharist. The words "Lift up your hearts"
were a moment of wonderful spirit and elevation. The priest took the
Sacrament on bended knees with the greatest reverence and feeling, and
administered it to two of the soldiers.
Now every one, beginning with the colonel, approached in turn to kiss
the Cross. Then each turned to his neighbour and gave the threefold
brother's kiss, with the words "Christ is risen," to which comes the
answer, "He is risen indeed." All the officers gave the kiss to the
priest and the colonel. From the neighbouring lines shone out two
projectors, whose lights crossed to form the first letter of the name
of Christ--X.
We drove off to the officers' mess, which was in a large cottage. At
the crowded tables there reigned the spirit of brotherhood. After the
Emperor's toast the colonel and the regiment drank to King George and
England, and all stood waving their glasses and roaring hurrah, while
I went round and touched glasses with each. My toast was that the
alliance should last on after the war. We had other toasts, the sisters
of mercy, the colonel's wife, and above all the regiment. It was well
on in the early morning when the young officers on horseback escorted
their guests back to the town.
On Easter Sunday some of the Red Cross people went out to the front.
At this point both sides had agreed not to shoot, and the men came out
of their trenches and fraternised across the Dunajec, the Russians
producing a harmonium. Newspapers were exchanged; and an Austrian
officer sat down and wrote some impromptu verses, which he fastened to
a stone and threw across. The verses began very peaceably, but had an
unexpected end which, my friends felt, would be specially interesting
to me. I give them in German with a translation--
Auf Grund der hohen Feier tage
Geändert unsere Feindeslage.
Wir leben heut' in tiefem Frieden:
Zur kürzen Zeit ist's uns beschieden,
Dann werden wir die Waffen mässen;
Jedoch soll niemals man vergessen
Den Stifter deiser Weltenbrand.
"Gott Strafe England."
The holy days of Easter-tide
Have set our enmity aside.
We live in perfect peace to-day:
'Tis but a little time we may,
Then to our weapons we must get;
But ever we'll remember yet
Who lit this fire of world-wide wrack;
O God, pay England back.
_April 9._
I have been visiting my friends at the Staff of the army at Jaslo. Even
this place has not been immune, bombs have been thrown from aeroplanes,
doing no damage to the army but wounding and killing some children.
I visited the General in command, who is in splendid spirits. He is the
simplest of men, and stops in the streets to talk to the children or to
any new arrival. He is happy now, because things are going forward.
The Staff lies in rather better quarters here, but with the same
simplicity as when I first visited it at Pilsno. One of the regiments
I knew came through in fine style with its colonel at its head; it
had done forty-eight miles in two days, and was ready for any amount
more. The different battalions were singing different soldiers' songs,
each taking pride in getting a good swing and putting in the best foot
forward. I was struck with one man who marched at the side leading the
songs with a mouth like a brass instrument and a voice to match.
Two German airmen have just come down here. They had made a wide
circuit, and were brought down by the failure of their motor. As always
here, they are being well treated. Even in the case of spies caught
red-handed, it is most difficult to get the Russian soldier to shoot,
especially if the condemned shows any sign of fear.
Austrian soldiers are to be seen here everywhere. The Germans and
Magyars are under close surveillance; but the Austrian Slavs are
ordinarily allowed to wander about freely. Many of them have shown in
the most thorough way their attachment to the Russian cause; but I am
told on the best authority for this area, that there is not a known
instance of their abusing their liberty to play the part of spies. At
many points on the Austrian front the Slavonic cause is like a kind of
contagion. Under German direction disaffected troops are moved from one
point to another to escape this infection, and finally, at the first
opportunity, come over _en masse_.
Every day the prisoners are gathered together in groups according to
their various nationalities for examination. These interrogations,
which are of a very systematic kind, obtain very interesting results.
Most of the prisoners testify to a shortness of food, not only in the
front but in the rear. Letters from home to them speak of the dearness
of all food; some necessities cannot even be obtained for money, and
different parts of the empire are applying to each other for them in
vain. Nowhere is there any spirit left. The only comfort which the
officers can suggest is to await some success from the Germans. Some,
moreover, describe the officers as being never on view, except to abuse
their men, treating them worse than cattle: "So that one does not know
whether one is a man or not." Only one Austrian officer so far has
been taken in this part with a bayonet wound. It is known that there
have been further protests in Bohemia after the taking of Peremyshl,
and that the severest repression has been used, also that two Polish
regiments have been literally decimated, that is, that every tenth
man in them has been shot. One man's brother writes to him that he is
called for the first time to the army at the age of forty-eight, and in
his part the last call covers those between forty-two and fifty-two.
Other new battalions are formed, ninety per cent. of reservists and
ten per cent. of wounded who have returned to the colours; in most of
them there is now a hopeless mix up of all nationalities. Some describe
their training as having only lasted four weeks. In all cases the
preoccupation of the commanding officers is regarding retreat.
_April 11._
The centre of interest is now in the Carpathians. If Russia could
have advanced with success against the strong German positions in
East Prussia, she would have secured her right flank, but only as far
as the sea, which would still have remained in German hands. On her
left, her victories in Galicia have brought her to a very different
barrier, which, if passed by her, will certainly remain impassable for
the beaten enemy. It is a good thing that the Austrians, continually
spurred forward by the Germans, have exhausted themselves in one
desperate counter-attack after another on Galicia. It is a good thing
that the Germans, realising what the ultimate defeat of Austria must
mean to them, have diverted so many of their forces to this side. It is
best of all that they have risked a desperate advance in the Bukovina
and even as far as the Russian frontier, in the hope of dragging
Rumania in on their side. The fall of Peremyshl has opened the gates of
Hungary and has made possible a movement which threatens vital results
on this front. Hungary and Prussia are the two keys to our triumph in
this war. The one element in Austria that holds firm to the Prussian
alliance is the Magyar; the one statesman in Austria is the Hungarian,
Count Tisza, whose estate almost on the crest of the Carpathians is now
in Russian hands. A Russian advance on this side can crush Hungary or
cut her from Prussia. It can bring even the Magyar to wish for peace;
it can finally put aside all action of Austria; and along the real
barrier thus secured to the south, it can facilitate the concentration
of the forces of the allies against the main enemy. It is, indeed, good
that this effect comes at the time when we are hammering at the gates
of Constantinople and opening up an effective advance from our western
front.
But the task in the Carpathians is a stupendous one, and it comes when
the Russian army has been tried to the full by the tremendous work
which it has already gone through. We had in England no adequate army
when the war began; we had not reckoned on the shameless violation of
Belgian territory or on the obligations of a joint struggle with allies
for the independence of Europe. Every one in Russia understands the
miracle that we have done in creating so rapidly a really competent
continental army on the basis of volunteer service, and every one sees
that we were right to defer our blow till the great new instrument
was whole and perfected. But it is Russia who has given us time for
preparing our action on land; and the sacrifices which this has cost
her are heavy indeed. The tremendous impact at Rava Ruska was followed
by another prolonged and exterminating effort on the San, and this
takes no account of the work which was done in holding the furious
attacks of the main enemy in Russian Poland. These efforts put a
terrible drain on the Russian resources. While we stood firm on the
west, whole Russian regiments were almost annihilated in the victorious
storming of one Austrian position after another. In my earlier visits
to regiments I have often asked how many men of the first call still
remain; sometimes only six of a company were still left, sometimes
it was hardly more out of a whole regiment. It was an army already
replaced at almost every point which had to attempt the conquest of the
Carpathians.
The Carpathians are not the Alps. It might be easier if they were, for
there would be fewer positions capable of being defended. They are a
belt of high and higher hills some sixty miles or more in breadth,
where whole armies can hold line after line. They are full of trees,
water and mud. Only one double line of railway runs through them.
As they have the shape of a fan spread northwards, the defence can
concentrate backward along the various converging passes and can, in
a relatively small space, almost block the narrow entrance to the
Hungarian plain. But once that final barrier is passed, Hungary is
lost. Any counter advance can be blocked without great expenditure
of forces, and the conqueror will be free to advance southwards or
westwards.
_April 12._
At the Staff of the Army I fell in with a number of casual
acquaintances who all saluted me as "Mister." There was a keen young
flying-man who was now going back to his cavalry regiment, and a
colonel sent to take temporary command of an infantry regiment. The
talk was in fragments and all of incidents of camp life or engagements.
We knew that another advance had been made and that big things were
going forward.
All night we travelled by train, with changes and queer moments in the
dark when our luggage ought to have been lost but wasn't. In the early
morning the Colonel and I were on an engine climbing the Carpathians
along a fine double track. We sat like Dean and Archdeacon in little
side stalls with our things stacked where there was least coal and
bilge, while the engine-driver, a most intelligent man from the
Caucasus, explained the difficulties of his work. The rise is a very
steep one, and we had a front view of it, passing up long slopes or
through strata of yellow rock. In these mountains one had at once the
feeling of being altogether away from Russia; and the new Russian army
notices blending with the earlier Polish and Hungarian inscriptions
suggested the atmosphere of a big adventure. All along the beautiful
slopes there was the look of a huge Russian picnic, soldiers sitting at
rest in great boyish crowds very much as in peace time the peasants do
on the sloping banks of the Volga. The bright dresses of the Ruthenian
women and the almost theatrical picturesqueness of their men-folk
touched the whole with novelty.
Alighting at a station near the top, I found the usual war crowd and
park of waiting army carts, and a brisk-faced intendant who rapped out
business-like answers to a running fire of questions from all sides.
My own business was to get to General Dobrotin, and it was made easy
by the appearance of a plain-faced officer who said, "He's the man
who pours cold water over himself in the morning; give him to me; we
know him all over the division." I was soon in a _formanka_--a sort
of boat-like cart which works particularly well in the mountains--and
making my way up the gorge, at first with a broad shallow river to my
left and later branching into the hills. Here in a little gully lay a
scattered village; and the notes of a mountain flute were wafted down
the slope.
General Dobrotin and his famous division have had far more than their
share of the great fighting in this war; and they have been given one
critical task after another, because their action has so often been
decisive. In no less than three great movements they made the first
cut in, and held the ground won as a kind of pivot until the whole
operation was successfully completed. It was so at Rava Russka, on the
San, and at Muchowka. They had now been transferred to the other flank
of our Army.
It was the second time that this division, now enlarged into an
army corps, had had mountain fighting, to which the Russian soldier
is much less accustomed than to the plains. This time the task was a
stupendous one. The railway pass crosses one of the lowest parts of
the Carpathians, but close to it rises the long, steep ridge of the
Eastern Beskides, which is the actual crest of the range at this point.
It is covered with forest, and forms a line of rounded heights which
are often separated from each other by almost precipitous gullies.
Along this line ran a chain of carefully prepared positions, which the
Austrian officers regarded as inaccessible.
Dobrotin's force, brought up with the greatest secrecy, had in some
cases hardly detrained before it was launched to the attack. It soon
mastered the outlying ground and then marched from all sides to the
attack of the main ridge. The Russian infantry, on which has fallen
the brunt of attack in this war, does not ordinarily go forward in
close columns like the German. Groups of men, led by the instinctive
enterprise of the more daring, gain one point of vantage after another,
each of which forms a pivot for an advance of the whole line. In night
attacks the movement can, of course, be more general and more rapid. In
any case the last hundred yards or so are covered at a rush; but there
is an inevitable pause before the wire entanglements, which in front
of the Austrian trenches are generally most elaborate and have to be
cut through with enormous scissors under a storm of fire, especially of
quick-firing guns.
The Russians went up the slope with unconquerable daring, the new
recruits showing the same courage as those already seasoned by the
war. The whole operation went with a simplicity which made short
work of all obstacles. Under a furious fire the men swarmed into the
Austrian trenches, at once overcoming all opposition. There is no easy
retreat from heights of this kind; everywhere hands were thrown up
and the positions were won. The Russians sit firm on the crest of the
Carpathians.
The staff from which this crucial attack was directed lived like a
little family of brothers in a farmhouse in the valley. The General,
white-haired, with one eye left, and with two other wounds, but with a
youthful vigour of voice and movement, lived among his officers with
a comradely simplicity, now patting one on the back, now sharing with
another a bench on which to draw up a report, now gazing with amused
interest at the regimental chronicler at work with his typewriter. His
was an authority absolute.
_April 14._
The F and J Regiments were to storm a height of about 2,500 feet on the
further side of the Beskides and thus close the flank of the newly-won
positions against any turning movement of the enemy.
I set out in the General's _britchka_ in a swirling storm of sleet.
Ground could only be made very slowly; for the whole country was sunk
in deep mud. On a slope in the road we came upon an ambulance transport
stuck fast, with a couple of soldiers using all their expletives, which
would have translated quite simply into English. Soon afterwards we
had to leave the road and plough through spongy meadows intersected
with ditches. At one ditch there were two sharp cracks, and here both
our springs were broken.
It was a desolate halting-place, with no one in sight. My
soldier-driver announced: "We shall go nowhere with this to-day."
However, he set to work and showed prodigies of strength and resource,
using broken boughs as levers, detaching certain parts of the carriage
for strange uses in other places, and more than once lifting the cart
almost off its wheels by its own strength. I made a fruitless journey
for help; and a squadron passing on its way to the front could do
nothing for us. My driver did, indeed, succeed in tying up the broken
springs; but the most that he could hope for was to get back safely; so
I went forward on foot over a bog and a moor, to the nearest village.
Here I found a train of transports, whose captain kindly sent help to
the _britchka_, and I myself went on to the staff of the J Regiment.
This was in a Ruthenian cottage several miles behind the firing line;
only orderlies were left here besides the Ruthenian family, which
almost always remains in some corner of its hut during occupation by
the Russians. These people had vigorous, handsome faces, and were
dressed, men and women, in bright colours; they sat almost silent in an
attitude of long waiting. While I was with them, orders came for the
staff to move on: a squad of men marched in, and, saluting, took away
the regimental flag, tramping off southwards. As the last man left,
the Ruthenians began to talk, at first in whispers. Their language was
Russian, their religion Uniat, and they had much more in common with
the invader than with the neighbouring Magyar.