Tarnow, where I had spent several of my periods of Red Cross work at
the hospitals. The Russian workers in the local Civil Spital had stayed
on to the last and were now under a hot fire, and it was desired that
they should be moved without delay. The Red Cross authorities had been
told that this detachment could be guaranteed "against capture for the
present, but not against artillery fire." I was commissioned to go and
move it.
I found the General of the Transport at the railway station full of
work, but cool and business-like. His was one of the most difficult
tasks, but there was no better head in the Third Army. At three in the
morning he came to tell me that a motor was at my disposal at once.
At my first stop I was asked to take with me an official of the Red
Cross who had been deprived by contusion of his voice and hearing. He
was in full possession of his senses and wrote down his wishes. He had
been under fire with three hundred wounded in the village where I had
slept the night before. There were other reports more disquieting. In
one advanced bandaging point the German soldiers had burst in, full of
drink and rage, and had bayoneted the staff and, as we were told, the
doctor.
In the early morning I reached an ambulance point managed almost
entirely by the members of one family, the father (who was a retired
divisional doctor), the mother, and their son. To them I handed over my
unhappy companion. Here I had anxious news of the hospital for which I
was making. Tarnow was four miles from the front; on the German advance
nine shells had been fired on the hospital in one day, and one of them
had struck the operating-room and wounded the lady doctor.
I drove on to the staff of the neighbouring corps to see about
transport, and thence to my destination. There was an ominous absence
of troops, other than retreating field trains. The inhabitants were
all in the streets, alive as it seemed to me with excitement and
expectation. As I drove up, I saw the five plucky sisters waiting on
their balcony. They had already sent away all their Russian wounded and
were ready to start. The wounded civilians, who were Austrian subjects,
and some wounded Austrian soldiers had been housed in the cellars and
would be left to the care of their own people.
This work had all been done in two hours directly after the last
bombardment. The sisters had been given a second George medal for
bravery. They spent the evening on a hill watching the artillery attack
on our troops. It was a ring of fire that simply demolished the
trenches. Attack after attack of the enemy's infantry was beaten off.
One detachment, sent to the support of a neighbouring regiment, found
some of the defenders asleep under the cannonade: they had beaten off
eight attacks. The N Regiment was decimated, but full of spirit.
All this I learned later. Without any kind of haste or commotion, the
sisters said good-bye to the Austrian wounded and to the kind Polish
sisters who had worked so long with them, and we all started in my
motor. We were soon out of the range of fire, and continued our journey
until we had reached the new headquarters of the Red Cross, where we
were joined a day later by the staff of the army.
_May 9._
The details of the Austro-German advance on the Third Army are
now clearer. The Russian advance over the Carpathians was not met
directly, but by a counter-advance on its flank. Here five army corps
were concentrated, some of the fresh troops being drawn from reserve
divisions on the French front, especially in the neighbourhood of
Verdun. The journey across Germany is reckoned at three to five days,
according to whether or not one includes the mountain marches at the
end of the railway journey. Prisoners of the Prussian Guard tell me
that they were given special training in hill climbing before they
started.
Meanwhile, the long months of comparative inaction had been employed in
bringing up the heaviest German and Austrian artillery, both of which
were last summer concentrated on the western front, and getting the
range not merely of the Russian lines, but of squares which covered a
good part of their rear. This was a long and toilsome operation, as
these guns cannot be moved except by railway or, with great efforts
and under good weather conditions, on roads which have a certain
consistency. The potentialities of these guns are in any case limited;
they cannot easily follow up an advance or get away in case of a rout.
They can force the evacuation of a given area, but it may be possible
to manoeuvre in such a way that the general position is but little
changed.
[Illustration: THE GREAT ATTEMPT OF THE CAUCASIANS]
It will be remembered that the Austrians during the idle months have
been covering the Russian lines in front of them with a ceaseless
cannonade. This counted for little at the time. The Austrian
artilleryman has only lately developed any accuracy; for a long time
they continued in the most stupid errors of detail; they hardly ever
placed a Russian battery, and evidently the process of range-finding
has been long and very expensive. The Austrians rarely attempted
infantry attack, knowing that they always met their masters; thus their
ceaseless cannonade was not a preparation for an infantry offensive;
and the Russians might even, if necessary, leave their trenches only
partially occupied during the day, keeping less in those parts which
were under the hottest fire and holding the whole line in force only by
night.
It was a very different story when the initiative on this side was
undertaken by the Germans, who use artillery as a preparation for
desperate attacks in close column. The difference in accuracy between
the German and Austrian artillery fire was very soon discovered to the
Russian regiments in front of them; and it was known that the Prussian
Guard Reserve was here. The trenches were, therefore, occupied in full
and held until they became untenable.
The enemy's advance was at first directed against what was thought to
be the weakest part of the Third Army, namely its right flank, which
had sent a number of reinforcements to the Carpathian wing; but the
alertness of the Russian general on this side produced an alteration
in the plan, and the attack was diverted to the next army corps
eastwards. This corps contained regiments which had had heavy losses
in the previous hill-fighting. A gap was forced between the two army
corps; and the right flank of the threatened corps (the R Regiment) was
crushed by the pounding fire which I have described under May 3. The
regiment retreated in good spirit, but with the heaviest losses, the O
Regiment, holding its ground to the end, retired with its colonel and
some 300 men: the Z Regiment was severely cut up. In all this fighting
practically every infantry attack of the enemy was beaten back. The
next day the impact fell mainly on the troops which I described on May
4. They held their ground to the evening and then executed an orderly
retreat, coming into line with the broken forces to the right of them.
But on both days a tremendous cannonade was directed on the division
still further eastward, with the result that some regiments suffered
terribly. The next day a fresh corps, the Caucasians, one of the most
famous in the Russian army, had arrived and went forward boldly to the
attack on the flank of the enemy's advance. The prisoners cannot speak
too highly of the courage of this corps; and it did succeed in stemming
the tide, with such effect that the broken army corps to its right had
in two days reformed and come again into position. But it did not get
as far as the enemy's heavy artillery, and retired fighting rearguard
actions--not much further than the point from which it had started.
I have explained that the whole advance of the enemy was a
counter-stroke to the Russian advance over the Carpathians further
eastwards. The right wing of that advance was now outflanked and had
to retire. Half of this corps succeeded in rectifying its positions
without serious loss; but the other division had the greatest
difficulty in fighting its way through, and lost heavily.
Meanwhile the enemy's attack was extended also westwards, including the
area against which it had been originally directed. Here the cannonade
was furious and the trenches were in many parts wiped out, all approach
to them of reinforcements from the rear being made almost impossible.
But here, too, practically all hostile infantry attacks were repulsed
with heavy loss. Ultimately a retreat was ordered by the Russians on
this side. Results are indefinite unless they bring one side or the
other to a definite line of defence.
The situation resulting from all this fighting was as follows: The
present area of conflict is a square lying between two rivers west
and east (Dunajec and San), with the Vistula on the north and the
Carpathians on the south. The square may now be divided by a diagonal
running from north-west to south-east. On the one side are the Russians
and on the other are the enemy; but the diagonal is not any natural
line of defence, and the operations must be continued till one side or
the other occupies the whole of the square.
The enemy has made a special concentration by depleting other parts
of his line. The respective forces are now at close grips in a great
battle which is likely to last for several days. The enemy's heavy
artillery is not likely to have the same effect as before; and a
successful Russian advance may even endanger its retreat.
There are two obvious deductions from this fighting. The Germans are
risking more and more of their forces in the support of Austria, or,
to speak more accurately, in the defence of Hungary, and in order to
do this they must surely have weakened their western front. They must
secure definite results on the Russian side if their attack here is
to be of value to them, as they may again have to throw their forces
westwards ere long.
_May 10._
What a picture these days will leave on the minds of those who have
lived through them. It is only the simple things that count; but they
keep coming back on one in new forms again and again, and that is why
one must repeat oneself so often.
The staff is in no way downhearted; it is sometimes preoccupied,
sometimes cheerful, but always full of vigour. The cause of our
losses has been localised; and there is no sign of panic or hurry in
the search for the necessary remedies. At the bottom of all is this
wonderful confidence of the men and officers who come back wounded from
the front. The Commander of the Army is full of spirit and energy, and
we all consider that we are only halfway through this battle.
The other hospital institutions have mostly been sent to the rear; but
this period of movement is a time of small advance ambulance points
which dispatch their wounded to the rear at once and themselves are
ready to move at short notice, whether forward or backward; and the
Russian sisters who returned with me from the front organised at once
such an ambulance at the station, going on duty the same night, and
working sometimes fifteen hours or more at a stretch.
Enemy aeroplanes threw bombs at them every day, and we picked up
several badly wounded at the station, but none of the workers in the
bandaging-room took any notice of the explosions.
The station is a wonderful place--as wonderful as the great station
in Lvov, which I described several months ago. It is crowded with
wounded, lying close together in the family manner of the Russian
peasant. Most are wounded in the hands or the head; this means that
they were under a devastating fire in the trenches which hit anything
that was at all exposed. But there are also many signs of advance or of
infantry attacks beaten off, in wounds of all kinds all over the body.
Every night hundreds of wounded are given clean bandages and fed with
anything that can be bought in a place where all is movement.
The officers lie here like the rest, separated only by the silent
respect shown to them by the men. The number of wounded officers is not
surprising, for, as I have explained, they stand and walk while their
men are ordered to crawl; but the sacrifice in officers is particularly
impressive.
For me the officers are also sources of information as to the fate of
each of the regiments I have visited. Four jolly N's, three of them
wounded, told me of how their trenches were levelled and how they
retired because there were only shell pits to sleep in; seven officers
led the last counter-attack of this regiment. Of some regiments the
news was that they were practically all gone; in one case the answer
was "The regiment does not exist." Some one asked of one of the O's
where his regiment was to be found: he answered "In the other world."
I learned that three hundred men of this regiment with the colonel had
fought their way back; later, I learned that only seventy-one were
left. The General of this Division told me that he had reformed and
reinforced his men and that they were again at the front, where he was
off to join them. The T's had invited me to join them when in action,
and it was a pure chance that I was directed to another point. I passed
in the street the field trains of this regiment; the officer riding at
the head stopped me and grasped my hand: "What I wanted to say," he
said, "is that the T's are gone, only the flag is saved." The next day
a private with the number of this regiment came up to me in the street:
would I come and see the Colonel who had just been brought in wounded?
I found him at the quarters of the Commander of the Army. His head was
bound up, but he was seated and writing. General Radko Dmitriev came
in and shook his hand time after time. "Thank you for your splendid
stand; human strength can do no more." The Colonel related that his
entrenchments were demolished with the men in them; one company was
cut off, and forty hands were held up in surrender; he himself saw
how the Germans bayoneted half the number out of hand; his own men,
when only five hundred were left of them, went on taking prisoners
exceeding themselves in number, and rejoiced in this sign of their
moral superiority. Of forty officers and four thousand men, in the end
two hundred and fifty were left.
The enemy was in overwhelming numbers; but prisoners continued to come
in in great batches. I spoke with some of the Prussian Guard; they
were vigorous and contentious, and spoke with small respect of the
Austrians. The war is becoming more and more bitter.
I return to my inevitable conclusion. There has been a big success
of technique; and it has wiped out a number of good lives. Even this
battle is not over, and our own people are advancing at points which
offer hope of better results. The Russian army is firmer than ever, and
more and more men are being poured in. It can win, but only if it can
be given anything like fair conditions; in a word, that the Germans
should be met on their own ground, that of heavy and more numerous
artillery, by every possible united effort of the Allies.
_May 13._
I learned that the FF Corps, which contained regiments that I had twice
stayed with, was going to make a determined attempt to turn the tide.
On the heels of this came the news that it had already begun a daring
advance and had taken some heights on the rear of the enemy's line. I
had no means of transport, and was wondering how to get to this corps
when I met in the street a group of soldiers who were asking who wanted
to buy a bicycle for five roubles (ten shillings). I learned afterwards
that a large German cyclist corps had been cut off by our cavalry. The
bicycle was there, so I had a turn on it and bought it. The handles of
the bar were gone, and there was no bell or lamp; the seat and brake
wanted screwing up; otherwise it was a good machine. I had lost my maps
in the retreat, so I went to one of the adjutants, who sketched for me
a map of the district, and I started off.
[Illustration: THE RETREAT FROM THE CARPATHIANS
a Fighting retreat of Russian S.S. Corps
b Enemy's forces trying to outflank and turn S.S.
c Attempt of Russian F.F. Corps on the enemy's flank]
My first destination was Dynow, where I was to find the staff of the SS
Corps. The Polish inhabitants whom I asked pointed forward along a good
straight road, and with the wind behind me I made good way. I passed
plenty of troops going both ways, and the cavalry indulged in friendly
banter with me as to who would arrive first.
Meanwhile, at Dynow things were not at all as we imagined. The FF
Corps further on found that it was advancing into an empty space, while
its neighbour, the SS Corps, was being beset by superior German forces;
there was nothing left for it but to give up its attempt. The SS Corps
arrived at Dynow only to find it already occupied by the enemy. In
instant danger of being cut off, this corps swerved from the road and
went straight forward at a point where it had to cross two bends of the
river. The water was more than breast high; the two passages were made
under a hot fire, and a number of men were killed or drowned; but the
corps made good its retreat, and indeed served as rearguard from hence
to the San line. It was followed closely and vigorously, the Germans
showing the greatest ardour, which in one case brought on them the most
serious losses at the hands of the Russian artillery. The SS Corps also
suffered severely and was greatly reduced in strength.
I should have ridden straight on to the enemy, but my bicycle
collapsed, and I was misdirected as to the road, so that in the evening
I found myself at quite a different point, not far from the town of
Rzeszow, which I had left in the morning. Making for a railway station,
I found a train waiting and learned the new turn of events, also that
Rzeszow itself was likely to fall into the enemy's hands.
It was important that this news should reach those with whom I had
been working; but it was twelve hours before any train could move in
this direction, and then it was only an engine that was sent forward,
with one carriage full of high explosives and a colonel in charge. The
colonel and I sat on either side of the engine, and the driver kept
looking out and slowing down to ask news of the stragglers who were
coming from Rzeszow. Of course we got the usual exaggerated reports;
some said that every one had left or was leaving Rzeszow and that the
enemy were just about to enter. Puffs of shrapnel were to be seen ahead
of us, but we made our way safely into the town.
Here little was known of what was happening; but several plain signs
indicated retreat, and an officer whom I knew kindly gave us the lead
that we required. In the streets there was an unpleasant silence, and
the people seemed to be waiting for something from the west. The last
trains out started with little delay. We looked back on the smoke of
explosions and travelled leisurely and without panic through a peaceful
country, where at each halt the road was lined by good-natured soldiers
resting, eating or chaffing each other on the embankments, as if there
were no war and they were all happy on the banks of some great Russian
river. At one point there was a small collision, but all was put right
without the slightest hurry or excitement.
_May 18._
We had retreated to the San, and the Corps of the Third Army held a
not extensive front, partly in front of and partly behind the river.
The apparently endless file of trains had all made their way along
the single line across the river. Wherever they stopped, the station
was infested by the enemy's aeroplanes; at one time ten of these were
flying along the line. In one day three were brought down, all the
airmen being killed.
The long road picnic on these trains, military or ambulance, shows the
Russian soldier at his best. All content themselves with the simplest
and roughest conditions, and lie anywhere about the spacious vans or
dangle their legs out of the broad doors and talk cheerily with any who
pass. Most of these goods vans are festooned with boughs.
Of course there is an endless stock of narratives from the life at the
front, always with a complete absence of self, except for a summary
mention of the date and occasion of the narrator's own wound. The main
features are always the same--regiments reduced by sheer artillery fire
to half or a quarter, furious infantry attacks of the enemy vigorously
repelled.
Now that we again had a definite line in front of us, I decided to
go up again. I started on foot in fine evening weather and took a
straight line for a point to the south-west. I was halfway to my
destination when in the failing light I saw a motor, which carried one
of the adjutants of the commander of the army. He beckoned me up, and
explained the day's fighting, at which he had been present. It was a
furious artillery duel; and it was chiefly concentrated at a different
point from that for which I was making. He advised me to return and to
visit this point the next day.
On the following morning I started out, again on foot, with a supply of
big biscuits. Nearing the area of firing, I turned across the fields
and came upon a battery of Russian heavy artillery, which was so well
masked that, though I was looking for it, I did not make it out until
I was only a hundred yards off. I had a talk with the commander and
went on to a neighbouring village which was under a heavy fire. Here
were the staffs of a regiment and of the Division which I was seeking.
On the telephone there was brisk conversation. I was invited in to
lunch, where all business talk was avoided, and I was given a Cossack
to take me to the infantry positions. Heavy shells were rattling like
goods vans over our heads, sometimes three being in the air at once
and all taking the same direction. The crashes came from some distance
behind us. The enemy was clearing a space in our reserves and among our
staffs.
The Cossack was a quaint person, with flashing eyes, who walked about
leading his horse everywhere. When he was told to take me in the
direction of the firing, he murmured something about its being "the
very best." His idea was that we should go on foot, he leading his
horse, from which he was most unwilling to part, because he would feel
lost without it. This was all very well: but the appearance of any
horse near the positions is strictly barred, as it at once calls forth
a more or less accurate fire on the infantry. This it was hopeless to
explain to him; so in the end I left both him and his horse behind.
I went on to one of the regimental staffs, and obtained two guides to
the respective regiments which I was visiting. I had hardly left this
hut when a bomb fell on it, killing or wounding several of the staff.
We had sheltered ground almost up to the river. The famous San is here
about a hundred yards broad, with a steep further bank and, on our
own side, a long hollow running parallel with the river and thick with
willows and alder; the country in general, except for some depressions,
is quite flat.
I passed along the front of the C regiment. There was hardly a shot
fired, though the enemy could be seen moving on a hill opposite and was
free to approach to the further side of the river. Our own people had
made some progress with their entrenchments, which were not yet under
artillery fire. To the greeting from the English ally, which I gave
as I passed along, there was an interested reception, and the men put
questions as to the western front. One man, when I told him we were
advancing, crossed himself and said "God grant it."
The men had a very difficult part of the stream to guard and could
easily be put under a flanking fire. With two of the officers I stayed
some time; they were cool and keen, but deeply mortified at the loss
of ground for which they had sacrificed so much. We watched the shells
bursting just behind us; and after a time I made my way back over
ground which was often traversed by shells and shrapnel, usually fired
together.
The cannonade became more and more intense in the evening and lasted
all night and into the next day. Some hours after I left the enemy
crossed at the point which I had visited and made good a footing on our
side of the river. In the morning he was driven back out of our lines;
but returning in force, he finally established himself on our side and
forced these regiments to retreat for some miles. A day later I heard
that the German Emperor in person was opposite to us, just across the
river.
_May 24._