Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this
file which includes the original illustrations.
See 51551-h.htm or 51551-h.zip:
(https://www.gutenberg.org/cache/epub/51551/pg51551-images.html)
or
(https://www.gutenberg.org/files/51551/51551-h.zip)
Images of the original pages are available through
Internet Archive/American Libraries. See
https://archive.org/details/russiancampaigna00wash
THE RUSSIAN CAMPAIGN
April to August, 1915
* * * * * *
Other Books by
STANLEY WASHBURN.
Trails, Trappers, and Tenderfeet
Price 10s. 6d. net. _Second Edition._
Nogi
Large crown 8vo, 3s. 6d. net.
The Cable Game
Price 4s. 6d. net.
Two in the Wilderness: A Romance of North-Western Canada
Price 6s. _Fourth Edition._
London: Andrew Melrose, Ltd.
* * * * * *
[Illustration: HIS IMPERIAL MAJESTY THE TSAR OF ALL THE RUSSIAS.
_Frontispiece._] [_Photo, Record Press._]
THE RUSSIAN CAMPAIGN
April to August, 1915, Being the Second Volume of
“Field Notes from the Russian Front”
by
STANLEY WASHBURN
(Special Correspondent of “The Times” with the Russian Armies)
With Photographs by George H. Mewes
London: Andrew Melrose, Ltd.
3 York Street, Covent Garden, W.C.
_The illustrations in this book are from the photographs of_ MR. GEORGE
H. MEWES, _who accompanied Mr. Washburn in all his tours. They are
reproduced here by courtesy of the “Daily Mirror.”_
Dedication.
To
LORD NORTHCLIFFE and the EDITORS of “_The Times_” London
In Appreciation of a Year of Loyal Support
and Co-operation.
INTRODUCTION
Many of my friends have urged me not to publish this, the second
volume of Field Notes from the Russian Front, on the ground that the
fortunes of Russia and the Russian armies were on the wane, and that
the optimism which I have always felt has proved itself unfounded by
the events of the past few months. It is for the very reason that
conditions in Russia are momentarily unfavourable that I am glad to
publish this book at this time, as a vindication of my faith and belief
in the common soldiers and officers of an army with which I have been
associated for nearly a year.
During the advances and successes in Galicia and Poland a year ago
I found the Russian troops admirable, and now in the hour of their
reverses and disappointments they are superb. I retract nothing that I
have said before, and resting my faith in the justice of the cause, the
unflinching character of the people, and the matchless courage of the
Russian soldiers, I am glad in this moment of depression to have the
chance to vindicate my own belief in their ultimate victory in the East.
The Russians for more than a year have laboured under innumerable
difficulties. Without munitions, and handicapped in a hundred ways,
they have held themselves intact before the relentless drives of the
most efficient army in the world. Though they have fallen by the
hundreds of thousands, their spirits have not been broken. The loss
of Warsaw and numerous other positions has not shaken their _morale_.
History will record this campaign as one in which character fought
against efficient machinery, and was not found wanting. In the final
issue I have never doubted that character would prevail. When the
Russians get munitions and their other military needs, they will again
advance, and no one who knows the Russian army doubts that within it
lies the capacity to go forward when the time is ripe.
Nothing is more fallacious than to judge the outcome of this campaign
by pins moved backward or forward on the map of Europe. There are great
fundamental questions that lie behind the merely military aspects of
the campaign; questions of morals, ethics, equity, and justice. These
qualities, backed by men of tenacity, courage, and the capacity to
sacrifice themselves indefinitely in their cause, are greater ultimate
assets than battalions and 42-centimetre guns. That the Russians
possess these assets is my belief, and with the fixed opinion that
my faith is well-founded, and that the reverses of this summer are
but temporary and ephemeral phases of this vast campaign, it is with
equanimity and without reservation that I have authorized my publisher
to send these pages to the printer.
The defects of hurriedly written copy are of course apparent in these
notes, but, as in my first volume, it has seemed wiser to publish them
with all their faults, than to wait until the situation has passed and
news from Russia has no moral value.
STANLEY WASHBURN.
PETROGRAD, RUSSIA,
_September 3, 1915_.
CONTENTS
CHAP. PAGE
I THE FALL OF PRZEMYSL 3
II WARSAW IN APRIL, 1915 41
III AN AMERICAN DOCTOR IN THE RUSSIAN ARMY 53
IV GENERAL RUSSKY’S SUCCESSOR 63
V CHECKING UP THE SITUATION IN POLAND 75
VI A VISIT TO THE POSITIONS 87
VII A SUMMER DAY ON THE RAWKA LINE 99
VIII THE CHANGE OF FRONT IN POLAND AND THE BATTLE OF OPATOV 113
IX WITH THE ARMY IN SOUTHERN POLAND 127
X AN AFTERNOON AT THE “POSITIONS” 141
XI HOW THE RUSSIANS MET THE FIRST GAS ATTACK 157
XII SOME DETAILS REGARDING THE GAS HORROR 169
XIII THE BZURA FRONT IN JUNE 185
XIV THE GALICIAN FRONT 199
XV THE GERMAN DRIVE IN GALICIA 209
XVI THE FRONT OF IVANOV 221
XVII HUNTING FOR THE ARMY OF THE BUKOVINA 235
XVIII THE RUSSIAN LEFT 247
XIX WITH A RUSSIAN CAVALRY CORPS 259
XX ON THE ZOTA LIPA 273
XXI A VISIT TO AN HISTORIC ARMY 289
XXII THE NEW ARMY OF THE FORMER DUNAJEC LINE 301
XXIII BACK TO THE WARSAW FRONT 311
XXIV THE LOSS OF WARSAW 319
XXV CONCLUSION 339
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
TO FACE
PAGE
His Imperial Majesty the Tsar of all the Russias _Frontis_.
Occupation of Przemysl by the Russians. Austrians
leaving as prisoners 4
Austrian prisoners leaving Przemysl} 6
}
Russian occupation of Przemysl }
Cossack patrol entering Przemysl }
}
Russian occupation of Przemysl. Governor’s bodyguard} 8
entering Government House }
Destroyed by the Austrians before leaving Przemysl}
} 12
Principal street in Przemysl }
Austrian and Hungarian prisoners en route to Lwow 14
Austrian prisoners resting by the roadside during their
march from Przemysl 17
Austrian prisoners leaving Przemysl 20
Russian Governor of Przemysl 33
Russian occupation of Przemysl. Headquarters of Staff 35
Feeding Austrian prisoners en route to Lwow 37
General Hubert, Chief of Austrian Staff in Przemysl 38
A Russian officer inspecting eight-inch gun 44
Russian bath train 48
The Emperor with his Staff }
} 56
Russian nurses attend to the feeding of the soldiers}
Russian soldiers performing their native dance 68
The Polish Legion. Note the small boy in the ranks as
mascot 76
The Vistula (winter) 80
Russian officers in an artillery observation position 92
A first-line trench in Poland 104
Russian General inspecting his gunners 106
Telephoning to the battery from the observation position 108
In the trenches near Opatov 116
Second-line trenches, Opatov 118
A second-line trench near Opatov 122
A Russian first-line trench near Lublin}
} _between_ 128 & 129
German position near Lublin }
March-past of the Gonogoriski Regiment 130
Men of the Gonogoriski Regiment cheering King George V 132
Men of the Gonogoriski Regiment 134
Howitzer battery in Poland 142
Cossacks on the Dniester. Officers’ quarters in the woods 144
The Polish Legion 150
The colours of the Siberians 164
Respirator drill in the trenches}
} 172
Austrians leaving Przemysl }
Siberians returning from the trenches 178
General Brussilov 213
General Ivanov }
} 222
My car in a Galician village}
G. H. Mewes 248
Stanley Washburn, Prince Oblensky, Count Tolstoy,
Count Keller 251
Cossacks dancing the Tartars’ native dance 254
H.I.H. The Grand Duke Michael Alexandrovitch,
Commander of two divisions of Cossacks 261
The Russian soldier at meal-time. Ten men share the
soup 268
Cavalry taking up position }
} 280
Russian band playing the men to the trenches}
After the Russian evacuation of Lwow. The Bug
Lancers retreating in good order 290
A Russian eight-inch gun going into position during the
fighting round Lublin 302
Russian artillery officers in an observation position
during the fighting round Lublin 306
Retreat from Warsaw. Burning crops }
} 312
The retreat from Warsaw. A Jewish family leaving Warsaw}
Retreat from Warsaw. A Polish Jew 314
The evacuation of Warsaw. Copper and bells were all
taken away 316
The retreat from Warsaw 319
The retreat from Warsaw. Ammunition on the road 320
During the retreat from Warsaw}
} 322
Russian armoured motor-car. }
The retreat from Warsaw. Wounded in a barn outside
Warsaw 324
The retreat from Warsaw. German prisoners housed
in a barn 326
The retreat from Warsaw. Artillery on the road 328
During the retreat from Warsaw. Note wounded man in
foreground 330
The retreat from Warsaw. One of the last regiments to
pass through Warsaw 332
Siberians leaving the last trench before Warsaw 334
A batch of German prisoners captured during the retreat
from Warsaw 339
Refugees on the road to Brest-Litovsk 340
Roll call during the retreat from Warsaw. All that was
left of them 342
Resting during the retreat from Warsaw 344
Wounded returning to Warsaw }
} 346
On the banks of the River Dniester }
THE FALL OF PRZEMYSL
CHAPTER I
THE FALL OF PRZEMYSL
Dated:
LWOW, GALICIA,
_April 1, 1915_.
I
The news of the fall of Przemysl reached Petrograd on the morning of
March 23, and the announcement was given out by the War Office at
noon. The spring is very late in Russia this year, and so much snow
and such intense cold have not been known so late in March for more
than a hundred years. On the 23rd it was snowing heavily in Petrograd
and a biting wind was sweeping through the streets. Save for an
occasional street car and foot passengers the Moika and even the Nevsky
Prospekt were at noon almost as empty as at midnight. And then came the
announcement that the great fortress in Galicia had fallen. In an hour
the news was all over the town and in spite of the inclement weather
the streets were thronged with eager Russians, from Prince to Moujik,
anxiously asking each other if the news which had been so long promised
could really be true. The fall of Przemysl it must be remembered had
been reported at least a dozen times in Petrograd before this.
There are people in as well as out of Russia, who like to say that the
man in the street over here cares nothing for the war and knows less,
but on this particular day these people were silent. It was no wonder.
If ever a people genuinely rejoiced over good news it was the citizens
of all classes of Russia’s capital when it became known that Przemysl
was at last in Russian hands. By three in the afternoon, crowds had
organized themselves into bands, and with the Russian flag waving in
front, and a portrait of the Czar carried before, dozens of bands
marched through the streets chanting the deep-throated Russian National
anthem; one of the most impressive hymns in the world.
Though the snow was still falling and a nipping wind blowing, thousands
of the crowds that now perambulated the streets stood bareheaded in the
blast as each procession passed. Old retired generals of seventy and
more stood at rigid attention as the portrait of their monarch and the
flag of their nation was borne past. Moujiks, princes, men and women,
the aged and the young alike, displayed the same spirit of ardour
and enthusiasm as each demonstration came down the street. While it
is true that there is not in Russia what we in the West call public
opinion, yet a stranger living here during this war comes to feel that
there is growing up a spirit that is uniting all classes. This is the
great hope for the war. It is also Russia’s hope for the future. In
another generation it is destined to bring forth greater progress and
unity than the Empire of the Czar has ever known.
[Illustration: Occupation of Przemysl by the Russians. Austrians
leaving as prisoners. The Russians entering the town.]
The people of Petrograd have followed the war much more closely than
one would have believed possible. Over here there has been action from
the day the war started, and hardly a month when gigantic movements of
some sort or other have not been under weigh. Petrograd has been called
on again and again to furnish new troops, and from September until
to-day there has not been a week that one could not see new troops
drilling in the streets. Russia has had great successes and great
setbacks, but each alike strengthens the same stubborn determination to
keep pressing forward.
There was great disappointment when the Russian army withdrew a few
weeks ago from East Prussia, but it began to abate when it became known
that the German advance was checked. The Russians, as is their habit,
had pulled themselves together, and slowly but surely were pushing
back the invader just as they did in the dreary days following the
Samsonov disaster in the first days of the war. Then came the news of
Galicia and the greatest single success that the war has brought to any
of the Allies, or for that matter to any of the belligerent powers.
When the details of the numbers of the captured began to leak out, the
importance of the success was first realized, and not without reason
did the Russians begin to allude to the fall of Przemysl as a second
Metz. It was generally believed that the garrison shut up within the
fortress did not total above 50,000 men, and none were more surprised
than the victors, when they learned that more than 131,000 soldiers and
nearly 4,000 officers had fallen into their hands, not to mention a
number of guns of all calibres amounting probably to above 300. These
unfortunately have been rendered useless by the Austrians and must be
charged as a heavy loss to them rather than as any direct military
asset gained by the Russians.
[Illustration: Austrian prisoners leaving Przemysl.]
[Illustration: Russian occupation of Przemysl. Austrian officers pay a
last visit to the Russian head-quarters before leaving for Lwow.]
Well may the Russians take pride in what their new army has
accomplished, for one must go back to the taking of Plevna to find
any such landmark in the history of Russian siege operations. The
last great siege in Muscovite history was that of Port Arthur,
and one cannot but contrast the state of matters in Russia ten years
ago, and now. Port Arthur fell after a long series of disasters to
the Russian arms, and the people all over the Empire received the
tidings without interest and with that dumb resignation to disaster
that is characteristic of their fatalistic temperament. A spirit of
hopelessness and despondency and pessimism pervaded every class of
Russian society. Announcements of new defeats were heard without
surprise and almost without interest. “Of course, what do you expect?”
one would hear on all sides, “Russian troops never win.” But now there
is quite a different point of view. Even the moujik has come to feel a
pride and confidence in his army and in its victories. Their successes
are his successes, and their defeats are his defeats.
One who takes interest in studying the psychology of countries comes
to realize that pride of race and confidence in one’s blood is the
greatest asset that any nation can possess. Throughout Russia, the
cause in which her Armies are engaged has come to be more nearly
understood than any war she has ever engaged in. It is not true of
course that the peasant knows as much as does the British Tommy; nor
is there anything like the same enlightenment that prevails in the
Western Armies. But in fairness to Russia she must not be judged from a
Western standpoint, but compared with herself ten years ago.
As has been written by a dozen writers from Russia in the last six
months the new spirit was crystallized when the war began. It has had
its ups and its downs with the varying reports from the Front, but as
each defeat has been turned into a stepping stone for a subsequent
advance, public confidence has gradually mounted higher and higher,
until, with the fall of Przemysl, we find Russian sentiment and
confidence in Russia at probably the highest point that has ever been
reached in the history of the Empire. The dawn of the new day of which
we hear so much over here now, bears every indication of being the
beginning of the much heralded new Era in this country.
II
Galicia is still under martial law, and one cannot even enter the new
Russian province without a permit issued by the General Staff. It is
of course even more difficult for one to get into the actual theatre
of war. A wire, however, from the Staff of the Generalissimo to the
powers that be in Petrograd, made the way to Przemysl possible, and
a few days after the fortress had fallen the writer reached Lwow.
The Russian-gauged railroad has been pushed south of the old frontier
line to the town of Krasne, famous as the centre of the battle-line of
Austrian defence in the days when the armies of Russky were pushing on
toward Lwow.
[Illustration: Cossack patrol entering Przemysl.]
[Illustration: Russian occupation of Przemysl. Governor’s bodyguard
entering Government House.]
It was originally intended to widen the Austrian tracks to take the
Russian rolling stock, so that trains might proceed direct to the
capital of Galicia; but it was found that the expense of carrying
on operations which meant the widening of every bridge and the
strengthening of every culvert and elevated way, to take the heavier
equipment, would involve time and expense scarcely less than building
a new line complete. The result is that one still changes carriages
some distance out of Lwow, a handicap that is trifling for passenger
traffic, but involving very real inconvenience and delays in the
handling of the vast amount of freight and munitions that go to supply
the huge armies in the field in Galicia.
Lwow itself is no longer the dismal place that it was in the early
autumn when almost every public building was a hospital, and the
station a receiving depot for the thousands of fresh wounded that
poured in by train-loads from the positions on the San and from the
trenches before Przemysl, which was just then undergoing its first
investment. Where stretchers and throngs of wounded formerly filled
every available foot of ground in the huge terminus a few months ago,
all is now orderly and very much as in the days before the war. The
hotels which in October were filled to overflowing with officers and
Red Cross nurses, are now comparatively quiet, and the city itself,
barring troops going through and prisoners coming from Przemysl, is not
far from normal. A few hours after arriving the writer was received by
Count Brobinsky, who frankly expressed his delight and relief at the
capture of the Galician fortress.
There are of course a large number of Austrians in Galicia, and ever
since the Russian occupation in September a pro-German-Austrian
propaganda has been kept up here. Every reverse to the Dual Alliance
has been minimized as much as possible, and every effort was subtly
made by the German-Austrian agents of the enemy to prevent the peasants
and that portion of the population here which sympathizes with the
Russians, from co-operating in the new régime. They were assured
that soon the Austrians would be coming back, and fears of reprisals
when the day came have no doubt restrained a large number of Little
Russians, Poles and others from openly supporting the efforts of
the new government to restore Galicia to its normal state. But with
each month it has become increasingly difficult for the Austrian
sympathizers to make the public believe that the Russian occupation was
only a temporary wave that would shortly recede. Austro-German advances
in Bukowina, and the really serious aggressive attempts through the
Carpathians no doubt helped to render conditions unsettled. Then
came the check of the Austrian advance in Bukowina and the gradual
reclaiming by the Russians of the ground lost at the first impetus
of the enemy’s offensive. This was followed by the failure of the
relieving column to make satisfactory headway toward its objective at
Przemysl.
In spite of all these very obvious failures to achieve any definite
advantage over the Russians, the spirits of the anti-Russian element
were kept buoyed up by the spectacle of the great fortress in Galicia
still holding out. “As long as Przemysl stands out there is hope,”
seems to have been the general opinion of all who wished ill to the
Russians. Thus the fortress, which at the outset might have been
abandoned with small loss of prestige to the Austrians, gradually
came to have a political as well as military significance of the most
far reaching importance. In the general crash after the battle of
the Grodek line, the loss of a town which until then had never been
heard of in the West, outside of military circles, would have escaped
anything more than passing comment. Not until the Russian armies had
actually swept past its trenches and masked its forts, did the world
at large know that such a place was on the map; even then the greatest
interest manifested was in the vexed question as to how its name was
pronounced, if indeed it could be done at all, an opinion which was
held by not a few people. This place which could have been given up
earlier in the war without any important sacrifice was held tenaciously
and became one of the vital points of strategy in the whole campaign.
An army which turned out to be a huge one, was isolated from the field
armies of Austria at a time when she needed every able-bodied man that
she could get; and Przemysl, which, as we see now, was doomed from the
start, was allowed to assume an importance in the campaign which made
its fall not only a severe military loss but a blow to the hopes of the
Austrians, both at home and in Galicia. The fall of this fortress has
gone further towards shattering any hopes of ultimate victory that have
been entertained than anything that has occurred since the war started.
[Illustration: Destroyed by the Austrians before leaving Przemysl.]
[Illustration: Principal street in Przemysl.]
As Count Brobinsky, who for six months now has been straggling to
readjust Galicia to the normal, said, his task has now been enormously
simplified, and there is scarcely an element left here that now
believes there is any chance of Austria winning back her lost province.
The Austrian agents have abandoned hope, and the Russian sympathizers
are now openly declaring their loyalty to the new régime. There is,
however, a class of bureaucrats left here aggregating, I am informed,
nearly 40,000 in number. This class is composed of Poles, Austrians
and others who for generations have been holding the best offices at
the disposal of the Vienna government. These are of course, almost to
a man, out of their lucrative posts, and represent the element that
has most vigorously, if quietly, attempted to undermine the activities
of the government installed here by Russia. But even these see in the
collapse of their great fortress the evaporation of their chief hopes.
As Galicia is still under martial law, all the motor cars have been
taken over by the military authorities and so, even armed with passes
and permits, we found it all but impossible to reach Przemysl. The
best horses here are in the army service, and the few skinny horses
attached to the cabs find it difficult even to stagger from the station
to the hotel, and it was out of the question to go by carriage the
94 kilometres to Przemysl. But when we told Count Brobinsky of our
difficulties, he solved them by promptly placing a huge military
touring car at our disposal; he further paved the way for a pleasant
trip to the scene of the Russian achievement by giving us a personal
letter of introduction to General Atrimanov, the new Russian commandant
of the captured fortress.
III
The spring is late here as it is throughout Russia this year, and
it was snowing heavily as our big touring car, with a soldier as
chauffeur, threaded its way in the early morning through the narrow
streets of Lwow and out into the open country which was now almost
white. Before we have been twenty minutes on the road we begin to pass
occasional groups of dismal wretches in the blue uniform which before
this war was wont to typify the might of the Hapsburgs, but which now
in Galicia is the symbol of dejection and defeat. Through the falling
snow they plod in little parties of from three to a dozen; evidently
the rear guard of the column that went through yesterday, for they are
absolutely without guards, and are no doubt simply dragging on after
their regiments.
[Illustration: Austrian and Hungarian prisoners en route to Lwow.]
From Lwow almost due west runs the line of the highway to Grodek
where we get our first glimpse of prisoners in bulk. Here, at the
scene of some of the fiercest fighting that the war has produced, is
a rest station for the columns that are making the journey to Russian
captivity on foot from Przemysl to Lwow, and I know not how far beyond.
As we motor into the town the three battalions of the 9th Hungarian
regiment of the 54th Landsturm brigade are just straggling into the
town from the west. With a few Russians who seem to be acting as guides
and nurses rather than as guards, they file through the streets and
into a great square of a barracks. Here they are marshalled in columns
of four, and marched past the door of the barracks where an official
counts the individual fours and makes a note of the number that have
passed his station. Beyond in a grove the ranks are broken, and the
weary-looking men drop down under the trees, regardless of the snow and
mud, and shift their burdens and gnaw at the hunks of bread and other
provisions furnished them by the Russians.
It is hard to realize that the haggard despondent rabble that we see
has ever been part of an actual army in being. Most of them were
evidently clothed for a summer campaign, and their thin and tattered
uniform overcoats must have given but scant warmth during the winter
that has passed. The line is studded with civilian overcoats, and
many of the prisoners have only a cap or a fragment of a uniform
which identifies them as ever having been soldiers at all. The women
of the village pass up and down the line giving the weary troops
bits of provision not in the Russian menu. All the men are wan and
thin, with dreary hopelessness written large upon their faces, and a
vacant stare of utter desolation in their hollow eyes. They accept
gladly what is given and make no comment. They get up and sit down as
directed by their guards, apparently with no more sense of initiative
or independence of will than the merest automatons. We pause but a few
minutes, for the roads are bad and we are anxious to get over the muddy
way as quickly as possible.
The western portion of Grodek was badly knocked up by shell fire during
the battle in September, and the barren walls of charred buildings
remain to tell the story of the Austrian effort to stay the tide of the
Russian advance that swept them out of position after position during
the first weeks of the war. Grodek was reported to have been utterly
destroyed at the time, but as a fact, not more than one-fifth of the
buildings were even damaged by the artillery fire.
[Illustration: Austrian prisoners resting by the roadside during their
march from Przemysl.]
Just east of Sadowa Wisznia, the scene of another Austrian stand, we
come upon a regiment attached to the 54th Landsturm brigade. This is
the tenth regiment, and, with the exception of a few non-commissioned
officers, is composed entirely of Slovaks and Hungarians. They are
resting as we motor up, and for nearly a mile they are sitting
dejectedly by the side of the road, some with heads resting wearily
against tree trunks, while dozens of others are lying in the snow and
mud apparently asleep. As nearly as I could estimate, there is about
one Russian to a hundred prisoners. In any case one has to look about
sharply to see the guards at all. It reminds one a bit of trying to
pick a queen bee out of a swarm of workers. Usually one discovers the
guard sitting with a group of prisoners, talking genially, his rifle
leaning against the trunk of a tree near by.
We stopped here for about half an hour while I walked about trying
to find some prisoners who could speak German, but for the most part
that language was unknown to them. At last I discovered a couple of
non-commissioned officers, who, when they heard that I was an American,
opened up and talked quite freely. Both took great pride in repeating
the statement that Przemysl could never have been taken by assault, and
that it had only surrendered because of lack of food.
One of the men was from Vienna and extremely pro-German in his point
of view. He took it as a matter of course that the Austrians were
defeated everywhere, but seemed to feel a confidence that could not be
shaken in the German troops. He knew nothing of the situation outside
of his own garrison, and when told of Kitchener’s new British Army,
laughed sardonically. “It is a joke,” he said, “Kitchener’s army is
only on paper, and even if they had half a million as they claim to
have, they would be of no use. The English cannot fight at all.” When
told that over two million men had been recruited in the British Empire
he opened his eyes a bit, but after swallowing a few times he came
back, “Well even if they have it does not matter. They can’t fight.”
The other man whom I questioned was mainly interested in how long the
war was going to last. He did not seem to feel any particular regret
at the fall of the fortress, nor to care very much who won, as long as
it would soon be over so that he could go home again. As for the rank
and file I think it perfectly safe to suggest that not one in a hundred
has any feeling at all except that of hopeless perpetual misery. They
have been driven into a war for which they care little, they have
been forced to endure the hardships of a winter in the trenches with
insufficient clothing, a winter terminating with a failure of food
supplies that brought them all to the verge of starvation. The fall
of the fortress means to them three meals of some sort a day, and
treatment probably kinder than they ever got from their own officers.
They are at least freed from the burden of war and relieved of the
constant menace of sudden death which has been their portion since
August.
The road leading west from Sadowa Wisznia is in fearful condition
owing to the heavy traffic of the Russian transport, and in places the
mud was a foot deep. The country here is flat with occasional patches
of fir and spruce timber. It is questionable if there ever was much
prosperity in this belt; and since it has been swept for six months by
contending armies, one cannot feel much optimism as to what the future
has in store for the unfortunate peasants whose homes are destroyed,
and whose live stock is said to have been taken off by the Austrians as
they fell back before the Russians.
IV
One’s preconceived idea of what a modern fortress looks like vanishes
rapidly as one enters Przemysl. In time of peace it is probable that
a layman might pass into this town without suspecting at all that
its power of resisting attack is nearly as great as any position in
all Europe. Now, of course, innumerable field works, trenches, and
improvised defences at once attract the attention; but other than these
there is visible from the main road but one fortress, which, approached
from the east is so extremely unpretentious in appearance that it is
doubtful if one would give it more than a passing glance if one were
not on the lookout for it.
Przemysl itself is an extremely old town which I believe was for nearly
1,000 years a Russian city. From remote days of antiquity it has been
a fortress, and following the ancient tradition, each successive
generation has kept improving its defences until to-day it is in
reality a modern stronghold. Why the Austrians have made this city,
which in itself is of no great importance, the site of their strongest
position, is not in the least obvious to the layman observer. The town
itself, a mixture of quaint old buildings and comparatively modern
structures, lies on the east bank of the river San--which at this point
is about the size of the Bow river at Calgary, in Canada--and perhaps
3 kilometres above the point where the small stream of the Wiar comes
in from the south. The little city is hardly visible until one is
almost upon it, so well screened is it by rolling hills that lie all
about it. Probably the prevailing impression in the world has been that
the Russian great guns have been dropping shells into the heart of
the town; many people even in Lwow believe it to be in a half-ruined
condition. As a matter of fact the nearest of the first line of forts
is about 10 kilometres from the town itself, so that in the whole siege
not a shell from the Russian batteries has fallen in the town itself.
Probably none has actually fallen within 5 kilometres of the city.
There was therefore no danger of the civilian population suffering
anything from the bombardment while the outer line of forts held as
they did from the beginning.
[Illustration: Austrian prisoners leaving Przemysl.]
The only forts or works which we were given the opportunity of seeing,
were those visible from the road, the authorities informing us that
they had reason to believe that many of the trenches and positions
were mined, and that no one would be permitted in them until they had
been examined by the engineers of the army and pronounced safe. If the
works seen from the road are typical of the defences, and I believe
they are, one can quite well realize the impregnable nature of the
whole position. The road from Lwow comes over the crest of a hill and
stretches like a broad ribbon for perhaps 5 kilometres over an open
plain, on the western edge of which a slight rise of ground gives the
elevation necessary for the first Austrian line. To the north of the
road is a fort, with the glacis so beautifully sodded that it is hardly
noticeable as one approaches, though the back is dug out and galleried
for heavy guns. Before this is a ditch with six rows of sunken barbed
wire entanglements, and a hundred yards from this is another series of
entanglements twelve rows deep, and so criss-crossed with barbed wire
that it would take a man hours to cut his way through with no other
opposition.
To the right of the road runs a beautifully constructed line of modern
trenches. These are covered in and sodded and buried in earth deep
enough to keep out anything less than a 6-inch field howitzer shell
unless it came at a very abrupt angle. To shrapnel or any field gun
high explosive shell, I should think it would have proved invulnerable.
The trench itself lies on a slight crest with enough elevation to
give loop holes command of the terrain before. The field of fire
visible from these trenches is at least 4 kilometres of country,
and so perfectly cleared of shelter of all sorts that it would be
difficult for a rabbit to cross it unseen. The ditch and two series
of wire entanglements extend in front of the entire position. This
line is, I believe, typical of the whole outer line of fortifications,
which is composed of a number of forts all of which are tied together
with the line of trenches. The outer line is above 40 kilometres
in circumference, from which it may be judged to what great expense
Austria has been put in fortifying this city. I was not able to get any
accurate information as to the number of guns which the Austrians have
on their various positions, but the opinion of a conservative officer
was, that, excluding machine guns, there were at least 300 and possibly
a greater number. The inventory has not yet been completed by the
Russians. These are said to range in calibre from the field piece up to
heavy guns of 30 centimetres. I was informed that there were a few 36
and one or two of the famous 42 centimetres here when the war started,
but that the Germans had borrowed them for their operations in the
West. In any case it is hard to see how the big guns, even of the 30
centimetres, would be of any great value to a defence firing out over a
crest of hills in the distant landscape behind which, in an irregular
line of trenches, an enemy lay.
After a few experiments against the works, the Russians seem to have
reached the conclusion that it would not be worth while even to attempt
carrying the trenches by assault. Indeed, in the opinion of the writer
neither the Russians nor any other troops ever could have taken them
with the bayonet; the only method possible would have been the slow
and patient methods of sapping and mining which was used by the
Japanese at Port Arthur. But methods so costly, both in time and lives,
would seem to have been hardly justified here because, as the Russians
well knew, it was merely a question of time before the encircled
garrison would eat itself up, and the whole position would then fall
into their hands without the cost of a single life.
The strategic value of Przemysl itself was in no way acutely delaying
the Russian campaigns elsewhere, and they could afford to let the
Austrian General who shut himself and a huge army up in Przemysl, play
their own game for them, which is exactly what happened. There was no
such situation here as at Port Arthur, where the menace of a fleet in
being locked up in the harbour necessitated the capture of the Far
Eastern stronghold before the Russian second fleet could appear on the
scene and join forces with it. Nor was there even any such important
factor as that which confronted the Germans at Liège. To the amateur it
seems then that the Austrians, with eyes open, isolated a force which
at the start must have numbered nearly four army corps, in a position
upon which their programme was not dependent, and under conditions
which made its eventual capture a matter of absolute certainty
providing only that the siege was not relieved from without by their
own armies from the South.
The lesson of Przemysl may be a very instructive one in future wars.
The friends of General Sukomlinoff, the Russian Minister of War, are
claiming with some reason that what has happened here is a vindication
of the Minister’s theory, that fortresses in positions which are not
of absolute necessity to the military situation should never be built
at all, or should be abandoned at the inception of war rather than
defended unwisely and at great cost. It is claimed that if the Warsaw
forts had not been scrapped some years ago, the Russian Army to-day
would be standing a siege, or at least a partial siege, within the
city, rather than fighting on a line of battle 40 kilometres to the
west of it. Port Arthur is perhaps an excellent example of the menace
of a fortified position of great strength. So much had been done to
make that citadel impregnable that the Russians never dreamed of giving
it up. The result was that a position, which was doomed to succumb
eventually, was made the centre of all the Russian strategy. For months
the army in the North was forced to make attempt after attempt to
relieve the position, with the results that they lost probably four
times the number of the garrison in futile efforts to relieve it. A
fortress which has cost large sums of money must be defended at any
cost to justify the country that has incurred the expense. Forces
which can probably be ill spared from field operations are locked up
for the purpose of protecting expensive works which, as in the case of
Przemysl, yield them little or nothing but the ultimate collapse of
their defence, and the consequent demoralization of the field armies
which have come to attach an importance to the fortress which, from a
strategic point of view, it probably never possessed.
V
The last few kilometres of the road into Przemysl was alive with
Russian transport plodding into the town, but the way was singularly
free from troops of any sort. With the exception of a few Cossack
patrols and an occasional officer or orderly ploughing through the mud,
there was nothing to indicate that a large Russian army was in the
vicinity. It is possible that it has already been moved elsewhere; in
any case we saw nothing of it.
Between the outer line of forts and the Wiar river are a number of
improvised field works, all of which looked as though they could stand
a good bit of taking, but of course they were not as elaborate as the
first line. The railroad crosses the little Wiar on a steel bridge,
but the bridge now lies a tangle of steel girders in the river. It is
quite obvious that the Austrian commander destroyed his bridges west
of the town because they afforded direct communications with the lines
beyond; but the bridge over the Wiar has no military value whatsoever,
the others being gone, save to give convenient _all rail_ access to
the heart of Przemysl itself. The town was given up the next day and,
as the natural consequence of the Austrian commander’s conception of
his duty, all food supplies had to be removed from the railway trucks
at the bridge, loaded into wagons, and make the rest of the journey
into the town in that way, resulting in an absolutely unnecessary delay
in relieving the wants of the half-famished garrison within. The only
bright spot that this action presents to the unprejudiced observer
is that it necessitated the dainty, carefully-shod Austrian officers
walking three kilometres through the mud before they could embark on
the trains to take them to the points of detention for prisoners in
Russia. There cannot be the slightest doubt that the rank and file of
the garrison were actually on the verge of starvation, and that the
civilian population were not far from the same fate. As near as one can
learn the latter consisted of about 40,000 persons. I am told that
the prisoners numbered 131,000 men and some 3,600 officers, and that
perhaps 20,000 have died during the siege from wounds and disease.
This, then, makes a population at the beginning of nearly 200,000 in
a fortification which, as experts say, could have easily been held by
50,000 troops. One officer even went so far as to declare that in view
of the wonderful defensive capacity of the position 30,000 might have
made a desperate stand. The fortress was thus easily three times over
garrisoned. In other words there were perhaps at the start 150,000
mouths to feed in the army alone, when 50,000 men would have been
able to hold the position. This alone made the approach of starvation
sure and swift. The fact that in this number of men there were 3,600
officers, nine of the rank of General, indicates pretty clearly
the extent to which the garrison was over officered. Kusmanek, the
commander of the fortress, is said to have had seventy-five officers on
his personal staff alone.
As far as one can learn there was no particular pinch in the town until
everything was nearly gone, and then conditions became suddenly acute.
It is improbable that economy was enforced in the early dispensing of
food supplies, and the husbanding of such resources as were at hand.
When the crisis came, it fell first upon the unfortunate soldiers, with
whom their officers seem to have little in common. Transport horses
were killed first, and then the cavalry mounts went to the slaughter
house to provide for the garrison. The civilians next felt the pinch
of hunger, and every live thing that could nourish the human body was
eaten. Cats I am told were selling at ten kr. each and fair-sized
dogs at twenty-five kr. The extraordinary part of the story is that
according to evidence collected from many sources the officers never
even changed their standards of living. While the troops were literally
starving in the trenches, the dilettantes from Vienna, who were in
command, were taking life easily in the Café Sieber and the Café Elite.
Three meals a day, fresh meat, wines, cigarettes and fine cigars were
served to them up to the last.
One of the haggard starved-looking servants in the hotel where I was
quartered told me that several of the staff officers lived at the
hotel. “They,” he said, “had everything as usual. Fresh meat and all
the luxuries were at their disposal until the last. Yet their soldier
servant used to come to me, and one day when I gave him half of a bit
of bread I was eating, his hands trembled as he reached to take it from
me.” My informant paused and then concluded sardonically, “No, the
officers did not suffer. Not they. It was cafés, billiards, dinners and
an easy life for them to the end. But the rest of us. Ah, yes, we have
suffered. Had the siege lasted another week we should all have been
black in the face for want of food.”
An Austrian sister who had been working in the hospital confirmed
the story. “Is it true that people were starving here?” I asked her.
“Indeed it is true,” she told me, “the soldiers had almost nothing and
the civilians were little better off. As for us in the hospitals--well,
we really suffered for want of food.” “But how about the officers?” I
asked. She looked at me sharply out of the corner of her eyes, for she
evidently did not care to criticize her own people, but she seemed to
recall something and her face suddenly hardened as she snapped out:
“The officers starve? Well, hardly. They lived like dukes always.” More
she would not say, but the evidence of these two was amply confirmed
by the sight of the sleek well-groomed specimens of the “dukes” that
promenade the streets. While the soldiers were in a desperate plight
for meat, the officers seemed to have retained their own thoroughbred
riding horses until the last day. I suppose that riding was a necessity
to them to keep in good health. The day before the surrender they gave
these up, and 2,000 beautiful horses were killed, not for meat for the
starving soldiers be it noted, but that they might not fall into the
hands of the Russians. Perhaps I can best illustrate what happened
by quoting the words of a Russian officer who was among the first
to enter the town. “Everywhere,” he told me, “one saw the bodies of
freshly-killed saddle horses, some of them animals that must have been
worth many thousand roubles. Around the bodies were groups of Hungarian
soldiers tearing at them with knives; with hands and faces dripping
with blood, they were gorging themselves on the raw meat. I have never
seen in all my experience of war a more horrible and pitiable spectacle
than these soldiers, half crazed with hunger, tearing the carcasses
like famished wolves.” My friend paused and a shadow crossed his
kindly face. “Yes,” he said, “it was horrible. Even my Cossack orderly
wept--and he--well, he has seen much of war and is not over delicate.”
I can quote the statement of the Countess Elizabeth Schouvalov, of whom
more anon, as further corroborative evidence of conditions existing
in the town. The Countess, who is in charge of a distribution station
to relieve the wants of the civil population, said to me: “It is true
that the people were starving. Common soldiers occasionally fell down
in the street from sheer weakness for want of food. Some lay like the
dead and would not move. But their officers!” A frown passed over her
handsome features. “Ah!” she said, “they are not like the Russians. Our
officers share the hardships of the men. You have seen it yourself,”
with a glance at me, “you know that one finds them in the trenches,
everywhere in uniforms as dirty as their soldiers, and living on almost
the same rations. A Russian would never live in ease while his men
starved. I am proud of my people. But these officers here--they care
nothing for their men. You have seen them in the streets. Do they look
as though they had suffered?” and she laughed bitterly.
I had not been above a few hours in Przemysl before it was quite
clear to me, at least, that Przemysl surrendered for lack of food,
and that while the officers were living luxuriously, their men were
literally starving. That they let them starve while they kept their
own pet saddle horses seems pretty well established from the evidence
obtainable. One wonders what public opinion would say of officers in
England, France or America who in a crisis proved capable of such
conduct?
In my comments on the Austrian officers I must of course limit my
observations to the types one sees, and hears about, in Przemysl.
Out of 3,600 officers there must have been men of whom Austria can be
proud, men who did share their men’s privations, and these, of course,
are excepted from the general observations.
[Illustration: Russian Governor of Przemysl.]
VI
Immediately on reaching the town we sought out the head-quarters of
the new Russian Commandant of the fortress. Over the door of the
building, in large gold letters, were words indicating that the
place had formerly been the head-quarters of the 10th Austrian Army
Corps. At the entrance two stolid Russian sentries eyed gloomily the
constant line of dapper Austrian officers that passed in and out, and
who were, as we subsequently learned, assisting the Russians in their
task of taking over the city. General Artimonov, the new governor,
received us at once in the room that had been vacated only a few days
before by his Austrian predecessor General Kusmanek. On the wall
hung a great picture of the Austrian Emperor. The General placed an
officer, Captain Stubatitch, at our disposal, and with him our way was
made comparatively easy. From him and other officers whom we met, we
gathered that the Russians were utterly taken by surprise at the sudden
fall of the fortress, and dumbfounded at the strength of the garrison,
which none believed would exceed the numbers of the Russians investing
them; the general idea being that there were not over 50,000 soldiers
at the disposal of the Austrian commander.
Three days before the fall a sortie was made by some 30,000 Hungarian
troops. Why out of 130,000 men only 30,000 were allotted to this task
in such a crisis does not appear. Neither has any one been able to
explain why, when they did start on their ill-fated excursion, they
made the attempt in the direction of Lwow rather than to the south,
in which direction, not so very far away, the armies of Austria were
struggling to reach them. Another remarkable feature of the last
sorties was, that the troops went to the attack in their heavy marching
kit. Probably not even the Austrians themselves felt any surprise that
such a half-hearted and badly organized undertaking failed with a loss
of 3,500 in casualties and as many more taken prisoners. One does not
know how these matters are regarded in Austria, but to the laymen it
would seem that some one should have a lot of explaining to do as to
the last days of this siege. Officers who have been over the ground
state that in view of the vast numbers of the garrison, and the fact
that they were well supplied with ammunition, there would have been
great chance of an important portion of the beleaguered breaking
through and getting clean away to the south; but no attempt of this
nature seems to have been made.
[Illustration: Russian occupation of Przemysl. Head-quarters of Staff.]
The night before the surrender, the Austrians began destroying their
military assets, and for two hours the town was shaken with the heavy
explosions of bridges and war material of all sorts. Every window
facing the San river was broken by the overcharge of the explosives
that destroyed the bridges. Simultaneously the work of destroying the
artillery was going on in all the forts with such efficiency, that it
is doubtful if the Russians will get a single piece that can be used
again. The soldiers even destroyed the butts of their muskets, and the
authorities, who were evidently keen on this part of the work, arranged
for tons of munitions to be dumped into the river. Others were assigned
to kill the saddle-horses.
By daylight the task seems to have been completed and negotiations for
surrender were opened by the Austrians. Our guide, Captain Stubatitch,
was the first Russian to enter the town as a negotiator, and through
him the meeting of ranking officers was arranged--a meeting that
resulted in the unconditional surrender of the fortress. The original
terms agreed on between Kusmanek and General Silivanov, the commander
of the Russian forces, did not permit the Austrian officers to carry
their side arms; but a telegram from the Grand Duke spared them the
humiliation of giving up their swords, a delicate courtesy, which it
seems to the writer was quite wasted on the supercilious Austrian
officers. In the first place there has been no formal entrance of
Russian troops, Silivanov himself not yet having inspected his
prize. The first Russians to enter came in six military touring cars
absolutely without any escort, and went quietly and unostentatiously to
the head-quarters of the Austrian commander where the affairs of the
town were transferred with as little friction as the changing of the
administration of one defeated political party into the hands of its
successor. Following the officials, small driblets of troops came in
to take over sentry and other military duties, and then came the long
lines of Russian transport bringing in supplies for the half-famished
garrison. All told, probably there have not been above a few thousand
Russian soldiers in Przemysl since its capitulation, and these were
greeted warmly by both prisoners and civilians. There has been no
friction whatever and everybody seems well satisfied with the end of
the siege. The greatest task at first was the relief of the population,
both soldiers and civilians. Countess Schouvalov, whom I have
mentioned before, came the second day and immediately began feeding the
population from the depôt where she organized a kitchen and service of
distribution which alone takes care of 3,000 people a day. The Army
authorities arranged for the care of the soldiers and much of the civil
population as well, and in three days the situation was well in hand
and practically all the suffering eliminated.
[Illustration: Feeding Austrian prisoners en route to Lwow.]
I have talked with many people in Przemysl, and civilians and prisoners
alike speak of the great kindness of the Russians from the ranking
officers down to the privates, all of whom have shown every desire
to ameliorate the distress. The difficulty of feeding so vast a
throng necessitated the immediate evacuation of the prisoners, and an
evacuation office was at once organized. Batches of prisoners started
toward Lwow at the rate of about ten thousand a day, which is about all
the stations along the route can handle conveniently with supplies.
The officers are sent out in small blocks by rail once a day, and are,
I believe for the most part taken directly to Kiev, where they will
remain until the end of the war.
General Kusmanek himself departed the first day in a motor car to the
head-quarters of Silivanov and thence with the bulk of his staff to
Kiev. Those who have seen him describe him as a youngish man looking
not over forty, but in reality fifty-four. A man who saw him the day of
the surrender told me that he had accepted the situation very casually,
and had seemed neither depressed nor mortified at the turn events had
taken. The ranking officer left in Przemysl is General Hubert, formerly
Chief of Staff, who is staying on to facilitate the transfer of
administrations; the head-quarters is filled with a mixture of officers
and orderlies of both armies working together in apparent harmony.
The fall of Przemysl strikes one as being the rarest thing possible in
war--namely a defeat, which seems to please all parties interested.
The Russians rejoice in a fortress captured, the Austrians at a chance
to eat and rest, and the civilians, long since sick of the quarrel, at
their city once more being restored to the normal.
[Illustration: General Hubert, Chief of Austrian Staff in Przemysl.]
WARSAW IN APRIL, 1915