spectacle. Life that only a few hours before had glowed with
enthusiasm and exultation, suddenly paled and sickened. The
silence of the night was interrupted only by the low moaning of the
wounded that came regularly to us. It was hideous in its terrible
monotony. The moon had risen, throwing fantastic lights and
shadows over the desolate landscape and the heaped-up dead.
These grotesque piles of human bodies seemed like a monstrous
sacrificial offering immolated on the altar of some fiendishly cruel,
antique deity. I felt faint and sick at heart and near swooning away.
I lay on the floor for some time unconscious of what was going on
around me, in a sort of stupor, utterly crushed over the horrors
about me. I do not know how long I had lain there, perhaps ten
minutes, perhaps half an hour, when suddenly I heard a gruff, deep
voice behind me--the brigadier, who had come around to inspect
and to give orders about the outposts. His calm, quiet voice
brought me to my senses and I reported to him. His self-assurance,
kindness, and determination dominated the situation. Within five
minutes he had restored confidence, giving definite orders for the
welfare of every one, man and beast alike, showing his solicitude for
the wounded, for the sick and weak ones, and mingling praise and
admonition in just measure. As by magic I felt fortified. Here was a
real man undaunted by nervous qualms or by over-sensitiveness.
The horrors of the war were distasteful to him, but he bore them with
equanimity. It was, perhaps, the first time in my life that I regretted
that my artistic education had over-sharpened and overstrung my
nervous system, when I saw how manfully and bravely that man
bore what seemed to me almost unbearable. His whole machinery
of thinking was not complicated and not for a moment did qualms of
"Weltschmerz" or exaggerated altruism burden his conscience and
interfere with his straight line of conduct which was wholly
determined by duty and code of honor. In his private life he was an
unusually kind man. His solicitude for his subordinates, for
prisoners, and for the wounded was touching, yet he saw the
horrors of the war unflinchingly and without weakening, for were
they not the consequences of the devotion of men to their cause?
The whole thing seemed quite natural to him. The man was clearly
in his element and dominated it.
After having inspected the outposts, I went back, bedded myself in a
soft sand-heap, covered myself up, and was soon fast and
peacefully asleep. During the night the dew moistened the sand,
and when I awoke in the morning I found myself encased in a
plastering which could not be removed for days.
III
Our hopes of getting a little rest and respite from the fighting were
soon shattered, for a scouting aeroplane brought news that the
Russians were again advancing in overwhelming strength. Our
commanding general, coming to the conclusion that with the
reduced and weakened forces at his command he could not
possibly offer any effective resistance to a renewed onslaught, had
determined to fall back slowly before their pressure. The
consequence was a series of retreating battles for us, which lasted
about ten days and which constituted what is now called the battle
of Lemberg.
We were then terribly outnumbered by the Russians, and in order to
extricate our army and prevent it from being surrounded and cut off,
we constantly had to retreat, one detachment taking up positions to
resist the advancing Russians, trying to hold them at all costs in
order to give the rest of the army sufficient time to retire to safety.
This maneuvering could not, of course, be carried out without the
forces guarding the rear and covering the retreat suffering
sometimes terrible losses.
These were depressing days, with rain and storm adding to the
gloom. The men tramped wearily, hanging their heads, ashamed
and humiliated by the retreat, the necessity of which they could not
grasp, having, as they thought, successfully repulsed the enemy. It
was difficult to make them understand that our regiment was only a
cog in the huge wheel of the Austrian fighting machine and that, with
a battle line extending over many miles, it was quite natural that
partial successes could take place and yet the consideration of
general strategy necessitate a retreat. Our arguing made little
impression on the men; for they only shook their heads and said,
"We were victorious, we should have gone on."
The spirit of retreating troops is vastly different from that shown
by an advancing army, and it was probably in recognition of this
well-known psychological state that our general staff had in the
beginning attacked the Russians wherever they could, in spite of the
overwhelming superiority of the foe, but the reinforcements the
Russians were able to draw upon had swelled their ranks so
enormously that any attack would have been little short of madness.
The real hardships and privations for us began only now. The few
roads of Galicia, which at best are in bad condition, through the
constant passing of heavy artillery and wagons of all kinds following
each other in endless procession through constant rains, had
become well-nigh impassable, the heavy mud constituting an
additional impediment to the marching of troops. In order to get all
of the train carrying provisions out of the possible reach of a sudden
raid by the Russian cavalry, it had to be sent miles back of us, so as
not to interfere with the movement of the troops. This caused
somewhat of an interruption in the organization of the commissary
department and very little food reached the troops, and that only at
very long intervals.
The distribution of food to an army, even in peace and under the
best conditions, is a very complicated and difficult undertaking.
Provisions are shipped from the interior to the important railway
centers, which serve as huge army depots and form the basis from
which the different army corps draw their provisions and from which
they are constantly replenished. They in turn supply the divisions
and brigades wherefrom the regiments and battalions draw their
provisions. So it is seen that the great aorta which leads from the
interior to the big depots slowly subdivides itself into smaller arteries
and feeders until they reach the ultimate destination, the extreme
front.
This distribution of food had now become a formidable task, in
consequence of the unforeseen movements and diversions which
were forced upon us by the unexpected developments of the battle;
and it often happened that food supplies intended for a certain
detachment would reach their destination only after the departure of
that detachment.
My platoon had by this time shrunk from fifty-five men to about
thirty-four, but those remaining had become very hardened,
efficient, and fit. It is astonishing how quickly the human organism
adjusts itself, if need be, to the most difficult circumstances. So far
as I was concerned, for instance, I adapted myself to the new life
without any trouble at all, responding to the unusual demands upon
me automatically, as it were. My rather impaired eyesight improved
in the open, with only wide distances to look at. I found that my
muscles served me better than ever before. I leaped and ran and
supported fatigue that would have appalled me under other
circumstances. In the field all neurotic symptoms seem to
disappear as by magic, and one's whole system is charged with
energy and vitality. Perhaps this is due to the open-air life with its
simplified standards, freed from all the complex exigencies of
society's laws, and unhampered by conventionalities, as well as to
the constant throb of excitement, caused by the activity, the
adventure, and the uncertainty of fate.
The very massing together of so many individuals, with every will
merged into one that strives with gigantic effort toward a common
end, and the consequent simplicity and directness of all purpose,
seem to release and unhinge all the primitive, aboriginal forces
stored in the human soul, and tend to create the indescribable
atmosphere of exultation which envelopes everything and
everybody as with a magic cloak.
It is extraordinary how quickly suggestions of luxury, culture,
refinement, in fact all the gentler aspects of life, which one had
considered to be an integral part of one's life are quickly forgotten,
and, more than that, not even missed. Centuries drop from one,
and one becomes a primeval man, nearing the cave-dweller in an
incredibly short time. For twenty-one days I went without taking off
my clothes, sleeping on wet grass or in mud, or in the swamps,
wherever need be, and with nothing but my cape to cover me.
Nothing disturbs one. One night, while sleeping, we were drenched
to the skin by torrential rains. We never stirred, but waited for the
sun to dry us out again. Many things considered necessities of
civilization simply drop out of existence. A toothbrush was not
imaginable. We ate instinctively, when we had food, with our hands.
If we had stopped to think of it at all, we should have thought it
ludicrous to use knife and fork.
We were all looking like shaggy, lean wolves, from the necessity of
subsisting on next to nothing. I remember having gone for more
than three days at a time without any food whatsoever, and many a
time we had to lick the dew from the grass for want of water. A
certain fierceness arises in you, an absolute indifference to anything
the world holds except your duty of fighting. You are eating a crust
of bread, and a man is shot dead in the trench next to you. You
look calmly at him for a moment, and then go on eating your bread.
Why not? There is nothing to be done. In the end you talk of your
own death with as little excitement as you would of a luncheon
engagement. There is nothing left in your mind but the fact that
hordes of men to whom you belong are fighting against other
hordes, and your side must win.
My memory of these days is very much blurred, every day being
pretty nearly the same as the preceding one,--fatiguing marches,
little rest and comparatively little fighting.
It is quite possible that our commander tried to divide the work of the
troops in a just manner, and that in consequence of my regiment
having borne the brunt of two terrible attacks, and having suffered
considerable loss, we were now temporarily withdrawn from the
fighting line, and not once during these days were assigned to the
duty of a rear guard. Consequently we had only few and
unimportant skirmishes in these days, twice while guarding the flank
through having to repulse attacks of Cossacks, and once being
harassed by an armored automobile. But the movements of an
automobile being confined to the road, we had no difficulty in
avoiding its fire, and as for the Cossacks with their eternal feigned
attacks, we had reached the point where we almost ignored them.
We were in the first days of September, and upon reaching the
swamps near Grodeck, south of Lemberg, a determined stand was
decided upon by our commanding general. It seemed the most
propitious place for a formidable defense, there being only few
roads through otherwise impassable swamps. On September sixth
my battalion was ordered to take up a position commanding a defile
which formed one of the possible approaches for the enemy. Here
we awaited the Russians, and they were not long in coming. First
they violently shelled our position and silenced one of our batteries.
Finding their artillery fire did not draw any answer from our side, they
attempted to storm our position by means of frontal infantry attacks,
combined with occasional raids of Cossacks, which were always
repulsed. Finally the Russian infantry succeeded in establishing a
number of trenches, the one opposite us not more than five
hundred yards away. It was the first time we had come in close
touch with the Russians, almost within hailing distance, and with the
aid of our field glasses we could occasionally even get a glimpse of
their faces and recognize their features. We stayed four days
opposite each other, neither side gaining a foot of ground.
It was there and then that I made a curious observation. After the
second day we had almost grown to know each other. The Russians would
laughingly call over to us, and the Austrians would answer. The
salient feature of these three days' fighting was the extraordinary
lack of hatred. In fact, it is astonishing how little actual hatred
exists between fighting men. One fights fiercely and passionately,
mass against mass, but as soon as the mass crystallizes itself into
human individuals whose features one actually can recognize, hatred
almost ceases. Of course, fighting continues, but somehow it loses
its fierceness and takes more the form of a sport, each side being
eager to get the best of the other. One still shoots at his opponent,
but almost regrets when he sees him drop.
By the morning of the third day we knew nearly every member of the
opposing trench, the favorite of my men being a giant red-bearded
Russian whose constant pastime consisted in jumping like a
Jack-in-the-box from the trench, crying over to us as he did so. He
was frequently shot at, but never hit. Then he grew bolder, showing
himself longer and longer, until finally he jumped out of the trench
altogether, shouting to us wildly and waving his cap. His
good-humored jollity and bravado appealed to our boys and none of them
attempted to shoot at him while he presented such a splendid target.
Finally one of our men, who did not want to be second in bravery,
jumped out of the trench and presented himself in the full sunlight.
Not one attempt was made to shoot at him either, and these two men
began to gesticulate at each other, inviting each other to come
nearer. All fighting had suddenly ceased, and both opposing parties
were looking on, laughing like boys at play. Finally the Russian
would draw a step nearer, and our man boldly advanced too. Then the
Russians urged on their man with shouts and laughter, and he made a
big leap forward, standing still, whereupon the Austrian also jumped
forward, and so, step by step, they approached until they nearly
touched each other. They had left their rifles behind, and we thought
that they were going to indulge in a fist fight, all of us being sorry
for our champion, for he was a small and insignificant-looking man who
looked as if he could be crushed with one blow by his gigantic
opponent. But lo, and behold! The big Russian held out his hand which
held a package of tobacco and our Austrian, seizing the tobacco,
grasped the hand of the Russian, and then reaching in his pocket
produced a long Austrian cigar, which he ceremoniously presented to
the Russian. It was indeed a funny sight to see the small, wiry, lean
Austrian talking in exaggerated terms of politeness to the blond
Russian giant, who listened gravely and attentively, as if he
understood every word.
By this time all precautions and even ideas of fighting had been
forgotten, and we were surprised to find ourselves out of the shelter
of our trenches and fully exposed to the Russians, who, in turn,
leaned out of their own trenches and showed their heads in full.
This unofficial truce had lasted about twenty minutes, and
succeeded more in restoring good humor and joy of life among our
soldiers than a trainload of provisions would have done. It was one
of the incidents that helped to relieve the monotony of trench life
and was heartily welcomed by all of us. The fighting, however, soon
was resumed with all its earnestness and fierceness, but from this
moment on a certain camaraderie was established between the two
opposing trenches. Between skirmishes an unofficial truce would
frequently be called for the purpose of removing the wounded.
During these times when the stretcher-bearers were busy, no shot
would be fired on either side.
Nor was this an isolated case, for similar intermittent truces,
sometimes accompanied by actual intercourse between the
opposing forces, were quite common all along the battle line. That
very night I was hurriedly summoned to the trenches of the 13th
Company, about half a mile east of us, in order to act as an
interpreter between the major commanding that battalion and two
singular guests he had just received, a Russian officer and his
orderly. The pair, carrying a white flag, had hailed one of the
numerous Austrian outposts placed during the night, in front of the
trenches, and had been sent blindfolded back to the major. The
Russian officer spoke only broken French. He commanded one of
the opposing trenches, and from his narrative it appeared that his
men had not received any food supplies for some days and were
actually on the point of starvation. Not being able to stand their
misery any longer, he had taken the bull by the horns and, with the
utter confidence and straightforwardness of a fearless nature, had
simply come over to us, the enemy, for help, offering a little barrel of
water which his companion carried on his head and a little tobacco,
in exchange for some provisions. The major seemed at first,
perhaps, a little perplexed and undecided about this singular
request, but his generous nature and chivalry soon asserted itself.
One single look at the emaciated and worn faces of our guests
sufficiently substantiated the truth of their story, for both men were
utterly exhausted and on the verge of collapse. The next minute
messengers were flying to the different trenches of the battalion to
solicit and collect contributions, and the officers scrambled over
each other in their noble contest to deplete their own last and
cherished reserves for the supper of the guests. Soon the latter
were seated as comfortably as circumstances permitted before a
feast of canned beef, cheese, biscuits, and a slice of salami, my
own proud contribution consisting of two tablets of chocolate, part of
a precious reserve for extreme cases. It was a strange sight to see
these two Russians in an Austrian trench, surrounded by cordiality
and tender solicitude. The big brotherhood of humanity had for the
time enveloped friend and foe, stamping out all hatred and racial
differences. It is wonderful how the most tender flowers of
civilization can go hand in hand with the most brutal atrocities of
grim modern warfare.
In the mean while the messengers had returned almost staggering
under the weight of a sack filled with the gifts of our soldiers to the
enemy,--pieces of bread and biscuits with here and there a slice of
bacon or a lump of cheese, all thrown pele-mele together. Many a
man must have parted with his last piece of bread in order not to be
outdone by the others in generosity, for our own provisions were
running very low. It is true that the bread and biscuits were
mildewed, the cheese stale, and the bacon as hard as stone, but
the boys gave the best they could, the very poverty and
humbleness of the gifts attesting their own desperate plight, and
bearing proud witness to the extent of their sacrifice. With tears in
their eyes and reiterated protestations of thanks, our guests
staggered back through the night to their lines, undoubtedly carrying
with them tender memories of Austrian generosity and hospitality.
On the morning of the next day a Russian detachment succeeded in
storming a hill on our flank, commanding the strip of space between
ourselves and our reserves in the rear, thus cutting us off from our
main body. They established there a machine-gun battery, and,
although we were under cover in our trench, we were now in a very
precarious position, for no more provisions or ammunition could
reach us, all attempts to do so breaking down under a terrific
machine-gun fire, but we had orders to hold our position at all cost
and to the last man. Unfortunately our ammunition was giving out,
in spite of our husbanding it as much as possible and shooting only
when we had a sure target. The Russians soon found that each
shot meant a victim and took no chances on showing even the tips
of their caps. Neither could we move the least bit without being the
target for a volley from their side. Up to this day I cannot
understand why they did not try to rush us, but apparently they were
unaware of our comparative weakness.
Also for another reason our position had become more and more
untenable. We were on swampy ground and the water was
constantly oozing in from the bottom of the trench, so that we
sometimes had to stand nearly knee-deep and were forced to bail
the water out with our caps. It is difficult to imagine a more
deplorable situation than to have to stay for four days in a foul
trench, half filled with swamp water, constantly exposed to the
destructive fire of the enemy, utterly isolated and hopeless.
Soon we were completely without any food or water and our
ammunition was almost exhausted. During the night, here and
there daring men would rush through the space swept by the
Russian gun fire, which was kept up constantly, trying to bring us
what scanty supplies they could procure from neighboring trenches
better provided than we were, but the little they brought was nothing
compared to our needs.
On the evening of that third day, knowing that our ammunition was
giving out, we felt that the next day would bring the end, and all our
thoughts turned homewards and to the dear ones. We all wrote
what we considered our parting and last farewell, each one pledging
himself to deliver and take care of the letters of the others if he
survived. It was a grave, sad, deeply touching moment, when we
resigned ourselves to the inevitable, and yet somehow we all felt
relieved and satisfied that the end might come and grimly resolved
to sell our lives dearly.
Never before had I as much reason to admire the wonderful power
of endurance and stoicism of our soldiers as on that night. Once
resigned to the worst, all the old-time spirit returned, as if by magic.
They sat together playing cards in as much moonlight as would fall
into the deep trench, relating jokes and bolstering up one another's
courage.
The fourth day broke gloomy, with a drizzling rain. At ten o'clock
one of our men became suddenly insane, jumped out of the trench,
danced wildly and divested himself of every stitch of clothing while
doing so. Strange to say, the Russians must have realized that the
man was insane, for they never fired at him, neither did they at the
two men who jumped out to draw him back. We succeeded in
comforting and subduing him, and he soon fell into a stupor and
remained motionless for some time. As soon as darkness fell we
succeeded in conveying him back to the reserves and I understand
that he got quite well again in a few days.
At five o'clock that afternoon we suddenly received orders through a
running messenger, who was braving the incessant machine-gun
fire, that our positions were about to be abandoned and that we
were to evacuate our trench under the cover of darkness, at eleven
o'clock. I cannot but confess that we all breathed more freely on the
receipt of that information, but unfortunately the purpose could not
be carried out. The Russians by this time evidently had realized our
comparatively defenseless condition and utter lack of ammunition,
for that same night we heard two shots ring out, being a signal from
our sentinels that they were surprised and that danger was near. I
hardly had time to draw my sword, to grasp my revolver with my left
hand and issue a command to my men to hold their bayonets in
readiness, when we heard a tramping of horses and saw dark
figures swooping down upon us. For once the Cossacks actually
carried out their attack, undoubtedly owing to their intimate
knowledge of our lack of ammunition. My next sensation was a
crushing pain in my shoulder, struck by the hoof of a horse, and a
sharp knife pain in my right thigh. I fired with my revolver at the
hazy figure above me, saw it topple over and then lost
consciousness.