The Herr Rittmeister has taken a pledge; while the war lasts he will
not drink, gamble or hunt. Of these three hunting is his only real
passion. He would hate to be a bad shot. In the wall of the Nyiregyhazy
barracks he shot his monogram with a pistol: thus, C. F. They made him
pay for the damage to the wall. Rittmeister Farkas is therefore the
only man in the country who has ever, out of his own pocket, built part
of a barracks.
Once from a local train, which was running through the hunting preserve
of a friend, he saw a deer. He pulled the emergency signal, shot the
deer and then said: "Now go ahead!" For that he was put under arrest in
the barracks for thirty days. Now, however, every one of his bullets
belongs to the Fatherland, and his iron will, his daring, his mobile
spirit, his technical skill, his great, romantic heart, encased in his
small steeled body, belong, all, all to the Fatherland.
The Rittmeister wept when he heard that the Russians stood before the
Bereczke Pass. He did everything in his power to get to that threatened
point. So he became attached to the Group Hofmann, which in the fall of
1914 drove the Russians out of Berog and Marmaros.
About Christmas time in 1914 he is fighting in the Carpathians. On
December 19 he climbs, with his hussars, the Vehikzi Brh Mountain,
1,600 metres high, and at night descends with them, in snow up to the
arm-pits, to Firelopfalva, on the other side. He leads the march and
kills the Russian outposts. The Russians are driven out of the village,
losing 150. He cannot bring away the Russian weapons, so he collects
them in a pile and burns them.
The Russians, who know him well, send three battalions of infantry and
four companies of Cossacks against him. Three days long, until December
22, he stands off, with a few hundred cavalrymen, all their attacks.
Then he sends his people back, remaining the last one on the spot. He
keeps a uhlan sergeant with him to hold off the Russians until his
troop has crossed the mountains. The two hide behind a rock. Farkas
takes up his Mannlicher, with a telescopic sight. Suddenly the sergeant
receives a bullet in his calf. Farkas would gladly retire, but he
cannot carry the sergeant with him and will not leave him in the lurch.
About 10 a.m. the Russians begin to climb in skirmish line up toward
him. At 10 o'clock Farkas, from behind his rock, shoots down his first
Russian; at 4 o'clock in the afternoon his sixty-seventh. Up to the
neck in snow, without a bite to eat, he keeps all assailants at bay.
At 5 o'clock it is pitch dark. Farkas goes away, returns in a sled and
carries off the wounded sergeant.
The Germans he likes very well, and they like him. A German general
said to him: "Explain to me, please, what the rôle of Hungary is in
this war."
Rittmeister Farkas showed his outstretched hand.
"Excellency," he said, "if this war is a box on the ear which we are
giving the enemy, then in this five-fingered box on the ear Hungary is
not the least important finger."
He is assigned for six weeks to the German Guard and receives into
his detachment some Prussian cavalry. Between Uzok and Bereczke he
climbs with them over the mountains and holds for six days, with 500
cavalrymen, a line southeast of Turka against 5,000 Russians, with
seven cannon and ten machine guns. His cavalry troops form on the hill
surrounding the Russian position. Farkas stands in a church tower from
which he can see the enemy. He has three small flags--a green one, a
yellow one and a red one. When the Russians develop to the left he
puts the green flag out of the tower window. Then the cavalrymen on
the hills to the left fire. He waves the right wing flag and other
troopers fire from the right. The Russians turn about and then the
yellow flag is hoisted and the fire comes from a third direction.
Thereupon the Russians intrench themselves in a half circle at the
entrance of a narrow pass; for they believe the enemy menaces them from
three directions. While Farkas plays his tricks with the Russians the
Prussian Guard accomplishes its work.
Farkas may now retire. On the way he meets a German sergeant major with
fifteen or twenty infantrymen. He halts them.
"Listen," says Farkas, "I have been here for six days covering the
Prussians so that they could march quietly. Reciprocate, please, and
cover my troops."
"Glad to do it," answers the German.
So he develops a line with his twenty men in order to hold the Russians
back, while Farkas withdraws his troopers.
For this Turka exploit the latter gets the Iron Cross.
The commandant of the Prussian Guard, General Baron Marschall, says
goodby to him in a personally written letter and calls him a "brilliant
Hungarian hussar officer."
He has already three slight bullet wounds, the tuft has been shot away
from his shako, his pistol holster has three bullet holes (I am almost
embarrassed to write this down, for it sounds like a copy of a romance
of Dumas), his Attila is pierced in three places. There are two holes
in his breeches, his shako is split from the top by a sabre stroke and
one of his spurs has been shot away. Otherwise, God be thanked, he is
unharmed. I am not confident that the reader will believe all of this.
But it is sufficient that several thousand men here know that it is
true and that I also know that it is.