"DO NOT FIRE ON YOUR COMRADES"
Day after day we passed in our miserable bivouac, short of food, short
of news, short of everything. When news did come it was rather
disquieting: Germany was said to have a fleet of armed river boats on
the Vistula some thirty to thirty-five English miles to our right rear.
It would be rather awkward if these gunboats landed a force behind us,
specially as it seemed as if we were not supported in this direction,
except by a few sotnias of Cossacks. Our forces seemed to be very quiet
and unprogressive everywhere, except on the Austrian and Turkish
frontiers. We had the weather, perhaps, in part, to thank for this state
of things. It was simply atrocious. Near the end of the year there was a
partial thaw, followed by heavy rain, which quickly turned to a blinding
sleet. Then there came a dull, heavy day, with black, lowering clouds,
and bitter cold. The snow recommenced, and fell as one might expect it
to fall, in Russia and Poland. With a few intervals it continued to
float down in big feathery flakes for an entire week, and it drifted
round us as high as the roofs of the houses, or the charred eaves where
those roofs had once rested; and we could not leave the environs of the
village until we had cut a way through. Buried beneath the snow we did
not feel the icy wind so keenly as those did who were unavoidably
exposed to it when on outpost duty; of which, however, we all had our
share. There were, also, occasional reconnaissances on a small scale--a
dozen men, or so, in a party. I was always glad to accompany these, as
the monotony of life in a ruin, without sufficient food, and no
recreation except card-playing, was unendurable.
The object of these little expeditions was to ascertain if we were
likely to be attacked; or if the enemy was moving in our neighbourhood.
The whole country was deserted, except by pigs and dogs, and a few wild
animals. The pigs had been turned loose, I supposed, to get their own
living as best they could; and I am afraid that a good many of them were
carnivorous, as the dogs certainly were. These brutes were vagabonds by
choice, and it was a wonder to me that so many of them were tolerated in
the towns and villages of all parts of Russia and Poland I visited.
It was shocking to see the number of empty and destroyed houses, some
isolated and standing alone, others in clusters forming small hamlets
and villages. In the rooms of some, or in the courtyards, and sometimes
in the open fields, we came across the bodies of peasants and soldiers
who had not been buried. The remains of one man were hanging from a
tree. He was little more than a skeleton, and the eyeless sockets of his
skull had an inexpressibly horrid appearance. There were also the
carcasses of domestic animals lying about, wantonly killed. It is
really difficult to understand the state of mind of men who could be
guilty of such cowardly and monstrous cruelty. Isolated acts of
wickedness occur in all wars; but here we seemed to have a whole people,
multitudinous in numbers, afflicted with the madness of blood-lust.
Very little information was gleaned from these reconnaissances. The few
miserables who still lurked about the ruins of their former homes said
that no soldiers had been in their neighbourhood since the fighting
which led to the destruction of the country. One old fellow, with
mattock and spade, and accompanied by a faithful dog, was making it his
business to bury the abandoned bodies of his dead countrymen. He said he
had made graves for forty-five of them, and he was still very busy and
complained that he had to lose much time while he was looking for food.
We gave him all we had with us. He had been living chiefly on hares
which he tracked down in the snow. We had discovered, ourselves, that
this was an easy way of capturing them; and they often made an agreeable
addition to our poor fare. We also caught an odd sheep or two, pretty
lean for want of a shepherd's care; and pork was plentiful enough for
those who cared to partake of it, who became fewer every day, as it
became more and more evident that these omnivorous creatures were living
on carrion and the bodies of the unburied slain.
We gained some important bits of information, amongst them the fact that
we were not supported by other troops; and that reinforcements were
passing through Warsaw, day and night, in an unbroken stream. They were
proceeding mostly towards the Austrian frontier, and to the scene of the
fighting on the Vistula, or rather on its tributaries, the Pilica,
Bzura, Bug, and the Narew; a region extensively entrenched.
The fact that no troops appeared to be supporting our outpost greatly
disturbed the mind of Colonel Krastnovitz, who even expressed the
opinion that he was either forgotten, or cut off; and it really looked
as if something of this sort had occurred, as the officer had received
no orders, or supplies, for ten days; and the men were almost starving.
We sent out foraging parties every day; but the country had been cleared
of provisions to such a degree that it was almost a desert. In our
extremity we applied to a Cossack officer, and thenceforth he sent us in
a cart or two of food every day, consisting of bread (in biscuit form),
bacon, wheat, flour and oats. Where he obtained these supplies he did
not say; and nobody made it his business to inquire. Cossacks are free
and easy fellows; and they never starve. There is no instance in their
history of their ever having done so. If they cannot find enemies to
rob, they borrow from friends; and failing this, ten to one they take
toll of their own convoys. Do they get into trouble for such playful
pranks? All I can say is that I have never seen a dead donkey, nor a
court-martialled Cossack. The beggars may live on thistles, but they do
live.
I suggested to Colonel Krastnovitz that it was necessary we should get
into communication with the commander, as it was impossible for him
either to maintain his position or vacate it without orders. He quite
agreed: and twenty men under Captain Folstoffle were detailed to search
for the remaining battalions of the regiment. Our obliging Cossack
commander placed half a dozen of his men at our disposal, and was good
enough to give us a couple of old horses which he had picked up, and
which were worth, I suppose, their weight in--cat's meat. Still, the
snow was deep, the way was long, and the pilgrim not too young or
strong, and I was glad to throw my leg over the craziest old crock I
ever mounted.
Our Cossack friends were of a party having a roving commission, and
reporting direct to Warsaw, which was now encircled by trenches and
earthworks, the permanent forts being old and not to be depended on; and
I may add, on my own responsibility, woefully short of heavy artillery.
As far as the Cossacks knew there were no Russian troops nearer to our
position than the trenches at Skyermevice, where they were in pretty
close contact with the enemy. We heard that there had been fighting
quite recently; and daily we heard the reports of artillery in that
direction, the distance being less than thirty versts.
The Russians are marchers as well as fighters; but the roads were so
blocked with snow that we could rarely discern them, and we took a
direct route straight across the country. This was very well; but the
men sank in to the knee at every step, and progress was very slow, while
concealment was impossible. If only a small body of the enemy had
appeared we should have had no alternative but unconditional
surrender--not a pleasant lookout, especially for me, who could not hope
to pass for a Russian. In spite of strenuous exertion we could not
advance faster than two versts an hour (less than a mile and a half).
When, therefore, we came to a gentleman's house, we decided to remain
there and send on two of the Cossacks with a written message to the
nearest commanding officer they could find.
These men did not return until late the following day, bringing orders
for the battalion to proceed to a village called Samitz, near
Skyermevice. Captain Folstoffle decided to remain where he was and send
on the message to the Colonel.
We were in very good quarters at the house mentioned above. The family
had fled to a place of greater safety, leaving an old couple to look
after the mansion, and answer all German inquiries. Strange to say, and
very fortunately for us, the Germans had not visited this house; and
everything being intact we had plenty of food and wine, and good beds to
sleep in. There was a poultry yard with abundance of fowls, ducks and
geese; and a piggery full of fine porkers with no suspicion attached to
their recent diet, and--well, the Cossacks looked after this department,
not forgetting the respect due to their superiors when the roast was
ready: and I am afraid that the poor old woman had some doubts which was
most preferable--a visit from the Germans, or a self-invitation from her
compatriots; and I am not sure she did not say as much. She certainly
had a good deal to say; and I did not need to understand Russian to
perceive the temper and tone in which her speech was delivered. But her
protests were received with sublime indifference, and she was calmly
presented with receipts and bills which she was informed the Russian
Government would honour in due course.
The next day, the 8th January, 1915, the battalion arrived at this
pleasant halting-place, and cleared up the remnants of the poultry-yard
and piggery. It took us all day on the 9th to reach Samitz, which the
enemy was shelling vigorously. The village was a small place originally;
and half of it had already been reduced to something very like dust. The
only civilian I saw in the place was a woman, who was crying bitterly as
she sat on the threshold of a shattered cottage, quite oblivious, in her
terrible grief, of such trifling dangers as bursting shells. These are
the sights that upset men, even soldiers born, and cause them to hate
war. Even the dogs and the pigs had deserted this place.
The headquarters, and the other battalions of the Vladimir regiment,
were not at Samitz; and nobody could tell us where they were. We were
politely told not to bother our heads about our comrades, but to get
into the trenches at once. Fortunately we were with "goodly capon
lined"; for they had not the good manners here to give us a ration
before sending us on duty. But the service was pressing just then, as we
soon discovered.
Night was closing in when we became aware that a heavy mass of the enemy
was making straight for the trench we occupied. They were shouting
loudly something I did not understand; and orders were passed along the
trench that we were to lie quiet, and not fire until the foe was quite
close. I thought this a foolish order, but of course obeyed it, like the
rest of the men.
I afterwards read in an English newspaper of a dodge practised by the
Germans of running up dressed in English uniform, and shouting something
like this: "Ve vos not Shermans; we vos Royal Vest Surreys!"
A similar trick was played on us at this time. It appears the Germans
shouted: "We are a reinforcement of Russians; do not fire on your
comrades!"
We did not fire until they reached the wire entanglement which protected
the front of the trench: and then----. Well, they went down as if
blasted by a wind from Hades. Point-blank, quick-firing: and then, while
the groan of fright and horror was still issuing from their lips, came
the order, "Upon them with the bayonet--Charge."
There was no fighting: it was simply slaughter amidst yells, curses, and
abject screams for mercy. For the first time in this campaign I saw
German soldiers fairly and unmistakably routed. There was no mistake
about it this time. Old Jack Falstaff never carried his paunch as nimbly
as these Germans carried theirs in their run for their lives.
We took no prisoners: or, if any, only one or two odd ones; and we
scarcely lost a man, except afterwards, by artillery fire. For the
Germans, absolutely routed, sought vengeance by opening as heavy an
artillery shelling as they could; but it was little better than a waste
of ammunition, and killed more of their own wounded than it did of our
men.
When morning came, I calculated that 2,000 German bodies lay on half a
verst of our front. The groans and cries of the wounded were awful to
hear; but nobody could help them. Their own people made no overtures to
do so; and when our Red Cross men attempted to go to their assistance
they were fired on by the enemy in the most cowardly way. None of our
wounded lay outside the trench.
When darkness set in Captain Folstoffle, and an officer called Skidal,
with Drs. Wolnoff and Falovki, myself and a dozen stretcher-bearers of
the Red Cross Service, went out to try to be of some service to the
suffering and dying. It was a dark night; but the snow rendered objects
visible; and the miserable wail of the injured guided us to where they
lay thickest. Nothing could be more awful: one man with the top of his
skull blown off, and the brains exposed, was still alive, and most
anxious to be saved. He begged piteously to be first attended to; but
what could be done for such a case? We made him as comfortable as we
could under such dreadful circumstances, and left him: though his cries
to be taken away, or at least have somebody remain with him, haunted my
mind for many days afterwards.
It was puzzling to know where to commence work when so many required
attention. We gave first aid to a great many, and sent some to the rear
of our trenches; but it was obviously of no use to treat hopeless cases.
We removed them to more sheltered positions, and made them more
comfortable. One or two were groaning under heaps of their slain
comrades: we released these, and dressed their wounds. Some were very
grateful for the aid rendered. One man kissed the hand of the attendant
helping him; and another was very profuse in his thanks. Others were
cursing their Kaiser and their country, and even the Almighty, for
entailing so much misery upon them. One man was insane, probably as a
result of his fears rather than his sufferings.
Many corpses were broken to pieces, probably as a result of the German's
own shell-fire. When the arms of a dead man were taken hold of to
release another soldier pinned down beneath him, they both came away at
the first pull, owing to the body being completely shattered. Several
dissevered limbs lay about; and also headless bodies: and we discovered
one dead man, who had died in the act of holding his bowels in, the
outside of the stomach having been shot away. While we were attending to
these miserable men, a shell came from the enemy's line and killed
Lieutenant Skidal and two of the men, and so severely wounded Dr.
Wolnoff that he died a few days afterwards. Of course we abandoned our
work, and returned to the shelter of our trenches. In a similar way the
Germans often put a stop to the would-be good work our people attempted
to perform.