FROM THE TRENCHES OF PRZASNYSZ TO THE CAMP OF MAKOW
I was in a very unpleasant fix. I could not obtain leave to go back to
my old comrades: if I went without permission I ran grave risk of being
considered a spy or a traitor and being treated as one. Life had become
so very joyless and unpleasant, that I felt I could quit it without much
regret; but I was not quite prepared to be sent out of it with the
contumely due to a spy, or dishonourable man, to say nothing of the
misgivings I entertained concerning hanging or shooting by a provost's
squad.
I wrote a letter or two, and tried to get them forwarded to Captain
Sawmine. The trench officer (a Major, I think) took the first of these
notes, and examined it; poised it at every possible angle; turning it
this way and that, and upside down; and unable to make anything of it,
put it in his pocket. I hoped he intended to send it on to its
destination: but several days elapsed, and I received no reply, so I
wrote another, and with a respectful salute, handed it to the gentleman.
He took it from my hand, shook his head, and tore it to fragments, which
he cast to the wind.
I was not at much trouble to conceal my annoyance and contempt of this
conduct, whereupon he got very angry; and I perceived that I should have
to be cautious how I behaved before him: so I went back to my
_pickelhaube_-sniping, and thought the matter out.
That night the enemy made an attack upon us, and there was some
hand-to-hand fighting. It was soon over, and the Germans driven back to
their own trench, with a loss of fifty or sixty men, and eight or ten
prisoners. It was rather a trifling affair; but our people hankered
after revenge, as I could very well see.
The second night afterwards we made a counter-attack with about two
battalions, not counting the supports. The Germans evidently expected
it: for they had kept up an almost incessant rain of shells, great and
small. Our guns had replied, and done some damage. Particularly, they
had cut away the wire entanglements of the enemy's trenches, and
prevented him from repairing it.
The intervening space we had to rush across was about fifty yards; but
my feet were now so bad that I could only hobble forward. The first line
that got into the trench made very short work of the foe. When I dropped
into it, the bottom was covered with dead and dying men. Others were
rushing away through tunnelled traverses; but they suffered very
severely, and in less than five minutes the work was in our hands.
The Germans made three determined attempts to retake it, but they all
failed, with loss to them; though the affair was on a comparatively
small scale. At last, about five o'clock in the morning, they exploded
two mines simultaneously. These mines must have been prepared beforehand
in anticipation of the capture of the salient of the trench, on the
faces of which they were concealed. They cost us about twenty men,
several of whom were buried and had to be dug out. Unfortunately they
were dead when recovered, as were nearly all who happened to be in the
vicinity of the explosions.
Another mine, fired lower down the trench, in the apparent belief that
we had reached the point, killed some of their own men, who were
crowding the spot in a wild endeavour to escape from the bayonets of our
men.
The moral effect caused by these explosions was very great, and was, I
have no doubt, the reason the Russian leaders decided to abandon the
trench. The men were drawn off in the darkness, unperceived by the
enemy, who continued to bombard the position very furiously, and must
have wasted at least 1,000 shells, many of which were of much larger
size than those used in ordinary field-guns. They blew to pieces a great
part of their own salient, and did our trenches a lot of damage. The
Russian losses in this second combat amounted altogether to about 300
men.
During the fight I had been an object of particular attention to a big
German, who made more ragged my already too dilapidated coat. The
saw-back bayonets of our foes were very destructive to everything they
were thrust through--coats as well as bodies. The gentleman I refer to
had a bundle in a handkerchief attached to his belt. This I brought
away, and found it to contain a small but choice assortment of viands.
There were several Frankfort sausages of the genuine kind, a very
toothsome pasty, and some bread that was a degree or two better than the
ordinary "ammunition" sort. A touch of pathos was given to a commonplace
incident by a letter, and the photograph of a pretty woman, which the
bundle contained. This was probably the man's sweetheart, who had sent
him a few choice snacks. Poor girl! If only she had known who was
destined to devour them I expect she would have sung "Gott straffe
England" in a very high key. The Fortunes of war are sometimes curious.
The starving (?) Germans seemed to be pretty well provided in this
trench. Many of our men brought back dainties--sausages, cakes, pies and
even eggs, which reached our own trenches uncracked; and plenty of
tobacco. The "War Lord" is a slyer dog than many people think, and it
looks as if he did not forget the commissariat when furnishing the other
"War Departments." It may have happened, however, that the detachment
manning this trench had just received a consignment of good things from
their friends.
The day after the trench fights there was great rejoicing in our lines,
which I had no difficulty in ascertaining was caused by the fall of
Przemysl. After months of effort this great fortress was taken by the
Russians. I know nothing of the fighting on the Austrian frontier, or
within her territories, but what I heard from time to time; and this I
do not repeat. But I may say that the capture of the place had an
immensely cheering effect on the Russian troops, and did the Germans
more harm, from a moral point, than the loss of a battle would have
done.
I had hoped to have found an opportunity to escape during the operations
mentioned above; but I found it impossible to go off except under
circumstances that could only be called desertion. A day or two after
the fighting a couple of Cossacks came, bearing a letter from Captain
Sawmine, and making inquiries about me. Their arrival gave me joy of
soul in no uncertain measure: for I was heartily tired of trench
warfare.
The letter, written in French, enclosed a request that any officer or
person being shown it would do his utmost to forward my return to the
battalion, which, it was stated, was now moving on Kulaki, described as
a town east of Przasnysz. The letter instructed me, if found, to
accompany the two Cossacks, who had orders not to leave me until I was
in safety again with the battalion.
It was afternoon when the Cossacks arrived, and it was decided that they
should rest in rear of the trenches before departing the next morning.
It seemed to me to be one of the longest nights I had ever spent, I was
so anxious to get back to my old comrades. This anxiety was provoked by
the terrible monotony, and no less abominable dirtiness, of life in the
trenches. The Russian soldier, blessed, or otherwise, with that
remarkable patience which is characteristic of all Asiatics, and persons
descended from them, is yet a great sufferer if he is not regularly
relieved from the trenches for rest: and it has been found necessary
throughout the Russian Army to organize regular relays for service in
these miserable living graves. This is what they really are. Soldiers
posted in them are compelled to stand in their allotted places: they
cannot move to the left hand or the right, nor change places with a
comrade. If a man is wounded during the day it is seldom possible to
remove him until darkness sets in, for the Germans fire on anybody--Red
Cross workers, the wounded, and the dying. So the injured man is taken
into a funk-hole, where the surgeon and the Red Cross man do what they
can for him until it is safe to lift him out and convey him to hospital.
Those killed outright lie where they fall, in the mire and the filth,
trodden under foot, unless a lull in the firing gives time to bury them
in the bottom of the trench; and even this is only done to get the body
out of the way. As a rule the dead were buried at night, at the rear of
the trench and close to it. Even then the Germans often heard the sound
of pick and shovel at work, and in their usual dastardly way opened fire
on the fatigue-parties engaged in this necessary and charitable work,
leaving it to chance whether or not they killed a man or two, as they
often did.
I have mentioned the patience of the Russian nature. It is in curious
contrast to the petulance and cowardice of the Germans, who yell and
scream when in danger or suffering much pain. The Russian never does
this. Even the dying Muscovite scarcely groans. I have seen men brought
out of the trenches, or from the front, practically smashed, hurt beyond
the wildest hope of recovery, yet calm and patient, and grateful for the
least help, not one sound of complaint or pain passing their brave lips.
Even those rascals the Cossacks invariably met suffering and death with
the invincible courage of heroes. I never saw an exception.
At daybreak the following morning we started for Kulaki, taking a route
through country that was quite unknown to me.
At this time thaws had set in, generally commencing about 11 a.m. and
continuing until 2 p.m. They rendered the ground very bad for
travelling, although the snow was far from being melted through, except
in a few places, which had been partially cleared by drifts before the
frost had come. Large pools of water collected, and stood on the hard
snow, which was really ice, rendering the surface not only slushy, but
exceedingly slippery. The Cossacks partly remedied this by tying pieces
of raw hide over the horses' hoofs; but nothing could render the footing
of the animals quite safe, and we had one or two nasty falls. These
generally happened towards the close of day, when the temperature was
falling and the freezing was sharper than ever, or at all events the
surface of the snow seemed to be more glassy.
We had not got more than a dozen versts on our way when we came up to
half a battalion of the 30th Siberian regiment, which was skirmishing
with a much stronger body of German infantry, which had tried to dig
itself in--_i.e._, entrench itself under fire. This the Russians had
prevented, and they suddenly made a determined bayonet charge and closed
with their foes.
The two Cossacks and I followed close behind; and in the melee which
ensued one of the men speared a German running him completely through
from side to side, at least a foot of steel coming out under the
victim's left arm. The fighting, though it hardly lasted two minutes,
was very fierce, the Germans seeming to realize that they had no
alternative but to fight or surrender in a body, in spite of their
excess of numbers. This is really what happened. The Russians killed
about 150 of them, with a loss to themselves of not more than sixty. The
remainder of the Germans, about 600 in number, surrendered
unconditionally, and were marched away in an easterly direction, the
dead and wounded being left lying on the snow. I presume they were
attended to later by the Red Cross men and removed to the
field-hospitals.
Unfortunately I could not make myself distinctly understood by the
Cossacks; and my two guides, after a consultation together, seemed to
make up their minds to partly retrace their steps. They may have had
good grounds for this resolution; and I myself strongly suspected that
numerous small parties of the enemy were prowling about. The reason for
this opinion was that I saw several patrols or squads join the enemy's
battalion during the fight. We also passed a small wood, amongst the
trees of which a dozen bivouac fires were still smouldering, and these,
I saw at a glance, were not made by Russian soldiers. I likewise saw a
single horseman watching us; he was soon joined by another; and the two
followed us some distance, until one of the Cossacks fired his rifle at
them, when they galloped away.
But my escort was decidedly nervous. They were both young men--under
twenty-five, I thought--and appeared to consider me something of a
prisoner. I was surprised at this; but not sufficiently master of the
language to protest or ask for an explanation. The men frequently
changed their direction, and if they did not bewilder themselves, at any
rate fairly perplexed me, so that I could not tell in which direction we
ought to be travelling.
We passed that night in a cottage which was but little better than a
hut, the owner of which did not seem to be much pleased at being
compelled to entertain us, almost the only occasion on which I noticed
such a disposition in any person of the country, whatever his rank or
position.
There was hardly any food in the house, and that little was coarse and
dirty-looking, so that even the Cossacks turned up their noses at it.
One of them went out, and after an absence of more than an hour returned
with two fowls, some potatoes and bread, and a stone jar of vodka. They
then brought in a lot of wood from the yard of the cottage, and made
the stove nearly red-hot, at which action the proprietor protested
loudly and became very angry, while a woman I at first thought was his
wife wept. The fowls having been prepared by the speedy method of
burning off the feathers were put in a saucepan to boil. The woman and I
skinned some of the potatoes, but others were cooked with the skin on.
While waiting for supper the vodka was very liberally served out, the
man and woman taking their share; and the behaviour of the lady with one
of the Cossacks was such as to convince me I had been mistaken in
thinking that she was the wife of the peasant.
By the time the meal was cooked and eaten the woman and myself were the
only sober persons there; and I am not sure that she had not taken too
much of the fiery vodka. With the two Cossacks as partners she executed
some extraordinary figures in what I suppose I must call a polka. It
ended in the whole party falling to the floor, where they went to sleep.
Being left to look after myself I blew out the lamp, which was smoking
abominably, and got into a bed at the corner of the room--clothes, boots
and all, that I might be ready for eventualities. Nobody disturbed me,
however, until daylight, when the Cossacks aroused themselves, and the
woman made us plenty of tea, which we drank, as usual, without sugar and
milk.
The Cossacks had stabled the horses in an outhouse, which was quite
unfitted for the purpose. The poor animals had very little straw, and,
as the place was draughty, they must have been very cold.
I have forgotten to mention that before leaving the trenches the
Cossacks obtained, by either borrowing or begging, a horse on which to
mount me; and this animal, though nothing to boast of, was a much better
horse than the one I had lost.
As I saw the wisdom of propitiating the Cossacks, I helped them as much
as I could; and they were friendly enough, though I perceived that they
watched me pretty closely.
While we were engaged in saddling the horses, the peasant came to the
shed and said something to the soldiers which caused them to mount very
hastily. They motioned to me to do the same; and as we dashed at a
gallop out of the little yard I saw about twenty German hussars
approaching the cottage. They perceived us, too, and gave a hot pursuit,
firing their rifles at random. We returned the fire, and I saw one man
fall from his horse. This casualty was sufficient to bring them to a
halt, though they continued to shoot at us.
We got into safety behind a clump of trees and bushes; and one of the
Cossacks dismounted and crept forward to reconnoitre. I went with him,
and searched the country with my glass, which the man borrowed by
gesture. The hussars had not followed us; and in the direction of the
cottage, which must have been three miles away, I saw a column of smoke
rising slowly in the calm air and guessed what had happened. The cruel
enemy was burning the home of the peasant in which we had passed the
previous night.
The Cossacks continued to ride in a north-easterly direction across a
district that appeared to be a very poor one at the best of times. The
widely scattered cottages and huts were of a mean description even for
this land, and I saw only two or three houses that could have been
occupied by persons in a fairly well-to-do condition. In the course of a
ride of about twenty versts (say fifteen miles, English measurement) we
passed through only three collections of cottages which could be called
hamlets. Two of them consisted of less than thirty hovels, and were not
half inhabited.
The land may have been cultivated, but was more likely to be
grazing-ground: it was covered with snow, so one could not tell its
characteristics. We went through an extensive wood of pine-trees, and
smaller growths of timber were frequent; as also scattered clumps, and
single trees, yet the country was distinctly different from an English
landscape.
Burnt homesteads told the enemy's story as plainly as words could have
done; and bones that the dogs were gnawing I am pretty sure were human.
On a bush a German top-boot was stuck, sole upwards. Perhaps there had
been an act of revenge; or the intention of some peasant might have been
to insult, and show his contempt for, his country's enemies--rather a
dangerous thing to do; especially as retaliation would probably be,
German fashion, inflicted on the heads of the innocent.
I think there must have previously been a fight near this spot: for I
saw lots of rags lying about, or sticking in the bushes; the remnants of
uniforms; and also some rotting straps that had once been harness.
From time to time the Cossacks had conversations with the few peasants
we met, the results of which were almost invariably to cause them to
change the direction of our journey. I concluded that the enemy's scouts
and patrols were still prowling about the neighbourhood. Finally, the
Cossacks turned and rode southwards until late in the day, when we
halted at a roadside inn, near which there was a small church, and a
dozen miserable cottages. Here we passed the second night, the cheer
being no better than that at the peasant's cottage; but during the day
one of my escort had captured an unfortunate duck, which was found
swimming in a hole broken in the ice of a pool. Its companions contrived
to escape by flying; and they were probably all as lean and skinny as
the one I can hardly say we ate at night: sucked the bones, would be the
correct phrase.
If a picture suspended over the door of the house was its sign, the name
of the inn was "The Virgin and Child." There seemed to be no vodka in
this hostelry, as the landlord put only a kind of black beer before the
Cossacks. They drank it freely enough, but I could not swallow it, the
flavour was so offensive: and I could not prevail on the man to serve
some tea, which we did not get until the next morning.
The beds were very rough, stuffed with straw, and not clean; but they
seemed to be free of vermin. I never saw a flea in Poland, and the other
form of bed-pest was also absent; but more offensive creatures are very
prevalent in this country; and so are rats and mice, which often harbour
in the beds, and do great harm to a traveller's clothes and belongings.
They have even gnawed my rough leather boots while I slept.
Again we resumed our journey at daybreak, still riding south; and I
thought my escort must have lost their way. I drew forth my papers, and
pointed to the letter I had received from Captain Sawmine, trying to
make them understand I wished to rejoin him as speedily as possible; but
they only shook their heads. They either did not comprehend, or would
not forego their own method of going to work.
In the morning we passed through a small town, the name of which did not
transpire. In the afternoon we came up with a patrol of Cossacks, not
belonging to the same regiment as my escort. My two men had a long
conference with the officer commanding them, who made me understand that
he wished to examine my papers. I produced them; but he was evidently
not a brilliant scholar, and those written in French and German he
clearly did not understand. He gave rather lengthy instructions to the
two Cossacks, and appeared to order them to take a certain road, which
he pointed out. He was very polite, as far as a man could be without the
use of direct oral communication, offered me cigarettes (these things
have become universal in use), and saluted when we parted.
From a southward road we now turned to an eastward, and in about an hour
reached a town which I recognized as Makow; but my guides, escort, or
whatever they were, would not stop here. The place was full of Russian
troops; and the escort had several conversations with officers, to whom
I showed my papers. They always nodded, and we went on. That night I was
lodged in the field-prison of a company of military police, and I began
to fear that all was not quite as right as I could wish it to be. In the
morning I was visited by several officers, one of whom was a Staff
Officer who could speak French and several other languages, but not
English. I do not speak French; but I can read and write simple
sentences in that language, so I could communicate with him. He got all
he could out of me, but gave no information himself. I asked to be
allowed to rejoin the corps in which Sawmine was serving, but he said he
did not know where it was. This may or may not have been the truth. He
then asked whether, if I were permitted to move about the camp, I would
give my parole not to go without its bounds without special permission.
Prisons of any kind are not nice places, and rather than be caged up I
gave the required promise, but protested as well as I could and begged
to be allowed to do duty with some regiment at Makow, if I might not go
on to Kulaki. I understood him to say that my request would be
considered; then he went away, and I never saw him again.
I noticed that I was carefully watched; and about the middle of the day
a policeman beckoned to me, and I was taken to a tent where a plentiful,
though coarse, meal was given me. Again at retreat I was fed, and lodged
at night in a tent belonging to the police company. This sort of thing
went on for a week, during which no officer spoke to me, or took any
notice of me, the commander of the police excepted. I was daily fed in
sufficient quantity, a new pair of boots and a coat given to me; but
practically I was a watched prisoner.
I was quite unable to guess why I was treated in this way, nor can I now
give any explanation of my change of position, except that the troops I
was now with were all strangers to me: I had never met any of them
before, and it may have been thought that my papers were forgeries,
especially as I could not speak, read or understand the Russian
language. I do not know what troops these were, distinguishing marks
being very obscure when regiments are in the field. I found out,
however, that the force had only recently arrived at the
front--consisted of what we term territorial regiments, was destined to
form part of the Twelfth Army Corps, and comprised two infantry
regiments, numerically numbered the 198th and 199th. With them were
several batteries of artillery, and a cavalry regiment, the whole
mustering 10,000 or 11,000 men. The cavalry were not Cossacks, and I do
not know what became of the two men who brought me hither.
On the eighth day after my arrival in the camp of Makow the force
crossed the river (a tributary of the Narew), and marched along the
Ostrolenka road a distance of fifteen versts, when they again encamped,
and remained in this position until the 9th April, daily drilling and
manoeuvring, very industriously. All this time I lived the monotonous,
aimless life I have described above.
Once or twice I accosted officers who appeared to be of some rank, and
showed my papers, striving to make my wishes known. I also wrote three
times to Captain Sawmine, putting the letters in the field-post; but no
reply reached me. I am sure that officer would have replied had my
letters reached him; but his replies may have been withheld from me. It
is possible, too, that Sawmine was killed, I do not know, but I have not
heard anything from or about him and my other old friends. I would have
recalled my parole and endeavoured to have escaped; but I could not find
anybody whom I could make understand, or who did not wilfully ignore my
wishes.
The police commissary (a Captain) was apparently not a bad sort of
fellow, and treated me well. When he found he could trust me, he did not
have me watched with offensive closeness; and he fed and lodged me as
well as he could, and as well as he himself fared. He much resembled a
burly English sergeant, and possessed a similar gruff honesty of tone
and purpose; and we used to pass the time away by talking at each other
by the hour at a time, though neither understood a dozen words of what
was said. He always had cigars (he eschewed cigarettes) which he
generously shared with me; and any little luxury which his men brought
in was sure to find its way to my plate--I cannot say table, for this
was an article of furniture I never saw; and the platters were of
wood--not a nice substance for such a purpose; at least until dirt has
become a second nature.
What do I term luxuries? Here is a sample:
Three of the policemen went out one day with their rifles. I saw they
were going on a little shooting expedition, and I took the liberty of
following them, although they went several versts beyond the bounds of
the camp. No objection was raised to my doing this; and the men
sometimes lent me a rifle that I might have a shot or two. My own rifle,
together with everything I possessed, except the clothes in which I
stood, had disappeared; and also the horse on which I had arrived. But
that could hardly be claimed as my property.
We shot everything we could see that could be hit by a bullet, fowls,
ducks, geese; and, on this occasion, a fat porker. How fattened does not
matter: your true "old soldier" does not trouble himself about such
trifles as the fattening of pigs in the war area. One of the policemen
put a bullet through its head, and chuggy bit the dust without being
properly bled in the orthodox way. We cut off its legs, its shoulders
and the thickest part of the loin; and left the rest for the ravens, the
dogs or piggy's own relatives--whichever came up first.
Dogs, peculiarly cantankerous curs, ravens, crows and pigs, were
numerous in all parts of Poland that I visited. I suppose the dogs and
swine were tame until the war rendered them homeless and masterless,
when they became semi-wild. By swine I do not mean wild boars. These
last named were found in the woods and forests, and may have been
originally of the same stock as the domestic animal; but they are quite
easily recognized as distinct now. There are also wolves in this region;
and they sometimes visited the battlefields; but I do not think they are
very numerous.
While we were dismembering the pig I noticed an old long-bearded
stolid-looking peasant, closely watching us. I believe he claimed to be
the owner of the pig. At any rate he was back in camp before we were,
and we found him talking like a lawyer to the provost and police
commissary. Our three policemen also had a great deal to say--I would
have given something to know on what subject. I do not know what was the
outcome of the confab; but we had roast pork for supper that night; and
very delicious pork it was--Hun fed, or otherwise. I may add that the
soldiers were constantly on the alert to secure these stray pigs, which
were very much appreciated as an agreeable addition to black bread and
blacker soup.
The weather had fairly broken now: the thaw had set in all over the
country, and the ground was in a dreadful condition, and scarcely
passable for troops, and especially waggons and artillery. In the summer
I thought I had never seen such dust as the dust of Poland: in the
winter I knew I had never known such horrible mud as the mud of these
wide plains. To see infantry marching through it was a sight of sights.
They seemed to lift their knees to their chins before bringing their
feet clear of it to take a step forward. The German goose-step was not
in it as a funny sight.