Field Hospital and Flying Column: Being the Journal of an English Nursing Sister in Belgium & RussiaThurstan, Violetta
History
Field Hospital and Flying Column: Being the Journal of an English Nursing Sister in Belgium & Russia
Thurstan, Violetta
World War, 1914-1918 -- Hospitals, charities, etc.; World War, 1914-1918 -- Personal narratives
There were masses of troops constantly going up to the positions from
Skiernevice, and as there was a short cut through the park, which they
generally used, we could see all that was going on from our rooms. On
Sunday it was evident that another big battle was pending. Several
batteries went up through our woods, each gun-carriage almost up to its
axles in mud, dragged by eight strong horses. They were followed by a
regiment of Cossacks, looking very fierce in their great black fur
head-dresses, huge sheep-skin coats, and long spears. There was one
small Cossack boy who was riding out with his father to the front and
who could not have been more than eleven or twelve years old. There are
quite a number of young boys at the front who make themselves very
useful in taking messages, carrying ammunition, and so on. We had one
little boy of thirteen in the hospital at Warsaw, who was badly wounded
while carrying a message to the colonel, and he was afterwards awarded
the St. George's Cross.
There were enormous numbers of other troops too: Siberians, Tartars,
Asiatic Russians from Turkestan, Caucasians in their beautiful
black-and-silver uniforms, Little Russians from the south, and great
fair-haired giants from the north.
The little Catholic Church in the village was full to overflowing at the
early Mass that Sunday morning with men in full marching kit on their
way out to the trenches. A very large number of them made their
Confession and received the Blessed Sacrament before starting out, and
for many, many of these it was their Viaticum, for the great battle
began that afternoon, and few of the gallant fellows we saw going up to
the trenches that morning ever returned again.
That afternoon the Prince had business at the Staff Headquarters out
beyond Lowice, and I went out there in the automobile with him and
Monsieur Goochkoff. We went through Lowice on the way there. The little
town had been severely bombarded (it was taken two or three days later
by the Germans), and we met many of the peasants hurrying away from it
carrying their possessions with them. You may know the peasants of
Lowice anywhere by their distinctive dress, which is the most
brilliantly coloured peasant dress imaginable. The women wear gorgeous
petticoats of orange, red and blue, or green in vertical stripes and a
cape of the same material over their shoulders, a bright-coloured shawl,
generally orange, on their heads, and brilliant bootlaces--magenta is
the colour most affected. The men, too, wear trousers of the same kind
of vertical stripes, generally of orange and black. These splashes of
bright colour are delicious in this sad, grey country.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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