Four Weeks in the Trenches: The War Story of a ViolinistKreisler, Fritz
History
Four Weeks in the Trenches: The War Story of a Violinist
Kreisler, Fritz
World War, 1914-1918 -- Personal narratives, Austrian
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.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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