In the Russian Ranks: A Soldier's Account of the Fighting in PolandMorse, John
History
In the Russian Ranks: A Soldier's Account of the Fighting in Poland
Morse, John
World War, 1914-1918 -- Campaigns -- Poland; World War, 1914-1918 -- Personal narratives, British
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.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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