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
The Zeppelin seemed to be injured; but she got away and sailed out of
sight. We distinctly heard the reports of the exploding bombs dropped by
these craft, and explosions of the Russian guns fired at them. I
rejoiced to learn my friends were so near, and hoped that I might be
released by some lucky chance, but this did not occur.
There was plenty of food at Prajashzhol--pork, fowls, ducks, bread, beef
and mutton, and vodka; but vegetables were scarce, even potatoes; and
wine there was none. I filled my haversack with sufficient food to last
three or four days, and procured a new coat of rough material.
While we were bivouacking in the market-place, a vidette galloped in
with some news which caused Captain Eshricke to mount in hot haste, and
we literally bolted from the village. The dismounted men and the six
Russian prisoners were left behind with their carts, and were, no doubt,
retaken by the pursuing Russians, the first of whom appeared as we
passed the last houses of the village street. I tried to lag behind, but
the Captain swore he would shoot me if I did not urge my horse forward;
and one of the Uhlans pricked the animal with his lance, causing it to
rear and dash forward wildly. I would have fallen off, but there were
too many men behind me. I should have been trampled to death, and
probably speared into the bargain. For they are nasty-tempered fellows
are the Germans when things are running counter to them; and the first
Cossacks that appeared were only half a dozen men, and they held back
until they were reinforced: indeed, they did not make a very energetic
pursuit. They probably knew that there was a strong force of the enemy
at hand, and feared they would be trapped.
I soon learned that the Uhlans in whose hands I was, and who belonged to
the 12th regiment, formed part of the advanced guard of a whole army
corps. At nightfall we came to a force of infantry, whose numbers I
could not estimate, it was so considerable, and covered so wide a range
of country.
The Captain handed me over to the first outpost we reached, and I was
sent to the rear under escort of an infantry file. My horse was taken
from me, and my feet were so painful that I could scarcely hobble along.
But no mercy was shown me. I was compelled to walk a distance of about
four English miles. Then we came to a small cottage which was being
used as a guard-house. Here I was blindfolded, and again marched on, I
could not tell in what direction, for quite an hour, when we arrived at
another house. I then found, from the sounds, that I was in the presence
of several officers who were interrogating my captors.
Then the bandage was taken from my eyes, and I was searched. The
officers carefully examined my papers, and the one who seemed to be the
chief spat out, rather than spoke, so great was his venom:
"So you are an English spy, you dog!"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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