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
Those in the room were passing their time in various ways. Some were
asleep on chairs, or lying on the floor in corners. So many were smoking
that the place was full of blue, hazy smoke. The woman, with bowed head,
seemed dazed with wretchedness, the child was whimpering. From the way
in which many of the men stared at me, I thought that they knew that I
was appointed to die. One party devoted as much attention to me as they
did to the cards they were playing. The guard numbered a dozen men, who
occupied an ante-room, were laughing, talking noisily, and singing
beastly songs; a circumstance that convinced me that the house occupied
an isolated position, not near any body of troops commanded by an
officer above subaltern rank, who would soon have put a stop to the
ribaldry. These things did not occur to me just at the moment; but they
flashed on my mind later, when a certain incident occurred.
I suppose it was about midnight; but there was no means of telling the
time. Many of the guard-soldiers were dozing; the rest had quieted down,
but were talking together, and not taking particular notice of the
prisoners.
Two of the men who were playing cards got up, and came and stood in
front of me. One of them, first looking round to see that the soldiers
were not observing him, pointed his thumb at them, and winked; then he
made a gesture of striking a terrific blow. He looked at me inquiringly;
and I thought I comprehended what he meant, and nodded acquiescence. He
replied by a nod of satisfaction; and he and his companion retired to
the far end of the room.
What they seemed to propose to do was a desperate act. They appeared to
intend to rush past the guards, knocking down any who attempted to
oppose them, and so get away. I made up my mind that, since death must
come, I would rather die making a desperate effort for my life than wait
an hour or two longer to be led out in the grey dawn, tied up and shot
like a dog. At that moment I was strung up to such a pitch of nerve that
no action could be too desperate for me to attempt.
There was a yard attached to the house, which the prisoners were
permitted to use, as occasion required. It was approached by a short
passage from the guardroom; and a sentry was posted in the yard to
prevent prisoners escaping over the wall, which was nine or ten feet
high.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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