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
I was very glad when a halt was called and we were ordered to find what
shelter we could, the regiment being far in advance of the main body.
The Germans had sadly devastated the country. We passed over many miles
of country in which scarcely so much as the shell of a house was left
standing: all were charred and blackened; and men, women and children
were found murdered. The bodies of two young boys under twelve years of
age lay on the roof of a low outhouse. They had been bayoneted and
thrown there, nobody could surmise why. Some bodies were burnt to
cinders, and others had been torn and partly eaten by swine and dogs.
The dogs, by-the-by, were numerous, and very fierce brutes.
In some spots, where the Germans had bivouacked, the heads and offal of
pigs showed that they had shot some of these animals, and also killed
ducks and fowls, for food, and cooked them at open-air fires made of the
belongings of the peasantry. Chairs and tables were left outside, just
in the positions in which they had evidently been used. A dish-cover was
left on one table, and when it was raised it revealed two pairs of human
hands severed at the wrists. The men to whom these hands had belonged,
and a woman, were found shot in the farm-house. All were old people, as
nearly all the murdered persons were, except some young women and
children. Besides the two boys already mentioned, a younger child and a
little girl of about fourteen years were seen lying on the ground. The
cause of the death of the girl did not appear, and it was probably
caused by fright. A woman clasping her baby had been shot. The bodies
had, in many cases, been treated with disgusting irreverence. Even a
hunchbacked man had been shot, and a poor old fellow with beard and hair
as white as snow. One sturdy dame seemed to have attempted to fight for
her life, for she held a hoe in her dead hands. Her body was riddled by
bullets.
To escape the rain I climbed up the half-burnt rafters of a cottage to a
room in which a portion of the floor and a corner of the roof were still
in position--I cannot say intact. Here, in imminent danger of a fall, I
slept the instant I stretched myself on the boards. Below were a score
of exhausted soldiers, too utterly weary to care a rap for danger from
falling walls: and long and soundly we all slept.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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