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
On the 23rd we still continued to follow the enemy, keeping in touch
with them, and exchanging shots. About the middle of the day we were
joined by a large force of artillery and cavalry. Where these troops
came from I cannot tell. They were a welcome reinforcement; but as we
were moving through a wooded country they could not make much impression
on the enemy, except when the latter attempted to make a stand. The
trees were mostly pines, and the ground beneath them free of
undergrowth; and the destruction of them, after a few hours' cannonade,
was enormous. Whole forests looked as if they had been blighted, or
blasted by lightning.
The German jagers often took post in the trees, as affording a
favourable place for marksmanship; but when our gunners discovered them
we had an extraordinary sight as a small crowd of arms and legs came
tumbling through the air in every imaginable position. Those of the men
who were not killed by the shrapnel usually lost their lives by the
shock of the fall. Sometimes big trees were snapped clean in two when
the shell had made a direct hit before bursting. More generally the
branches were ripped to shreds by the flying shower of bullets. I saw
the dead body of one rifleman lodged amongst the boughs of a large pine.
He must have been killed instantly, for he was still clasping his rifle
in his hands.
There were some painful scenes. We came across a fine, handsome young
fellow raving over the body of another boy. It was ascertained that they
were brothers, and, "What will mother do? This will kill her," was all
he could say. I never saw a man more grief-stricken. A few hours
afterwards we found a man shot through the body. Blood was bubbling from
his mouth and nose, and he was dying fast; but he had struggled to his
knees, and leaning against a tree-trunk was praying--not for himself,
but for his wife and four little children. By chance I discovered that
this man could speak English. He had been a clerk in Liverpool. He was
distressingly anxious about his family, and begged we would not destroy
a letter addressed to his wife which he had in his pocket. "For," he
said, "I knew I should not come through this"--the war, I suppose, he
meant.
I assured him that nothing found upon him should be disturbed, and that
the letter should be sent to the German commander on the first
opportunity. We did what we could to relieve his suffering, and sent a
man back for the Red Cross men who were following behind; but the poor
fellow died before they arrived. War is a curse.
The rain ceased only for a few hours at a time. It generally commenced
to fall as evening came on, and continued to pour down steadily the
greater part of the night. Sometimes it rained night and day without
cessation, and the thickest overcoats became saturated with wet. I made
a kind of cloak from the remains of a rick-cloth which I found in the
outhouse of a burnt farm; and this was a great protection.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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