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
As I walked through the streets I heard the screams of women and
children on all sides, mingled with the coarse laughter and shouts of
men, which told plainly enough what was taking place, though I could not
understand a word of what was said. I was struck by drunken or excited
soldiers more than once, and kicked, but to retaliate or use the weapon
with which I was armed would, I could perceive, result in my instant
destruction; so I smothered my wrath for the time.
Many women rushed into the streets dressed in their night-clothes only,
some of them stained with blood, as evidence of the ill-usage they had
suffered; and I passed the dead bodies of two men lying in the road, one
of which was that of a youth. These, there can be no doubt, were the
first acts of war on the part of Germany against Russia--the slaughter
of unarmed and defenceless people.
In one of the principal streets I found two hotels or large
public-houses open. They were both full of German officers, some of whom
were drunk. At an upper window one man was being held out by his legs,
while a comrade playfully spanked him, and a wild orgy was going on in
the room behind. Bottles and glasses were thrown into the street, and a
party of German prostitutes vied in bestiality with the men. I saw the
hellish scene. Had I read an account of it, I should at once have
stamped the writer in my heart as a liar. I am not going to dwell on the
filthy horrors of that day. I do little more than hint at what took
place, and only remark that at this hour no act of war, no fair fight or
military operation, had taken place on any of Germany's borders. She
showed the bestiality of the cowardly hyena before a fang had been bared
against her. This was the information I afterwards obtained from Russian
sources. On the morning Kalisz was sacked, not a shot had been fired by
the Russian soldiers.
My needs compelled me to take risks. All the belongings I had with me
were contained in a small bag which I carried in my hand. I had some
German money in my pocket, and a number of English sovereigns. The
remainder of my luggage I had been compelled to leave behind at Ostrovo.
Entering the quietest of the two hotels, I found the proprietor and
several of his servants or members of his family trembling in the
basement. I was stopped at the door by a sentry, but he was a quiet sort
of youth, accepted a few marks, and while he was putting them in his
pouch permitted me to slip into the house.
I have already intimated that I am no linguist. I could not muster a
dozen words of German, and not one of Russian; so, holding the
proprietor to insure his attention (the poor man was almost in a state
of collapse), I made motions that I wished to eat and drink. No doubt
they took me for a German. One of the maids literally rushed to the
cellar, and returned with two large bottles of champagne of the size
which our great-grandfathers, I believe, called "magnums," containing
about two quarts apiece.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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