The Russian Campaign, April to August, 1915: Being the Second Volume of "Field Notes from the Russian Front"Washburn, Stanley
History
The Russian Campaign, April to August, 1915: Being the Second Volume of "Field Notes from the Russian Front"
Washburn, Stanley
World War, 1914-1918 -- Campaigns -- Eastern Front; World War, 1914-1918 -- Personal narratives
The month of May in Poland, if this season is typical of the climate
here, is a period to dream about. When we turned out of our camp beds
early this morning, the sun was streaming into our little whitewashed
room, while the fragrance of lilacs blooming in a near-by garden
drifted in at the open window. In the little garden behind our house
are a dozen colonies of bees, and already they are up and about their
daily tasks. The sky is without a cloud and the warmth and life of
the early spring morning makes one forget the terrible business that
we are engaged in. The little street of the town is lined with great
horse-chestnut trees now in full bloom with every branch laden deep
with the great white pendent blossoms. For a moment one stands
drinking in the beauty of the new day and the loveliness of the
morning, with one’s mind drifting far, far away to other scenes where
flowers too are blooming at this season of the year. But as our eyes
wander down the street, the thoughts of gentler things are suddenly
dissipated, and with a jolt one’s mind comes back to the work-a-day
world whose daily task now is the destruction of an enemy in the line
of trenches not so many miles away.
What has broken the peaceful tremor of our thoughts is the sight of
some soldiers pulling into the town a half-wrecked aeroplane brought
down by artillery fire the day before near our lines. Its wings are
shattered and its propellers twisted into kindling, while its slight
body (if one can use that expression) is torn and punctured by a score
or more of shrapnel holes, with several gashes where bits of the shell
case had penetrated the thin metal frame. Here at least is one example
of artillery practice which has been able to cripple the bird of ill
omen on the wing. After a generous breakfast, provided by our kind
host the General, we are in our motor-cars again and in a few minutes
are speeding down one of the roads westward to the head-quarters of
a certain artillery brigade who over the telephone have consented to
show us particular choice sights that they have on exhibition on their
front.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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