True Stories of the Great War, Volume 2 (of 6): Tales of Adventure--Heroic Deeds--Exploits Told by the Soldiers, Officers, Nurses, Diplomats, Eye Witnesses — John Shaqi
True Stories of the Great War, Volume 2 (of 6): Tales of Adventure--Heroic Deeds--Exploits Told by the Soldiers, Officers, Nurses, Diplomats, Eye Witnesses
History
True Stories of the Great War, Volume 2 (of 6): Tales of Adventure--Heroic Deeds--Exploits Told by the Soldiers, Officers, Nurses, Diplomats, Eye Witnesses
World War, 1914-1918 -- Personal narratives
People fall unconscious. Here indeed only the stronger can stand the
strain. The hungry crush the hungry in order that they may squeeze into
a better place in the line and receive their bit of bread sooner. The
women, the children, with wide staring eyes, with deathly pale faces.
Quietly and silently the fierce and cruel struggle goes on. All around
the people swarm like flies.
A man in a uniform has only to appear, or even a gentleman in civil
attire, and the fugitives swarm about him.
"Your high nobility! Show us your official mercy!"
Where have I heard this melancholy, hopeless tone, these very words of
humiliation?
* * * * *
"What is it you want?"
"Give us a certificate!"
Food is only given out to those who have certificates--according to the
number of souls in the family. Such certificates ought to have been
obtained from the village authorities at the point from which they
started.
"They did not give us them! We had not time to get them."
--"Lost!"
--"We shall die of hunger."
--"Your high nobility!"
They come for everything, they come to make complaints.
"Your high nobility! Permit me to explain. The _starosta_ advised me
to wait for the Germans and not go away. I did not agree. He got angry
and refused to give me a certificate. Decide for yourself! Show God's
mercy, and give me one now."
VII--STORY OF THE WANDERING MULTITUDES--AND THEIR PRAYERS
Down below, under the cliff, is an immense marshy meadow, and there,
what a wild, what a strange picture.... At that point I thought of the
late V. V. Verestchagin. Only he with his gray tones could have painted
the gray horror of this life, only he could have painted the dreadful
picture in all its horror.
For several acres the whole meadow was covered with abandoned and
broken carts. The iron parts had been unloosed and taken away, wheels
lay separately, tilts separately. How many were there there? Tens of
thousands. The whole plain was gray with carts, with wheels, with
shafts and single shafts. Having sold their horses for cash, the
fugitives abandoned their carts here, only taking with them the iron
parts they could unfasten.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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