One morning about six o’clock, when we had turned in for our daily sleep, we were suddenly awakened by a tremendous “Hurrah!” We nervously seized our rifles and peeped through the loop-holes. Great Heavens! There, within a hundred feet of us, in front and in the rear, the Germans were crossing the Styr! Before we had time to organize resistance they were upon us, capturing five hundred of our men. I was among the number. We were brought before the German Staff for examination. Every one of us was tormented with questions, intended to extract valuable military information. Threats were bestowed on those who refused to disclose anything. Some cowards among us, especially those of non-Russian stock, gave away important facts. As the examination was proceeding, our artillery on the other side opened up a violent bombardment of the German defences. It was evident that the German Commander had not many reserves, as he made frantic appeals by telephone for support. It required a considerable force to keep guard over us and an even larger force to take us to the rear. As the enemy expected a Russian attack at any moment, it was decided not to remove us until help arrived. “So I am a German prisoner,” I thought. “How unexpected! There is still hope that our comrades on the other side will come to our rescue. Only, every minute is precious. They must hurry or we are lost. Now my turn is coming. What shall I tell them? I must deny being a soldier and invent some kind of a story.” “I am a woman and not a soldier,” I announced as soon as I was called. “Are you of noble blood?” I was asked. “Yes,” I answered, promptly deciding to claim that I was a Red Cross nurse, dressed in man’s uniform, in order to pay a visit to my husband, an officer in the front line trenches. “Have you many women fighting in the ranks?” was the next question. “I don’t know. I told you that I was not a soldier.” “What were you doing in the trenches then?” “I came to see my husband, who is an officer of the Regiment.” “Why did you shoot, then? The soldiers tell that you shot at them.” “I did it to defend myself. I was afraid to be captured. I serve as a Red Cross nurse in the rear hospital, and came over to the fighting line for a visit.” The Russian fire was growing hotter every minute. Some of our shells wounded not only enemy soldiers but several of the captives. It was past noon, but the Germans were too nervous to eat their lunch. The expected reserves were not forthcoming, and there was every sign of a fierce counter-attack by our troops. At two o’clock our soldiers went over the top and started for the German positions. The enemy Commander decided to retreat with his batch of prisoners to the second line rather than defend the front trenches. It was a critical moment. As we were lined up the “Hurrah” of our comrades reached us. It stimulated us to a spontaneous decision.