WWI Four Weeks in the Trenches, The War Story of a Violinist - Fritz Kreisler (1915)

7/28/2019 WWI Four Weeks in the Trenches, The War Story of a Violinist - Fritz Kreisler (1915)

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LIBRARYUniversity at

CaliforniaIrvine


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Digitized by tine Internet Arcliivein 2007 witli funding from

IVIicrosoft Corporation

littp://www.arcliive.org/details/fourweeksintrenGOOkreiiala


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FOUR WEEKS IN THE TRENCHES


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FOUR WEEKS IN THETRENCHES

THE WAR STORY OF A YCOUNIST

FRTTZ KREISLERjCT

With Illusiralions

BOSTON AND NEW YORK.HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY

1915


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COPYRIGHT, I915, BY FRITZ KREISLZKAIX RIGHTS RSSERVED

Fkblisktd April iqis


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TO MY DEAR WIFEHARRIET

THE BEST FRIENDAND STANCHEST COMRADE IN ALL

CIRCUMSTANCES OF LIFEI DEDICATE THIS LITTLE BOOK

IN HUMBLE TOKENOF EVERLASTING GRATITUDEAND DEVOTION


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PREFACEThis brief record of the fighting on the

Eastern front in the great war is the out-come of a fortunate meeting.The writer chanced to be dining with

Mr. Kreisler soon after his arrival in thiscountry, after his dismissal from thehospital where he recovered from hiswound. For nearly two hours he list-ened, thrilled and moved, to the greatviolinist's modest, vivid narrative of hisexperiences and adventures. It seemedin the highest degree desirable that theAmerican public should have an oppor-tunity of reading this narrative from thepen of one in whose art so many of ustake a profound interest. It also wasapparent that since so little of an au-thentic nature had been heard from theRusso-Austrian field of warfare, this


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PREFACEstory would prove an important contri-bution to the contemporary history ofthe war.

After much persuasion, Mr. Kreislerreluctantly acceded to the suggestionthat he write out his personal memoriesof the war for publication. He has com-pleted his narrative in the midst of gravedifficulties, writing it piecemeal in hotelsand railway trains in the course of a con-cert tour through the country. It isoffered by the publishers to the publicwith confidence that it will be found oneof the most absorbing and informingnarratives of the war that has yet ap-peared. F. G.


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ILLUSTRATIONSFaiTZ Kreisler FrontispieceFritz Kreisler as an Officer of the Austrian

Reserve and his Wife as Nurse .... 6Group of Officers and their Wives taken at

Leoben before Departure for the Front laConcert given at Leoben in aid of Red Gross

before Departure for Front a8Officers, Surgeon, and Non-commissioned Of-

ficers of Kreisler's Gompant 4oKreisler's Battalion taking Oath at Leobbn 54Kreisler at the Front, taken after Three

Weeks' Service 66Fritz Kreisler 8a


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FOUR WEEKS IN THETRENCHES

IIn trying to recall my impressions dur-

ing my short war duty as an officer in theAustrian Army, I find that my recollec-tions of this period are very uneven andconfused. Some of the experiences standout with absolute clearness; others, how-ever, are blurred. Two or three eventswhich took place in different localitiesseem merged into one, while in otherinstances recollection of the chronologi-cal order of things is missing. This curi-ous indifference of the memory to valuesof time and space may be due to theextraordinary physical and mental stressunder which the impressions I am tryingto chronicle were received. The same


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FOUR WEEKS IN THE TRENCHESstate of mind I find is rather charac-teristic of most people I have met whowere in the war. It should not be forgot-ten, too, that the gigantic upheavalwhich changed the fundamental condi-tion of life overnight and threatenedthe very existence of nations naturallydwarfed the individual into nothingness,and the existing interest in the commonwelfare left practically no room for per-sonal considerations. Then again, at thefront, the extreme uncertainty of themorrow tended to lessen the interest inthe details of to-day; consequently Imay have missed a great many interest-ing happenings alongside of me which Iwould have wanted to note under othercircumstances. One gets into a strangepsychological, almost hypnotic, state ofmind while on the firing fine which prob-ably prevents the mind's eye from ob-serving and noticing things in a normalway. This accounts, perhaps, for some


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FOUR WEEKS IN THE TRENCHESblank spaces in my memory. Besides,I went out completely resigned to myfate, without much thought for the fu-ture. It never occurred to me that Imight ever want to write my experi-ences, and consequently I failed to takenotes or to establish certain mnemo-technical landmarks by the aid of whichI might now be able to reconstruct alldetails. I am, therefore, reduced to pre-sent an incoherent and rather piecemealnarrative of such episodes as forciblyimpressed themselves upon my mindand left an ineradicable mark upon mymemory.

The outbreak of the war found mywife and me in Switzerland, where wewere taking a cure. On the 31st of July,on opening the paper, I read that theThird Army Corps, to whichmy regiment(which is stationed in Graz) belonged,had received an order for mobilization.

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FOUR WEEKS IN THE TRENCHESAlthough I had resigned my commissionas an officer two years before, I immedi-ately left Switzerland, accompanied bymy wife, in order to report for duty.As it happened, a wire reached me a daylater calHng me to the colors.We went by way of Munich. It was thefirst day of the declaration of the stateof war in Germany. Intense excitementprevailed. In Munich all traffic wasstopped; no trains were running exceptfor military purposes. It was only dueto the fact that I revealed my intentionof rejoining my regiment in Austria thatI was able to pass through at all, butby both the civil and military authori-ties in Bavaria I was shown the great-est posssible consideration and passedthrough as soon as possible.We reached Vienna on August first.A starthng change had come over thecity since I had left it only a few weeksbefore. Feverish activity everywhere


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FOUR WEEKS IN THE TRENCHESprevailed. Reservists streamed in bythousands from all parts of the countryto report at headquarters. Autos filledwith officers whizzed past. Dense crowdssurged up and down the streets. Bulle-tins and extra editions of newspaperspassed from hand to hand. Immediatelyit was evident what a great leveler waris. Differences in rank and social dis-tinctions had practically ceased. Allbarriers seemed to have fallen; every-body addressed everybody else.

I saw the crowds stop officers of highrank and well-known members of thearistocracy and clergy, also state officialsand court functionaries of high rank, inquest of information, which was im-parted cheerfully and patiently. Theimperial princes could frequently beseen on the Ring Strasse surroundedby cheering crowds or mingling withthe public unceremoniously at the cafes,talking to' everybody. Of course, the

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POUR WEEKS IN THE TRENCHESarmy was idolized. Wherever the troopsmarched the public broke into cheersand every uniform was the center of anovation.While coming from the station I saw

two young reservists, to all appearancesbrothers, as they hurried to the bar-racks, carrying their small belongings ina valise. Along with them walked alittle old lady crying, presumably theirmother. They passed a general in fulluniform. Up went their hands to theircaps in military salute, whereupon theold general threw his arms wide openand embraced them both, saying: "Goon, my boys, do your duty bravely andstand firm for your emperor and yourcountry. God willing, you will comeback to your old mother." The old ladysmiled through her tears. A shout wentup, and the crowds surrounding the gen-eral cheered him. Long after I had leftI could hear them shouting.


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FRITZ KREISLER AS AN OFFICER OF THE AUSTRIAN RESERVEAND HIS WIFE AS NURSE


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FOUR WEEKS IN THE TRENCHESA few streets farther on I saw in an

open cafe a young couple, a reservist infield uniform and a young girl, his brideor sweetheart. They sat there, handslinked, utterly oblivious of their sur-roundings and of the world at large.When somebody in the crowd espiedthem, a great shout went up, the publicrushing to the table and surroundingthem, then breaking into applause andwaving hats and handkerchiefs. Atfirst the young couple seemed to be ut-terly taken aback and only slowly didthey realize that the ovation was meantfor them. They seemed confused, theyoung girl blushing and hiding her facein her hands, the young man rising to hisfeet, saluting and bowing. More cheersand applause. He opened his mouth asif wanting to speak. There was a suddensilence. He was vainly strugghng for ex-pression, but then his face lit up as if byinspiration. Standing erect, hand at his

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FOUR WEEKS IN THE TRENCHEScap, in a pose of military salute, he in-toned the Austrian national hymn. Ina second every head in that throng wasbared. All traffic suddenly stopped,everybody, passengers as well as con-ductors of the cars, joining in;the anthem.The neighboring windows soon filledwith people, and soon it was a chorus ofthousands of voices. The volume of toneand the intensity of feeling seemed toraise the inspiring anthem to the utter-most heights of subUme majesty. Wewere then on our way to the station, andlong afterwards we could hear the sing-ing, swelhng like a human organ.What impressed me particularly inVienna was the strict order everywhere.

No mob disturbances of any kind, inspite of the greatly increased liberty andrelaxation of police regulations. Norwas there any runaway chauvinismnoticeable, aside from the occasionalsinging of patriotic songs and demon-

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FOUR WEEKS IN THE TRENCHESstrations like the one I just described.The keynote of popular feeling wasquiet dignity, joined to determination,with an undercurrent of solemn gravityand responsibility.

I had stopped in Vienna only longenough to bid good-bye to my father, andleft for the headquarters of my regimentin Graz. I reported there for duty andthen went to join the Fourth Battalion,which was stationed at Leoben, onehour away from Graz, my orders beingto take command of the first platoon inthe sixteenth company. My platoonconsisted of fifty-five men, two buglers,and an ambulance patrol of four.

In Leoben my wife and I remained aweek, which was spent in organizing,equipping, requisitioning, recruiting, andpreliminary drilling. These were happydays, as we officers met for the firsttime, friendships and bonds being sealedwhich subsequently were tested in com-


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FOUR WEEKS IN THE TRENCHESmon danger and amidst privation andstress. Many of the officers had broughttheir wives and soon dehghtful inter-course, utterly free from formaUty, de-veloped, without any regard or refer-ence to rank, wealth, or station in privatelife. Among the reserve officers of mybattalion were a famous sculptor, a well-known philologist, two university pro-fessors (one of mathematics, the other ofnatural science), a prince, and a civil en-gineer at the head of one of the largestAustrian steel corporations. The sur-geon of our battalion was the head of agreat medical institution and a man ofinternational fame. Among my men inthe platoon were a painter, two collegeprofessors, a singer of repute, a banker,and a post official of high rank. But no-body cared and in fact I myself did notknow until much later what distin-guished men were in my platoon. Agreat cloak of brotherhood seemed to

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FOUR WEEKS IN THE TRENCHEShave enveloped everybody and every-thing, even differences in mihtary ranknot being so obvious at this time, for theofficers made friends of their men, andin turn were worshiped by them.My wife volunteered her services asRed Cross nurse, insisting upon beingsent to the front, in order to be as nearme as could be, but it developed laterthat no nurse was allowed to go fartherthan the large troop hospitals far in therear of the actual operations. Upon myurgent appeal she desisted and remainedin Vienna after I had left, nursing in thebarracks, which are now used for hos-pital work. In fact, almost every thirdor fourth house, both private and pub-lic, as well as schools, were given to theuse of the government and convertedinto Red Cross stations.The happy days in Leoben came to an

abrupt end, my regiment receiving or-ders to start immediately for the front.

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FOUR WEEKS IN THE TRENCHESWe proceeded to Graz, where we joinedthe other three battaUons and were en-trained for an unknown destination. Wetraveled via Budapest to Galicia, andleft the train at Strij, a very importantrailroad center south of Lemberg. Itmust be understood that the only reportsreaching us from the fighting line at thattime were to the effect that the Russianshad been driven back from our border,and that the Austrian armies actuallystood on the enemy's soil. Strij beinghundreds of miles away from the Rus-sian frontier, we could not but surmisethat we were going to be stationed theresome time for the purpose of train-ing and maneuvering. This behef wasstrengthened by the fact that our regi-ment belonged to the Landsturm, or sec-ond line of reserves, originally intendedfor home service. We were, however,alarmed that very same night andmarched out of Strij for a distance of

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CO Q


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FOUR WEEKS IN THE TRENCHESabout twenty miles, in conjunction withthe entire Third Army Corps. After ashort pause for the purpose of eating andfeeding the horses, we marched anothertwenty-two miles. This first day's marchconstituted a very strong test of endur-ance in consequence of our comparativesoftness and lack of training, especiallyas, in addition to his heavy rifle, bayo-net, ammunition, and spade, each sol-dier was burdened with a knapsack con-taining emergency provisions in theform of tinned meats, coffee extract,sugar, salt, rice, and biscuits, togetherwith various tin cooking and eatingutensils; furthermore a second pair ofshoes, extra blouse, changes of under-wear, etc. On top of this heavy pack awinter overcoat and part of a tent werestrapped, the entire weight of the equip-ment being in the neighborhood of fiftypounds.The day wore on. Signs of fatigue

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FOUR WEEKS IN THE TRENCHESsoon manifested themselves more andmore strongly, and slowly the mendropped out one by one, from sheer ex-haustion. No murmur of complaint, how-ever, would be heard. Most of those whofell out of line, after taking a breathingspace for a few minutes, staggered onagain. The few that remained behindjoined the regiment later on when campwas established. We wondered then atthe necessity of such a forced march,being unable to see a reason for it, un-less it was to put us in training.Night had fallen when we reached a

small monastery in the midst of a forest,where the peaceful surroundings and themonastic life, entirely untouched by thewar fever, seemed strange indeed. Campwas established, tents erected, fires werelighted, and coffee made. Soon a life ofbustling activity sprang up in the wilder-ness, in the midst of the forest which onlya few hours before had been deserted.

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FOUR WEEKS IN THE TRENCHESIt made a weird and impressive picturein the wonderful starlight night, thesesoldiers sitting around the camp firessoftly singing in chorus; the fantasticoutlines of the monastery half hidden inthe woods ; the dark figures of the monksmoving silently back and forth amongstthe shadows of the trees as they broughtrefreshments to the troops; the red glowof the camp fires illuminating the eagerand enthusiastic faces of the young offi-cers grouped around the colonel; thesnorting and stamping of the horsesnearby; an occasional melodic outcry ofa sentinel out in the night ; all these thingsmerging into an unforgettable scene ofgreat romanticism and beauty. Thatnight I lay for a longwhile stretched nearthe smoldering ashes of the camp fire,with my cape as a blanket, in a state oflassitude and somnolence, my soul filledwith exaltation and happiness over thebeauty around me.

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FOUR WEEKS IN THE TRENCHESThe rest, however, was of very short

duration, for at six o'clock in the morn-ing we were aroused, camp was brokenup and soon afterwards we started on aforced march of twenty-two miles with-out a halt, during which we twice hadto wade knee-deep through rivers. Bymidday most of the men were so ex-hausted that they could hardly crawlalong. It was remarkable that the com-paratively weaker and more refined city-bred people who had done little physicalwork in their lives, most of them beingprofessional men, withstood hardshipsbetter than the sturdy and, to all appear-ances, stronger peasants. The only ex-planation for it being perhaps that thecity-bred people, in consequence of theirbetter surroundings and by reason oftheir education, had more will power andnervous strength than the peasants.At half-past two we reached a clearing

in the midst of a wood through which a16


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FOUR WEEKS IN THE TRENCHESriver flowed. Here camp was again es-tablished and a half hour later all thehardships of the march were once moreforgotten in the bustle of camp life. Thistime we had a full rest until the nextmorning at four o'clock, when suddenlyorders for marching were given. Afterwe had been under way for about threehours we heard far-away, repeated rum-bling which sounded like distant thunder.Not for a moment did we associate itwith cannonading, being, as we supposed,hundreds of miles away from the nearestplace where Russians could possibly be.Suddenly a mounted ordnance officercame rushing with a message to our colo-nel. We came to a halt and all officerswere summoned to the colonel who, ad-dressing us in his usual quiet, almostbusinesslike way, said: "Gentlemen, ac-cept my congratulations, I have goodnews for you, we may meet the enemyto-day and I sincerely hope to lead you

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FOUR WEEKS IN THE TRENCHESto the fight before evening." We werethunderstruck at the sudden reaUzationthat the Russians had penetrated sodeeply into Galicia. The despondencywhich followed this startling revelation,however, was quickly replaced by theintense excitement of meeting the en-emy so soon. We hurried back to ourcompanies, imparting the news to themen, who broke forth into shouts of en-thusiasm. All the fatigue so plainlynoticeable only a few minutes before,suddenly vanished as if by magic, andevery one seemed alert, springy, and fullof spirit. We energetically resumed themarch in the direction of the distantrumbling, which indicated that the artil-lery of our advance guard had engagedthe enemy. My regiment then was partof the main body of a division. A seconddivision advanced on the road parallel toours, about amile and a quarter to our left.Both columnsbelonged to theThirdArmy

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FOUR WEEKS IN THE TRENCHESCorps and kept up constant communica-tion with each other through mounteddispatch bearers and motor cycles.The cannonading had meanwhile come

perceptibly nearer, and in the midst ofthe dense forest we again came to a shorthalt. Orders were given to load rifles, andupon emerging from the woods we fellinto open formation, the men marchingabreast, the companies at a distance ofthree hundred yards, with the battalionsat a distance of about a thousand yards.We were slowly entering the range of theRussian artillery. About a mile aheadwe could see numbers of harmless lookinground clouds, looking like ringlets ofsmoke from a huge cigar, indicating theplaces where shrapnel had exploded [inmid-air. Our men, not being familiarwith the spectacle, took no notice of it,but we officers knew its significance, andI daresay many a heart beat as wildly asmine did.

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FOUR WEEKS IN THE TRENCHESWe marched on until the command

was given for us to deploy, and soonafterwards the first shrapnelwhizzed overour heads. It did no harm, nor did thesecond and third, but the fourth hitthree men in the battalion in the rear ofus. Our forward movement, however,was not interrupted, and we did not seeor hear anything beyond two or threestartled cries. The next shell burst rightahead of us, sending a shower of bulletsand steel fragments around. A manabout twenty yards to the right of mycompany, but not of my platoon, leapedinto the air with an agonizing cry and fellin a heap, mortally wounded. As we wereadvancing very swiftly, I only saw it asin a dream, while running by. Thencame in rapid succession four or fiveterrific explosions right over our heads,and I felt a sudden gust of cold windstrike my cheek as a big shell fragmentcame howling through the air, ploughing


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FOUR WEEKS IN THE TRENCHESthe ground viciously as it struck andsending a spray of sand around.We ran on perhaps a quarter of a mile,when from the rear came the sharp com-mand, "Down," and the next second welay on the ground, panting and ex-hausted, my heart almost bursting withthe exertion. Simultaneously the whiz-zing of a motor above our heads couldbe heard and we knew why the enemy'sshrapnel had so suddenly found us. Itwas a Russian aeroplane which presum-ably had signaled our approach, togetherwith the range, to the Russian gunners,and now was probably directing theirfire and closely watching its effect, for achain of hills was hiding us from the viewof the enemy, who consequently had tofire indirectly. The air craft hoveredabove our heads, but we were forbiddento fire at it, the extremely difficult, al-most vertical aim promising little success,aside from the danger of our bullets fall-

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FOUR WEEKS IN THE TRENCHESing back among us. Our reserves in therear had apparently sighted the air crafttoo, for soon we heard a volley of riflefire from that direction and simultane-ously the aeroplane arose and disap-peared in the clouds.

Just then our own artillery came thun-dering up, occupied a little hill in therear and opened fire on the enemy. Themoral effect of the thundering of one'sown artillery is most extraordinary, andmany of us thought that we had neverheard any more welcome sound than thedeep roaring and crashing that startedin at our rear. It quickly helped to dis-perse the nervousness caused by the firstentering into battle and to restore selfcontrol and confidence. Besides, by get-ting into action, our artillery was nowfocusing the attention and drawing thefire of the Russian guns, for most of thelatter's shells whined harmlessly aboveus, being aimed at the batteries in our


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POUR WEEKS IN THE TRENCHESrear. Considerably relieved by this di-version, we resumed our forward move-ment after about fifteen minutes of fur-ther rest, our goal being the little chainof hills which our advance guard hadpreviously occupied pending our arrival.Here we were ordered to take up posi-tions and dig trenches, any further ad-vance being out of the question, as theRussian artillery overlooked and com-manded the entire plain stretching infront of us.We started at once to dig our trenches,half of my platoon stepping forwardabreast, the men being placed an arm'slength apart. After laying their riflesdown, barrels pointing to the enemy, aline was drawn behind the row of riflesand parallel to it. Then each man woulddig up the ground, starting from his partof the hne backwards, throwing forwardthe earth removed, until it formed asort of breastwork. The second half of

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FOUR WEEKS IN THE TRENCHESthe platoon was meanwhile resting inthe rear, rifle in hand and ready for ac-tion. After a half hour they took theplace of the first division at work, andvice versa. Within an hour work on thetrenches was so far advanced that theycould be deepened while standing inthem. Such an open trench affords suffi-cient shelter against rifle bullets strik-ing from the front and can be made ina measure shell proof by being coveredwith boards, if at hand, and with sod.

In the western area of the theater ofwar, in France and Flanders, where wholearmies were deadlocked, facing eachother for weeks without shifting theirposition an inch, such trenches becomean elaborate affair, with extensive under-ground working and wing connections offines which almost constitute fittle fort-resses and afford a certain measure ofcomfort. But where we were in Galiciaat the beginning of the war, with condi-


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FOUR WEEKS IN THE TRENCHEStions utterly unsteady and positionsshifting daily and hourly, only the mostsuperficial trenches were used. In fact,we thought ourselves fortunate if wecould requisition enough straw to coverthe bottom. That afternoon we hadabout half finished our work when ourfriend the aeroplane appeared on thehorizon again. This time we imme-diately opened fire. It disappeared, butapparently had seen enough, for verysoon our position was shelled. By thistime, however, shrapnel had almostceased to be a source of concern to us andwe scarcely paid any attention to it.Human nerves quickly get accustomedto the most unusual conditions and cir-cumstances and I noticed that quite anumber of men actually fell asleep fromsheer exhaustion in the trenches, in spiteof the roaring of the cannon about us andthe whizzing of shrapnel over our heads.

I, too, soon got accustomed to theis


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FOUR WEEKS IN THE TRENCHESdeadly missiles, in fact, I had alreadystarted to make observations of theirpeculiarities. My ear, accustomed todifferentiate sounds of all kinds, hadsome time ago, while we still advanced,noted a remarkable discrepancy in thepeculiar whine produced by the differ-ent shells in their rapid flight throughthe air as they passed over our heads,some sounding shrill, with a rising ten-dency, and the others rather dull, witha falling cadence. A short observationrevealed the fact that the passing of adull- sounding shell was invariably pre-ceded by a flash from one of our owncannon in the rear on the hill, which con-clusively proved it to be an Austrianshell. It must be understood that as wewere advancing between the positionsof the Austrian and Russian artillery,both kinds of shells were passing overour heads. As we advanced the differ-ence between shrill and dull shell grew

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FOUR WEEKS IN THE TRENCHESless and less perceptible, until I couldhardly tell them apart. Upon nearingthe hill the difference increased againmore and more until on the hill itself itwas very marked. After our trench wasfinished I crawled to the top of the hilluntil I could make out the flash of theRussian guns on the opposite heightsand by timing flash and actual passing ofthe shell, found to my astonishment thatnow the Russian missiles had becomedull, while on the other hand, the shrillshell was invariably heralded by a flashfrom one 'of our guns, now far in the rear.What had happened was this: Everyshell describes in its course a paraboHcline, with the first haK of the curve beingascending and the second one descend-ing. Apparently in the first half of itscurve, that is, its course while ascend-ing, the shell produced a dull whine ac-companied by a falling cadence, whichchanges to a rising shrill as soon as the

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FOUR WEEKS IN THE TRENCHESacme has been reached and the curvepoints downward again. The acme forboth kinds of shells naturally was ex-actly the half distance between the Rus-sian and Austrian artillery and this wasthe point where I had noticed that thedifference was the least marked. A fewdays later, in talking over my observa-tion with an artillery officer, I was toldthe fact was known that the shellssounded different going up than whencoming down, but this knowledge wasnot used for practical purposes. WhenI told him that I could actually determineby the sound the exact place where ashell coming from the opposing batterieswas reaching its acme, he thought thatthis would be of great value in a casewhere the position of the opposing bat-tery was hidden and thus could be lo-cated. He apparently spoke to his com-mander about me, for a few days laterI was sent on a reconnoitering tour, with

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FOUR WEEKS IN THE TRENCHESthe object of marking on the map theexact spot where I thought the hostileshells were reaching their acme, and itwas later on reported to me that I hadsucceeded in giving to our batteries thealmost exact range of the Russian guns.I have gone into this matter at somelength, because it is the only instancewhere my musical ear was of value dur-ing my service.To return to my narrative, the losses

which my battalion suffered that dayseemed extraordinarily small when com-pared with the accuracy of the Russianartillery's aim and the number of mis-siles they fired. I counted seventy-fourshrapnel that burst in a circle of half amile around us in about two hours, andyet we had no more than about eighteencasualties. The most difficult part wasto lie still and motionless while death wasbeing dealt all about us, and it was thenand there that I had my first experience

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FOUR WEEKS IN THE TRENCHESof seeing death next to me. A soldier ofmy platoon, while digging in the trench,suddenly leaned back, began to coughlike an old man, a httle blood broke fromhis lips, and he crumpled together in aheap and lay quite still. I could not real-ize that this was the end, for his eyeswere wide open and his face wore thestamp of complete serenity. Apparentlyhe had not suffered at all. The man hadbeen a favorite with all his fellows by rea-son of his good humor, and that he wasnow stretched out dead seemed unbeliev-able. I saw a great many men die after-wards, some suffering horribly, but Ido not recall any death that affected mequite so much as that of this first victimin my platoon.


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IIThe artillery duel died out with the

coming of darkness and we settled downto rest, half of the men taking watchwhile the others slept. At five o'clock inthe morning our regiment suddenly re-ceived the order to fall in, and, togetherwith two other regiments, was drawn outof the fighting line. Our commandinggeneral had received news that an iso-lated detachment on the extreme rightwing of our army, about fifteen mileseast of us, had been entirely surroundedby a strong Russian body, and we wereordered to relieve them. It must not beforgotten that our men had been under amost incredible strain for the last threedays with barely any rest during thenights and not more than one meal a day.They had actually welcomed entering

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FOUR WEEKS IN THE TRENCHESregiment which had been called to thesame task, and the colonel of the newregiment, being older in rank than ourcolonel, took command of the newlyformed brigade of two regiments. Mycompany happened to march at the headof the regiment and the new brigadierrode for some time alongside of me. Iwas deeply impressed by his firm mili-tary and yet unassuming bearing andhis deep glowing enthusiasm for his armyand his men. He told me with pride thattwo of his sons were serving in the army,too, one as an artillery officer and theother one as an officer with the sappers.We were then approaching the pointwhere we could hear distinctly the fire ofour own batteries and the answer fromthe Russians, and here and there a vol-ley of rifle fire. Our colonel urged us onto renewed energy, and knowledge thatwe were nearing our goal seemed to givenew strength to our men. Already we

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FOUR WEEKS IN THE TRENCHESwere witnessing evidences of the firstfight that had passed here, for woundedmen constantly passed us on stretchers.Suddenly I saw the face of the colonelriding next to me, light up with ex-citement as a wounded man was bornepast. He addressed a few words to thestretcher-bearers and then turned to me,saying: "The regiment of my son isfighting on the hill. It is one of their menthey have brought by." He urged us onagain, and it seemed to me as if I no-ticed or was it my imagination anew note of appeal in his face. Suddenlyanother stretcher was brought past. Thecolonel atmy side jumped from his horse,crying out, "My boy," and a feeblevoice answered, "Father." We allstopped as if a command had been given,to look at the young officer who lay onthe stretcher, his eyes all aglow with en-thusiasm and joy, unmindful of his ownwound as he cried out, "Father, how

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FOUR WEEKS IN THE TRENCHESsplendid that the relief should just comefrom you! Goon. We held out splendidlyAll we need is ammunition and a littlemoral support. Go on, don*t stop forme, I am all right." The old colonelstood like a statue of bronze. His facehad become suddenly ashen gray. Helooked at the doctor and tried to catchhis expression. The doctor seemedgrave. But the young man urged us on,saying, "Go on, go on, I'll be all rightto-morrow." The whole incident hadnot lasted more than five minutes, barelylonger than it takes to write it. Thecolonel mounted his horse, sternly com-manding us to march forward, but thelight had died out of his eyes.Within the next ten minutes a hail of

shrapnel was greeting us, but hardly anyone of us was conscious of it, so terriblyand deeply were we affected by the sceneof tragedy that had just been enactedbefore us. I remember foolishly mum-

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FOUR WEEKS IN THE TRENCHESbling something to the silent man ridingnext to me, something about the powerof recuperation of youth, about the com-parative harmlessness of the pointed,steelmantled rifle bullets which on ac-count of their terrific percussion makesmall clean wounds and rarely causesplintering of the bone or blood poison-ing. I remember saying that I had quitea medical knowledge and that it seemedto me that his son was not mortallywounded. But he knew better. Henever said a word, only, a few minuteslater, "He was my only hope"; and Ican't express how ominous that word"was" sounded to me. But just then thecommand to deploy was given and theexcitement that followed drowned forthe time being all melancholy thoughts.We quickly ascended the hill wherethe isolated detachment of Austrians hadkept the Russians at bay for fullytwenty-four hours and opened fire on


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POUR WEEKS IN THE TRENCHESthe enemy, while the second regimenttried to turn his left flank. The Rus-sians slowly fell back but we followedthem, and a sort of running fight en-sued, during which my regiment lostabout fifty dead and wounded. TheRussians temporarily resisted again, butsoon the pressure from our other regi-ment on their flank began to be felt andthey fled rather disorderly, leaving twomachine guns, some ammunition, andfour carriages full of provisions in ourhands, while the regiment which hadexecuted the flanking movement tooktwo hundred and forty prisoners.Around eight o'clock at night thefight was stopped for want of light, and

we took up our newly acquired positions,entrenched them well, and began tomake ready for the night. Orders foroutpost duty were given and the officerswere again called to the brigadier-colo-nel, who in a few words outlined the sit-

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FOUR WEEKS IN THE TRENCHESuation to us, thanking us for the perti-nacity and bravery shown by the troops,and adding that the success of the ex-pedition lay in the fact that we had ar-rived in time to save the situation.Then the question of transporting

prisoners to the rear came up, and whilethe brigadier's eyes were searching us Ifelt that he was going to entrust me withthat mission. He looked at me, gave methe order in a short, measured way, buthis eyes gazed searchingly and deeplyinto mine, and I thought I understoodthe unspoken message. So, tired as Iwas, I immediately set out with a guardof twenty men to transport the two hun-dred and forty Russian prisoners, amongwhom were two ofTicers, back behind thefighting hne. They seemed not unhappyover their lot in fact, were smokingand chatting freely while we marchedback. One of the Russian officers hada wound in his leg and was carried on a

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FOUR WEEKS IN THE TRENCHESstretcher, but he, too, seemed quite atease, conversing with me in French andcongratulating me upon the bravery ourisolated detachment had shown againstthe terrific onslaught. As soon as I haddehvered them safely into the hands ofthe commander of our reserves, I in-quired the way to the nearest field hos-pital in search of the young officer, theson of our brigadier-colonel. It was thenabout nine o'clock at night, and on en-tering the peasant's hut where the fieldhospital was established, I saw at aglance that I had come too late. He laythere still, hands folded over his breastwith as serene and happy an expressionas if asleep. His faithful orderly satweeping next to him, and some kind handhad laid a small bunch of field flowerson his breast.From the doctor I got the full informa-

tion. He had received a shot in the ab-domen and a rifle bullet had grazed his

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FOUR WEEKS IN THE TRENCHEScheek. His last words had been a fer-vent expression of joy over the rehefbrought by his father and the knowl-edge that the position would not betaken by the Russians. He had died assimply as a child, without regret, andutterly happy. I took the orderly withme, asking him to carry all the belong-ings of the young officer with him inorder to transmit them to his father.When I returned with the orderly,

the brigadier was issuing orders to hisofficers and conferring with them aboutthe military situation. He saw me come,yet not a muscle moved in his face, nordid he interrupt his conversation. I wasoverwhelmed by the power this manshowed at that minute, and admit I hadnot the courage to break the news tohim, but it was unnecessary, for he un-derstood. The faithful orderly steppedforward, as I had bidden him, present-ing to the old man the pocketbook and

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FOUR WEEKS IN THE TRENCHESsmall articles that belonged to his son.While he did so he broke forth into sobs,lamenting aloud the loss of his belovedlieutenant, yet not a muscle moved in theface of the father. He took my report,nodded curtly, dismissed me without aword, and turned back to his ordnanceofficers, resuming the conversation.

I assumed the command of my platoonwhich in the mean time had been as-signed to do some outpost duty underthe command of the sergeant. I inquiredabout their position and went out to jointhem. About midnight we were relieved,and when marching back, passed theplace where the tent of the brigadier hadbeen erected. I saw a dark figure lyingon the floor, seemingly in deep sleep,and ordering my men to march on Icrept silently forward. Then I saw thathis shoulders were convulsively shakingand I knew that the mask of iron hadfallen at last. The night was chilly so I

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FOUR WEEKS IN THE TRENCHESentered his tent in search of his over-coat and laid it around his shoulders.He never noticed it. The next morningwhen I saw him his face was as immov-able as it had been the night before,but he seemed to have aged by manyyears*The next day was a comparatively

restful one. We fortified the entrench-ments which we had taken, and as ourbattle lines were extended to the right,from being the extreme right we becamealmost the center of the new positionwhich extended for perhaps ten milesfrom northwest to southeast about eight-een miles south of Lemberg.The next few days were given to re-pairs, provisioning, and resting, with oc-casional small skirmishes and shifting ofpositions. Then one night a scoutingaeroplane brought news of a forwardmovement of about five Russian armycorps, which seemed to push in the di-

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FOUR WEEKS IN THE TRENCHESrection of our center. Against this forcewe could muster only about two armycorps, but our strategical position seemeda very good one, both the extreme flanksof our army being protected by large andimpassable swamps. Evidently the Rus-sians had realized the impossibility ofturning our flanks and were endeavor-ing to pierce our center by means of avigorous frontal attack, relying upontheir great superiority in numbers.Every preparation had been made tomeet the onslaught during the night.Our trenches had been strengthened, theartillery had been brought into position,cleverly masked by means of transplantedbushes, the field in front of us had beencleared of objects obstructing the view,and the sappers had been feverishlybusy constructing formidable barbed-wire entanglements and carefully meas-uring the shooting distances, markingthe different ranges by bundles of hay

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FOUR WEEKS IN THE TRENCHESor other innocent-looking objects, whichwere placed here and there in the field.At nine o'clock in the morning every-thing was ready to receive the enemy,the men taking a short and well-de-served rest in their trenches, while weofficers were called to the colonel, whoacquainted us with the general situa-tion, and, giving his orders, addressedus in a short, business-like way, appeal-ing to our sense of duty and expressinghis firm belief in our victory. We allknew that his martial attitude andabrupt manner were a mask to hide hisinner self, full of throbbing emotion andtender solicitude for his subordinates,and we returned to our trenches deeplymoved.The camp was absolutely quiet. The

only movements noticeable being aroundthe field kitchens in the rear, which werebeing removed from the battle line. Ahalf hour later any casual observer,

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FOUR WEEKS IN THE TRENCHESglancing over the deserted fields mighthave laughed at the intimation that theearth around him was harboring thou-sands of men armed to their teeth, andthat pandemonium of hell would breakloose within an hour. Barely a soundwas audible, and a hush of expectancydescended upon us. I looked around atmy men in the trench; some were quietlyasleep, some writing letters, others con-versed in subdued and hushed tones.Every face I saw bore the unmistakablestamp of the feeling so characteristic ofthe last hour before a battle, thatcurious mixture of solemn dignity, graveresponsibihty, and suppressed emotion,with an undercurrent of sad resignation.They were pondering over their possiblefate, or perhaps dreaming of their dearones at home.By and by even the little conversa-

tion ceased, and they sat quite silent,waiting and waiting, perhaps awed by

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FOUR WEEKS IN THE TRENCHEStheir own silence. Sometimes one wouldbravely try to crack a joke, and theylaughed, but it sounded strained. Theywere plainly nervous, these brave menthat fought like lions in the open whenled to an attack, heedless of danger anddestruction. They felt under a cloud inthe security of the trenches, and theywere conscious of it and ashamed. Some-times my faithful orderly would turn hiseye on me, mute, as if in quest of an ex-planation of his own feeling. Poor dearunsophisticated boy ! I was as nervous asthey all were, although trying my best tolook unconcerned; but I knew that thehush that hovered around us like a darkcloud would give way like magic to wildenthusiasm as soon as the first shot brokethe spell and the exultation of the battletook hold of us all.

Suddenly, at about ten o'clock, a dullthud sounded somewhere far away fromus, and simultaneously we saw a small

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FOUR WEEKS IN THE TRENCHESwhite round cloud about half a mileahead of us where the shrapnel had ex-ploded. The battle had begun. Othershots followed shortly, exploding hereand there, but doing no harm. The Rus-sian gunners evidently were trying tolocate and draw an answer from our bat-teries. These, however, remained mute,not caring to reveal their position. For along time the Russians fired at random,mostly at too short a range to do anyharm, but slowly the harmless-lookingwhite clouds came nearer, until a shell,whining as it whizzed past us, burst abouta hundred yards behind our trench. Asecond shell followed, exploding almostat the same place. At the same time, wenoticed a faint spinning noise above us.Soaring high above our position, lookinglike a speck in the firmament, flew a Rus-sian aeroplane, watching the effect of theshells and presumably directing the fireof the Russian artillery. This explained

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FOUR WEEKS IN THE TRENCHESits sudden accuracy. One of our aero-planes rose, giving chase to the enemy,and simultaneously our batteries got intoaction. The Russians kept up a sharplyconcentrated, well-directed fire againstour center, our gunners respondinggallantly, and the spirited artillery duelwhich ensued grew in intensity untilthe entrails of the earth seemed fairlyto shake with the thunder.By one o'clock the incessant roaring,

crashing, and splintering of burstingshells had become almost unendurable toour nerves, which were already strainedto the snapping-point by the lack of ac-tion and the expectancy. Suddenly thereappeared a thin dark line on the horizonwhich moved rapidly towards us, lookingnot unhke a huge running bird with im-mense outstretched wings. We lookedthrough our field glasses; there could beno doubt, it was Russian cavalry,swooping down upon us with incredible

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FOUR WEEKS IN THE TRENCHESimpetus and swiftness. I quickly glancedat our colonel. He stared open-mouthed.This was, indeed, good fortune for us,too good to believe. No cavalry attackcould stand before well-discipHned infan-try, providing the latter keep cool andwell composed, calmly waiting until theriders come sufficiently close to take sureaim.There was action for us at last. At a

sharp word of command, our men scram-bled out of the trenches for better viewand aim, shouting with joy as they didso. What a change had come over us all IMy heart beat with wild exultation. Iglanced at my men. They were all eager-ness and determination, hand at thetrigger, eyes on the approaching enemy,every muscle strained, yet calm, theirbronzed faces hardened into immobility,waiting for the command to fire. Everysubaltern officer's eye hung on our colo-nel, who stood about thirty yards ahead

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FOUR WEEKS IN THE TRENCHESof us on a little hill, his figure well de-fined in the sunlight, motionless, thevery picture of calm assurance and proudbearing. He scanned the horizon withhis glasses. Shrapnel was hailing aroundhim, but he seemed utterly unaware ofit; for that matter we had all forgottenit, though it kept up its terrible uproar,spitting here and there destruction intoour midst.By this time the avalanche of tramp-

ing horses had come perceptibly nearer.Soon they would sweep by the bundle ofhay which marked the carefully meas-ured range within which our fire wasterribly effective. Suddenly the madstampede came to an abrupt standstill,and then the Cossacks scattered pre-cipitately to the right and left, only todisclose in their rear the advancing Rus-sian infantry, the movements of which ithad been their endeavor to veil.The infantry moved forward in loose


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FOUR WEEKS IN THE TRENCHESlines, endlessly rolling on like shallowwaves overtaking each other, one linerunning forward, then suddenly disap-pearing by throwing itself down andopening fire on us to cover the advanceof the other line, and so on, while theirartillery kept up a hellish uproar spread-ing destruction through our lines. Simul-taneously a Russian aeroplane sweptdown upon us with a noise Hke an an-gered bird of prey and pelted us withbombs, the effects of which, however,were more moral than actual, for we hadregained the security of the trenches andopened fire on the approaching enemy,who in spite of heavy losses advancedsteadily until he reached our wire entan-glements. There he was greeted by adeadly fire from our machine guns. Thefirst Russian fines were mowed down asif by a gigantic scythe, and so were thereserves as they tried to advance. Thefirst attack had collapsed. After a short

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FOUR WEEKS IN THE TRENCHESterly failed in their object of dislodgingour center or shaking its position, eachone being frustrated by the resourceful,cool alertness of our commanding gen-eral and the splendid heroism and stoi-cism of our troops. But the strain of thecontinuous fighting for nearly the wholeday without respite of any kind, orchance for food or rest, in the end toldon the power of endurance of our men,and when the last attack had been suc-cessfully repulsed they lay mostly pros-trated on the ground, panting andexhausted. Our losses had been veryconsiderable, too, stretcher-bearers beingbusy administering first aid and carryingthe wounded back to the nearest fieldhospital, while many a brave man laystark and still.By eight o'clock it had grown per-

ceptibly cooler. We now had time to col-lect our impressions and look about us.The Russians had left many dead on the

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FOUR WEEKS IN THE TRENCHESfield, and at the barbed-wire entangle-ments which our sappers had constructedas an obstacle to their advance, theirbodies lay heaped upon each other, look-ing not unlike the more innocent bundlesof hay lying in the field. We could seethe small Red Cross parties in the fieldclimbing over the horribly grotesquetumuli of bodies, trying to disentanglethe wounded from the dead and ad-minister first aid to them.Enthusiasm seemed suddenly to disap-

pear before this terrible spectacle. Lifethat only a few hours before had glowedwith enthusiasm and exultation, sud-denly paled and sickened. The silenceof the night was interrupted only by thelow moaning of the wounded that cameregularly to us. It was hideous inits terrible monotony. The moon hadrisen, throwing fantastic lights and shad-ows over the desolate landscape and theheaped-up dead. These grotesque piles

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FOUR WEEKS IN THE TRENCHESof human bodies seemed like a monstroussacrificial offering immolated on the al-tar of some fiendishly cruel, antiquedeity. I felt faint and sick at heart andnear swooning away. I lay on the floorfor some time unconscious of what wasgoing on around me, in a sort of stupor,utterly crushed over the horrors aboutme. I do not know how long I had lainthere, perhaps ten minutes, perhaps halfan hour, when suddenly I heard a gruff,deep voice behind me the brigadier,who had come around to inspect and togive orders about the outposts. His calm,quiet voice brought me to my senses andI reported to him. His self-assurance,kindness, and determination dominatedthe situation. Within five minutes hehad restored confidence, giving definiteorders for the welfare of every one, manand beast alike, showing his solicitude forthe wounded, for the sick and weak ones,and mingUng praise and admonition in

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FOUR WEEKS IN THE TRENCHESjust measure. As bymagic I felt fortified.Here was a real man undaunted bynervous qualms or by over-sensitiveness.The horrors of the war were distastefulto him, but he bore them with equanim-ity. It was, perhaps, the first time in mylife that I regretted that my artisticeducation had over-sharpened and over-strung my nervous system, when I sawhow manfully and bravely that man borewhat seemed to me almost unbearable.His whole machinery of thinking wasnot complicated and not for a momentdid qualms of "Weltschmerz" or exag-gerated altruism burden his conscienceand interfere with his straight line of con-duct which was wholly determined byduty and code of honor. In his privatelife he was an unusually kind man. HissoUcitude for his subordinates, for pris-oners, and for the wounded was touch-ing, yet he saw the horrors of the war un-flinchingly and without weakening, for

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FOUR WEEKS IN THE TRENCHESwere they not the consequences of thedevotion of men to their cause? Thewhole thing seemed quite natural to him.The man was clearly in his element anddominated it.

After having inspected the outposts,I went back, bedded myself in a softsand-heap, covered myself up, and wassoon fast and peacefully asleep. Duringthe night the dew moistened the sand,and when I awoke in the morning I foundmyself encased in a plastering whichcould not be removed for days.


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IllOur hopes of getting a little rest and

respite from the fighting were soon scat-tered, for a scouting aeroplane broughtnews that the Russians were again ad-vancing in overwhelming strength. Ourcommanding general, coming to the con-clusion that with the reduced and weak-ened forces at his command he could notpossibly offer any effective resistance toa renewed onslaught, had determinedto fall back slowly before their pressure.The consequence was a series of retreat-ing battles for us, which lasted about tendays and which constituted what is nowcalled the battle of Lemberg.We were then terribly outnumberedby the Russians, and in order to extri-cate our army and prevent it from beingsurrounded and cut off, we constantly

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FOUR WEEKS IN THE TRENCHEShad to retreat, one detachment takingup positions to resist the advancing Rus-sians, trying to hold them at all costsin order to give the rest of the armysufficient time to retire to safety. Thismaneuvering could not, of course, becarried out without the forces guardingthe rear and covering the retreat suffer-ing sometimes terrible losses.These were depressing days, with rain

and storm adding to the gloom. Themen tramped wearily, hanging theirheads, ashamed and humiliated by theretreat, the necessity of which theycould not grasp, having, as they thought,successfully repulsed the enemy. It wasdifficult to make them understand thatour regiment was only a cog in the hugewheel of the Austrian fighting machineand that, with a battle line extendingover many miles, it was quite naturalthat partial successes could take placeand yet the consideration of general

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FOUR WEEKS IN THE TRENCHESstrategy necessitate a retreat. Our argu-ing made little impression on the men;for they only shook their heads and said,"We were victorious, we should havegone on."The spirit of retreating troops is vastly

different from that shown by an advanc-ing army, and it was probably in recog-nition of this well-known psychologicalstate that our general staff had in thebeginning attacked the Russians wher-ever they could, in spite of the over-whelming superiority of the foe, but thereinforcements the Russians were ableto draw upon had swelled their ranksso enormously that any attack wouldhave been little short of madness.The real hardships and privations for

us began only now. The few roads ofGalicia, which at best are in bad condi-tion, through the constant passing ofheavy artillery and wagons of all kindsfollowing each other in endless proces-

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FOUR WEEKS IN THE TRENCHESsion through constant rains, had becomewell-nigh impassable, the heavy mudconstituting an additional impedimentto the marching of troops. In order toget all of the train carrying provisionsout of the possible reach of a sudden raidby the Russian cavalry, it had to be sentmiles back of us, so as not to interferewith the movement of the troops. Thiscaused somewhat of an interruption inthe organization of the commissary de-partment and very Httle food reachedthe troops, and that only at very longintervals.The distribution of food to an army,

even in peace and under the best condi-tions, is a very compHcated and difficultundertaking. Provisions are shippedfrom the interior to the important rail-way centers, which serve as huge armydepots and form the basis from which thedifferent armycorps draw their provisionsand from which they are constantly re-

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FOUR WEEKS IN THE TRENCHESplenished. They in turn supply the divi-sions and brigades^wherefrom the regi-ments and battalions draw their provi-sions. So it is seen that the great aortawhich leads from the interior to the bigdepots slowly subdivides itself intosmaller arteries and feeders until theyreach the ultimate destination, the ex-treme front.This distribution of food had now be-

come a formidable task, in consequenceof the unforeseen movements and diver-sions which were forced upon us by theunexpected developments of the battle;and it often happened that food suppliesintended for a certain detachment wouldreach their destination only after the de-parture of that detachment.My platoon had by this time shrunkfrom fifty-five men to about thirty-four,but those remaining had become veryhardened, efficient, and fit. It is aston-ishing how quickly the human organism

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FOUR WEEKS IN THE TRENCHESadjusts itself, if need be, to the mostdifficult circumstances. So far as I wasconcerned, for instance, I adapted my-self to the new life without any trouble atall, responding to the unusual demandsupon me automatically, as it were. Myrather impaired eyesight improved inthe open, with only wide distances tolook at. I found that my muscles servedme better than ever before. I leaped andran and supported fatigue that wouldhave appalled me under other circum-stances. In the field all neurotic symp-toms seem to disappear as by magic,and one's whole system is charged withenergy and vitahty. Perhaps this is dueto the open-air life with its simpUfiedstandards, freed from all the complexexigencies of society's laws, and unham-pered by conventionalities, as well as tothe constant throb of excitement, causedby the activity, the adventure, and theuncertainty of fate.

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FOUR WEEKS IN THE TRENCHESThe very massing together of so many

individuals, with every will merged intoone that strives with gigantic effort to-ward a common end, and the consequentsimplicity and directness of all purpose,seem to release and unhinge allthe prim-itive, aboriginal forces stored in the hu-man soul, and tend to create the inde-scribable atmosphere of exultation whichenvelopes everything and everybody aswith a magic cloak.

It is extraordinary how quickly sug-gestions of luxury, culture, refinement,in fact all the gentler aspects of life,which one had considered to be an in-tegral part of one's life are quickly for-gotten, and, more than that, not evenmissed. Centuries drop from one, andone becomes a primeval man, nearingthe cave-dweller in an incredibly shorttime. For twenty-one days I went with-out taking off my clothes, sleeping onwet grass or in mud, or in the swamps,


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FOUR WEEKS IN THE TRENCHESwherever need be, and with nothing butmy cape to cover me. Nothing disturbsone. One night, while sleeping, we weredrenched to the skin by torrential rains.We never stirred, but waited for the sunto dry us out again. All things consid-ered a necessity of civilization simplydrop out of existence. A toothbrush wasnot imaginable. We ate instinctively,when we had food, with our hands. If wehad stopped to think of it at all, weshould have thought it ludicrous to useknife and fork.We were all looking like shaggy, leanwolves, from the necessity of subsistingon next to nothing. I remember havinggone for more than three days at a timewithout any food whatsoever, and manya time we had to lick the dew from thegrass for want of water. A certain fierce-ness arises in you, an absolute indiffer-ence to anything the world holds exceptyour duty of fighting. You are eating a

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FOUR WEEKS IN THE TRENCHEScrust of bread, and a man is shot dead inthe trench next to you. You look calmlyat him for a moment, and then go on eat-ing your bread. Why not? There isnothing to be done. In the end you talkof your own death with as little excite-ment as you would of a luncheon engage-ment. There is nothing left in your mindbut the fact that hordes of men to whomyou belong are fighting against otherhordes, and your side must win.My memory of these days is verymuch blurred, every day being prettynearly the same as the preceding one,fatiguing marches, little rest and com-paratively little fighting.

It is quite possible that our com-mander tried to divide the work of thetroops in a just manner, and that inconsequence of my regiment havingborne the brunt of two terrible attacks,and having suffered considerable loss,we were now temporarily withdrawn

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KUEISLER AT THE PROMT, TAKEN AFTERTHREE weeks' SERVICE


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FOUR WEEKS IN THE TRENCHESfrom the fighting line, and not once dur-ing these days were assigned to the dutyof a rear guard. Consequently we hadonly few and unimportant skirmishesin these days, twice while guarding theflank through having to repulse attacksof Cossacks, and once being harrassedby an armored automobile. But themovements of an automobile being con-fined to the road, we had no difficulty inavoiding its fire, and as for the Cossackswith their eternal feigned attacks, wehad reached the point where we almostignored them.We were in the first days of Septem-ber, and upon reaching the swamps nearGrodeck, south of Lemberg, a deter-mined stand was decided upon by ourcommanding general. It seemed themost propitious place for a formidabledefense, there being only few roadsthrough otherwise impassable swamps.On September sixth my battaUon was

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FOUR WEEKS IN THE TRENCHESordered to take up a position command-ing a defile which formed one of the pos-sible approaches for the enemy. Herewe awaited the Russians, and they werenot long in coming. First they violentlyshelled our position and silenced oneof our batteries. Finding their artilleryfire did not draw any answer from ourside, they attempted to storm our posi-tion by means of frontal infantry at-tacks, combined with occasional raids ofCossacks, which were always repulsed.Finally the Russian infantry succeededin establishing a number of trenches, theone opposite us not more than five hun-dred yards away. It was the first timewe had come in close touch with theRussians, almost within hailing distance,and with the aid of our field glasseswe could occasionally even get a glimpseof their faces and recognize their features.We stayed four days opposite each other,neither side gaining a foot of ground.

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FOUR WEEKS IN THE TRENCHESIt was there and then that I made a

curious observation. After the secondday we had almost grown to know eachother. The Russians would laughinglycall over to us, and the Austrians wouldanswer. The salient feature of thesethree days' fighting was the extraordi-nary lack of hatred. In fact, it is aston-ishing how little actual hatred exists be-tween fighting men. One fights fiercelyand passionately, mass against mass, butas soon as the mass crystallizes itself intohuman individuals whose features oneactually can recognize, hatred almostceases. Of course, fighting continues,but somehow it loses its fierceness andtakes more the form of a sport, each sidebeing eager to get the best of the other.One still shoots at his opponent, butalmost regrets when he sees him drop.By the morning of the third day weknew nearly every member of the oppos-

ing trench, the favorite of my men being69


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FOUR WEEKS IN THE TRENCHESnearer, and our man boldly advancedtoo. Then the Russians urged on theirman with shouts and laughter, and hemade a big leap forward, standing still,whereupon the Austrian also jumpedforward, and so, step by step, they ap-proached until they nearly touched eachother. They had left their rifles behind,and we thought that they were going toindulge in a fist fight, all of us beingsorry for our champion, for he was asmall and insignificant-looking man wholooked as if he could be crushed with oneblow by his gigantic opponent. But lo,and behold! The big Russian held outhis hand which held a package of to-bacco and our Austrian, seizing the to-bacco, grasped the hand of the Russian,and then reaching in his pocket pro-duced a long Austrian cigar, which heceremoniously presented to the Russian.It was indeed a funny sight to see thesmall, wiry, lean Austrian talking in exag-

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FOUR WEEKS IN THE TRENCHESgerated terms of politeness to the blondRussian giant, who listened gravely andattentively, as if he understood everyword.By this time all precautions and even

ideas of fighting had been forgotten, andwe were surprised to find ourselves out ofthe shelter of our trenches and fully ex-posed to the Russians, who, in turn,leaned out of their own trenche andshowed their heads in full. This unoffi-cial truce had lasted about twenty min-utes, and succeeded more in restoringgood humor and joy of Hfe among oursoldiers than a trainload of provisionswould have done. It was one of the in-cidents that helped to relieve the mo-notony of trench life and was heartilywelcomed by all of us. The fighting,however, soon was resumed with all itsearnestness and fierceness, but from thismoment on a certain camaraderie wasestablished between the two opposing

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FOUR WEEKS IN THE TRENCHEStrenches. Between skirmishes an unoffi-cial truce would frequently be called forthe purpose of removing the wounded.During these times when the stretcher-bearers were busy, no shot would befired on either side.Nor was this an isolated case, for sim-

ilar intermittent truces, sometimes ac-companied by actual intercourse be-tween the opposing forces, were quitecommon all along the battle line. Thatvery night I was hurriedly summoned tothe trenches of the 13th Company, abouthalf a mile east of us, in order to act asan interpreter between the major com-manding that battalion and two singu-lar guests he had just received, a Rus-sian officer and his orderly. The pair,carrying a white flag, had hailed one ofthe numerous Austrian outposts placedduring the night, in front of the trenches,and had been sent bhndfolded back tothe major. The Russian officer spoke

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FOUR WEEKS IN THE TRENCHESonly broken French. He commandedone of the opposing trenches, and fromhis narrative it appeared that his menhad not received any food supphes forsome days and were actually on thepoint of starvation. Not being able tostand their misery any longer, he hadtaken the bull by the horns and, with theutter confidence and straightforwardnessof a fearless nature, had simply comeover to us, the enemy, for help, offeringa little barrel of water which his com-panion carried on his head and a Httletobacco, in exchange for some provisions.The major seemed at first, perhaps,

a little perplexed and undecided aboutthis singular request, but his generousnature and chivalry soon asserted itself.One single look at the emaciated andworn faces of our guests sufficientlysubstantiated the truth of their story,for both men were utterly exhaustedand on the verge of collapse. The next

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FOUR WEEKS IN THE TRENCHESminute messengers were flying to thedifferent trenches of the battalion tosoHcit and collect contributions, and theofficers scrambled over each other intheir noble contest to deplete their ownlast and cherished reserves for the supperof the guests. Soon the latter were seatedas comfortably as circumstances permit-ted before a feast of canned beef, cheese,biscuits, and a slice of salami, my ownproud contribution consisting of twotablets of chocolate, part of a preciousreserve for extreme cases. It was astrange sight to see these two Russiansin an Austrian trench, surrounded bycordiality and tender solicitude. Thebig brotherhood of humanity had for thetime enveloped friend and foe, stampingout all hatred and racial differences. Itis wonderful how the most tender flowersof civilization can go hand in hand withthe most brutal atrocities of grim modernwarfare.

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FOUR WEEKS IN THE TRENCHESIn the mean while the messengers had

returned almost staggering under theweight of a sack filled with the gifts ofour soldiers to the enemy, pieces ofbread and biscuits with here and therea slice of bacon or a lump of cheese, allthrown pele-mele together. Many a manmust have parted with his last piece ofbread in order not to be outdone by theothers in generosity, for our own pro-visions were running very low. It is truethat the bread and biscuits were mil-dewed, the cheese stale, and the bacon ashard as stone, but the boys gave the bestthey could, the very poverty and hum-bleness of the gifts attesting their owndesperate plight, and bearing proud wit-ness to the extent of their sacrifice. Withtears in their eyes and reiterated protesta-tions of thanks, our guests staggered backthrough the night to their lines, undoubt-edly carrying with them tender memoriesof Austrian generosity and hospitality.

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FOUR WEEKS. IN THE TRENCHESOn the morning of the next day a

Russian detachment succeeded in storm-ing a hill on our flank, commanding thestrip of space between ourselves and ourreserves in the rear, thus cutting us offfrom our main body. They estabhshedthere a machine-gun battery, and, al-though we were under cover in ourtrench, we were now in a very precariousposition, for no more provisions or am-munition could reach us, all attemptsto do so breaking down under a terrificmachine-gun fire, but we had orders tohold our position at all cost and to thelast man. Unfortunately our ammuni-tion was giving out, in spite of our hus-banding it as much as possible and shoot-ing only when we had a sure target. TheRussians soon found that each shotmeant a victim and took no chances onshowing even the tips of their caps.Neither could we move the least bitwithout being the target for a volley

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FOUR WEEKS IN THE TRENCHESfrom their side. Up to this day I cannotunderstand why they did not try to rushus, but apparently they were unawareof our comparative weakness.

Also for another reason our positionhad become more and more untenable.We were on swampy ground and thewater was constantly oozing in from thebottom of the trench, so that we some-times had to stand nearly knee-deep andwere forced to bail the water out withour caps. It is difficult to imagine amore deplorable situation than to haveto stay for four days in a foul trench,half filled with swamp water, con-stantly exposed to the destructive fire ofthe enemy, utterly isolated and hopeless.Soon we were completely without any

food or water and our ammunition wasalmost exhausted. During the night,here and there daring men would rushthrough the space swept by the Russiangun fire, which was kept up constantly,

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FOUR WEEKS IN THE TRENCHEStrying to bring us what scanty suppliesthey could procure from neighboringtrenches better provided than we were,but the little they brought was nothingcompared to our needs.On the evening of that third day,

knowing that our ammunition was giv-ing out, we felt that the next day wouldbring the end, and all our thoughtsturned homewards and to the dear ones.We all wrote what we considered ourparting and last farewell, each one pledg-ing himself to deliver and take care ofthe letters of the others if he survived. Itwas a grave, sad, deeply touching mo-ment, when we resigned ourselves to theinevitable, and yet somehow we all feltrelieved and satisfied that the end mightcome and grimly resolved to sell ourlives dearly.

Never before had I as much reason toadmire the wonderful power of endur-ance and stoicism of our soldiers as on

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FOUR WEEKS IN THE TRENCHESthat night. Once resigned to the worst,all the old-time spirit returned, as if bymagic. They sat together playing cardsin as much moonlight as would fall intothe deep trench, relating jokes and bol-stering up one another's courage.The fourth day broke gloomy, with a

drizzling rain. At ten o'clock one of ourmen became suddenly insane, jumpedout of the trench, danced wildly anddivested himself of every stitch of cloth-ing while doing so. Strange to say, theRussians must have realized that theman was insane, for they never fired athim, neither did they at the two menwho jumped out to draw him back. Wesucceeded in comforting and subduinghim, and he soon fell into a stupor andremained motionless for some time. Assoon as darkness fell we succeeded in con-veying him back to the reserves and Iunderstand that he got quite well againin a few days.

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FOUR WEEKS IN THE TRENCHESAt five o'clock that afternoon we sud-

denly received orders through a runningmessenger, who was braving the inces-sant machine-gun fire, that our posi-tions were about to be abandoned andthat we were to evacuate our trenchunder the cover of darkness, at eleveno'clock. I cannot but confess that we allbreathed more freely on the receipt ofthat information, but unfortunately thepurpose could not be carried out. TheRussians by this time evidently hadrealized our comparatively defenselesscondition and utter lack of ammunition,for that same night we heard two shotsring out, being a signal from our sentinelsthat they were surprised and that dangerwas near. I hardly had time to draw mysword, to grasp my revolver with myleft hand and issue a command to mymen to hold their bayonets in readiness,when we heard a tramping of horses andsaw dark figures swooping down upon

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FOUR WEEKS IN THE TRENCHESus. For once the Cossacks actuallycarried out their attack, undoubtedlyowing to their intimate knowledge of ourlack of anununition. My next sensationwas a crushing pain in my shoulder,struck by the hoof of a horse, and asharp knife pain in my right thigh. Ifired with my revolver at the hazy figureabove me, saw it topple over and thenlost consciousness.

This happened, to the best of my recol-lection, at about half past ten at night.Upon coming to my senses I found myfaithful orderly, kneeling in the trenchby my side. He fairly shouted with de-light as I opened my eyes. According tohis story the Austrians, falUng back un-der the cavalry charge, had evacuatedthe trench without noticing, in the dark-ness, that I was missing. But soon dis-covering my absence he started back tothe trench in search of me. It was a peri-lous undertaking for him, for the Cos-

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FOUR WEEKS IN THE TRENCHESsacks were still riding about, and heshowed me with pride the place where astray bullet had perforated his knapsackduring the search. He revived me, gaveme first aid, and succeeded with greatdifficulty in helping me out of the trench.For more than three hours we stumbledon in the night, trying to find our huesagain. Twice we encountered a smalltroop of Cossacks, but upon hearing thetramping we quietly lay down on thewayside without a motion until they hadpassed. Happily we were not noticed bythem, and from then we stumbled onwithout any further incident until wewere hailed by an Austrian outpost andin safety. By this time I was utterlyexhausted and again lost consciousness.When I opened my eyes, I was in a

little hut where our ambulance gave firstaid. Therefrom I was transported to thenearest field hospital. This, however, hadto be broken up and the wounded re-

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FOUR WEEKS IN THE TRENCHESmoved because of the Russian advance.We were hastily put on big ambulancewagons without springs, the jolting ofwhich over the bad road caused us suchsuffering that we should have almostpreferred to walk or crawl. We tried toreach the railway station at Komarnobut found a Russian detachment had in-tercepted us. In the streets of the villagea shell burst almost in front of our wag-ons, making the.horses shy and causing agreat deal of confusion. We had to turnback and after a long and wearisome de-tour reached our destination, the troophospital in Sambor, in a state of greatexhaustion. There I remained but a day.The less seriously wounded had to makeplace for the graver cases, and beingamong the former, I was transferred byhospital train to Miscolcy in Hungary.The same crowded conditions prevailedhere as in Sambor, and after a night'srest I again was put on board a Red

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FOUR WEEKS IN THE TRENCHESCross train en route to Vienna. We weremet at the station by a number of RedCross nurses and assistant doctors.To my great joy my wife was among

the former, having been assigned to thatparticular duty. A short official telegramto the effect that I was being sent homewounded on hospital train Number 16was the first news she had received aboutme for fully four weeks. None of myfield postcards had arrived and she wassuffering extreme nervous strain from thelon

Documents

WWI Four Weeks in the Trenches, The War Story of a Violinist - Fritz Kreisler (1915)