REMARKABLEPhoto by International News ServiceREMARKABLE GENERAL VIEW OF THE AUSTRIAN TRENCHES NEAR JASIONNA, SHOWING THE COVERED SHELTERS AS WELL AS OPEN DITCHES AND THE WINDING LANES OF CIRCULATION
Photo by International News ServiceREMARKABLE GENERAL VIEW OF THE AUSTRIAN TRENCHES NEAR JASIONNA, SHOWING THE COVERED SHELTERS AS WELL AS OPEN DITCHES AND THE WINDING LANES OF CIRCULATION
Photo by International News Service
REMARKABLE GENERAL VIEW OF THE AUSTRIAN TRENCHES NEAR JASIONNA, SHOWING THE COVERED SHELTERS AS WELL AS OPEN DITCHES AND THE WINDING LANES OF CIRCULATION
"I must finish this letter with an attempted account of our wonderful fête de Noël, which was held here this afternoon [this letter was written on Christmas Eve], and which will terminate at midnight with a mass in the chapel. A famous opera singer is to sing Gounod's 'Ave Maria,' and I'm going to prop open my weary eyes and attend it.
"We decorated the wards and halls with holly and mistletoe, which grows in great abundance and richness here in France. We had the tree all lighted by electric bulbs downstairs, with a beautiful Santa Claus giving out gifts. All walking cases filed in and received small gifts. Many came in chairs, too. Meantime a trained chorus was walking through the halls from floor to floor, singing Christmas carols, and finally Santa Claus carried his gifts to all the bed patients. In the meanwhile the chapel was filled with soldiers and nurses, and many patriotic songs were sung. The singing made me so homesick that the tears came and I had to go back to my sick men. I bought each man a package of cigarettes and a box of matches, and I gave an enlargement of the group photo I sent you to each man in it. Also I lent them my big silk American flag to help decorate.
"Ahmed, the big Turco, who came to me with seven shrapnel wounds, but is now almost well, and who I told you is the proud husband of two wives and the father of six sons—he does not count the daughters—got hold of the flag somehow, and now it hangs proudly over his bed. By the way, he heard this morning that one of his wives, Fatima, has presented him with a son, so now he has seven. Such joy! While I was downat noon buying the tobacco and a few little things for K—— I saw a little doll, chocolate in color, dressed as a baby. I bought it and put it on Ahmed's pillow when he wasn't looking. The instant he spied it he let off a yell: 'Mon fils de Tunis!' and hugged that poupée and carried on most delightfully.
"I also bought a wooden crane, whose head, neck, and feet move, for Moosa, the black Senegalesi. I told you about him a long time ago, but not by name. He is the one who said a prayer over his wound and tried to bite every one who came near him. He has become quite tame under the influence of Dr. Chauneau, who is the most charming old Frenchman imaginable. Moosa got toys exactly like a child and was just as delighted. He laughs just like a typical Southern darky does, and is altogether funny. They keep him in a red jacket and cap, and the color effect is splendid. It reminds me of chocolate and strawberry ice cream.
"That Turco, Ahmed, whom I've spoken of several times, and who is absolutely devoted to me, keeps the ward in a perfect gale. Last night the men had a regular circus there, and it was all fomented by that old rascal. I've told you how he insists on calling me 'maman' and is jealous as a spoiled child if I show any extra attention to any of the other patients in the ward. Well, last night old Ahmed was very much excited when I came in after supper. He has learned some English, which he now mixes with his French and Arabic. When I asked him what was the trouble he said: 'Spik, maman?' meaning might he talk. I graciously gave him permission, whereupon he burst into burning speech.
"He said they were all French, both Arabs and Frenchmen, and the English were their allies, weren't they? Yes. They were all wounded? Yes. All in the same cause? Yes. Some had more than one wound; he had seven? Yes. Then why weren't they all fed alike? Why should Risbourg sit in bed, never walking, never going to the table to eat—in fact, never doing any of the things they all had to do—and yet have extra feeding? You see, Risbourg is the case I told you of that nearly died of hemorrhage from a small arm wound. He had to be transfused and he is on extra feeding to make up his blood. He does eat enormously, and I love to see him do it.
"Well, I noticed that Risbourg was the only one who wasn't laughing, so I called Ahmed to attention and told him the story of the hemorrhage, whereupon he gave me a huge wink to show that it was all a joke. Risbourg didn't regard it as such, so I went over and told him that I understood, and that I wanted him to eat as much as he wanted, and that it was all right. He is really very devoted to me, and said: 'You, doctor, you understand, but all the time Ahmed tells the nurse to tell you that I eat too much.'
"By this time they were all crowding around him trying to make up, and he added: 'I know why they say such things! It is because I am of the infantry of France, and they are zouaves and tirailleurs (artillerymen) of Africa. I am alone among them.'
"Well, this was getting serious, so I made a speech and told them they were all Frenchmen and brothers, and we all 'vived la France!' Then Old Incorrigible had to pipe up again: 'Mais, maman, Risbourg said I didn't smell good. Andhe spat when I said I was a Frenchman. And also he said he was a German.'
"I said: 'Risbourg, did you tell him you were a German?' Risbourg smiled broadly (he has one tooth gone just like Dave Warfield) and said: 'Yes, doctor, but because the Irish boy told me to. Je fais une plaisance.' So then I pointed out to him that he had had his little joke, and Ahmed had had his, when he said that he ate too much. Great applause from the Arabs, who quickly got the ethical point. So we all made up and shook hands."
The following letter, written by Prince Joachim of Prussia, the youngest son of the German Emperor, was addressed to a wounded comrade in arms by the Prince, himself at that time recovering from a wound suffered in battle. Prince Joachim, who is 24 years old, is a Lieutenant in the First Prussian Infantry Guards. In a tone of easy-going comradeship, not usually associated with the stern and imperious Hohenzollerns, the young Prince wrote to his friend and fellow-guardsman, Sergt. Karl Kummer, who had been sent, badly wounded, to the home of his sister at Teplitz:
My dear Kummer: How sincerely I rejoiced to receive your very solicitous letter! I was sure of Kummer for that; that no one could hold him back when the time came to do some thrashing! God grant that you may speedily recover, so that you can enter Potsdam, crowned with glory, admired, and envied. Who is nursing you?
The old proud First Guard Regiment has proved that it was ready to conquer and to die. Kummer, if I can in any way help you, I shallgladly do so, by providing anything that will make you comfortable. You know how happy I have always been for your devotion to the service, and how we two always were for action (Schwung). I, too, am proud to have been wounded for our beloved Fatherland, and I regret only that I am not permitted to be with the regiment. Well, may God take care of you! Your devoted
Joachim of Prussia.
Interesting, too, is a letter written on Sept. 5 by Ernest II., Duke of Saxe-Altenburg, who, besides being a Lieutenant of the Prussian Guard and Chief of the Eighth Infantry Regiment of Thuringia, is Duke of Saxe-Altenburg (since 1908), of Juliers, Cleves and Berg, Engern, and Westphalia; Landgrave in Thuringia, Margrave of Misnia, Count of Henneberg, Marche, Ravensberg, and Seigneur of Ravenstein and Tonna. In 1898 the Duke married Princess Adelaide of Schaumburg-Lippe, thus uniting two great German houses. His own house was started in 1655 by Ernst, Duke of Saxe-Hildburghausen. His letter follows:
We have lived through a great deal and done a great deal, marching, marching, continually, without rest or respite. On Aug. 10 we reached Willdorf, near Jülich, by train, and from the 12th of August we marched without a single day of rest except Aug. 16, which we spent in a Belgian village near Liége, until to-day, when we reached ——. These have been army marches such as history has never known.
The weather was fine, except that a broiling heat blazed down upon us. The regiment can point back to several days' marches of fifty kilometers——. Everywhere our arrival created great amazement, in Louvain as well as in Brussels, into which the entire —— marched at one time. At first we were taken for Englishmen in almost every village, and we still are, because the inhabitants cannot realize that we have arrived so early. The Belgians, moreover, in the last few days almost invariably set fire to their own villages.
On Aug. 24 we first entered battle; I led a combined brigade consisting of ——. The regiment fought splendidly, and in spite of the gigantic strain put upon it, it is still in the best of spirits and full of the joy of battle. On that day I was for a long time in the sharpest rifle and artillery fire. Since that time there have been almost daily skirmishes and continual long marches; the enemy stalks ahead of us in seven-league boots.
On Aug. 26 we put behind us a march of exactly twenty-three hours, from 6:30 o'clock in the morning until 5:30 the next morning. With all that, I was supposed to lead my regiment across a bridge to take a position guarding a new bridge in course of construction; but the bridge, as we discovered in the nick of time, was mined; twenty minutes later it flew into the air.
After resting for three hours in a field of stubble, and after we had all eaten in common with the men in a field kitchen—as we usually do—we continued marching till dark.
The spirit among our men is excellent. To-night I am to have a real bed—the fourth, I believe, since the war began. To-day I undressed for the first time in eight days.
The battle of Lyck, the victory of which hasheretofore been attributed solely to Field Marshal von Hindenburg, would appear to have been won by his subordinate, Gen. Curt E. von Morgen, according to the following letter, written by Gen. von Morgen to his friend Dr. Eschenburg, Mayor of Lübeck, the city where, in peace times, Gen. von Morgen was stationed as commander of the Eighty-first Infantry Brigade. Gen. von Morgen is 56 years old. He has been in the army since 1878, when he was appointed Lieutenant in the Sixty-third Infantry Brigade. He served in the German campaign in the Kamerun in 1894 and suppressed the rebellion there in 1896 and 1897. In the latter year he served also in the Thessaly campaign, attached to the headquarters of Edhem Pasha, and in 1898 he accompanied the German Emperor on the latter's journey to Palestine. The General wrote:
Suwalki, Sept. 13.
Yesterday, after a short fight, I captured Suwalki, and I am now seated in the Government Palace. This morning I marched into the city with my division, and was greeted at the city limits by a priest and the Mayor, who offered me bread and salt. (The Russian officials had fled.) It was a glorious moment for me. I have appointed a General Staff officer as Governor of the Government of Suwalki.
To-morrow we continue to march against the enemy. The army of Rennenkampf is completely destroyed. Thirty thousand men captured. Rennenkampf and the Commander in Chief, Nicholas Nicholaiewitch, fled from Insterburg in civilian garb.
The plan of the Russians was to get us into a pot, but it was frustrated. The Twelfth Russian Army Corps, which was advancing from the southto flank our army, was beaten by me on Sept. 7, at Bialla, and on Sept. 9 at Lyck and was forced back over the border.
You know that I always yearned for martial achievements. I had never expected them to be as great and glorious as these, however. I owe them in the first place to the vigorous offensive and bravery of my troops. I was probably foolhardy on Sept. 9, when I attacked a force thrice my superior in numbers, and in a fortified position; but even if I had been beaten I should have carried out the task assigned to me, for this Russian corps could no longer take part in the decisive battle. And so, in the evening, I sent in my last battalion and attacked by storm the village of Bobern, lying on the left wing. This, my last effort, must so have impressed the Russians that they began the retirement that very night. On the morning of the 10th of September the last trenches were taken.
My opponents were picked troops of the Russian Army—Finnish sharpshooters.
Health conditions with me are tolerable.
(In a later note, Gen. von Morgen added that Gen. von Hindenburg, his Commander in Chief, sent word that he would never forget the valorous deeds that had made possible these victories, and that even before the battle of Lyck the Iron Cross of the Second Class had been accorded to Gen. von Morgen. When he entered Lyck, Gen. von Morgen said, the inhabitants kissed his hands.)
A letter containing a personal touch was sent from the front in the early part of the war by Rudolf Herzog, one of Germany's greatest living poets and novelists. The letter, as originally published,was in rhymed verse. The poet, who visited this country about a year ago and was fêted by Germans in all the chief cities he visited, is the author of numerous novels and romances, dating from 1893 to the present. Herzog lives in a fine old castle overlooking the Rhine, mentioned in his letter, which is as follows:
It had been a wild week. The storm-wind swept with its broom of rain. It lashed us and splashed us, thrashed noses and ears, whistled through our clothing, penetrated the pores of our skin. And in the deluge—sights that made us shudder—gaunt skeleton churches, cracked walls, smoking ruins piled hillock high; cities and villages—judged, annihilated.
Of twenty bridges, there remained but beams rolled up by the waters—and yawning gaps.
Not a thought remained for the distant homeland and dear ones far away; the only thought, by day and by night: On to the enemy, come what may! No mind intent on any other goal. No time to lose! No time to lose! Haste! Haste!
And forward and backward and criss-cross through the gray Ardennes the Chief Lieutenant and I, racing day after day.
Captain of the Guard! You? From the Staff Headquarters?
He shouts my name as he approaches:
"Congratulations! Congratulations!"
And he waves a paper above a hundred heads.
"Telegram from home! Make way, there, you rascals! At the home of our poet—I've just learned it—a little war girl has arrived!"
I hold the paper in my outstretched hand. Has the sun broken suddenly into the enemy's land? Light and life on all the ruins? * * *
Springtime scatters the shuddering Autumn dreariness.
My little girl! I have a little girl in my home! * * *
You bring back my smile to me in a heavy time. * * *
I gaze up at the sky and am silent. And far and near the busy, noisy swarm of workers is silent. Every one looks up, seeking some point in the far sky. Officers and men, for a single heart-throb, listen as to a distant song from the lips of children and from a mother's lips, stand there and smile around me in blissful pensiveness, as if there were no longer an enemy. Every one seems to feel the sun, the sun of olden happiness.
And yet it had merely chanced that on the German Rhine, in an old castle lost amid trees, a dear little German girl was born.
The following is written from the front by Corp. T. Trainor:
We have had German cavalry thrown at us six times in the last four hours, and each time it has been a different body, so that they must have plenty to spare. There is no eight hours for work, eight hours for sleep, and eight hours for play with us, whatever the Germans may do.
The strain is beginning to tell on them more than on us, and you can see by the weary faces and trembling hands that they are beginning to break down.
One prisoner taken by the French near Courtrai sobbed for an hour as though his heart were broken, his nerves were so much shaken by what he had been through. The French are fightinghard all round us with a grit and go that will carry them through.
Have you ever seen a little man fighting a great, big, hulking giant who keeps on forcing the little chap about the place until the giant tires himself out, and then the little one, who has kept his wind, knocks him over? That's how the fighting here strikes me.
We are dancing about round the big German Army, but our turn will come. Our commanders know their business, and we shall come out on top all right.
Sergt. Major McDermott does not write under ideal literary conditions, but his style is none the worse for the inspiration furnished by the shrieking shell.
I am writing to you with the enemy's shells bursting and screaming overhead; but God knows when it will be posted, if at all.
We are waiting for something to turn up to be shot at, but up to now, though their artillery has been making a fiendish row all along our front, we haven't seen as much as a mosquito's eyelash to shoot at. That's why I am able to write, and some of us are able to take a bit of rest while the others keep "dick."
There is a fine German airship hanging around like a great blue bottle up in the sky, and now and then our gunners are trying to bring it down, but they haven't done it yet.
It's the quantity, not the quality of the German shells that is having effect on us, and it's not so much the actual damage to life as the nerve-racking row that counts for so much.
Townsmen who are used to the noise and roar of streets can stand it better than the countrymen, and I think you will find that by far the fittest menare those of regiments mainly recruited in the big cities.
A London lad near me says it's no worse than the roar of motor 'buses and other traffic in the city on a busy day.
The Gaelic spirit has not deserted Sergt. T. Cahill under fire. He writes:
The Red Cross girleens with their purty faces and their sweet ways are as good men as most of us, and better than some of us. They are not supposed to venture into the firing line at all, but they get there all the same, and devil a one of us durst turn them away.
Mike Clancy is that droll with his larking and bamboozling the Germans that he makes us nearly split our sides laughing at him and his ways.
Yesterday he got a stick and put a cap on it so that it peeped up above the trench just like a man, and then the Germans kept shooting away at it until they must have used up tons of ammunition.
But Mike Clancy was not the only practical joker in the trenches, as the following from a wounded soldier shows:
Our men have just had their papers from home, and have noted, among other things, that "Business as Usual" is the motto of patriotic shopkeepers.
In last week's hard fighting the Wiltshires, holding an exposed position, ran out of ammunition, and had to suspend firing until a party brought fresh supplies across the open under a heavy fire.
Then the wag of the regiment, a Cockney, produced a biscuit tin with "Business as Usual"crudely printed on it, and set it up before the trenches as a hint to the Germans that the fight could now be resumed on more equal terms.
Finally the tin had to be taken in because it was proving such a good target for the German riflemen, but the joker was struck twice in rescuing it.
A wounded private of the Buffs relates how an infantryman got temporarily separated from his regiment at Mons, and lay concealed in a trench while the Germans prowled around.
Just when he thought they had left him for good ten troopers left their horses at a distance and came forward on foot to the trench.
The hidden infantryman waited until they were half way up the slope, and then sprang out of his hiding place with a cry of "Now, lads, give them hell!" Without waiting to see the "lads" the Germans took to their heels.
Why Highland kilts are not the ideal uniform for modern warfare is concisely summed up by Private Barry:
Most of the Highlanders are hit in the legs. * * * It is because of tartan trews and hose, which are more visible at a distance than any other part of their dress. Bare calves also show up in sunlight.
Private McGlade, writing to his aged mother in County Monaghan, bears witness to the oft-made assertion that the German soldiers object to a bayonet charge:
I am out of it with a whole skin, though we were all beat up, as you might expect after four days of the hardest soldiering you ever dreamed of. We had our share of the fighting, and I am gladto say we accounted for our share of the German trash, who are a poor lot when it comes to a good, square ruction in the open.
We tried hard to get at them many times, but they never would wait for us when they saw the bright bits of steel at the business end of our rifles.
Some of our finest lads are now sleeping their last sleep in Belgium, but, mother dear, you can take your son's word for it that for every son of Ireland who will never come back there are at least three Germans who will never be heard of again.
Before leaving Belgium we arranged with a priest to have masses said for the souls of our dead chums, and we scraped together what odd money we had, but his Reverence wouldn't hear of it, taking our money for prayers for the relief of the brave lads who had died so far from the old land to rid Belgian soil of the unmannerly German scrubs.
Some of the Germans don't understand why Irishmen should fight so hard for England, but that just shows how little they know about us.
Seven British soldiers who after the fighting round Mons last week became detached from their regiments and got safely through the German lines arrived in Folkestone to-day from Boulogne. They belonged to the Irish Rifles, Royal Scots, Somerset Light Infantry, Middlesex and Enniskillen Fusiliers, and presented a bedraggled appearance, wearing old garments given them by the French to aid their disguise.
One of the seven, a Londoner, described the fight his regiment had with the Germans at a village near Maubeuge.
The British forces were greatly outnumberedby the Germans, but held their ground for twenty-four hours, inflicting very heavy loss on the enemy, although suffering severely itself.
He declared that the Germans held women up in front of them when attacking. "It was worse than savage warfare."
Paddy, an Irishman, stated that the soldiers got little or no food during the fighting. "When we got our bacon cooking the Germans attacked us."
A Scotsman of the party said he saw a hospital flying the Red Cross near Mons destroyed by shrapnel. "When we were ordered to retire," he continued, "we did so very reluctantly. But we did not swear. Things are so serious there, it makes you feel religious."
Equally interesting are some of the letters from men with the fleet. Tom Thorne, writing to his mother in Sussex, says:
Before we started fighting we were all very nervous, but after we joined in we were all happy and most of us laughing till it was finished. Then we all sobbed and cried.
Even if I never come back, don't think I've died a painful death. Everything yesterday was as quick as lightning.
We were in action on Friday morning off Heligoland. I had a piece of shell as big as the palm of my hand go through my trousers, and as my trouser legs were blowing in the breeze I think I was very lucky.
A gunroom officer in a battle cruiser writes:
The particular ship we were engaged with was in a pitiful plight when we had finished with her—herfunnels shot away, masts tottering, great gaps of daylight in her sides, smoke and flame belching from her everywhere. She speedily heeled over and sank like a stone, stern first. So far as is known, none of her crew was saved. She was game to the last, let it be said, her flag flying till she sank, her guns barking till they could bark no more.
Although we ourselves suffered no loss, we had some very narrow escapes. Three torpedoes were observed to pass us, one within a few feet. Four-inch shells, too, fell short or were ahead of us. The sea was alive with the enemy's submarines, which, however, did us no damage. They should not be underrated, these Germans. That cruiser did not think, apparently, of surrender.
What naval warfare seems like to the "black squad" imprisoned in the engineroom is described by an engineer of theLaurel, who went through the "scrap" off Heligoland. Writing to his wife he says:
It was a terribly anxious time for us, I can tell you, as we stayed down there keeping the engines going at their top speed in order to cut off the Germans from their fleet. We could hear the awful din around and the scampering of the tars on deck as they rushed about from point to point, and we knew what was to the fore when we caught odd glimpses of the stretcher bearers with their ghastly burdens.
We heard the shells crashing against the sides of the ship or shrieking overhead as they passed harmlessly into the water, and we knew that at any moment one might strike us in a vital part and send us below for good.
It is ten times harder on the men whose duty is in the engineroom than for those on deck takingpart in the fighting, for they, at least, have the excitement of the fight, and if the ship is struck they have more than a sporting chance of escape. We have none.
The most dramatic letters come from the French. On one of the fields of battle, when the Red Cross soldiers were collecting the wounded after a heavy engagement, there was found a half sheet of notepaper, on which was written a message for a woman, of which this is the translation:
Sweetheart: Fate in this present war has treated us more cruelly than many others. If I have not lived to create for you the happiness of which both our hearts dreamed, remember that my sole wish is now that you should be happy. Forget me. Create for yourself some happy home that may restore to you some of the greater pleasures of life. For myself, I shall have died happy in the thought of your love. My last thought has been for you and for those I leave at home. Accept this, the last kiss, from him who loved you.
Writing from a fortress on the frontier, a French officer says the Colonel in command was asked to send a hundred men to stiffen some reservist artillery in the middle of France, far away from the war area. He called for volunteers. "Some of you who have got wives and children, or old mothers, fall out," he said. Not a man stirred. "Come, come," the Colonel went on. "No one will dream of saying you funked. Nothing of that kind. Fall out!" Again the ranks were unbroken. The Colonel blew his nose violently. He tried to speak severely, but his voice failed him. He fried to frown, but somehow itturned into a smile. "Very well," he said, "you must draw lots." And that was what they did.
Twenty-two grandsons and great-grandsons of Queen Victoria are under arms in the war, and all but five of them are fighting with the Germans.
The Cunard linersSaxoniaandIverniawere converted into prison ships by the British. The German prisoners were delighted with the transfer to the roomy cabins, where they could keep warm and dry in contrast to the unfavorable conditions under which they lived in the camps at the Newbury Race Course.
Reindeer meat and lamb, imported from Iceland, found their way into the markets of Berlin since the war began. The reindeer meat is a novelty and the supply is plentiful. The supply of game in the markets of Berlin ran short long before, since hunting had almost ceased. Poultry in the markets was still in great quantities, although eggs were not so plentiful, as the supply usually comes from Galicia, which was then overrun by the Russians.
A sale of small Belgian flags in Paris and throughout France brought about $40,000 for the benefit of the Belgian refugees. The sale was prolonged in the outlying provinces. There was every manifestation of enthusiasm.
Once gay Ostend is desolated. The city lives in an atmosphere of fear. The spectre of famine iscontinually before the inhabitants, who subsist on wounded, emaciated horses purchased at $4 a head from the Germans. They are the only meat the people can buy. There are no vegetables, and scarcely any coffee and no tea. Many convicts from prisons in Germany, distinguished by their shorn heads, are employed in grave digging work about the city.
The hygiene committee of the French Chamber of Deputies has won over the veto of General Joffre that a number of committeemen be allowed to inspect the hospitals at the front with a view to certain reforms. General Joffre opposed the proposal. The Minister of War, however, agreed that twelve of the committee should go on the inspection trip.
That the battle of Crouy was one of the bloodiest engagements of the war is demonstrated by the stories told by wounded soldiers reaching Paris to-day. An officer gives this thrilling account of the affray:
"After our successful advantage the Germans counter attacked with fearful violence. How strongly they were reinforced is shown by the fact that they were 40,000 against less than 10,000 French. They first drove us from Vregny to Crouy, then, because further reinforcements were still reaching them, we were compelled to quit Crouy, Bucy, Moncel, Sainte Marguerite and Missy.
"These attacks certainly hit us hard, but our losses are not comparable with those of the Germans, for we killed an inconceivable number of them. A battery covering our retreat alone annihilated two battalions of Germans who advanced,as usual, in a mass. We could not resist, so we left a small rearguard force with the mission to hold on to the last man so that the bulk of our 10,000 men could recross the Aisne.
"This force took cover behind an old wall and belched fire on the advancing Germans until its ammunition was exhausted. The Germans managed to reach the other side of the wall, and even grasped the barrels of our rifles thrust through gaps. 'Surrender!' they cried. 'We won't harm you.' But we continued mowing them down with six mitrailleuses. The carnage was frightful, and that moment a shell splinter struck me.
"A shell fire directed on our positions in the Valley de Chivres was fearful. Those of our troops who escaped said it was a continuous rain of Jack Johnsons, which are impossible to dodge.
"Next day the Germans tried to pursue us across the Aisne, but our artillery repulsed two determined attacks, decimating several regiments, which were forced to retreat to Moncel."
It is a curious thing that shell explosions always make hens lay. Just whether it's shock or not no one is able to say as yet, but as soon as the soldiers see a stray chicken after a fusillade they make a dash for it in hopes of finding an egg. Some of the soldiers are suggesting running a poultry farm on the explosion system.
Petrograd reports that the German officers in command of the Turks induced the temperate Osmanlis to drink cognac before going into battle. Russian soldiers assert that many Turks fell from dizziness before reaching the Russian bayonets. So unused are many of the Turks to alcohol thatsmall quantities of the cognac completely befuddled them.
Kaiser Wilhelm has presented the Turkish Government with a series of motion picture films of the Germans in battle along the Western front. These pictures will be reproduced in Constantinople in public and are hoped to be a stimulant to enthusiasm in the Turkish capital.
Switzerland's neutrality has thus far cost her $22,000,000. This includes the expenses of mobilization along the frontiers and other purely military expenditures. It is an enormous sacrifice for the Swiss people, but the spirit in which it is being borne is the most striking proof of the determination of the country to remain neutral.
Efforts are being made by the Washington Humane Society to have laws enacted prohibiting the exportation of horses and mules to the war. The life of a horse or mule at the front in Europe varies between three days and three weeks. The life of the beast depends upon the service to which it is put.
Eight Belgian heroes prevented the Germans from piercing a weak spot in the Allies' line near Dixmude. A patrol of eight Belgians with a machine gun saw a column of Germans advancing. The patrol took shelter in a deserted farm house. Not until the German column was one hundred yards away did the Belgians open fire. Then the machine gun shot a spray of death into the column, whose front rank just seemed to melt to theground. The Germans pressed on bravely, their officers urging them with hoarse cries. But discipline had to bow to death, and the first rush was stayed. Behind their rough shelter the Belgians fired steadily, though outnumbered twenty to one. For two hours the unequal fight continued, and still the Belgians continued to pick off individual Germans or melted down any threatening rush with a shower of flame and death from the machine guns. When relief finally came three of the Belgians were dead and the other five desperately wounded.
An order has been issued expelling all German and Austrian subjects between the ages of sixteen and sixty from Petrograd and its environs, and from those Russian provinces bordering on the Gulf of Finland and the Baltic, including the Gulf of Riga. Drastic measures will be taken with those who evade this order. All Germans and Austrians found in the forbidden districts will be dealt with as spies.
The British War Office is now urging the women of the Empire to send their husbands to war. London newspapers printed the following advertisement: "To the Women: Do you realize that one word, 'Go,' from you may send another man to fight for our King and our country? When the war is over and your husband or your son is asked, 'What did you do in the great war?' is he going to hang his head because you would not let him go? Women of England, do your duty! Send your men to-day to join our glorious army. God Save the King!"
A brave young wife travelled from Paris to theBelgian firing line to see her husband, but was told that such was impossible because he was in the trenches. Noticing that she wept, a Belgian officer nearby told the woman to dry her tears. He then telephoned to the trenches. In an hour the French artilleryman appeared and rushed into his wife's arms. "You must thank that Belgian officer—he has a heart of gold," said the wife to her husband, pointing to the officer who had befriended her. "Hush," whispered the soldier, "he is the King of the Belgians."
One of Italy's best known military critics, while manifesting high esteem for the strategy of General von Hindenburg, severely criticized a certain feature of the Marshal's tactics. Some days later he received a parcel from Germany containing a fine fac-simile of the famous General's baton, accompanied by a note asking the critic to accept the baton and come and have a try at the job of beating the Russians if he thought himself more capable of doing it than Von Hindenburg.
A British soldier made somewhat of a name for himself by refusing to allow General Joffre to enter the house used as headquarters owing to the fact that the famous French General had no permit from the English General, whose orders were to allow nobody whatever to enter without it. General Joffre was not upset, and went off with his aide, who obtained the necessary permit.
The official aviation reports show that 135 deaths occurred in the French aero service betweenthe beginning of the war and January 1. This number includes observers, passengers, pupils and pilots.
Every precaution has been taken to guard against possible attack by German aeroplanes on the Palais Bourbon during the session of Parliament in Paris. Three French aeroplanes flew constantly in the vicinity of the building during the session.
A brilliant charge by French Alpine troops on skis down the snow-covered slopes of Bonhomme, on the Alsatian frontier, is the latest thing in warfare. Under a heavy fire from the Germans the Alpine troops climbed to the summit. Then they charged down the side of the mountain with the speed of the wind, firing their rifles as they sped along. These Alpine men are so skilful on skis that they can fight as they slide along at breakneck speed. Many of them were dropped by German gunfire during the charge, but as the outrunners drew near the Germans broke and fled.
That the Kaiser has Breton blood in his veins is the latest assertion of Paris newspapers. To prove their assertion the Kaiser's ancestry is traced back to 1547 to the head of a princely Breton family.
Five dollars for officers and $2.50 for non-commissioned officers are the bounties placed on the heads of French leaders, according to German prisoners. The soldiers receive these amounts for every officer killed. Many bounties have been paid.
General Grossetti, whose name matches his physical proportions, has won fame by his habit of sitting in an armchair when duty calls him to the firing line. His contempt for death has become proverbial and won for him the admiration of a Japanese journalist, who compared him to the Samurai. Once he rallied a wavering regiment by taking a seat, amid a hail of shells, before the trenches the regiment was defending.
There are two plausible explanations of the mystery that still surrounds the deposal of General von Moltke, former Chief of Staff in the Kaiser's war council. One story is that when von Kluck was making his fierce drive to the very gates of Paris, von Moltke was for having him continue on to the coast. The Kaiser flatly decided against von Moltke's strategy—which was thoroughly justified by subsequent events. It places von Moltke, however, in the untenable position of one whose mere presence is the silent reproach of "I told you so." The other explanation is that von Moltke was too lavish in squandering the lives of his men for petty gains, paying fancy prices in blood for a few yards. The Over War Lord finally called a halt.
The castle of the Duke de Tallyrand, husband of Miss Anna Gould, of New York, in East Prussia, has been occupied by Russians. The Duke is acting as a military chauffeur in the French army.
The new German super-submarine has just completed successful trial runs in the Bay of Heligoland.This giant submarine is of the type that carries three months' supplies, which does not necessitate her putting into port or having recourse to the parent ship. There have been rumors that the Germans intended landing men on the coast of Britain by means of this sort of submarine.
The fear of an attack by the Germans has about worn out in Paris. The gates are no longer closed and the Parisians can hereafter take their strolls along the avenues of the Bois.
Following a mutiny in the Turkish army seventeen officers who distinguished themselves in the Balkan war have been shot.
Through inoculation the ravages of typhoid fever among the British troops have been checked. Not a single death has occurred among those thus inoculated.
That thousands of Russian women are rejoicing over the fact that the sale of vodka has been prohibited by the Russian Government was the news brought by Mrs. Anna Omohundro, who arrived on the Scandinavian-American linerOscar II. Mrs. Omohundro, who is an American woman and a widow, has been living for the last three years in Petrograd and Moscow, where her brother is the agent for the International Harvester Company.
"For the first time," said she, "many Russian wives find their homes livable. It appears that the prohibition on vodka has worked wonderfulchanges in a short time. I have heard of hundreds of cases where men became home loving and industrious because they were unable to get the fiery liquor which turned their brains.
"There was one case in my own home in Moscow. A woman servant came to me and fell on her knees and said she wished to leave our service. I asked her why she wished to go and she said: 'For the first time I am happy in my home and wish to go there. My husband is no longer made crazy by vodka. He is kind to me and I wish to keep the home for him.'
"Of course the cases of reformation that I know of personally are among the men who from one cause or another have not joined the Russian armies. I believe, however, that the benefit extends throughout the nation."
Mrs. Omohundro made a journey of several hundred miles to get out of Russia from Petrograd to Stockholm, part of which was a trip in sleighs of twenty-seven miles from Tornio, in Finland, to Korning, Sweden. This trip took about four hours and the ride was through the rather weird twilight of midday in the northern latitudes.
An amusing story was told of the stop at Tornio, on the border, where the members of the party were searched. Even the women did not escape inspection by the Russian soldiers and all postcards and suspicious looking papers were confiscated. In the party was an English Jew who was returning to London after selling out his business in Moscow. It was noticed by some of the travellers that the returning merchant, whosename was Cohen, frequently bought many boxes of matches.
When the search took place at Tornio the many boxes of matches in Cohen's baggage did not seem to excite any suspicion among the Russian troopers. After the party had passed over the border Cohen opened up box after box and from the bottom of each took a compact roll of money. He had concealed about $12,000 in this way.
"You see," he explained, "I could not afford to take any chances."
A French officer who came under heavy fire while carrying several cases of champagne across an exposed place in his lines to a hospital nearby wrote thus to a friend: "For the first time during the war I was afraid—terribly so. No one could have been more terrified. I wasn't afraid of being killed, but if I had been hit while carrying the champagne from a vacant house everyone would have said, 'Served the looter right.' Who would have believed that I was taking it to a hospital?"
A German living in St. Louis has twenty-three nephews in the Kaiser's army, three of whom have been decorated with the Iron Cross for bravery. Two have been wounded in action. A French Senator has given his three sons for France. One was killed in Alsace, another storming breastworks on the Aisne, and another in Africa.
A correspondent of the LondonDaily Chroniclein Flanders telegraphs the following:
"The Germans had been attacked and drivenback during a certain engagement to their trenches 400 yards from ours. Between the lines a German officer fell, wounded by a bayonet. He was nearer the British trenches than the German, but whenever our men began to go out to carry in the wounded man the German snipers got busy. They would neither succor their tortured comrade nor let the British do it.
"For nine days the wounded officer lingered. Finally a British non-commissioned officer and one or two privates crawled to the fallen man at night and brought him in. For nine days he had lain there, pierced by a bayonet from breast to back, without food or drink. He was unconscious when rescued and died soon afterward. During his purgatory the gallant man, unable even to crawl, had kept a diary, a record of physical and mental anguish borne like a noble gentleman. On him was found a photograph of his wife and two little children.
"A British officer translated the diary to our men and with a catch in his voice held up the German officer as a hero to whom they should bow their heads in reverence. The diary was sent to headquarters, and perhaps has by now found its way with the picture to the widow of this man."
The German artillery is extremely efficient and accurate and German soldiers thoroughly trained, is the statement of an English brigadier-general published in the LondonTimes, in which he says:
"We are having a hard time in the trenches, for we are cannonaded day and night. The infantry fire was devastating, since our opponents are sharpshooters who aim successfully at everymoving head. The German artillery is better than I had thought possible. We are never safe from it and never know where we should conceal ourselves, our horses and other equipments. I have been attacked twice, and both times it cost me a large number of good men and officers. I am shocked about the newspaper reports which speak of the 'inferiority' of the German soldiers. Do not believe it! The German soldier is splendid in every way. His courage, his thoroughness, his organization, as well as the equipment and bearing of the troops, challenge comparison. The German soldiers always take the offensive. I have the greatest admiration for them, and so has every one who knows them."
Chancellor Lloyd George has contributed a message to the LondonMethodist Times, in which he says:
"I recently visited one of the battlefields of France. I saw in a village being shelled by German guns a prisoner of war just being brought into the French line. He was in a motor car under guard. He was wounded and looked ill and in pain.
"The French General with whom I had gone to the front went up to the wounded Prussian and told him he need not worry; he would be taken straight to the hospital and looked after as if he were one of our own men. The Prussian replied, 'We treated your wounded in exactly the same way.'
"It was a curious rivalry under these conditions; for you could hear the 'wizzle' of the German shells and the shuddering crack with whichthey exploded, dealing out death and destruction in the French trenches close by. We were in sight of a powerful French battery which was preparing to send its deadly messengers into the Prussian ranks.
"A little further on I marvelled that this exhibition of good will among men who were sworn foes should be possible amid such surroundings, until my eyes happened to wander down a lane where I saw a long row of wagons, each marked with a great red cross. Then I knew who had taught these brave men the lesson of humanity that will gradually, surely overthrow the reign of hate. Christ did not die in vain."
An excellent idea of the vicious attack by the Australian cruiserSydneythat ended the career of the German cruiserEmdenis gained in a letter from an officer of the Indian army in Ceylon, where theEmden'swounded were taken. He writes:
"TheSydneywas warned by a wireless message from the Cocos Islands station to put on full speed; she made twenty-nine knots. When she sighted theEmdenthe latter was anchored, but came out to give battle.
"TheEmdengot in the first three shots. Only one landed, as after that theSydneytook care to keep out of range. The larger guns fired 600 rounds, and after one and a half hours of action, during which the ships covered fifty-six miles in manœuvring, theSydneyforced theEmdento beach herself, her steering gear having broken.
"TheSydneythen put up a signal to surrender, but as all on deck except three had been killed thiswas not done. TheSydneyaccordingly gave her two more broadsides as she lay on the beach.
"When the Germans succeeded in showing the white flag theSydneywent off to sink the collier. After this she returned to theEmdenand sent parties to help the survivors. It is said theEmdenwas a perfect shambles. She had nearly 200 killed.
"The Germans had torn up their flag and threw it into the sea."
Entrained Austrian and German troops who came from the Yser, presumably on the way east, were a sight very comforting for the people of Brussels, on account of the depressed bearing of the men. Their uniforms were soiled and tattered, and they looked worried. The spectators remembered the former haughty and ardent look of the same men.
The troops wore flowers in their helmets, and had written on the car sides "To St. Petersburg," but they could not raise a single "Hoch!" among them.
The wounded continue to pour into Ghent. The town council is so pressed for money it has imposed taxes on beer, fuel, petroleum, and yeast.
When the Cossacks raided Ropezica, according to the CracowNova Reforma, they robbed the house in which a Polish girl was housekeeper. The girl hurried to the commander of the Cossacks, who lived at a hotel.
"I told him my trouble," she said, "whereupon he asked me: 'Are you a Pole or a Jew?' I repliedthat I was a Pole. 'Well, then, I shall go and see these fellows myself.'
"He took a nagaika (whip) and accompanied me to the house of my employer.
"Then he called to the Cossacks, who had in the meantime broken open a trunk and were just in the act of taking various things away, to come upstairs and showed every one what position he was to take, after which he whipped their faces and chests until they began to bleed. I screamed with horror. He repeated the procedure. Then he asked me:
"'Do you want these fellows shot?' to which I naturally answered 'No.'
"Thereupon he took the Cossacks to a room, where he whipped them once more.
"In the evening he sent for me, and asked me what articles had been ruined and what stolen, whereupon he commanded the Cossacks to return all articles they had stolen. In order to prevent another theft, he gave me a Cossack, who watched the house until the next morning. What would have been the fate of the house had I been a Jewess I dare not imagine."
Here is a little incident of the daily life of General Pau, a hero of the Franco-Prussian war, in which he lost an arm:
A dozen French infantrymen, mud-begrimed, were resting in a drizzling rain on the wayside under the dripping trees. The Corporal sits and tries in vain to light his pipe, at intervals singing lustily.
Suddenly the Corporal stands erect; his pipe is hidden behind his back, and he makes a hastysalute. Through the fog and rain one of the three great leaders of the French army has appeared.
"Why do you not wear your cap?" asks General Pau.
"I have lost my cap, General."
"Where did you lose it?"
"When we were attacked in the woods this morning. A branch knocked it off, and I was too much in a hurry to go back and get it. It is gone."
"Take my cap."
The Corporal fears the end of things; he will be punished for losing his cap.
"Take it, I tell you, and wear it," says the General.
And the humble Corporal does as he is told and becomes resplendent, like the sun in the cap, emblazoned with the glorious, golden oak leaves. The General draws rein and canters away.
Since that day the Corporal marches along the country roads to the frontier, proudly wearing the cap of General Pau.
"The General himself told me to wear it," he says to those who protest. "I obey the General's orders, and the cap stays on my head."
The General knows his soldiers, and the world may understand why this tired, bedraggled and weary army goes on marching and fighting and dying for its commanders.
The Saxon Minister of the Interior has been obliged to direct the following warning to farmers of the south German kingdom, according to a Dresden dispatch in theFrankfurter Zeitung:
"The farmer has especial cause to thank the German army that he can still gather in his harvestand cultivate his fields, that his fields have not been laid waste, and that the walls of his farmhouse still remain standing and intact. For this reason, however, he ought all the more to show his gratitude by his acts and not grumble when sacrifices are demanded of him, as of all others.
"Thus, for instance, we hear of individual cases, such as at the time of the mustering of horses, when certain farmers demanded angrily why they were called upon to sacrifice anything, and gave expression to their anger because, in the interests of the common weal, they were asked to refrain from demanding exorbitant prices for their products. In this manner the patriotic sentiments of many farmers seem rather confusing.
"It is indeed not enough merely to belong to a military society and wear a festive black coat on the occasion of celebrating the birthday of the Kaiser and King, or to drink at comfortable ease in a cosy tavern an occasional glass of beer, pledging the health of our troops. The main thing is to give freely and gladly also of one's property and fortune."
"If the Emperor does not happen to be elsewhere, he is present at nearly every council without, however, showing the slightest desire of asserting his personal views," says Cabasino-Renda, an Italian newspaper correspondent in a letter in theGiornale d'Italia. "He takes part in the council as any other General does, without laying claim to any decisive voice even in questions in which he is specially competent.
"It is well known, for instance, that WilliamII. is a distinguished tactician. At a recent meeting of the Great General Staff a purely tactical problem was discussed and was solved in opposition to the Kaiser's views. His Majesty simply remarked: 'I think differently, but, after all, tactics are a matter of opinion.'
"Very frequently he goes to see the first line troops, and in such days and nights he has to suffer a great deal of privation, for he takes nothing with him and moves about like a simple General. His retinue comprises only eleven aides-de-camp and functionaries, and his physician in ordinary, Dr. von Ilberg. Small, too, is the number of his riding and carriage horses, and of his autos, which are painted gray.
"The Kaiser and his villa are under the strictest police protection, yet William II. likes to go out unattended, as if he were in Potsdam. Repeatedly I saw him having fun with the children, and he looked as jovial as ever."
The Kaiser has published the following injunctions for economy in the use of food, especially bread: "Respect your daily bread; then you will always have it, however long the war lasts. Eat war bread known as Letter K, which is satisfying and as nourishing as other kinds. Cook potatoes in their skins. Give animals no bread or corn, but save them the scraps."
According to a person who has the confidence of the Belgian officials, a number of the art masterpieces of Antwerp were placed in waterproof containers and sunk in the Scheldt by the Belgians before the capture of the city by the Germans.
North of Rheims the Germans have built an underground town. Ten thousand men live there and have constructed long corridors, huge halls, bedrooms, fully equipped offices, with typewriters and telephones, and a concert hall where Wagnerian music is played daily for the officers.
At some points during the German retreat toward Strykow, the German dead were piled not less than a yard high. Polish peasants spent days burying the bodies. Most of the dead were frozen. Thousands of wounded Germans froze to death before help could reach them.
The State of Georgia has been stripped of mules for the British army in France. Every negro who has a long-eared mule, not too antiquated, has offered the beast for sale to the agents of the British Government. Some Southerners foresee danger in the heavy draft of mules from the South.
A French infantryman writing to a friend in this country says: "At night we crawl forward and dig ourselves in. During the day we hide behind the mounds of earth we have thrown up and we fight foot for foot any attempts they make to advance. They do not like our cold steel, and many times we must give it to them. I cannot write any longer; I must relieve a sentinel."
The Belgians adore their brave King, and he adores them. The democratic friendship between King and the common soldiers is amazing. It isquite customary for him to hand his cigarettes to them and take a light from them in return. He spends a portion of each day in the trenches with them.
A cigar presented by the German Emperor and by him to a gentleman living at Hambledon, England, was sold by auction in aid of the local Red Cross Hospital. The cigar brought $72.50, and is now the property of a firm of local butchers.
Wounded Russian officers in the Tiflis hospitals describe the extraordinary endurance of the Turks, who march barefooted through the snow and shoot standing and kneeling, but rarely from trenches. They only dread bayonet charges. The Turks are said to have lost very heavily.
Great Britain is provisioning Gibraltar on a large scale. The shipments from this port of late include 141,265 bushels of wheat, 2,240 bags of refined sugar, and 1,400 bags of wheat flour. As yet, no explanation has appeared why England should make such plans.
A court-martial in France sentenced Louise Zach, a German woman, to serve six months in prison and pay a heavy fine, on the charge of using an American passport, which was obtained by a fraudulent declaration. The woman was a governess in the employ of an American family. She got a passport at Geneva by representing herself as the wife of an American named Appel, and on the strength of this came to Paris.
Russia has awarded the St. George cross to three boys, aged seventeen, fourteen, and thirteen. The youngest is the son of an engineer in Warsaw, who has followed the army since the fighting at Lublin and carried cartridges under fire to the men in the trenches. He finally became a wonderful scout, and his reconnoitering resulted in the capture of ten heavy guns.
The ledger of the national debt of France listing the names of the bondholders as distinguished from bonds payable to bearer, was brought to Paris again to-day from Bordeaux. It required ten cars to transport the ledger. The Germans had planned to seize this vast book and use it to exact indemnity.
The International Sunday School Association plans to send a Bible to every soldier in the warring armies in Europe. An appeal will be sent to every Sunday school in the country, each scholar being asked to contribute five cents he has earned.
The Prince of Wales often goes incognito among the soldiers. He likes to get among the men, and the other day he was found talking to a wounded sergeant and half a dozen privates to whom the sergeant was explaining the methods of snipers. A messenger came up and said something to the Prince, who turned round and wished the men, "Good-by and good luck!" and then went off.
A minute later the soldiers who had been standing near by came up.
"Who was the grenadier chap?" asked the sergeant of one of the new arrivals.
"Why," replied the man, with a grin, "don't you know? It's only the Prince of Wales."
Three of the Foreign Legion with the French Army, all Americans, were doing sentry duty in front of the trenches when some cows came along. In the darkness one of the Americans crept forward to attack the cows, thinking they were Germans. Another section began firing and almost hit the Americans, who made their way back. They were greeted with laughs.