CHAPTER XXON THE ZOTA LIPA

H.I.H. The Grand Duke Michael Alexandrovitch, Commander of two divisions of Cossacks.

On the afternoon of the second day Prince Oblensky arranged for us to meet the Grand Duke Michael who is commanding a division of Caucasian cavalry, one of whose detachments we visited in the trenches a few nights ago. I should say he is not much over forty years of age, and he is as unaffected and democratic a person as one can well imagine. I talked with him for nearly an hour on the situation, not only on his immediate front but in the theatre of the war as a whole. Like everyone in Russian uniform whom I have met, he was neither depressed nor discouraged, but evinced the same stubborn optimism that one finds everywhere in the Russian army. As one saw him in his simple uniform with nothing to indicate his rank but shoulder straps of the same material as his uniform, and barring the Cross of St. George (won by his personal valour on the field of battle) without a decoration, it was strange to think that this man living so simply in a dirty village in this far fringe of the Russian Front, might have been the Czar of all the Russias, living in the Winter Palace in Petrograd, but for a few years in time of birth. The Western World likes to think of Russia as an autocracy,with its nobility living a life apart surrounded by form and convention, but now, at any rate, I think there is no country in the world where the aristocracy are more democratic than in Russia. It is true that the Czar himself is inaccessible, but he is about the only man in Russia who is; and even he, when one does meet him, is as simple, unaffected and natural as any ordinary gentleman in England or in America.

From the Grand Duke’s head-quarters I motored out to the Staff of a Cavalry Brigade, and had tea with the General who, after entertaining us with a dance performed by a group of his tamed “wild men,” went himself with us to his front line trench. His head-quarters were near the front, so near in fact that while we were waiting for the dancers to appear, a big shell fell in a field just across the way, with a report that sent the echoes rolling away over hill and valley. It is considered bad form to notice these interruptions however, and no one winked an eye or took any notice of the incident. The General’s trenches were not unlike those I had already before visited, except that one could get into them in the daytime without risk of being shot at if one came up through the woods, which ran rather densely to the very crest of the bluff.

Here was the most curious sight that I haveever seen in war. The rough-and-ready cavalrymen from the Caucasus with their great caps, each as big as a bushel basket, all covered with wool about six inches long, were lying about behind small earthworks on the fringe of the woods peering along their rifle barrels which were pointed across the river. On an almost similar elevation on the opposite side was the line of the Austrian trenches. For once the sun was over our shoulders, and in their eyes and not ours, so that I could safely walk to the edge of the wood and study their works through my field glasses. Everything was very quiet this particular afternoon, and I could see the blue-coated figures of the enemy moving about behind their own trenches, as indeed the Russians could with their naked eyes. The war has lasted so long now, and the novelty has so worn off, that it is safe to do many things that could not have been done in the early months. No one nowadays is anxious to start anything unnecessary, and sniping is a bore to all concerned, and it hardly draws a shot if one or two men are seen moving about. It is only when important groups appear that shots are fired.

Not two hundred yards back in the woods were the bivouacs of the reserves, and the hundreds and hundreds of the little ponies tethered to trees. There they stood dozing in the summersunshine, twitching their tails and nipping each other occasionally. I have never seen cavalry in the trenches before, much less cavalry with their horses so near that they could actually wait until the enemy were almost in their works and then mount and be a mile away before the trench itself was occupied. In this rough country where the positions lend themselves to this sort of semi-regular work, I dare say these peculiar types of horsemen are extremely effective, though I question if they would appear to the same advantage in other parts of the Russian operations. As a matter of fact one of the regiments now here was formerly attached to the Warsaw Front, but was subsequently removed from that army and sent down to Bukovina as a place more suited to its qualities.

We had a bit of bad luck on this position with our motor-car which we had left in a dip behind the line. Just as we were ready to start for home, there came a sharp rainstorm which so wetted the roads that the hill we had come down so smoothly on dry soil proved impossible to go up when wet. Asotniaof Cossacks pulled us out of our first mess with shouts and hurrahs, but when night fell we found ourselves in another just as bad a few hundreds yards further along. For an hour we went through the misery of spinning wheelsand racing engines without effect. We had stopped, by bad luck, in about the only place where the road was visible from the Austrian lines, but as it was dark they could not see us. When the chauffeur lighted his lamps, however, three shells came over from the enemy, extinguishing the lamps. About ten in the evening we started on foot, and walked to a point where we borrowed a car from the brigade staff, and went on home. Our own car was extricated at daylight by a band of obliging Cossacks who had been on duty all night in the trenches, and were going into the reserve for a day’s rest.

Leaving this army corps in the afternoon we motored further east, and paid our respects to a brigade of the regular cavalry, composed of the —th Lancers and the — Hussars, both crack cavalry regiments of the Russian army, and each commanded by officers from the Petrograd aristocracy. The brigade had been in reserve for three days, and as we saw it was just being paraded before its return to the trenches. The —th Lancers I had seen before in Lwow just after the siege of Przemysl, in which they took part, at that time fighting in the trenches alongside of the infantry. I have never seen mounts in finer condition, and I believe there is no army on any of the fronts where this is more typical than in the Russian. On this trip I have beenin at least fifteen or twenty cavalry units, and, with one exception, I have not seen anywhere horses in bad shape; the exception had been working overtime for months without chance to rest or replace their mounts. The Colonel of the Lancers I had known before in Lwow, and he joined me in my motor and rode with me the 20 versts to the position that his cavalry was going to relieve at that time. This gentleman was an ardent cavalryman and had served during the greater part of the Manchurian campaign. To my surprise I found that he had been in command of a squadron of Cossacks that came within an ace of capturing the little town of Fakumen where was Nogi’s staff; and he was as much surprised to learn that I was attached to Nogi’s staff there as correspondent for an American paper.

The Colonel was now in charge of the Lancer regiment and was, as I learned, a great believer in the lance as a weapon. “Other things being equal,” he told me, “I believe in giving the soldiers what they want. They do want the lance, and this is proved by the fact that in this entire campaign not one of my troopers has lost his lance. The moral effect is good on our troops, for it gives them confidence, and it is bad on the enemy, for it strikes terror into their hearts. Before this war it was supposed thatcavalry could never get near infantry. My regiment has twice attacked infantry and broken them up both times. In both cases they broke while we were still three or four hundred yards distant, and of course the moment they broke they were at our mercy.”

For an hour or more we motored over the dusty roads before we dipped over a crest and dropped down into a little village not far from the Dniester, where were the head-quarters of the regiment that the Lancers were coming in to relieve. As we turned the corner of the village street a shrapnel shell burst just to the south of us, and I have an idea that someone had spotted our dust as we came over the crest.

The cavalry here was a regiment drawn from the region of the Amur river, and as they were just saddling up preparatory to going back into reserve for a much-needed rest, I had a good chance to note the condition of both men and mounts, which were excellent. The latter were Siberian ponies, which make, I think, about the best possible horses for war that one can find. They are tough, strong, live on almost anything, and can stand almost any extremes of cold or heat without being a bit the worse for it. These troops have had, I suppose, as hard work as any cavalry in the Russian Army, yet the ponies were as fat as butterand looked as contented as kittens. The Russians everywhere I have seen them are devoted to their horses, and what I say about the condition of the animals applies not only to the cavalry but even to the transport, to look at which, one would never imagine that we were in the twelfth month of war. The Colonel of the Amur Cavalry gave us tea and begged us to stay on, but as it was getting late and the road we had to travel was a new one to us, and at points ran not far from the lines of the enemy, we deemed it wiser to be on our way. Some sort of fight started after dark, and to the south of us, from the crests of the hills that we crossed, we could see the flare of the Austrian rockets and the occasional jagged flash of a bursting shell; further off still the sky was dotted with the glow of burning villages. In fact for the better part of the week I spent in this vicinity I do not think that there was a single night that one could not count fires lighted by the shells from the artillery fire.

Midnight found us still on the road, but our Prince, who was ever resourceful, discovered the estate of an Austrian noble not far from the main road, and we managed to knock up the keeper and get him to let us in for the night. The Count who owned the place was in the Austrian Army, and the Countess was in Vienna.

The Russian soldier at meal-time. Ten men share the soup, which is served in a huge pan.

Leaving this place early the following morning we started back for Tarnopol and the Headquarters of the Army that stands second in the Russian line of battle counting from the left flank.

ON THE ZOTA LIPA

Tarnopol,July 6, 1915.

Wefound the General of the army now occupying the line that runs from approximately the head of the Zota Lipa to its confluence with the Dniester, living in a palace south-west of ——. These wonderful estates come as a great surprise to strangers travelling through the country. One passes a sordid Galician village filled with dogs and half-naked children, and perhaps on the outskirts one comes to a great gate and turning in finds oneself in a veritable Versailles, with beautiful avenues of trees, lakes, waterfalls and every other enhancement of the landscape that money and good taste can procure. I have never seen more beautiful grounds or a more attractively decorated and beautifully furnished house than this one where our particular General was living with his staff.

During my visit to this army, I saw and talked with the General commanding twice, and he permitted me to see his maps and gave his consent to my visiting any of his line which Idesired to see. He sent one of his staff with me, who spoke English, as a guide and interpreter. Again I regret I cannot give the General’s name, but suffice to say that from this head-quarters I gathered that, barring the failure of their centre army, a retreat would probably have been unnecessary, though it is folly to disguise the fact that this army was hard pressed, suffered not a little, and was constantly outnumbered in both men and munitions. It is probably not unfair to place its whole movement under the category of a rear-guard action.

During the retreat from Stryj to the Zota Lipa, where the army was when I visited it, captures of enemy prisoners were made to the number of 53,000, as I was informed by the highest authority. The bulk of these were Austrians. As I said at the time, I incline to think this must be considered one of the most remarkable retreats in history. If I was disposed to doubt this statement when I first heard it, my hesitation vanished, when, during three days, I personally saw between 4,000 and 5,000 Austrian prisoners that had been taken within a week, regardless of the fact that the army was still retiring before the enemy. I think that the mere mention of the matter of prisoners is enough to convince the reader that this army was not a demoralized one, and that thefurthest stretch of imagination could not consider it a badly defeated one. A glance at the map serves to show that the country, from the beginning of this retreat to the Zota Lipa, is an ideal one in which to fight defensively! and as a matter of fact the country for 100 versts further east is equally well adapted to the same purpose. A number of streams running almost due north and south flow into the Dniester river, and as each of these rivulets runs between more or less pretentious bluffs it is a very simple matter to hold them with very little fieldworks.

What the Russians have been doing here is this. They take up one of these natural lines of defence and throw up temporary works on the bluffs and wait for the Austrians. When the latter come up they find the Russians too strong to be turned out with anything short of the full enemy strength. Usually a week is taken up by the Austro-German forces in bringing up their full strength, getting their guns in position and preparing for an attack. The Russians in the meantime sit on their hills, taking all the losses that they can get, and repel the Austrian preliminary attacks as long as they can do so without risking too much. By the time that enemy operations have reached a really serious stage, and an attack in force is made, it is discovered that the main force of the Russianshas departed, and when the positions are finally carried, only a rearguard of cavalry is discovered holding the trenches; the bulk of these usually get away on their horses, leaving the exhausted Austrians sitting in a hardly-won line with the knowledge that the Russians are already miles away waiting for them to repeat the operation all over again. The prisoners have been captured for the most part in preliminary operations on these works, on occasions where the Russians have made counter attacks or where the Austrians have advanced too far and been cut off. The youth and inexperience of their officers, and the fact that the rank and file have no heart in the fight, have made it easy for them to go too far in the first place, and willing to surrender without a fight when they discover their mistake. All of this I was told at head-quarters, and had an opportunity to verify the next day by going to one of the forward positions on the Zota Lipa.

I have within the last few months, after poking about on the billiard table terrain of the Polish Front, acquired a great liking for hills, protected by woods if possible. I have therefore picked places on this trip where I could get to points of observation from which I could see the terrain without being, shot at, if this could be avoided with dignity. It was just such aplace as this towards which we headed the next day. My own impressions were, and still are, that this army might retire further yet from its present positions. There are certain reasons which I cannot divulge at present, but are no doubt understood in England, that makes it unwise for these armies to attempt to hold advance positions if they can fall quietly back without the sacrifice of any positions which will have a bad effect on the Russian campaign as a whole. This particular army with its neighbour to the south can do this for more than 100 versts without materially impairing its ownmoral, and, as far as I can see, without giving the enemy any other advantage than something to talk about.

On the way out to the positions I passed important bodies of troops “changing front,” for it is hardly possible to call what I witnessed, a retreat. They came swinging down the road laughing, talking and then singing at the top of their lungs. Had I not known the points of the compass, I should have concluded that they had scored a decisive victory and were marching on the capital of the enemy. But of such stuff are the moujik soldiers of the Czar.

We first visited the head-quarters of one of the Army corps, and then motored through Ztoczow, a very beautiful little Austrian town lyingjust at the gateway between ridges of hills that merge together as they go eastward, making the road climb to the plateau land which, indented by the valleys of the rivers running into the Dniester, stretches practically for 100 versts east of here. Turning south from the little town we climbed up on to this plateau land, and motored for 15 or 20 versts south to the head-quarters of a General commanding a division of Cossack cavalry from the Caucasus. With him we had tea, and as he spoke excellent English I was able to gather much of interest from his point of view. He was not sufficiently near head-quarters nor of rank high enough to be taken into the higher councils, and therefore did not know the reasons for the constant retirements. Again and again he assured me that the positions now held could as far as he was concerned be retained indefinitely. His was the thankless job of the rear guard, and it apparently went against his fighting instincts to occupy these splendid positions and then retire through some greater strategy, which he, far off in the woods from everything, did not understand.

One is constantly impressed with the isolation of the men holding important minor commands. For days and weeks they are without outside news, and many of them have even onlya vague idea as to what is going on in neighbouring corps, and almost none at all of the movements in adjoining armies. I was convinced from the way this General—and he was a fine old type—talked, that he did not consider his men had ever been beaten at all, and that he looked upon his movements merely as the result of orders given for higher strategic considerations. From him we went out to the line on the Zota Lipa. The Russians at this time had retired from the Gnita Lipa (the great Austro-German “victory” where they lost between 4,000 and 5,000 prisoners and I know not how many dead and wounded) and had now for four days been quietly sitting on the ridges of the second Lipa waiting for the enemy to come up. I think no army can beat the Russians when it comes to forced marches, and after each of these actions they have retired in two days a distance that takes the enemy four or five to cover. It is because of this speed of travel that there have been stragglers, and it is of such that the enemy have taken the prisoners of whom they boast so much. The position we visited was on a wonderful ridge crested with woods. The river lay so deeply in its little valley that, though but a mile away, we could not see the water at all, but only the shadow wherein it lay. Our trenches were just on theedge of it while our guns and reserves were behind us. From our position we could look into the rear of our trenches, and across the river where the country was more open and where the Austrians were just beginning to develop their advance. Though the Russians had been here for several days, the enemy was just coming up now and had not yet brought up his guns at all.

Our infantry were sniping at the blue figures which dotted the wood a verst or two away, but at such a range that its effect was not apparent. Our guns had not yet fired a shot, and hence the Austrians knew nothing of our position but the fact that they were in contact with snipers in some sort of a trench. In any case the Austrians in a thin blue line which one could see with the naked eye, were busily digging a trench across a field just opposite us and about 4,000 metres distant, while with my glasses I could see the blue-clad figures slipping about on the fringe of the wood behind their trench diggers. Our observation point was under a big tree on an advanced spur of the hill, a position which I think would not be held long after the arrival of the Austrian guns. The battery commander had screwed his hyperscope into the tree trunk, and was hopping about in impatience because his field wire had not yet come up from the battery position in the rear. Hesmacked his lips with anticipation as he saw the constantly, increasing numbers of the enemy parading about opposite without any cover, and at frequent intervals kept sending messengers to hurry on the field telegraph corps.

Cavalry taking up position.

Russian band playing the men to the trenches.

In a few minutes there came a rustle in the brush, and two soldiers with a reel unwinding wire came over the crest, and dropping on their knees behind some bushes a few yards away, made a quick connection with the telephone instrument, and then announced to the commander that he was in touch with his guns. Instantly his face lit up, but before speaking he turned and took a squint through his hyperscope; then with clenched fist held at arms length he made a quick estimate of the range and snapped out an order over his shoulder. The orderly at the ’phone mumbled something into the mouthpiece of the instrument. “All ready,” he called to the commander. “Fire,” came the quick response. Instantly there came a crash from behind us. I had not realized that the guns were so near until I heard the report and the shell whine over our heads. We stood with our glasses watching the Austrians. A few seconds later came the white puff in the air appearing suddenly as from nowhere, and then the report of the explosion drifted back to us on the breeze. The shot was high and over. Another quick order,and another screamed over our head, this time bursting well in front of the trench.

Through my glasses I could see that there was some agitation among the blue figures in the field across the river. Again the gun behind us snapped out its report, and this time the shell burst right over the trench and the diggers disappeared as by magic, and even the blue coats on the edge of the wood suddenly vanished from our view. The artillery officer smiled quietly, took another good look through the glass at his target, called back an order, and the battery came into action with shell after shell breaking directly over the trench. But as far as we could see there was not a living soul, only the dark brown ridge where lay the shallow ditch which the Austrians had been digging. The value of the shrapnel was gone, and the Captain sighed a little as he called for his carefully saved and precious high-explosives, of which as I learned he had very few to spare. The first fell directly in an angle of the trench, and burst with the heavy detonation of the higher explosive, sending up a little volcano of dust and smoke, while for a minute the hole smoked as though the earth were on fire.

“They are in that place right enough,” was the verdict of the director, “I saw them go. I’ll try another,” and a second later anothershell burst in almost the identical spot. That it had found a living target there could be no doubt, for suddenly the field was dotted with the blue coats scampering in all directions for the friendly shelter of the wood in their rear. It was an object lesson of the difference in effectiveness between high explosive and shrapnel. The Captain laughed gleefully at his success as he watched the effect of his practice. Nearly all the Austrians were running, but away to the right was a group of five, old timers perhaps who declined to run, and they strolled leisurely away in the manner of veterans who scorn to hurry. The Commander again held out his fist, made a quick estimate of the range and called a deviation of target and a slight elevation of the gun. Again the gun crashed behind us and I saw the shell fall squarely in the centre of the group. From the smoking crater three figures darted at full speed. I saw nothing of the other two. No doubt their fragments lay quivering in the heap of earth and dust from which the fumes poured for fully a minute. It was excellent practice, and when I congratulated the officer he smiled and clicked his heels as pleased as a child. We saw nothing more of the enemy while we remained. No doubt they were waiting for the night to come to resume their digging operations.

How long the Russians will remain on this line can be merely speculation. Many of these lines that are taken up temporarily prove unusually strong, or the enemy proves unexpectedly weak, and what was intended as only a halt, gradually becomes strengthened until it may become the final line. My own idea was, however, that after forcing the Austrians to develop their full strength and suffer the same heavy losses, the Russians would again retire to a similar position and do it all over again. It is this type of action which is slowly breaking the hearts of the enemy. Again and again they are forced into these actions which make them develop their full strength and are taken only when supported by their heavy guns, only to find, when it is all over, that the Russians have departed and are already complacently awaiting them a few days’ marches further on. This kind of game has already told heavily on the Austrian spirits. How much longer they can keep it up one can only guess. I don’t think they can do it much longer, as not one of these advances is now yielding them any strategic benefit, and the asset of a talking point to be given out by the German Press Bureau probably does not impress them as a sufficiently good reason to keep taking these losses and making these sacrifices.

Leaving the position we returned to our base, where we spent the night preparatory to moving on the next day to the army that lies next in the line north of us, being the third from the extreme Russian left. My impressions of the condition and spirit of the army visited this day were very satisfactory, and I felt as I did about its southern neighbor—that its movements for the moment have not a vast importance. It may go back now, but when the conditions which are necessary are fulfilled it can almost certainly advance. Probably we need expect nothing important for some months here and further retirements may be viewed with equanimity by the Allies. Not too far away there is a final line which they will not leave without a definite stand and from which I question if they can be driven at all.

A VISIT TO AN HISTORIC ARMY

Brody, Galicia,July 7, 1915.

Forthe next three days I was with the head-quarters and army of one of the most remarkable fighting organizations that this war has produced on any Front. I am not supposed to mention its number, but I dare say the censor will let me say that it is that one which has been commanded for nearly a year now by General Brussilov. This army, as the reader who has followed the war with any closeness will remember, is the one that entered Galicia from the extreme east in the first week of the war, and that in thirty days of continuous fighting, with practically no rail transport, turned the Austrian right and forced the evacuation of Lwow at the end of August. In spite of their losses and exhaustion this army marched right on the re-inforced Austrian centre and engaged that force with such ferocity, that when the position of Rawa Ruska fell the Grodek line collapsed before its attacks. Still unexhaustedand with practically no rest, the same troops, or what was left of them, plus reinforcements, moved on Przemysl, and by their fierce assaults laid the foundation for what subsequently became the siege of the Austrian stronghold. But Brussilov was no man to cool his heels on siege operations, and when the investment was completed, his corps swept on past, and began driving the Austrians back toward the Carpathians.

As the New Year came, and the weeks passed by, the whole world watched his devoted troops forcing back the Austrians and their newly arrived German supports back into the passes which had been considered all but impregnable. He was well through the Dukla and making headway slowly but surely when the great German blow fell on the Dunajec. Leaving his successful operations in the Carpathians, he fell back rapidly in time to connect with the retreating army of the Dunajec and temporarily brace it up for its temporary stand on the San. The defence of Przemysl fell to the lot of the General, but as he himself said to me, “There was nothing but a heap of ruins where had been forts. How could we defend it?” Still, they did defend it for as many days as it took the enemy to force the centre, which had not sufficient forces to stem the advancing tide that was still concentrated against them. Even then, as I am assuredby a Staff officer, they hung on until their right flank division was uncovered and menaced with envelopment, when once more they were obliged to withdraw in the direction of the city of Lwow.

After the Russian evacuation of Lwow. The Bug Lancers retreating in good order.

In this retreat there is no denying that the devoted army was hammered heavily, and probably its right flank was somewhat tumbled up in the confusion. Nevertheless, it was still full of fight when the Grodek line was reached. By this time, however, the greater strategy had decided on retiring entirely from Galicia, or very nearly so, to a point which had already been selected; and the battle on the Grodek line was a check rather than a final stand, though there is no question that the Russians would have stopped had the rest of their line been able to hold its positions. But the shattered army of the Dunajec, in spite of reinforcements, was too badly shaken up, and short of everything, to make feasible any permanent new alignment of the position. The action around Lwow was not a serious one, though it was a hard fought and costly battle. It was made with no expectation of saving the town, but only to delay the Germans while other parts of the line were executing what the Russians call “their manœuvres.”

From Lwow to the position where I found the army, was a rearguard action and nothing more, and apparently not a very serious one atthat. The best authorities have told me that the Russians withdrew from Lwow city in a perfectly orderly manner, and that there was neither excitement nor confusion, a state of affairs in great contrast to that which existed when the Austrians left in September. The Austrian staff took wing in such hot haste that the General’s maps, with pencils, magnifying glasses and notes were found lying on the table just as he had left them when he hurried from the room. The Russians may also have panic on occasions, but if they have I certainly have never seen any indication of it in any of the operations that I have witnessed.

The new line occupied runs from approximately the head of the Zota Lipa along the Bug in the direction of Krasne, where the Austrians hold the village and the Russians the railroad station, and thence in the general direction of Kamioka and slightly west of Sokal where the army which lies between it and the former army of the Dunajec begins. In going over this terrain, I was of the opinion that this line was not designed originally as the permanent stand; but the removal of German troops from this Front has sufficiently weakened the Austrians, so it is quite possible that it may become the low water mark of the retreat. However, it is of very little importance, in my opinion,whether the army holds on here, or continues to retreat for another 60 or 80 versts, where prepared positions at many points give excellent defensive opportunities. This army as I found it is in good shape. It is true that many of its corps have been depleted but these are rapidly filling up again. There is reason to believe, however, that this army is no longer the objective of the enemy, and that for the present at least it will not be the object of any serious attack. Behind it for many versts there is nothing of sufficient strategic importance the capture of which would justify the enemy in the expenditure which will be necessary to dislodge it.

I met General Brussilov several times and dined with him the first evening after spending almost three-quarters of an hour with him looking at the maps of the position. I think it would be impossible for anyone to be a pessimist after an hour with this officer. He is a thin-faced handsome man of about fifty-five; in every respect the typical hard-fighting cavalry officer. He is just the man one would expect to find in command of an army with the record that his has made. I asked him if he was tired after his year of warfare. He laughed derisively. “Tired! I should say not. It is my profession. I shall never be tired.” I cannot of coursequote him on any military utterances, but I left him with the certainty that he at least was neither depressed nor discouraged. That he was disappointed at having to retire is certainly true; but it is with him as I have found it with many others—this set-back has made them only the more ardent for conditions to be such that they can have another try at it and begin all over again. All these ranking officers have unlimited faith in the staying qualities of their men, and little faith in what the Austrians will do when the Germans go away. Ifmoral, as Napoleon says, is three times the value of physical assets we need have no fear as to the future where Brussilov is in command of an army.

The General at once agreed to let me visit some observation point where I could have a glimpse of his positions and the general nature of the terrain. On his large scale map we found a point that towered more than 200 metres above the surrounding country, and he advised me to go there. So on the following day we motored to a certain army head-quarters, where the General in command gave us one of his staff, who spoke English, and an extra motor, and sent us on our way to a division then holding one of the front line trenches. Here by a circuitous route, to avoid shell fire, we proceeded to the observation point in question. It was oneof the most beautifully arranged that I have ever visited, with approaches cut in through the back, and into trenches and bomb-proofs on the outside of the hill where were erected the hyperscopes for the artillery officers to study the terrain.

I could clearly see the back of our own trenches with the soldiers moving about in them. In the near foreground almost at our feet was one of our own batteries carefully tucked away in a little dip in the ground, and beautifully masked from the observing eye of the aeroplanist. To the south lay the line of the Austrian trenches, and behind that a bit of wood in which, according to the General who accompanied us, the Austrians had a light battery hidden away. Still further off behind some buildings was the position of the Austrian big guns, and the artillery officer in command of the brigade, whose observation point was here, told me that there were two 12-inch guns at this point, though they had not yet come into action.

Directly east of us lay the valley of the Bug, as flat as a board, with the whole floor covered with areas of growing crops, some more advanced in ripeness than others, giving the appearance from our elevation of a gigantic chessboard. Away off to the west some big guns were firing occasionally, the sound of their reports and the bursting shells drifting back lazilyto us. At one point on the horizon a village was burning, great clouds of dense smoke rolling up against the skyline. Otherwise the afternoon sunshine beat down on a valley that looked like a veritable farmer’s paradise, steeped in serenity and peace. For an hour we remained in this lovely spot, studying every detail of the landscape, and wondering when if ever it would be turned into a small hell of fury by the troops that now lay hidden under our very eyes. We left shortly before six and motored back in the setting sunlight to our head-quarters. Early the next morning I again went to see General Brussilov and almost the first thing he told me was that there had been a stiff fight the night before. The reader may imagine my disappointment to learn that within two hours of my departure the Austrians had launched an attack on the very chessboard that I had been admiring so much during the afternoon in the observation station. From this point, in comparative safety, I could have watched the whole enterprise from start to finish with the maximum of clearness and the minimum of risk. I have never seen a more ideal spot from which to see a fight, and probably will never again have such an opportunity as the one I missed last night.

I heard here, as I have been hearing now fora week, that there was a tendency for the Germans to disappear from this Front, and it was believed that all the troops that could be safely withdrawn were being sent in the direction of Cholm-Lublin, where it was generally supposed the next German drive against the Russians would take place. At the moment this point on the Russian Front represented the serious sector of their line, and so we determined not to waste more time here but to head directly for Cholm and from there proceed to the army defending that position, the reformed army of the Dunajec. Leaving that afternoon we motored back into Russia, where the roads are good, and headed for Cholm. On the way up I called at the head-quarters of the army lying between Brussilov and the army of the Dunajec (as I shall still call it for identification), where I lunched with the General in command and talked with him about the situation. He freely offered me every facility to visit his lines, but as they were far distant and the only communications were over execrable roads which were practically impossible for a motor, and as his Front was not then active, it did not seem worth while to linger when there was prospect of a more serious Front just beyond. As I am now approaching the zone which promises to be of interest in the near future, it is necessaryfor me to speak of positions and armies with some ambiguity if I am to remain in the good graces of the censor. Suffice to say that the army I skipped holds a line running from the general direction of Sokal, along the Bug to the vicinity of Grubeschow, where it bends to the west, hitting into a rough and rolling country, with its flank near a certain point not too far south-east of Cholm.

I cannot speak authoritatively of this army as I did not visit the positions, though I know of them from the maps. I believe from the organizations attached to it, some of which I know of from past performances, that this army is perfectly capable of holding its own position as it now stands, providing strategy in which it is not personally involved does not necessitate its shifting front. If its neighbour on the west should be able to advance, I dare say that this army also might make some sort of a move forward.

It is futile at this time to make any further speculation. Even at best my judgments in view of the length of front and shortness of time at my disposal must be made on extremely hurried and somewhat superficial observation. It may be better, however, to get a somewhat vague idea of the whole front than to get exact and accurate information from one army, which in the final analysis may prove to be an inactive one in which no one is interested.

THE NEW ARMY OF THE FORMER DUNAJEC LINE

Cholm,July 11, 1915.

Eversince I started up the line of armies from the Bukovina, I have been apprehensive about the point in the line held by this army which suffered so badly on its old position when it was the object and centre of the great German drive in Galicia. The position which it occupies from a point perhaps forty odd versts south-east of Cholm, through a point somewhat south of Krasnystav to the general direction of Bychawa, is at present the most serious point of German advance. It is clear that the capture of Lublin with its number of railroads centring there, would paralyse the position of the whole line. As I have said before, this stroke doubtless represents the one that the enemy most gladly would accomplish in their whole Galician movement, for the pressing of the Russians back here would probably spell the evacuation of Warsaw, an object for which theGermans have spent so many hundreds of thousands of lives, so far to no purpose.

As I have crossed a number of the recuperating fragments of the old Dunajec army in quarters where they were having comparatively an easy time, I was curious to see how the new one was composed. I was received kindly by the General in command, and soon realized that his army, save in number, was practically an entirely new organization built up from corps that have been taken from all quarters of the Russian Front for this purpose. The General himself is new to the command, and so one may regard this organization quite apart from the history of the one that bore the burden of the great Galician drive in May. As soon as I saw the corps here, I came to the conclusion at once that the Russians had reached a point where they intended to make a serious fight. I at once recognized four corps which I have known in other quarters of the war, and wherever they have been they have made a reputation for themselves. The sight of these magnificent troops pouring in made one feel that whether the battle, which every one seems to think is impending, should be won or lost, it would be an action of the most important nature. The new General impressed me as much as any soldier I have seen in Russia. Heretoforehe has been in command of a corps which is said to be one of the finest in the whole Russian Army. I had never seen him until this visit, and as a matter of fact I had never even heard of his name. When he came into the room with his old uniform blouse open he was a picture of a rough-and-ready soldier. Steel blue eyes under heavy grey brows and a great white moustache gave an impression of determination, relieved by the gentleness that flickered in the blue of his eyes as well as the suggestion of sensitiveness about the corners of his firm mouth. From the first sentence he spoke, I realized that he meant business, and that this army, when the time came and whatever the results might be, would put up a historic fight.

A Russian eight-inch gun going into position during the fighting round Lublin.

At his invitation I went with him later in the afternoon to look at some new guns that had just come in. They were very interesting and encouraging, but cannot be discussed at present. With them had come new artillerymen, and the general went about addressing each batch. His talk was something like this, freely translated, “Welcome to my command, my good children. You are looking fit and well, and I am glad to have you with me. Now I suppose that you think you have come here to help me hold back the Germans. Well, you are mistaken.We are not here to hold anybody, but to lick the enemy out of his boots, and drive them all clean out of Russia, Poland and Galicia too, and you look to me like the men that could do the job.” The Russian soldiers usually cheer to order, but these soldiers responded with a roar, and when dismissed ran off to their positions cheering as long as they could be seen.

That night I dined with the General. In the midst of dinner some reinforcements passed up the street weary and footsore from a long day on the road. The General, dragging his staff with him, went out into the street, and stood, napkin in hand, watching each company as it passed him and calling to each a word of greeting. As the men passed one could see that each was sizing up the chief in whose hands rested their lives, and the future of their army; one could read their thoughts plainly enough. “Here is a man to trust. He will pull us through or die in the attempt.”

After dinner I went for a stroll with him, and he did not pass a soldier without stopping to speak for a moment. Late in the evening I saw him walking down the main street of the primitive little town stick in hand, and at every corner he stopped to talk with his men. I have never seen an army where the relations between officers and men were as theyare in Russia, and even in Russia not such as between this man and his own soldiers. Already he has lost his own son in the war, yet has accepted his loss with a stoicism that reminds one a little of General Nogi under similar circumstances. This then is the man to whom Russia has entrusted what for the moment appears as her most important front.

The General permitted Prince Mischersky to accompany me during my visit to the positions on the following day. The Prince who is the personal aide-de-camp of the Emperor, and a charming man, took me in his own motor, and early we arrived at the head-quarters of a certain army corps. From here we drove to the town of Krasnystav where was the General of a lesser command. This point, though 14 versts from the German gun positions, was under fire from heavy artillery, and two 8-inch shells fell in the town as we entered, spouting bricks and mortar in every direction while great columns of black smoke poured from the houses that had been struck. While we were talking with the General in his rooms, another shell fell outside with a heavy detonation. From here we visited the division of another corps, where we borrowed horses and rode up to their reserve trenches and had a look at the troops, some of the most famous in Russia,whose name is well known wherever the readers have followed the fortunes of the war. We were perhaps 600 or 800 yards from the front line, and while we chatted with the grizzled old commander of a certain regiment, the enemy began a spasm of firing on the front line trench ahead of us, eleven shells bursting in a few minutes. Then they suspended entirely and once again quiet reigned through the woodland in which our reserves were.

From here by a narrow path we struck off to the west and worked our way up into one of the new front line trenches which are laid out on an entirely new plan, and have been in course of preparation ever since the days of the fighting on the San. They are the best trenches I have ever seen, and are considerably better in my opinion than those on the Blonie line in front of Warsaw which, before this, were the best that had ever come under my observation. Many things that I saw during this day led me to the conclusion that the Russians were doing everything in their power to prevent a repetition of the drive on the Dunajec. The German line of communications here, as I am informed, runs viâ Rawa Ruska, and owing to the difficulties of the terrain between where they now stand and the Galician frontier, it will be very difficult for them to retire directly south. Success in an action here,then, is of great importance to them. If they attack and fail to advance, they must count on the instant depression of the whole Austrian line, for the Austrians even when successful have not been greatly enthusiastic. If they are driven back, they must retire in the direction of Rawa Ruska, across the face of the army standing to the east; they must strike west through Poland, crossing the front of the army lying beside the Vistula; or they must try to negotiate the bad roads south of them, which present no simple problem. If the Russian centre can give them a good decisive blow there is every reason to believe that both flanking armies can participate pretty vigorously in an offensive. No one attaches much importance to the Austrians if the Germans can be beaten. As long as they continue successful, the Austrians, however, are an important and dangerous part of the Russian problem.

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