In the Russian Ranks: A Soldier's Account of the Fighting in Poland. John Morse
they were continually on the move, and, as I soon discovered for myself, were gradually moving to the north, apparently covering the advance of an ever-increasing mass of infantry and artillery. Polchow's battery was attached to the brigade of Cossacks of which the 4th was one of the units. The reason that I connected myself with this particular corps was because one of its officers spoke a little English; but it was so little that we frequently had much difficulty in understanding each other. I soon learned the Russian words of command and the names of common things and objects, and I often acted as officer of a squadron (or "sotnia," as the men call it); but I felt that I would rather be with Polchow, and I soon became attached to his battery as a "cadet," though I was the oldest man in the unit.
It was a "horse" battery; but the horse artillery in the Russian service is not a separately organized body as it is in the British Army. The guns are simply well-horsed, and the limbers, waggons, etc., rendered as light and mobile as possible. The batteries have not the dash and go of English horse-artillery; and I should be very sorry to see a Russian battery attempt to gallop over a ditch or other troublesome obstacle, as I can foresee what the result would be. The Russian horse-artillery is a sort of advanced-guard of the gunnery arm and has no special training for its duties. In several important particulars its equipment and organization differs from ours.
At this time there were said to be several Englishmen, two Frenchmen, and Swedes, Norwegians and Dutch, in the Russian service. I never met any of them, but I know there was a German, born and bred in Brandenburg, an officer in the 178th line, who was permitted to remain in the Muscovite Army; and who fought with invincible bravery and determination against his countrymen. There was a mystery about him, the actual nature of which I never learned; but it was said that he had received some injury which had implanted in his breast a fierce hatred of the land of his birth.
For two days after I had joined the artillery we were making forced marches to the north, and on the 16th we crossed the Vistula at Plock. The next day we were in front of the enemy between Biezun and Przasnysz, with our left flank resting on a marshy lake near the first-named place. Beyond the lake this flank was supported by a very large body of cavalry—twenty-four regiments I think, or not less than 14,000 men. This large force effectually kept off the much inferior German cavalry. It suffered a good deal from shell-fire, but our artillery prevented the Prussian infantry from inflicting any losses on it.
The country had been raided by the Germans before our arrival, and they had committed many atrocities. The young women had been abused, and the older ones cruelly ill-treated. The hamlets and isolated farms had been burnt down; in some cases the ruins were still smouldering; and what had become of the inhabitants did not appear. Some at least had been slain: for we found the body of one woman lying, head downwards, in a filthy gutter which drained a farmyard; and on the other side of the building, two men hanging from the same tree. The woman had been killed by a blow on the head which had smashed the skull, and her body had been treated with shameful irreverence. The gunners of the battery buried these three poor creatures in the same grave while we were waiting for orders to go into action.
Afterwards, while searching the ruined house, the men found the body of a bed-ridden cripple who had been murdered by bayonet-thrusts; and, under the bed, were three young children half dead with fright and starvation. There was also a baby of a few months old, lying in its cot, dead from want of food and attention, we supposed, as there were no marks of grosser violence on the little mite.
These sights and others seen in the neighbourhood had a terrible effect on the usually phlegmatic Russian soldiers, and afterwards cost many Germans their lives: for I know that wounded men and prisoners were slain in retaliation, and civilians too, when portions of the frontier were crossed, as will be found recorded later on.
We were puzzled what to do with the children, for it would have been inhuman to leave them in a plundered and wrecked home; the oldest appearing to be not more than six years old. It was remembered that we had seen a woman at a cottage two miles to the rear, and so, accompanied by an orderly, I rode back with them. We found several women taking refuge in the house, and, though we could not understand one another, it was evident that we were leaving the poor little creatures amongst friends, as I could see by the attitude of the orderly.
When we got back to the farm we found that the battery had been advanced, and we had some difficulty in finding it. I had to leave that work to the orderly, an old non-commissioned officer named Chouraski, who afterwards acted as my servant.
The battery, with the rest of the regiment, and several others, about 200 guns in all, was massed behind a sandbank—not a wise arrangement. Other batteries were bringing a cross-fire to bear from distances which I computed to be two and three miles from our position. The Germans were evidently suffering severely, and so were we. One of our batteries had all its guns dismounted or put out of action, and many other guns were destroyed, though in some cases the gunners got them on fresh wheels, or even limbers. All the men were cool and brave beyond praise, though the effects of the fire were very terrible. One shell burst as it hit the body of a gunner, who was literally blown to pieces. Another shot smashed away the head of a man standing close to me. He threw up his hands, and stood rigid so long that I thought he was not going to fall. The sight of the headless trunk standing there with blood streaming over the shoulders was so horrible that it was quite a relief to the nerves when he dropped. The gunners, who had stood still paralyzed by the sight, resumed their work; but they had not fired more than a round or two, when a shell smashed the gun-shield and wiped out the whole detachment. A piece of this shell entered the forehead of my horse and it fell like a pole-axed ox, dying with scarcely a quiver of the muscles.
Although the shield was destroyed the gun was not put out of action, and I got a couple of men from another gun, and we continued to fire it. This went on hour after hour, until all the shells (shrapnel and common) were expended. Twice a fresh supply was brought up by the reserve ammunition column men, and altogether about 500 rounds per gun were shot off in this part of the field, or about 100,000 in all. As there were at least 600 guns in action it is probable that 500,000 shells were thrown against the enemy; an enormous number; and nobody will be surprised to learn that the slaughter was terrible. Many of our guns were cleared of men over and over again, reserve gunners being sent up from the rear as they were required, the men running up quite eager to be engaged, and, generally speaking, taking no notice of the casualties which were constantly occurring close to them.
I strove hard to draw the attention of every officer within reach to the faulty position of the guns; but all were very excited, and my unfortunate ignorance of their language prevented me from making myself understood. I did not know what had become of Major Polchow, but late in the afternoon he came up with a staff officer, and I pointed out to him the unnecessary slaughter which was taking place owing to the exposed position of the guns. He said that the error had been observed long before, but that it was considered to be unwise to retire them. Now, however, so many of the artillerymen had fallen that dozens of the guns were silenced, so an attempt was made to draw back the most exposed of the batteries. The horses had been sheltered in a hollow a hundred yards in the rear, yet even in their comparatively protected position so many of them had been killed and mangled that it was only possible to move back three guns at a time.
The Germans observed the movement, with the result that men, guns, waggons, and horses, were smashed to pieces in a horrible and very nerve-trying confusion. Many of the incidents were almost too horrible to be described. The leg of one man was blown off by a bursting shell. He saved himself from falling by clutching a gun-carriage; but this was on the move and dragged him down. The bleeding was stopped by a roughly improvised tourniquet; he was laid on the ground with his coat under his head and left to his fate.
When the guns were drawn back to the new position very few casualties occurred; but at this time the Germans made a determined onset with huge masses of infantry in close columns of companies—an amazing formation, but one which I was prepared to see executed, knowing their general tactics as practised on peace manœuvres.
At this moment we had only twelve shells per gun left. These twelve cut great lanes deep into the advancing masses, but did not stop them, and orders were given to retire. Two of our guns were drawn away by the prolonge (that is, by means of ropes manned by men on foot), and two were abandoned. We