Four Weeks in the Trenches | Page 7

and his face
wore the stamp of complete serenity. Apparently he had not suffered at
all. The man had been a favorite with all his fellows by reason of his
good humor, and that he was now stretched out dead seemed
unbelievable. I saw a great many men die afterwards, some suffering
horribly, but I do not recall any death that affected me quite so much as

that of this first victim in my platoon.

II

The artillery duel died out with the coming of darkness and we settled
down to rest, half of the men taking watch while the others slept. At
five o'clock in the morning our regiment suddenly received the order to
fall in, and, together with two other regiments, was drawn out of the
fighting line. Our commanding general had received news that an
isolated detachment on the extreme right wing of our army, about
fifteen miles east of us, had been entirely surrounded by a strong
Russian body, and we were ordered to relieve them. It must not be
forgotten that our men had been under a most incredible strain for the
last three days with barely any rest during the nights and not more than
one meal a day. They had actually welcomed entering the firing line, as
a relief from the fatigues of marching with their heavy burdens. It is
curious how indifferent one becomes to danger if one's organism is
worn down and brain and faculty of perception numbed by physical
exertion. It was, therefore, with badly broken-down strength that we
started on this relief expedition, and it was good to see how
unflinchingly the soldiers undertook their unexpected new task. All we
had to say to our men was: "Boys, your brothers are needing you. They
are cut off from all possible relief unless you bring it. Their lives are at
stake, and as they are defending one of the most strategically important
points--the right wing of our army--you can turn the tide of the whole
battle in our favor; so go on." And on they went, staggering and
stumbling, and at the end of a few hours almost crawling, but ever
forward.
Suddenly we came up with another regiment which had been called to
the same task, and the colonel of the new regiment, being older in rank
than our colonel, took command of the newly formed brigade of two
regiments. My company happened to march at the head of the regiment
and the new brigadier rode for some time alongside of me. I was deeply
impressed by his firm military and yet unassuming bearing and his
deep glowing enthusiasm for his army and his men. He told me with
pride that two of his sons were serving in the army, too, one as an
artillery officer and the other one as an officer with the sappers. We

were then approaching the point where we could hear distinctly the fire
of our own batteries and the answer from the Russians, and here and
there a volley of rifle fire. Our colonel urged us on to renewed energy,
and knowledge that we were nearing our goal, seemed to give new
strength to our men. Already we were witnessing evidences of the first
fight that had passed here, for wounded men constantly passed us on
stretchers. Suddenly I saw the face of the colonel riding next to me,
light up with excitement as a wounded man was borne past. He
addressed a few words to the stretcher-bearers and then turned to me,
saying: "The regiment of my son is fighting on the hill. It is one of their
men they have brought by." He urged us on again, and it seemed to me
as if I noticed--or was it my imagination--a new note of appeal in his
face. Suddenly another stretcher was brought past. The colonel at my
side jumped from his horse, crying out, "My boy," and a feeble voice
answered, "Father." We all stopped as if a command had been given, to
look at the young officer who lay on the stretcher, his eyes all aglow
with enthusiasm and joy, unmindful of his own wound as he cried out,
"Father, how splendid that the relief should just come from you! Goon.
We held out splendidly. All we need is ammunition and a little moral
support. Go on, don't stop for me, I am all right." The old colonel stood
like a statue of bronze. His face had become suddenly ashen gray. He
looked at the doctor and tried to catch his expression. The doctor
seemed grave. But the young man urged us on, saying, "Go on, go on,
I'll be all right to-morrow." The whole incident had not lasted more
than five minutes, barely longer than it takes to write