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$Title{True Stories Of The Great War
Story Of A Russian In An Austrian Prison}
$Subtitle{}
$Author{A Petty Officer Of The Russian Army}
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$Subject{work
soldiers
russian
asked
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officer
italian
taken
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$Date{1914}
$Log{}
Title:       True Stories Of The Great War
Book:        Story Of A Russian In An Austrian Prison
Author:      A Petty Officer Of The Russian Army
Date:        1914
Translation: Freedman, Julian Bindley

Story Of A Russian In An Austrian Prison

I - "I Was Prisoner Of The Magyars"

An Officer's Remarkable Experience

[This very unusual narrative, with its light on Austrian prison conditions,
appeared in the Russkoe Slovo, Moscow, June 30, 1916.  It was written by a
petty officer of the Russian Army at the request of the paper's Paris
correspondent.  The correspondent tells of a party of thirty Russians who had
recently arrived in Paris from Italy, all war prisoners from Austria, who had
managed at different times to slip through the lines on the Italian front.  It
was translated for Current History.]

     I was taken prisoner by the Magyars in the Carpathians.  We were driven
to the station of Kashitzi, where we found more Russians, I don't know how
many, and were placed in dirty cars, from which cattle had just been removed.
The stench was terrible, the crowd unthinkable.  The doors were locked all the
time. . . .  We travelled two days; on the third we arrived in a camp called
Lintz.  What did I see in this camp?  Filthy barracks, naked bunks on which
our soldiers were scattered, pale, exhausted, hungry, nearly all barefoot or
in wooden clogs.  Many were suffering from inflamed feet and exhaustion.  I
don't know how they call it in medicine, but to my mind it was the fever of
starvation.  One gets yellow, trembles incessantly, longs for food. . . . . .
.

     The prisoners were fed very poorly, mainly with turnips, beans, and
peas.

     Once a soldier decided to complain to Francis Joseph or Wilhelm.  He went
up to an electric pole, formed his fingers so that it looked as if he were
speaking into a telephone horn, and shouted, "Hello, Germans, give us some
more bread!" He called and knocked with his fists for some time, but, of
course, received no reply.  Many soldiers made fun of him at first, but others
began to look for a way to complain against such treatment of war prisoners.
Meanwhile the bread became poorer and poorer in quality and less in quantity.
The meals consisted of beans, and in addition there were bugs in the beans.
We got meat three times a week, the other days we got herring.

     On the 24th of May, 1915, a company was recruited among us to be sent
away to do some "agricultural" work.  The soldiers would not believe it,
claiming that peace was near.  I was in the first contingent.  Our train was
passing between mountains covered with evergreen.  Every now and then it would
shoot through tunnels.  This surprised me greatly.  I understood that we were
not going in the direction of Russia.  And so it was.  We finally arrived in a
place, where the thousand of us were quartered in one building.  We at once
began to be treated differently, much more insolently and severely.  On the
27th we were driven to the fields to work.  We wondered what the agricultural
labour we were to do could be. We were supplied with shovels and pick-axes,
led to a wood on a hill some 1,600 metres high, mustered into rows, and
ordered to dig a ditch - that is what the Germans called it - but we called it
otherwise.  It became clear that we were to dig trenches.

     The first day passed in idleness and grumbling.  All unanimously refused
to work, even if we had to pay with our lives for it.

     We waited for the following morning.  The guards came to take us out to
work, but we said that we would not dig trenches.  Then the Colonel came and
asked in Russian: "Why don't you want to work?" We all answered: "This work is
against the law.  You are violating the European laws and breaking all
agreements by forcing us to construct defensive lines for you." The Colonel
said: "Look out, don't resist, or we will shoot every one of you.  We don't
care now for the laws to which you point us.  All Europe is at war now - this
is no time for laws.  If you don't go to work, I will have you shot."

     We all exclaimed: "We won't.  Shoot us, but we will not do the work."

II - Standing Before The Executioner

     All of the 28th we were in our yard.  No food was given us.  Thus we
were held for three days without food.  On the fourth day a company of
cadets arrived.  Leading them was the executioner, with stripes on his
sleeves.  They loaded their rifles, holding them ready.  Then the Colonel
asked: "Who will go to work?" The crowd answered "No!" The Colonel said:
"I am sorry for you, boys, you don't understand that you are resisting in
vain." Suddenly the crowd was split into two.  Those who agreed to work
were given dinner and put to work.  The other half, in which I was
included, was led away to another yard.  From among us ten were picked out
and taken away - we knew not where.  We were ordered to lie on the ground
with our faces downward, and not to turn our heads.

     On June 2 there remained only fifty men who still refused to work,
suffering hunger for the sixth day.  The ten soldiers who were daily taken
away from us were subjected to, besides hunger, suspense in the air from
rings, with their hands tied to their backs.  In about thirty minutes one
would lose consciousness, and then he would be taken down to the ground.
After he recovered his senses he would be asked if he agreed to work.
What could one answer?  To say "I refuse" meant another ordeal.  He would
begin to cry and agree to work.

     The following day our heroes were led out into the open, ten were
selected from our midst, arranged in a line facing the rest of us, and
told that they would be shot immediately.  Of the remainder half were to
be shot in the evening, the other half the following morning.  Their
graves had been dug by the ten heroes themselves.  I have not the
slightest hesitancy in calling them so.

     Then a space was cleared, and Ivan Tistchenko, Feodor Lupin, Ivan
Katayev, and Philip Kulikov were ordered forward.  The first was Ivan
Tistchenko.  An officer and four cadets approached him.  The officer asked
him if he would agree to work.  He answered "No," and crossed himself.
His eyes were bound with a white 'kerchief, and these pitiless and unjust
cadets fired at the order of the officer.  Two bullets pierced his head
and two his breast, and the brave fellow fell to the wet ground
noiselessly and peacefully.

     In the same manner the second, third, and fourth were treated.  When
the fifth was led forward he also refused to work, and they already had
his eyes bound.  But some one in the crowd exclaimed: "Halt - don't fire!"
And the comrades asked for his life, all agreeing to go to work.  And I
never learned the identity of the chap who saved that fellow's life and
many other lives.

     We remained in that camp for two and a half months.  Then we were
removed closer to the front, to a locality inhabited by Italians.  Our
soldiers there would inquire from the Italian labourers, to whom the
guards paid no attention, where the boundary lay.  We learned the
direction and the distance to the boundary, which was about thirty miles.
It was even nearer to the Italian front.  And so on Sept. 29 a comrade and
I decided to escape.

     (Some particulars of the escape have been deleted by the Russian
censor.)

     Toward dawn we emerged from the thick of the pine trees and bushes,
and descended to the base of the mountain.  At our feet was a stream,
about fifty feet wide, rapid, and full of rocks.  Here we made good use of
our training in gymnastics.  My comrade, a tall fellow, was light on his
feet.  He jumped like a squirrel from rock to rock.  To me it seemed that
I would slip and be swept away by the current.  My comrade was already on
the opposite shore when I, making my last jump, failed to gain the beach.
Fortunately he was quick to stretch out to me his long stick, and drew me
out of the water as wet as a lobster.

     We walked along the stream all day without encountering anybody.  At
the end of the day we came in sight of a tiny village, but there were no
people nor soldiers to be seen.  Only near one house smoke was rising.  We
decided to approach stealthily and investigate.  We saw an old woman at
the fire, bending over a kettle of sweet corn.  We surmised that the
inhabitants of the village must have deserted it because of its proximity
to the front, while the old woman refused to abandon her home.

     We approached her and confessed that we were Russian soldiers.  She
thought long.  What "Russian" meant she did not know, but she understood
the meaning of the word "soldiers." She presented us with some of her
sweet corn and pointed out the way to the Italian front.

III - "We Escaped To Italian Frontier"

     It was six in the evening when we came upon an advanced Italian post.
The sentinel stopped us with a "Halt!" He was pointing his rifle at us,
showing that he would shoot if we advanced.  He called for his superior.
We were searched and taken into their quarters.  An officer soon came in.
Through an interpreter he asked us for our names, regiments, and army
branches.  He gave each of us a package of cigarettes.

     Only then I understood that we were received as guests.  When the
officer gave us the cigarettes, saying "Bravo, Russi!" the soldiers began
showering us with cigarettes, chocolate, and confetti.  One soldier
guessed better than the rest; he brought us a dish of soup, meat, and a
bottle of wine.  After this there was a regular wedding feast.  Each of
the soldiers brought something to eat, cheese, butter, sardines.  We,
knowing our condition, abstained from eating too much.  Thinking that on
the following day we would have to suffer hunger again, we put all the
presents into a bag presented us by one of the Italians.  Thus we
accumulated about fifteen pounds of bread, cheese, butter, chocolate,
lard, and boiled beef.  Then the Italians noticed that our clothes were
wet, and began presenting us with underwear and clothing, so that we soon
changed our appearance.  We were anxious to converse with them.  The
interpreter, who spoke Russian imperfectly, had a great deal of work.
Just the same, I will never in my life forget his first words in Russian,
as he asked us, by order of the officer: "Who are you - brothers?" In
tears we answered him that we were Russian officers escaped from
captivity; he asked it so kindly, and we were infinitely gladdened by his
sweet words.

     The following day we were taken to the corps headquarters.  Officers
would come in, shake hands - some even kissed us, which embarrassed us.
Unwittingly tears would come to our eyes when we recalled our life in the
prison camp and this sudden change for the better.

     The General also visited us.  He pressed our hands, gave each of us a
package of cigarettes, and presented us with 10 lire in gold.  We wanted
to decline the money, but the interpreter said, "Take," and we did.

  We lived for about a month in Italy.  What a noble people! -
soldiers, civilians, and officers.  It is impossible to describe!  At
every station (on the way to France) the public would surround us, all
anxious to do us some favours, all showing their deep affection for the
Russians.  Once a Sister of Mercy was distributing coffee to our party as
the train began to move.  She ran along till the train gained full speed,
desiring not to leave some of us without coffee.  Our soldiers would
wonder at the affection of the entire Italian people for the Russians, and
would shout incessantly: "Viva Italia!  Viva Italia!"