FRAGMENTS FROM AN OFFICER'S DIARY IN SOUTHERN POLAND.
I can guarantee the genuineness of the subjoined fragments from an officer's diary in Southern Poland after the first German invasion. They reach me from Mine. de Bellegarde,
DRIVING on the road to Lublin, Radom, and Kielce, .1.1 everywhere right up to the enemies' front by Ohenetokov, you meet with the same typical scenes of war. But in the end- less line of fields, in the still shady verdure of the forests, and in the picturesque ups and downs of Southern Poland, there are fewer remains of strife than late events would lead one to expect. Only on the main roads you meet with abandoned trenches, with forsaken positions of both sides, strewn with soiled straw, which testify to quite recent occupation. The Austrian and German enemy, in their hasty flight from Warsaw and Ivangorod under the incessant fire of our troops, could do no more than just defend their retreat. This saved Poland from entire destruction. Only along the main roads and chief arteries of locomotion have the fields suffered. It is curious to note that here in Poland the behaviour of the Germans was at first totally different from their attitude in Belgium and France. Few atrocities were committed. If we compare the absolute destruction in France and Belgium with their work in Poland, we can but marvel at the mercy shown at first to our land, where not only buildings were left untouched, but even geese were allowed to wander peacefully through the muddy village streets. Why was this? Because the Germans expected to be met with outstretched arms by the population. They were sure of a warm welcome, the absence of which surprised them, and at the same time obliged them to take measures for obtaining a sympathy for which they searched in vain. They settled in the villages, and took all they could lay hands on without payment, but they were profuse in promises of every kind, and they refrained at first from acts of cruelty. They hoped to gain the confidence of the inhabitants, and to break all ties that bound them to Russia.
So weeks passed. Near Warsaw and Ivangorod there was fighting. The Germans were so sure of their success that they introduced into the country their own administration and their own officials. We found five railway care filled with chocolate, each bearing the German inscription, "From the E ipress to the conquerors of Warsaw." But all of a sudden the news of an impending retreat spread, and overthrew their assurance of triumph, and put a stop to all their preparations. No choice was left them ; they had to abandon their positions and to retreat in haste. The peasants who had been biding came out of their retreats at the unexpected tidings of release. They not only did not express regret ; they testified to the greatest joy at the invaders' withdrawal. Then the Germans thought that their mercy had been a mistake, that they had miscalculated its results, and the spirit of revenge and of hitherto repressed cruelty awoke in them. They had failed to break the nation's resistance, to destroy its energy, its faith in Russia's power. They had not time to do all the harm they wished, and this alone saved Poland.
Then they began to steal from and torture the peasants, setting fire to homesteads, and robbing them of all they could lay hands on. The inhabitants report that the soldiers, at first good natured, all at once became cruel and relentless. They left the country in a different mood from that in which they entered it. It was dreadful to be on the road of their retreat. They trod mercilessly underfoot, despoiling, annihi- lating, destroying everything they saw. Fortunately their departure was so sudden that it had all the character of a rout, and our troops following closely prevented much of the harm. They had not always time even to carry off with them their own belongings. Besides the destruction by
artillery fire, we saw many proofs of what seemed to us absolutely useless and unjustifiable cruelty—roofs of village churches broken through, windows and doors shattered, barns burnt. They not only robbed the peasants of their horses, cattle, and carts, but they even abandoned on the roads much they bad robbed by a mad impulse of hatred because • population had so disappointed their hopes.
There is a touching and deeply interesting religious custom in Poland of putting up crucifixes at the cross-roads and at entrances of villages. This sacred emblem of our Lord's suffering is respected as a rule by all Christians, even if not belonging to the Catholic faith. The peasants have tried to set up again on the old site a metallic cross which wee bent out of shape by the German soldiers, who had torn it out of the ground. This proof of Ifullur under William IL speaks for itself. Even if the destruction of Reims Cathedral were truthfully justified as due to the presence of cannon on the towers, what explanation can the Germans give of the damage caused by them to this symbolical monument of religion on s country road?
But Poland still survives. There has been much sorrow, much anguish, many privations, but the fidelity of the nation has not been extinguished. We drove amongst fields dis- figured by the enemy's entrenchments, and a mysterious hope of the swift end to all trouble arises in the mind out of their present quiet. So little time has passed since human blood stained them, and now on the earth that covers up so many dead the farmers gather the hay and corn which, as by a miracle, has remained wholly uninjured. War, with all its sad sequel, seems powerless to destroy the eternal laws of life's developments. Nature is stronger than man, and cannot be conquered by him. Her work must be continued at any cost.
I have often asked myself the question: With what feelings does the labourer return to his interrupted work ? Here is the characteristic answer of an old peasant. " What God gives must be accepted," be said. "War will also cease, and those who return from it will be hungry. The need of food will be still greater. The dead must not hinder the living. Is it not so, Stanislas P " And Stanielas, a healthy boy with a bright glance in his merry eyes, seemed to confirm the wisdom of those words. Everywhere we meet with the same strong vitality, the same total absence of discontent. There is no time for murmuring or recriminations.
The first and most powerful impression which Poland at present gives, notwithstanding the damage done to villages, the ruined homesteads, all the cruelties of a relentless enemy's retreat, is this—there is no grief, no visible signs of distress amongst the inhabitants. The moment the Germans left them their only thought was to heal the inflicted grounds. Work leaves no time for complaint or regret. When one enters an abandoned village, with its picturesque row of white huts, life smiles on you. The dogs run after the wheels of your motor-car. Ont of every doorway there greets you a child's face attracted by the noise of your arrival. Every one bows and seems relieved to see you. Every help is offered to the Russian soldiers. The peasants mend the roads for their passage. It is incredible that so short a time has passed since the country was invaded by the enemy who wished to create in it a new Germany. If there were no visible remains of warfare, no enormous bodies of troops to remind us of recent events, it would be difficult to believe that the population had borne the brunt of them so lately. So much energy, so muck spirit lives in the nation. We noticed the same in the towns we visited, where there were few ruins, few outward signs of demolition. The interiors of houses have been pillaged, mostly those where Russian officers lived. It is curious to note how well informed the Germans were as to the localities they visited, and it shows what a web of spies was spun all over the country. The furniture that could not be carried away was broken and spoiled. The Poles who had left town were con- sidered enemies, and we all know how such are treated by a nation which has lost all ideas of elementary honesty and good breeding.
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