V—"THESE WERE THE HORRIBLE VISIONS"
The officer stood at the open door, watching curiously the interior of the main room. Scattered all over the floor there lay contorted and twisted forms. They lay in irregular heaps. It was an appalling and gruesome sight. From somewhere protruded some one's long, bare legs; near the wall lingered a lonely arm, curled, swollen, and slightly lifted, it hung in a threatening posture; from under a tattered old military coat projected a thick brush of black-blue hair; and at some distance, leaning on the furnace, there half sat the mighty figure of a stately corpse. The majestic body was bent in gloom, two huge, rough, and calloused hands supporting a big head.
Suddenly it seemed to the Lieutenant as if he heard some one groan. The sound became more and more audible, coming nearer and nearer; one voice, a second, somebody called, a cry rang out, and suddenly pandemonium broke loose. Air-rending cries came from all sides, and men began to drop, one by one, falling about the officer and stretching at his feet. Some fell straight from the ceiling to the earthen floor, others came creeping down the ladder; they dropped into the flames, choking and writhing in deadly agony.
The officer, half dead from fright, drew his revolver and opened fire. He ceased firing when his supply of bullets gave out. His ammunition gone, the Lieutenant threw down the weapon and ran. No one will ever know the number of unfortunates he thus killed. All I know is that of all the men hiding in the garret of that farm only one was saved. It was he who told me this terrible tale. He did this while lying in one of our hospitals. According to his version, there were at the time in the building a great number of wounded soldiers, who had come there during the last engagement. When fire was set to the house, they endeavored to get down. All perished. Some were burned alive, while others were shot to death by their own officer. Among those who perished was also the soldier who had served as the Lieutenant's assistant.
These were the horrible visions. I saw them every time I chanced to pass the ruined and devastated spot.
The fate of the vain and unhappy officer does not in the least concern me. I am not even disposed to blame him for his weakness. For this we can only pity a man. One is bound to pity also those who met death at his hands.
But for some reason or other I cannot help remembering the wounded little girl. There she lay, dying from loss of blood; there at the turning of the footpath, near the two little birch trees.