CHAPTER XXVI.
STORIES FROM THE BATTLEFIELDS.
During the Russian retreat to the Vistula it was necessary to destroy a bridge over which the Germans must pass. It had to be done at the moment of their crossing, and no body of men could be spared to remain behind for the purpose. A simple soldier, well aware that only a miracle could save him, offered to do the work alone. Breast deep in icy cold water, he placed the charges of dynamite beneath the bridge, but had no time to fix wires to the fuses and lead them away to a safe distance. Still in the water, he waited for the Germans; and when they were tramping across the bridge above his head, he fired the fuses, and the whole structure crashed into fragments. Strange to say, he escaped unhurt, and swam ashore miles down the stream. When he told his tale he simply added, "It wasn't meant for me to be killed just yet."
On another occasion four sappers with their officer were told off to blow up a bridge immediately the Russians had crossed it, and before the Germans, who were close on their heels, could reach it. There was no time to make the usual preparations. The officer handed out charges to the men, who fixed them to the bridge. Then he gave each of them a cigarette and took one himself. They lighted their cigarettes and lay down, each man close to his charge. "Mind, boys," said he, "that the cigarettes don't go out. Smoke quietly till the enemy reaches the bridge; then when I say 'One, two, three!' put them to the fuses and run if you can."
The men smoked quietly as they watched the Germans rushing down the bank towards the bridge; then, as the officer counted, "One, two, three," they placed their cigarettes to the fuses and ran for their lives to the Russian bank. In a few moments there was a loud explosion, and the bridge simply disappeared. The baffled Germans opened a furious fire, but to no purpose. Their path was blocked by a deep, rapid river.
Here is another story of heroism at a bridge. When the Russians were following up the Germans during their retreat from the Vistula, they reached a bridge across a tributary of the Warta. The fact that it was standing was clear proof that it was mined, and that sappers had been left behind to blow it up as soon as the Russians began to cross it. The rearguard of the Germans had trained guns on the bridge. A Russian engineer officer thought that it might be cleared of mines and preserved. He therefore called for volunteers to undertake the delicate and difficult task. Everyone of his Caucasian sappers volunteered, but he only chose those who had no parents alive.
It was ten o'clock at night, and quite dark, when the attempt was made. In the thick gloom the seven chosen men silently wormed their way on to the bridge. They groped about, and discovered that it was covered with planks nailed on to it in various directions. At once they guessed that the charges were laid under these planks. Almost noiselessly they removed the boards and the charges, and then cleared away every inch of the fuses round the woodwork under the bridge. To do this they had to hang down over the water, holding on with one hand and unfastening the interlacing fuses with the other. In some places they hung by their feet, head downwards, in order to have both hands free.
Their comrades waited breathlessly on the bank for a full hour, and then the seven men who had been working on the bridge reappeared and quietly said, "The way is clear." Thanks to their extraordinary skill and devotion, the bridge was now safe, and the Russians crossed without mishap.