We were in very good quarters at the house mentioned above. The family had fled to a place of greater safety, leaving an old couple to look after the mansion, and answer all German inquiries. Strange to say, and very fortunately for us, the Germans had not visited this house; and everything being intact we had plenty of food and wine, and good beds to sleep in. There was a poultry yard with abundance of fowls, ducks and geese; and a piggery full of fine porkers with no suspicion attached to their recent diet, and—well, the Cossacks looked after this department, not forgetting the respect due to their superiors when the roast was ready: and I am afraid that the poor old woman had some doubts which was most preferable—a visit from the Germans, or a self-invitation from her compatriots; and I am not sure she did not say as much. She certainly had a good deal to say; and I did not need to understand Russian to perceive the temper and tone in which her speech was delivered. But her protests were received with sublime indifference, and she was calmly presented with receipts and bills which she was informed the Russian Government would honour in due course.
The next day, the 8th January, 1915, the battalion arrived at this pleasant halting-place, and cleared up the remnants of the poultry-yard and piggery. It took us all day on the 9th to reach Samitz, which the enemy was shelling vigorously. The village was a small place originally; and half of it had already been reduced to something very like dust. The only civilian I saw in the place was a woman, who was crying bitterly as she sat on the threshold of a shattered cottage, quite oblivious, in her terrible grief, of such trifling dangers as bursting shells. These are the sights that upset men, even soldiers born, and cause them to hate war. Even the dogs and the pigs had deserted this place.
The headquarters, and the other battalions of the Vladimir regiment, were not at Samitz; and nobody could tell us where they were. We were politely told not to bother our heads about our comrades, but to get into the trenches at once. Fortunately we were with "goodly capon lined"; for they had not the good manners here to give us a ration before sending us on duty. But the service was pressing just then, as we soon discovered.
Night was closing in when we became aware that a heavy mass of the enemy was making straight for the trench we occupied. They were shouting loudly something I did not understand; and orders were passed along the trench that we were to lie quiet, and not fire until the foe was quite close. I thought this a foolish order, but of course obeyed it, like the rest of the men.
I afterwards read in an English newspaper of a dodge practised by the Germans of running up dressed in English uniform, and shouting something like this: "Ve vos not Shermans; we vos Royal Vest Surreys!"
A similar trick was played on us at this time. It appears the Germans shouted: "We are a reinforcement of Russians; do not fire on your comrades!"
We did not fire until they reached the wire entanglement which protected the front of the trench: and then——. Well, they went down as if blasted by a wind from Hades. Point-blank, quick-firing: and then, while the groan of fright and horror was still issuing from their lips, came the order, "Upon them with the bayonet—Charge."
There was no fighting: it was simply slaughter amidst yells, curses, and abject screams for mercy. For the first time in this campaign I saw German soldiers fairly and unmistakably routed. There was no mistake about it this time. Old Jack Falstaff never carried his paunch as nimbly as these Germans carried theirs in their run for their lives.
We took no prisoners: or, if any, only one or two odd ones; and we scarcely lost a man, except afterwards, by artillery fire. For the Germans, absolutely routed, sought vengeance by opening as heavy an artillery shelling as they could; but it was little better than a waste of ammunition, and killed more of their own wounded than it did of our men.
When morning came, I calculated that 2,000 German bodies lay on half a verst of our front. The groans and cries of the wounded were awful to hear; but nobody could help them. Their own people made no overtures to do so; and when our Red Cross men attempted to go to their assistance they were fired on by the enemy in the most cowardly way. None of our wounded lay outside the trench.