This fortress of Kovno, for which the Germans were making such a tremendous drive and which the Russians tried to hold with all the resources at their command, occupies in respect to the Niemen line the same position which the fortress of Lomza occupies in respect to the Nareff line, only in a much greater measure. And, indeed, the city is specially adapted by its entire location to act as protector of this important river. Between steep banks, which rise as high as 200 feet, the stream rushes along here, surrounding the city picturesquely with its heights and protecting it at the same time from attack. There Kovno is situated where the Vilia joins the Niemen, and only a short distance down the latter the Nieviaza adds its waters, so that Kovno forms a natural center of a number of extensive valleys which join here. It is upon these natural conditions of its situation that the unusual importance rests which Kovno has occupied for centuries in a historical, economical, and military respect in the history of Lithuania, Poland, and Russia.
Founded in the eleventh century, it belonged from 1384 to 1398 to the Order of the German Knights, who made a military point of the first order out of it. In 1400 the Grand Duke of Lithuania attacked and captured the town. The height of its career was reached in 1581, when it was raised to the center of the export trade and received a custom house. The commerce of the city at that time reached annually the sum of three million ducats, an immense amount for that period. The Russian czars, therefore, attempted at various times to capture the rich city, but it was not until the third partition of Poland in 1795 that Kovno became definitely a possession of the Russian Empire.
After that Kovno suffered many reverses. In 1806 a disastrous fire broke out and destroyed three-fourths of the city, but in spite of this disaster and others which followed, the city recovered and gained a certain importance in a political way, when in 1842 it was made the capital of the newly created government of Kovno. From then on the trade of the city grew in bounds and leaps, and it became a center of the trading to and from Prussia. Its industries, too, were developed extensively. Seven fortifications are situated to the south of the city, three more protect the road to Vilna, and one the bridge across the Vilia.
During the series of engagements near Dvinsk, in the fall of 1915, especially severe fighting occurred on the shores of Lake Sventen. The colonel of a Russian regiment which participated in these engagements gave the following vivid description to a staff correspondent of the London "Times":
"We had to secure a lodgment on the promontory nicknamed by our men the 'Dog's Tail.' My scouts crossed the lake at night, dug themselves in and annoyed the enemy holding the brickyard, situated upon a slight eminence at the northern part of the promontory. A Lettish officer commanded the scouts and organized the whole landing. Being a native of the place, he was able to take advantage of every latent resource afforded by the country. Thus he managed to discover a small fleet of boats, and added to them by constructing a number of rafts. During the night our men gradually reenforced the scouts. On the following day we rushed the brickyard. This gave us a larger foothold to deploy one of our regiments, and storm what we called 'Bald Hill,' while another regiment gave its attention to 'Red Hill,' to the southwest.
"Our advance was very slow. The Germans had a large number of Maxims, three times as many as we had, also automatic rifles, and freely used explosive bullets. But on our side we had our artillery massed in several lines east of Sventen and Medum, including field and heavy guns under good control, so that we could pour in direct or flanking fire at will. Three days passed chiefly in artillery preparation for our final attack. The infantry advanced slightly. Our artillery observers were in the trenches correcting the fire of our guns. On November 3, 1915, the enemy began to pour in a fierce flanking fire from their guns west of Ilsen.
"When the scouts and supports moved from the 'Dog's Tail' promontory, our neighboring corps began to advance also, and we finally extended our right flank and gained direct contact. But all this time we were suffering heavily from the enemy's Maxims on the heights.
"'Bald Hill' and 'Red Hill' were won on the third day. The enemy counterattacked and retook the first named heights. Our position was now a critical one. The waters of the lake in our rear cut off all hope of immediate reenforcements or of eventual retreat. We had to retake 'Bald Hill' at all costs, and we did it. My men were tremendously encouraged by the hurricane fire kept up by our artillery. Many of them had witnessed the terrible effects of the German hurricane fire. For the first time they saw that our own artillery was not only equal but even superior to anything the Germans could do. Our gunners telephoned asking me when they should stop, so that our men should not suffer from their fire. It seemed to me that our shells were bursting perilously near, and I asked them to cease fire. A half company then attacking 'Bald Hill' was immediately mown down by the German machine guns. I at once signaled to the gunners 'keep on firing' and only when our skirmishers were within 250 paces of the German trenches the hurricane was suspended and we went for the Germans with the bayonet, but they did not wait."
Many of the successes gained—both by the Russians in their retreat and by the Germans in their advance—were due to the effective work of the aviation corps. Scouting and bomb dropping were daily occurrences. A picturesque description of such a trip made by an aeroplane "somewhere in Poland" is taken from "Motor" and gives a very clear idea of the dangers to which pilot and observer are subjected at all times as well as of the practical results of their work:
"The departure had been set for nine o'clock in the morning and, while the pilot has already taken his place in the aeroplane and is trying out his motor, his companion comes out of his tent. The latter wears a wide brown leather coat, a storm cap is drawn deep down over his forehead, a long shawl covers his throat and in order to protect himself against the oil which the motor puffs out during the flight he has covered his eyes with big spectacles. A sergeant with some soldiers carry bombs to the aeroplane and pack them carefully next to the seat of the observer. The latter takes his seat, the motor starts, the propeller turns around quicker and quicker, and at last the pilot waves his arm—the wedges are withdrawn from under the wheels. The plane begins to roll along, lifts itself up from the ground and mounts in elegant spirals higher and higher; smaller and smaller appear men and houses; at last the aerostat shows 3,000 feet; the observer gives a sign and the plane turns in the direction of the enemy. It is comparatively easy to find the way: the railroad tracks which run toward the lines of the enemy serve as a guide; the aeroplane follows them above villages chopped into ruins by gunfire, whose houses look like small toy boxes. Suddenly, dark lines appear which run toward the west: trenches of the enemy which unroll themselves to the observer as if they were on a map. And right away small white clouds arise, the first greetings which the enemy fires toward the aeroplane, but under which the latter rushes by descending quickly.