https://wwi.lib.byu.edu/index.php?title=VII_IN_PURSUIT&feed=atom&action=historyVII IN PURSUIT - Revision history2024-03-29T12:38:03ZRevision history for this page on the wikiMediaWiki 1.39.4https://wwi.lib.byu.edu/index.php?title=VII_IN_PURSUIT&diff=8455&oldid=prevBkimberl at 18:38, 13 July 20092009-07-13T18:38:19Z<p></p>
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<tr><td colspan="2" class="diff-side-deleted"></td><td class="diff-marker" data-marker="+"></td><td style="color: #202122; font-size: 88%; border-style: solid; border-width: 1px 1px 1px 4px; border-radius: 0.33em; border-color: #a3d3ff; vertical-align: top; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div><ins style="font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none;"><p align="right"> [[Main_Page | WWI Document Archive ]] > [[Diaries, Memorials, Personal Reminiscences]] > [[A German Deserter's War Experience]] > '''VII IN PURSUIT''' </p><hr></ins></div></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="diff-marker"></td><td style="background-color: #f8f9fa; color: #202122; font-size: 88%; border-style: solid; border-width: 1px 1px 1px 4px; border-radius: 0.33em; border-color: #eaecf0; vertical-align: top; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div><FONT COLOR="#0000ff" SIZE="+2">GERMAN DESERTER'S WAR EXPERIENCE<BR></div></td><td class="diff-marker"></td><td style="background-color: #f8f9fa; color: #202122; font-size: 88%; border-style: solid; border-width: 1px 1px 1px 4px; border-radius: 0.33em; border-color: #eaecf0; vertical-align: top; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div><FONT COLOR="#0000ff" SIZE="+2">GERMAN DESERTER'S WAR EXPERIENCE<BR></div></td></tr>
<tr><td class="diff-marker"></td><td style="background-color: #f8f9fa; color: #202122; font-size: 88%; border-style: solid; border-width: 1px 1px 1px 4px; border-radius: 0.33em; border-color: #eaecf0; vertical-align: top; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div></FONT><FONT COLOR="#0000ff" SIZE="+1">NEW YORK: HUEBSCH, 1917</FONT><BR><BR></div></td><td class="diff-marker"></td><td style="background-color: #f8f9fa; color: #202122; font-size: 88%; border-style: solid; border-width: 1px 1px 1px 4px; border-radius: 0.33em; border-color: #eaecf0; vertical-align: top; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div></FONT><FONT COLOR="#0000ff" SIZE="+1">NEW YORK: HUEBSCH, 1917</FONT><BR><BR></div></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="diff-marker" data-marker="−"></td><td style="color: #202122; font-size: 88%; border-style: solid; border-width: 1px 1px 1px 4px; border-radius: 0.33em; border-color: #ffe49c; vertical-align: top; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div> </div></td><td class="diff-marker" data-marker="+"></td><td style="color: #202122; font-size: 88%; border-style: solid; border-width: 1px 1px 1px 4px; border-radius: 0.33em; border-color: #a3d3ff; vertical-align: top; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div><ins style="font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none;"><p align="right"> </ins>[[<ins style="font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none;">Main_Page </ins>| <ins style="font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none;">WWI Document Archive ]] > [[Diaries, Memorials, Personal Reminiscences]] > [[A German Deserter's War Experience]] > </ins>'''<ins style="font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none;">VII IN PURSUIT</ins>''' <ins style="font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none;"></p><hr></ins></div></td></tr>
<tr><td class="diff-marker" data-marker="−"></td><td style="color: #202122; font-size: 88%; border-style: solid; border-width: 1px 1px 1px 4px; border-radius: 0.33em; border-color: #ffe49c; vertical-align: top; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div><del style="font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none;">Go To </del>[[<del style="font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none;">VIII NEARLY BURIED ALIVE ON THE BATTLEFIELD </del>| '''<del style="font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none;">Next Chapter</del>'''<del style="font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none;">]]</del></div></td><td colspan="2" class="diff-side-added"></td></tr>
</table>Bkimberlhttps://wwi.lib.byu.edu/index.php?title=VII_IN_PURSUIT&diff=5881&oldid=prevHirgen at 00:14, 31 October 20082008-10-31T00:14:47Z<p></p>
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<tr><td class="diff-marker"></td><td style="background-color: #f8f9fa; color: #202122; font-size: 88%; border-style: solid; border-width: 1px 1px 1px 4px; border-radius: 0.33em; border-color: #eaecf0; vertical-align: top; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div>to the devil. Were we not soldiers, mass murderers, barbarians?</div></td><td class="diff-marker"></td><td style="background-color: #f8f9fa; color: #202122; font-size: 88%; border-style: solid; border-width: 1px 1px 1px 4px; border-radius: 0.33em; border-color: #eaecf0; vertical-align: top; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div>to the devil. Were we not soldiers, mass murderers, barbarians?</div></td></tr>
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<tr><td colspan="2" class="diff-side-deleted"></td><td class="diff-marker" data-marker="+"></td><td style="color: #202122; font-size: 88%; border-style: solid; border-width: 1px 1px 1px 4px; border-radius: 0.33em; border-color: #a3d3ff; vertical-align: top; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div><ins style="font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none;">Go To [[VIII NEARLY BURIED ALIVE ON THE BATTLEFIELD | '''Next Chapter''']]</ins></div></td></tr>
</table>Hirgenhttps://wwi.lib.byu.edu/index.php?title=VII_IN_PURSUIT&diff=5554&oldid=prevHirgen at 00:46, 2 September 20082008-09-02T00:46:23Z<p></p>
<p><b>New page</b></p><div><FONT COLOR="#0000ff" SIZE="+2">GERMAN DESERTER'S WAR EXPERIENCE<BR><br />
</FONT><FONT COLOR="#0000ff" SIZE="+1">NEW YORK: HUEBSCH, 1917</FONT><BR><BR><br />
<br />
<CENTER><FONT SIZE="+3"></FONT><FONT SIZE="+3">VII</FONT><FONT SIZE="+2"></FONT><BR><BR><br />
<br />
<FONT SIZE="+2">IN PURSUIT</FONT><BR><BR></CENTER><br />
<br />
<BR><BR>AFTER a short rest we were commanded to search the burning<br />
houses for wounded men. We did not find many of them, for most<br />
of the severely wounded soldiers who had not been able to seek<br />
safety unaided had been miserably burnt to death, and one could<br />
only judge by the buttons and weapons of the poor wretches for<br />
what &quot;fatherland&quot; they had suffered their terrible death<br />
by fire. With many it was even impossible to find out the nationality<br />
they belonged to; a little heap of ashes, a ruined house were<br />
all that was left of whole families, whole streets of families.<br />
<br />
<BR><BR>It was only the wine cellars, which were mostly of strong construction,<br />
that had generally withstood the flames. The piping hot wine in<br />
bottles and barrels, proved a welcome refreshment for the soldiers<br />
who were wet to their skins and stiff with cold. Even at the risk<br />
of their lives (for many of the cellars threatened to collapse)<br />
the soldiers would fetch out the wine and drink it greedily, however<br />
hot the wine might be.<br />
<br />
<BR><BR>And strangely enough, former scenes were repeated. After the<br />
hot wine had taken effect, after again feeling refreshed and physically<br />
well, that same brutality which had become our second nature in<br />
war showed itself again in the most shameful manner. Most of us<br />
behaved as if we had not taken part in the unheard-of events of<br />
the last hours, as if we did not see the horrible reminders of<br />
the awful slaughter, as if we had entirely forgotten the danger<br />
of extinction which we had so narrowly escaped. No effort was<br />
made to do honor to the dead though every one had been taught<br />
that duty by his mother from the earliest infancy; there was nothing<br />
left of that natural shyness which the average man feels in the<br />
presence of death. The pen refuses even to attempt a reproduction<br />
of the expressions used by officers and soldiers or a description<br />
of their actions, when they set about to establish the nationality<br />
or sex of the dead. Circumstances were stronger than we men, and<br />
I convinced myself again that it was only natural that all feelings<br />
of humanity should disappear after the daily routine of murdering<br />
and that only the instinct of self-preservation should survive<br />
in all its strength. The longer the war lasted the more murderous<br />
and bestial the men became.<br />
<br />
<BR><BR>Meanwhile the fight between our troops that had crossed the<br />
river and the French on the other side of the Meuse had reached<br />
its greatest fury. Our troops had suffered great losses; now our<br />
turn came. While we were crossing, the German artillery pounded<br />
the enemy's position with unheard-of violence. Scarcely had we<br />
landed and taken our places when our section proceeded to the<br />
assault. The artillery became silent, and running forward we tried<br />
to storm the slope leading to the enemy positions. We got as near<br />
as 200 yards when the French machine-guns came into action; we<br />
were driven back with considerable losses. Ten minutes later we<br />
attempted again to storm the positions, but had only to go back<br />
again exactly as before. Again we took up positions in our trenches,<br />
but all desire for fighting had left us; every one stared stupidly<br />
in front of him. Of course we were not allowed to lose courage,<br />
though the victims of our useless assaults were covering the field,<br />
and our dead mates were constantly before our eyes.<br />
<br />
<BR><BR>The artillery opened fire again; reinforcements arrived. Half<br />
an hour later we stormed for the third time over the bodies of<br />
our dead comrades. That time we went forward in rushes, and when<br />
we halted before the enemy's trench for the last time, some twenty<br />
yards away from it, our opponent withdrew his whole first line.<br />
The riddle of that sudden retreat we were able to solve some time<br />
later. It turned out that the main portions of the French army<br />
had retreated long ago; we had merely been engaged in rear-guard<br />
actions which, however, had proved very costly to us.<br />
<br />
<BR><BR>During the next hour the enemy evacuated all the heights of<br />
the Meuse. When we reached the ridge of those heights we were<br />
able to witness a horrifying sight with our naked eyes. The roads<br />
which the retreating enemy was using could be easily surveyed.<br />
In close marching formation the French were drawing off. The heaviest<br />
of our artillery (21-cm.) was pounding the retreating columns,<br />
and shell after shell fell among the French infantry and other<br />
troops. Hundreds of French soldiers were literally torn to pieces.<br />
One could see bodies and limbs being tossed in the air and being<br />
caught in the trees bordering the roads.<br />
<br />
<BR><BR>We sappers were ordered to rally and we were soon going after<br />
the fleeing enemy. It was our task to make again passable for<br />
our troops the roads which had been pounded and dug up by the<br />
shells; that was all the more difficult in the mid-day sun, as<br />
we had first to remove the dead and wounded. Two men would take<br />
a dead soldier by his head and feet and fling him in a ditch.<br />
Human corpses were here treated and used exactly as a board in<br />
bridge building. Severed arms and legs were flung through the<br />
air into the ditch in the same manner. How often since have I<br />
not thought of these and similar incidents, asking myself whether<br />
I thought those things improper or immoral at the time? Again<br />
and again I had to return a negative answer, and I am therefore<br />
fully convinced of how little the soldiers can be held responsible<br />
for the brutalities which all of them commit, to whatever nation<br />
they belong. They are no longer civilized human beings, they are<br />
simply bloodthirsty brutes, for otherwise they would be bad, very<br />
bad soldiers.<br />
<br />
<BR><BR>When, during the first months of the war a Social-Democratic<br />
member of parliament announced that he had resolved to take voluntary<br />
service in the army because he believed that in that manner he<br />
could further the cause of humanity on the battle-field, many<br />
a one began to laugh, and it was exactly our Socialist comrades<br />
in our company who made pointed remarks. For all of us were agreed<br />
that that representative of the people must either be very simple-minded<br />
or insincere.<br />
<br />
<BR><BR>The dead horses and shattered batteries had also to be removed.<br />
We were not strong enough to get the bodies of the horses out<br />
of the way so we procured some horse roaming about without a master,<br />
and fastened it to a dead one to whose leg we had attached a noose,<br />
and thus we cleared the carcass out of the road. The portions<br />
of human bodies hanging in the trees we left, however, undisturbed.<br />
For who was there to care about such &quot;trifles&quot;?<br />
<br />
<BR><BR>We searched the bottles and knapsacks of the dead for eatable<br />
and drinkable things, and enjoyed the things found with the heartiest<br />
appetite imaginable. Hunger and thirst are pitiless customers<br />
that cannot be turned away by fits of sentimentality.<br />
<br />
<BR><BR>Proceeding on our march we found the line of retreat of the<br />
enemy thickly strewn with discarded rifles, knapsacks, and other<br />
accouterments. French soldiers that had died of sunstroke were<br />
covering the roads in masses. Others had crawled into the fields<br />
to the left and right, where they were expecting help or death.<br />
But we could not assist them for we judged ourselves happy if<br />
we could keep our worn-out bodies from collapsing altogether.<br />
But even if we had wanted to help them we should not have been<br />
allowed to do so, for the order was &quot;Forward!&quot;<br />
<br />
<BR><BR>At that time I began to notice in many soldiers what I had<br />
never observed before---they felt envious. Many of my mates envied<br />
the dead soldiers and wished to be in their place in order to<br />
be at least through with all their misery. Yet all of us were<br />
afraid of dying---afraid of dying, be it noted, not of death.<br />
All of us often longed for death, but we were horrified at the<br />
slow dying lasting hours which is the rule on the battle-field,<br />
that process which makes the wounded, abandoned soldier die piecemeal.<br />
I have witnessed the death of hundreds of young men in their prime,<br />
but I know of none among them who died willingly. A young sapper<br />
of the name of Kellner, whose home was at Cologne, had his whole<br />
abdomen ripped open by a shell splinter so that his entrails were<br />
hanging to the ground. Maddened by pain he begged me to assure<br />
him that he would not have to die. Of course, I assured him that<br />
his wounds were by no means severe and that the doctor would be<br />
there immediately to help him. Though I was a layman who had never<br />
had the slightest acquaintance with the treatment of patients<br />
I was perfectly aware that the poor fellow could only live through<br />
a few hours of pain. But my words comforted him. He died ten minutes<br />
later.<br />
<br />
<BR><BR>We had to march on and on. The captain told us we had been<br />
ordered to press the fleeing enemy as hard as possible. He was<br />
answered by a disapproving murmur from the whole section. For<br />
long days and nights we had been on our legs, had murdered like<br />
savages, had had neither opportunity nor possibility to eat or<br />
rest, and now they asked us worn-out men to conduct an obstinate<br />
pursuit. The captain knew very well what we were feeling, and<br />
tried to pacify us with kind words.<br />
<br />
<BR><BR>The cavalry divisions had not been able to cross the Meuse<br />
for want of apparatus and bridges. For the present the pursuit<br />
had to be carried out by infantry and comparatively small bodies<br />
of artillery. Thus we had to press on in any case, at least until<br />
the cavalry and machine-gun sections had crossed the bridges that<br />
had remained intact farther down stream near S&eacute;dan. Round<br />
Sommepy the French rear-guard faced us again. When four batteries<br />
of our artillery went into action at that place our company and<br />
two companies of infantry with machine guns were told off to cover<br />
the artillery.<br />
<br />
<BR><BR>The artillery officers thought that the covering troops were<br />
insufficient, because aeroplanes had established the presence<br />
of large masses of hostile cavalry, an attack from whom was feared.<br />
But reinforcements could not be had as there was a lack of troops<br />
for the moment. So we had to take up positions as well as we could.<br />
We dug shallow trenches to the left and right of the battery in<br />
a nursery of fir trees which were about a yard high. The machine-guns<br />
were built in and got ready, and ammunition was made ready for<br />
use in large quantities. We had not yet finished our preparations<br />
when the shells of our artillery began to whizz above our heads<br />
and pound the ranks of our opponent. The fir nursery concealed<br />
us from the enemy, but a little wood, some 500 yards in front<br />
of us, effectively shut out our view.<br />
<br />
<BR><BR>We were now instructed in what we were to do in case of an<br />
attack by cavalry. An old white-haired major of the infantry had<br />
taken command. We sappers were distributed among the infantry,<br />
but those brave &quot;gentlemen,&quot; our officers, had suddenly<br />
disappeared. Probably the defense of the fatherland is in their<br />
opinion only the duty of the common soldier. As those &quot;gentlemen&quot;<br />
are only there to command and as we had been placed under the<br />
orders of infantry officers for that undertaking, they had become<br />
superfluous and had taken French leave.<br />
<br />
<BR><BR>Our instructions were to keep quiet in case of an attack by<br />
cavalry, to take aim, and not allow ourselves to be seen. We were<br />
not to fire until a machine-gun, commanded by the major in person,<br />
went into action, and then we were to fire as rapidly as the rifle<br />
could be worked; we were not to forget to aim quietly, but quickly.<br />
<br />
<BR><BR>Our batteries fired with great violence, their aiming being<br />
regulated by a biplane, soaring high up in the air, by means of<br />
signals which were given by rockets whose signification experts<br />
only could understand.<br />
<br />
<BR><BR>One quarter of an hour followed the other, and we were almost<br />
convinced that we should be lucky enough that time to be spared<br />
going into action. Suddenly things became lively. One man nudged<br />
the other, and all eyes were turned to the edge of the little<br />
wood some five hundred yards in front of us. A vast mass of horsemen<br />
emerged from both sides of the little wood and, uniting in front<br />
of it, rushed towards us. That immense lump of living beings approached<br />
our line in a mad gallop. Glancing back involuntarily I observed<br />
that our artillery had completely ceased firing and that its crews<br />
were getting their carbines ready to defend their guns.<br />
<br />
<BR><BR>But quicker than I can relate it misfortune came thundering<br />
up. Without being quite aware of what I was doing I felt all over<br />
my body to find some place struck by a horse's hoof. The cavalry<br />
came nearer and nearer in their wild career. Already one could<br />
see the hoofs of the horses which scarcely touched the ground<br />
and seemed to fly over the few hundred yards of ground. We recognized<br />
the riders in their solid uniforms, we even thought we could notice<br />
the excited faces of the horsemen who were expecting a sudden<br />
hail of bullets to mow them down. Meanwhile they had approached<br />
to a distance of some 350 yards. The snorting of the horses was<br />
every moment becoming more distinct. No machine-gun firing was<br />
yet to be heard. Three hundred yards---250. My neighbor poked<br />
me in the ribs rather indelicately, saying, &quot;Has the old<br />
mass murderer (I did not doubt for a moment that he meant the<br />
major) gone mad! It's all up with us, to be sure!&quot; I paid<br />
no attention to his talk. Every nerve in my body was hammering<br />
away; convulsively I clung to my rifle, and awaited the calamity.<br />
Two hundred yards! Nothing as yet. Was the old chap blind or ----?<br />
One hundred and eighty yards! I felt a cold sweat running down<br />
my back and trembled as if my last hour had struck. One hundred<br />
and fifty! My neighbor pressed close to me. The situation became<br />
unbearable. One hundred and thirty---an infernal noise had started.<br />
Rrrrrrrr---An overwhelming hail of bullets met the attacking party<br />
and scarcely a bullet missed the lump of humanity and beasts.<br />
<br />
<BR><BR>The first ranks were struck down. Men and beasts formed a wall<br />
on which rolled the waves of succeeding horses, only to be smashed<br />
by that terrible hail of bullets. &quot;Continue firing!&quot;<br />
rang out the command which was not. needed. &quot;More lively!&quot;<br />
The murderous work was carried out more rapidly and with more<br />
crushing effect. Hundreds of volleys were sent straight into the<br />
heap of living beings struggling against death. Hundreds were<br />
laid low every second. Scarcely a hundred yards in front of us<br />
lay more than six hundred men and horses, on top of each other,<br />
beside each other, apart, in every imaginable position. What five<br />
minutes ago had been a picture of strength, proud horsemen, joyful<br />
youth, was now a bloody, shapeless, miserable lump of bleeding<br />
flesh.<br />
<br />
<BR><BR>And what about ourselves? We laughed about our heroic deed<br />
and cracked jokes. When danger was over we lost that anxious feeling<br />
which had taken possession of us. Was it fear? It is, of course,<br />
supposed that a German soldier knows no fear-at the most he fears<br />
God, but nothing else in the world---and yet it was fear, low<br />
vulgar fear that we feel just as much as the French, the English,<br />
or the Turks, and he who dares to contradict this and talk of<br />
bravery and the fearless courage of the warrior, has either never<br />
been in war, or is a vulgar liar and hypocrite.<br />
<br />
<BR><BR>Why were we joyful and why did we crack jokes? Because it was<br />
the others and not ourselves who had to lose their lives that<br />
time. Because it was a life and death struggle. It was either<br />
we or they. We had a right to be glad and chase all sentimentality<br />
to the devil. Were we not soldiers, mass murderers, barbarians?</div>Hirgen