by Jakob Walter
When the night meal was ended here, we all lay down, and I went to sleep. My horse was tied to my arm as was my custom. In a short time one of my sincere comrades cried, “You, look after your horse so that it won’t be stolen.” I said, “It’s here all right.” I was not awakened again the second time. My countrymen cut the strap and sneaked away. Then I woke up to find myself forsaken. “God,” I thought, “who is it that can save me? What is to be done? Mine and my master’s possessions I cannot bring any farther. I cannot carry even my fur because of my weakness, and I must freeze to death without it.” These thoughts made me despondent, and increasing pain consumed my body. Now I had to risk something even if my life should be lost; besides, it was already half gone, I thought. Only about a hundred paces away lay the French Cuirassier Guards who earlier had forcibly taken my coffee and sugar loaf while in camp. I will risk taking a horse! I crept near the front, observing which of the men did not move and might be sleeping, cut off a strap, and came away with a very large black horse. I went to a place some distance away where no one was about, then ran hurriedly to get my luggage, laid it on, and went on without delay. Indeed, I thought, if only the owner will not see me! Because of this fear, I later traded off the horse.
Before daylight, as I rode thoughtfully along, I heard my master again, Major von Schaumberg. I called him by name, whereupon he heartily rejoiced and said, “Now we are together again.” He told of his preservation until now, and I also told him of mine. He was particularly glad about my care for his luggage and about my reconquest of a horse. After we came to Borissov, we bivouacked again. We came to a lumberyard and built a fire there. When the major had become somewhat warm, his “subjects” plagued him with unusual wickedness, and for this reason he asked me to kill the tormentors in his shirt collar. I did it; but, when I had his collar open, his raw flesh showed forth where the greedy beasts had gnawed in. I had to turn my eyes away with abhorrence and reassure the master that I saw nothing, telling him that my eyes hurt so much from the smoke that I could not see anything. These pests, however, were no less to be found on me, thousands of them. However, because of my constant restlessness they could not get to the point of forcing me to treat them with flesh. Besides, I remembered the saying, “Lice stay on healthy people only,” and I did not count this a plague in view of the greater one.
As I walked about within the court, I saw about twenty dead cows which must have died from hunger and cold. When I tried to cut something off from them with my saber, they were all frozen as hard as a rock, and only with the greatest effort did I finally rip a belly open. Since I could cut or tear nothing loose but the entrails, I took the tallow and supplied myself with a goodly amount of it. Each time I would stick a little of this tallow on my saber and let it get just hot enough in the fire for the greatest part of it to remain unmelted, and I would eat one piece after another with the greatest eagerness. What I had heard before—namely, that tallow-eating drove sleep away, I now found to be true. For about fourteen days I had tallow, which I always ate only in the greatest emergency and which I thriftily saved; and, truly, sleep did not bother me any more: I could always be active then throughout the night and could forage for myself and my horse in various ways.
15. ENTITLED “A RUSSIAN COSSACK,” THIS ENGRAVING IS BY AN ARTIST FROM MIDDLE EUROPE.
It was November 25, 1812, when we reached Borissov. Now the march went toward the Beresina River, where the indescribable horror of all possible plagues awaited us. On the way I met one of my countrymen, by the name of Brenner, who had served with the Light Horse Regiment. He came toward me completely wet and half frozen, and we greeted each other. Brenner said that the night before he and his horse had been caught and plundered but that he had taken to flight again and had come through a river which was not frozen. Now, he said, he was near death from freezing and starvation. This good, noble soldier had run into me not far from Smolensk with a little loaf of bread weighing about two pounds and had asked me whether I wanted a piece of bread, saying that this was his last supply. “However, because you have nothing at all, I will share it with you.” He had dismounted, laid the bread on the ground, and cut it in two with his saber. “Dear, good friend,” I had replied, “you treat me like a brother. I will not forget as long as I live this good deed of yours but will rather repay you many times if we live!” He had then a Russian horse, a huge dun, mounted it, and each of us had to work his way through, facing his own dangers. This second meeting, with both of us in the most miserable condition because no aid was available, caused a pang in my heart which sank in me unforgettably. Both of us were again separated, and death overtook him.
When we came nearer the Beresina River, there was a place where Napoleon ordered his pack horses to be unharnessed and where he ate. He watched his army pass by in the most wretched condition. What he may have felt in his heart is impossible to surmise. His outward appearance seemed indifferent and unconcerned over the wretchedness of his soldiers; only ambition and lost honor may have made themselves felt in his heart; and, although the French and Allies shouted into his ears many oaths and curses about his own guilty person, he was still able to listen to them unmoved. After his Guard had already disbanded and he was almost abandoned, he collected a voluntary corps at Dubrovna which was enrolled with many promises and received the name of “Holy Squadron.” After a short time, however, this existed in name only, for the enemy reduced even them to nothing.
In this region we came to a half-burnt village away from the road, in which a cellar was found under a mansion. We sought for potatoes, and I also pressed down the broad stairway, although the cellar was already half filled with people. When I was at the bottom of the steps, the screaming began under my feet. Everyone crowded in, and none could get out. Here people were trampled to death and suffocated; those who wanted to stoop down for something were bowled over by those standing and had to be stepped upon. In spite of the murderous shrieking and frightful groaning, the pressure from outside increased; the poor, deathly weak men who fell had to lie there until dead under the feet of their own comrades. When I reflected on the murderous shrieking, I gave up pushing into the cellar, and I thought in cold fear: how will I get out again? I pressed flat against the wall so that it afforded me shelter and pushed myself vigorously little by little up the steps; this was almost impossible with others treading on my long coat. In the village of Sembin, where Napoleon ate, there was a burned house, under which was a low, timber-covered cellar with a small entrance from the outside. Here again, as potatoes and the like were being hunted for, suddenly the beams fell in and those who were inside and were not entirely burned up or suffocated were jumping about with burned clothes, screaming, whimpering, and freezing to death in terrible pain.
16. NEAR OSCHMAENY (ASHMIANY), 4 DECEMBER 1812. G. KÜSTNER, PRINTER. EMMINGER, LITHOGRAPHER. IN DESPERATION, THE LIVING STRIP THE INFIRM OF THEIR BLANKETS AND BOOTS, LEAVING THEM TO DIE IN THE FROZEN WAKE OF THE RETREAT.
When I had gone somewhat farther from that place, I met a man who had a sack of raw bran in which there was hardly a dust of flour. I begged him ceaselessly to sell me a little of the bran, pressing a silver ruble into his hand; so he put a few handfuls in my little cloth, although very unwillingly, whereupon I happily continued on my journey. When I and my master came closer to the Beresina, we camped on a near-by hill, and by contributing wood I obtained a place at a fire. I immediately mixed some snow with my bran; balled it together into a lump about the size of my fist, which because of its brittleness fell into three or four pieces again in the fire; and allowed it to heat red on the outside in order to obtain something like bread from the inside; and I and my master ate it all with the heartiest appetite.
After a time, from about two till four o’clock in the afternoon, the Russians pressed nearer and nearer from every side, and the murdering and torturing seemed about to annihilate everyone. Although our army used a hill, on which what was left of our artillery was placed, and fired at the enemy as much as
possible, the question was: what chance was there of rescue? That day we expected that everyone must be captured, killed, or thrown into the water. Everyone thought that his last hour had come, and everyone was expecting it; but, since the ridge was held by the French artillery, only cannon and howitzer balls could snatch away a part of the men. There was no hospital for the wounded; they died also of hunger, thirst, cold, and despair, uttering complaints and curses with their last breath. Also our sick, who had been conveyed to this point in wagons and consisted almost entirely of officers, were left to themselves; and only deathly white faces and stiffened hands stretched toward us.
When the cannonade had abated somewhat, I and my master set out and rode down the stream for about half an hour to where there was a village with several unburned houses. Here was also the general staff of Württemberg. In the hiding places here, I sought for something to eat at night; with this purpose I lighted candles that I had found; and I did find some cabbage (“Kapusk”) which looked green, spotted, and like rubbish. I placed it over a fire and cooked it for about half an hour. All at once cannon balls crashed into the village, and with a wild cheer the enemy sprang upon us. With all the speed we succeeded in escaping, since we mounted and rode away as fast as possible. I couldn’t leave my pot of cabbage behind, to be sure, but held it firmly in my arms on the horse, and the fear that I might lose my half-cooked meal made me forget entirely the bullets which were flying by. When we were a little distance from the place, my master and I reached our hands into the pot and ate our cabbage (“Kapuska”) in haste with our fingers. Neither could leave his hands bare because of the cold, and because of our hunger and the cold we vied with each other in grabbing swiftly into the warm pot, and the only meal for the entire day was at an end again in short time.
When it became day again, we stood near the stream approximately a thousand paces from the two bridges, which were built of wood near each other. These bridges had the structure of sloping saw-horses suspended like trestles on shallow-sunk piles; on these lay long stringers and across them only bridge ties, which were not fastened down. However, one could not see the bridges because of the crowd of people, horses, and wagons. Everyone crowded together into a solid mass, and nowhere could one see a way out or a means of rescue. From morning till night we stood unprotected from cannonballs and grenades which the Russians hurled at us from two sides. At each blow from three to five men were struck to the ground, and yet no one was able to move a step to get out of the path of the cannonballs. Only by the filling up of the space where a cannonball made room could one make a little progress forward. All the powder wagons also stood in the crowd; many of these were ignited by the grenades, killing hundreds of people and horses standing about them.
I had a horse to ride and one to lead. The horse I led I was soon forced to let go, and I had to kneel on the one which I rode in order not to have my feet crushed off, for everything was so closely packed that in a quarter of an hour one could move only four or five steps forward. To be on foot was to lose all hope of rescue. Indeed, whoever did not have a good horse could not help falling over the horses and people lying about in masses. Everyone was screaming under the feet of the horses, and everywhere was the cry, “Shoot me or stab me to death!” The fallen horses struck off their feet many of those still standing. It was only by a miracle that anyone was saved.
In the crowd the major and I held fast to one another; and, as far as it was possible, I frequently caused my horse to rear up, whereby he came down again about one step further forward. I marveled at the intelligence with which this animal sought to save us. Then evening came, and despair steadily increased. Thousands swam into the river with horses, but no one ever came out again; thousands of others who were near the water were pushed in, and the stream was like a sheep dip where the heads of men and horses bobbed up and down and disappeared.
Finally, toward four o’clock in the evening, when it was almost dark, I came to the bridge. Here I saw only one bridge, the second having been shot away. Now it is with horror, but at that time it was with a dull, indifferent feeling, that I looked at the masses of horses and people which lay dead, piled high upon the bridge. Only “Straight ahead and in the middle!” must be the resolution. “Here in the water is your grave; beyond the bridge is the continuation of a wretched life. The decision will be made on the bridge!” Now I kept myself constantly in the middle. The major and I could aid one another; and so amid a hundred blows of sabers we came to the bridge, where not a plank was visible because of the dead men and horses; and, although on reaching the bridge the people fell in masses thirty paces to the right and to the left, we came through to the firm land.
The fact that the bridge was covered with horses and men was not due to shooting and falling alone but also to the bridge ties, which were not fastened on this structure. The horses stepped through between them with their feet and so could not help falling, until no plank was left movable on account of the weight of the bodies. For where such a timber still could move, it was torn out of place by the falling horses, and a sort of trap was prepared for the following horse. Indeed, one must say that the weight of the dead bodies was the salvation of those riding across; for, without their load, the cannon would have caused the destruction of the bridge too soon.
By the time I was in safety, it had grown dark, and I did not know where the highway was. I lay down somewhat to the left of the road in a little clump of bushes and tied the horses to my foot. The major sent a Pole after water with a kettle bought the day before and also gave him a piece of money, but the man and the kettle were never seen again, and we both had to eat the snow for our thirst. There were now so few people around that in our quiet place it seemed as though everyone had been struck dead. The cannon fire also ceased, and the bridge had really sunk, too. Horrible was the lot of the people who still were on the other side: hunger, cold, and water brought them to their death.
When in the night a little moonlight appeared, I set out upon the march again, for, on account of the cramps in my feet, I could not lie still for a quarter of an hour. Again and again I turned from one side to the other, and in the end I was frozen stiff with my clothing. Only by marching did I overcome freezing. November 26, 27, and 28.
We both hurried farther along the highway; and, being daily without bread and shelter, I thought of my friends at home and compared my misery and approaching end with my former life of plenty. I remembered a common saying at home, “A campaign is always made out to be worse than it was.” With this common notion I consoled myself, thinking: “It’s well that you, my beloved kindred and friends, know nothing of my condition, for it would only cause you pain, and it would be of no use to me.” Yes, I thanked the Creator that only I and not my brother, too, was here. Certainly I would have lost my brother or seen him die without aid, which would have killed me as well.
I could look with indifference at the people falling by the hundreds, although the impact upon the ice bashed their heads. I could look at their rising and falling again, their dull moaning and whining, and the wringing and clenching of their hands. The ice and snow sticking in their mouths was frightful. Nevertheless, I had no feeling of pity. Only my friends were in my thoughts.
During this month the cold became worse daily. I had to be more and more careful of myself in order to keep from freezing; also keeping my horse and the major’s from starving kept me busy day and night. I rode sometimes to the right and sometimes to the left in order to find a village, and load some straw or unthreshed sheaves on my horse and sit on top of them. Sitting on the straw was absolutely necessary, for otherwise it would have been stolen or torn away by the other horses.
17. ON THE GREAT ROUTE FROM MOZHAISK TO KRYMSKAIA, 18 SEPTEMBER 1812. G. KÜSTNER, PRINTER. EMMINGER, LITHOGRAPHER.
Thus I came to Smorgoni, always keeping nearly in the middle of the army, which, however, more nearly resembled a troop of beggar Jews than one of soldiers. Here I met again, to my astonishment, well-organized regiments wh
ich came from Danzig to our support. There were two regiments of Poles who had just come back from Spain; they threw in their lot with us. A few troops came also from Württemberg, to join the Seventh Regiment, which had already been routed, likewise troops from the depot; but I did not hear of an acquaintance. Moreover, here in this region Napoleon had left us and fled with the fresh reserve troops, hurrying home ahead of the army. The general cry was, “Save himself who can.” However, Murat had taken over the command of the army and remained with us. On the journey from the Beresina through Plechnizi, Slaiski, Molodetschno, and Smorgoni, I had lost the major a second time, and not until a week later did I meet him with a Württemberg captain by the name of Frost. Both were happy to have me as their attendant again.
When we approached Vilna, the cold increased still more; everyone had been forced to camp out in the snow without shelter since we had left Moscow. At night one could really see how much space the army still occupied. The fires were always visible about a two hours’ march in length and about an hour’s in breadth. Because of the fire and cold, the sky was a glowing red, which was increased by the burning buildings standing off the highway. Many people were almost blinded by the smoke, which did not rise because of the cold, and still others became dizzy. All our misery was reaching its climax.
When I was still a three days’ journey from Vilna, about three o’clock in the afternoon the major gave me his horse, on which his coat was lying, and said that I should go just a little slowly, since he wanted to walk out a little way; and so I soon stopped and waited for him. Captain Frost and his attendant were also with me and waited, but no major came back. We waited a whole hour, and in vain. I was only too certain that he had frozen to death. What had probably happened to him was that he had not been able to put on his pulled-down trousers again because of the cold. It had been the fate of many hundreds, when they had sat down because of weakness or neccessity, that their clothing had been brutally torn from them and, where they could not defend themselves, they froze to death naked. Someone had tried this on me also, but I drove him away with a rather hard kick.