CHAPTER TWELVE.
MY FIRST EXPERIENCE OF ACTUAL WAR, AND MY THOUGHTS THEREON.
We set out by the light of the moon. Our party consisted of a smallforce of Russian light cavalry. The officer in command was evidentlywell acquainted with our route, for he rode smartly ahead withouthesitation or sign of uncertainty for several hours.
At first Nicholas and I conversed in low tones as we cantered side byside over hill and dale, but as the night advanced we became lesscommunicative, and finally dropped into silence. As I looked uponvillage and hamlet, bathed in the subdued light, resting in quietnessand peace, I thought sadly of the evils that war would surely bring uponmany an innocent and helpless woman and child.
It was invariably in this course that my thoughts about war flowed. Iwas, indeed, quite alive to the national evils of war, and I will notadmit that any man-of-peace feels more sensitively than I do the factthat, in war, a nation's best, youngest, and most hopeful blood isspilled, while its longest lives and most ardent spirits are ruthlessly,uselessly sacrificed--its budding youths, its strapping men, itsfreshest and most muscular, to say nothing of mental, manhood. Still,while contemplating war and its consequences, I have always been muchmore powerfully impressed with the frightful consequences to women andchildren, than anything else. To think of our wives, our little ones,our tender maidens, our loving matrons, and our poor helpless babes,being exposed to murder, rapine, torture, and all the numerous andunnameable horrors of war, for the sake of some false, some fanciful,some utterly ridiculous and contemptible idea, such as the connection ofone or two provinces of a land with this nation or with that, or the"integrity of a foreign empire," has always filled me with sensations ofindignation approaching to madness, not unmingled, I must add, withastonishment.
That savages will fight among themselves is self-evident; that Christiannations shall defend themselves from the assaults of savages is alsoobvious; but that two Christian nations should go to war for anything,on any ground whatever, is to my mind inexplicable and utterlyindefensible.
Still, they do it. From which circumstance I am forced to conclude thatthe Christianity as well as the civilisation and common-sense of one orthe other of such nations is, for the time, in abeyance.
Of course I was not perplexed in regard to the Turks. Their religion isnot Christian. Moreover, it was propagated by the sword, and teachescoercion in religious matters; but I could not help feeling that theRussians were too ready to forsake diplomacy and take to war.
"My dear fellow," said Nicholas, rousing himself, when I stated mydifficulty, "don't you see that the vacillating policy of England hasdriven us to war in spite of ourselves? She would not join the rest ofEurope in compelling Turkey to effect reforms which she--Turkey--hadpromised to make, so that nothing else was left for us but to go towar."
"My dear fellow," I retorted, somewhat hotly, "that Turkey has behavedbrutally towards its own subjects is a well-known fact. That she hastreated the representatives of all the great powers of Europe withextreme insolence is another well-known fact, but it is yet to be provedthat the efforts of diplomacy were exhausted, and even if they were, itremained for Europe, not for Russia, to constitute herself the championof the oppressed."
"Jeff, my boy," returned Nicholas, with a smile, "I'm too sleepy todiscuss that subject just now, further than to say that I don't agreewith you."
He did indeed look sleepy, and as we had been riding many hours Iforbore to trouble him further.
By daybreak that morning we drew near to the town of Giurgevo, on theRoumanian--or, I may say, the Russian--side of the Danube, and soonafterwards entered it.
Considerable excitement was visible among its inhabitants, who, even atthat early hour, were moving hurriedly about the streets. Having partedfrom our escort, Nicholas and I refreshed ourselves at the Hotel del'Europe, and then went to an hospital, where my companion wished tovisit a wounded friend--"one," he said, "who had lately taken part in adashing though unsuccessful expedition."
This visit to Giurgevo was my first introduction to some of the actualmiseries of war. The hospital was a clean, well-ventilated building.Rows of low beds were ranged neatly and methodically along thewhitewashed walls. These were tenanted by young men in every stage ofsuffering and exhaustion. With bandaged heads or limbs they sat orreclined or lay, some but slightly wounded and still ruddy with the hueof health on their young cheeks; some cut and marred in visage andlimbs, with pale cheeks and blue lips, that told of the life-bloodalmost drained. Others were lying flat on their backs, with the softbrown moustache or curly brown hair contrasting terribly with the greyhue of approaching death.
In one of the beds we found the friend of Nicholas.
He was quite a youth, not badly wounded, and received us withenthusiasm.
"My dear Nicholas," he said, in reply to a word of condolence about thefailure of the expedition, "you misunderstand the whole matter.Doubtless it did not succeed, but that was no fault of ours, and it wasa glorious attempt. Come, I will relate it. Does your friend speakRussian?"
"He at all events understands it," said I.
On this assurance the youth raised his hand to his bandaged brow as ifto recall events, and then related the incident, of which the followingis the substance.
While the Russians were actively engaged in preparing to cross theDanube at a part where the river is full of small islands, the Turkssent monitors and gunboats to interrupt the operations. The Russianshad no vessels capable of facing the huge ironclads of the enemy. Ofthe ten small boats at the place, eight were engaged in laying torpedoesin the river to protect the works, and two were detailed to watch theenemy. While they were all busily at work, the watchers in a boat namedthe _Schootka_ heard the sound of an approaching steamer, and soon afterdescried a Turkish gunboat steaming up the river. Out went the little_Schootka_ like a wasp, with a deadly torpedo at the end of her spar.The gun-boat saw and sought to evade her, put on full steam and huggedthe Turkish shore, where some hundreds of Circassian riflemen kept up anincessant fire on the Russian boat. It was hit, and its commanderwounded, but the crew and the second in command resolved to carry outthe attack. The _Schootka_ increased her speed, and, to theconsternation of the Turks, succeeded in touching the gun-boat justbehind the paddle-boxes, but the torpedo refused to explode, and the_Schootka_ was compelled to haul off, and make for shelter under a heavyfire from the gun-boat and the Circassian riflemen, which quite riddledher. While she was making off a second Turkish gun-boat hove in sight.The _Schootka_ had still another torpedo on board, one on the Harveyprinciple. This torpedo may be described as a somewhat square and flatcase, charged with an explosive compound. When used it is thrown intothe sea and runs through the water on its edge, being held in thatposition by a rope and caused to advance by pulling on it sidewise.Anglers will understand this when I state that it works on the principleof the "otter," and, somewhat like the celebrated Irish pig going tomarket, runs ahead the more it is pulled back by the tail. With thistorpedo the daring Russians resolved to attack the second gunboat, butwhen they threw it overboard it would not work; something had gone wrongwith its tail, or with the levers by which, on coming into contact withthe enemy, it was to explode. They were compelled therefore to abandonthe attempt, and seek shelter from the Turkish fire behind an island.
"So then," said I, on quitting the hospital, "torpedoes, although_terrible_ in their action, are not always _certain_."
"Nothing is always certain," replied Nicholas, with a smile, "except theflight of time, and as the matter on which I have come requiresattention I must now leave you for a few hours. Don't forget the nameof our hotel. That secure in a man's mind, he may lose himself in anytown or city with perfect safety--_au revoir_."
For some time I walked about the town. The morning was bright and calm,suggesting ideas of peace; nevertheless my thoughts could not be turnedfrom the contemplation of war, and as I wandered hither and thither,looking out for reminiscences of former wars, I
thought of the curiouslysteady way in which human history repeats itself. It seems to takeabout a quarter of a century to teach men to forget or ignore thelessons of the past and induce them to begin again to fight. Here, in1829, the Russians levelled the fortifications which at that timeencircled the town; here, in 1854, the Russians were defeated by theTurks; and here, in 1872, these same Russians and Turks were at the sameold bloody and useless game--ever learning, yet never coming to aknowledge of the great truth, that, with all their fighting, nothing hasbeen gained and nothing accomplished save a few changes of the men onthe chess-board, and the loss of an incalculable amount of life andtreasure.
As the day advanced it became very sultry. Towards the afternoon Istopped and gazed thoughtfully at the placid Danube, which, flowinground the gentle curve of Slobosia, reflected in its glittering watersthe white domes and minarets of the opposite town of Rustchuk. A low,rumbling sound startled me just then from a reverie. On looking up Iperceived a small puff of smoke roll out in the direction of the Turkishshore. Another and another succeeded, and after each shot a smallerpuff of smoke was seen to hang over the Turkish batteries opposite.
A strange conflicting rush of feelings came over me, for I had awakenedfrom dreaming of ancient battles to find myself in the actual presenceof modern war. The Russian had opened fire, and their shells werebursting among the Turks. These latter were not slow to reply. Soonthe rumbling increased to thunder, and I was startled by hearing atremendous crash not far distant from me, followed by a strange hummingsound. The crash was the bursting of a Turkish shell in one of thestreets of the town, and the humming sound was the flying about ofragged bits of iron. From the spot on which I stood I could see thehavoc it made in the road, while men, women, and children were rushingin all directions out of its way.
Two objects lay near the spot, however, which moved, although they didnot flee. One was a woman, the other a boy; both were severely wounded.
I hurried through the town in the direction of the Red-Cross hospital,partly expecting that I might be of service there, and partly in thehope of finding Nicholas. As I went I heard people remarking excitedlyon the fact that the Turks were firing at the hospital.
The bombardment became furious, and I felt an uncomfortable dispositionto shrink as I heard and saw shot and shell falling everywhere in thestreets, piercing the houses, and bursting in them. Many of these werespeedily reduced to ruins.
People hurried from their dwellings into the streets, excited andshouting. Men rushed wildly to places of shelter from the deadlymissiles, and soon the cries and wailing of women over the dead andwounded increased the uproar. This was strangely and horriblycontrasted with the fiendish laughter of a group of boys, who, as yetunhurt, and scarcely alive to the real nature of what was going on, hadtaken shelter in an archway, from which they darted out occasionally topick up the pieces of shells that burst near them.
These poor boys, however, were not good judges of shelter-places in suchcircumstances. Just as I passed, a shell fell and burst in front of thearchway, and a piece of it went singing so close past my head that Ifancied at the first moment it must have hit me. At the same instantthe boys uttered an unearthly yell of terror and fled from under thearchway, where I saw one of their number rolling on the ground andshrieking in agony.
Hastening to his assistance, I found that he had received a severe fleshwound in the thigh. I carried him into a house that seemed pretty wellprotected from the fire, dressed his wound, and left him in charge ofthe inmates, who, although terribly frightened, were kind andsympathetic.
Proceeding through the marketplace, I observed a little girl crouchingin a doorway, her face as pale as if she were dead, her lips perfectlywhite, and an expression of extreme horror in her eyes. I shouldprobably have passed her, for even in that short sharp walk I hadalready seen so many faces expressing terror that I had ceased to thinkof stopping, but I observed a stream of blood on her light-coloureddress.
Stooping down, I asked--
"Are you hurt, dear?"
Twice I repeated the question before she appeared to understand me;then, raising a pair of large lustrous but tearless eyes to my face, sheuttered the single word "Father," and pointed to something that lay inthe gloom of the passage beyond her. I entered, lifted the corner of apiece of coarse canvas, and under it saw the form of a man, but therewas no countenance. His head had been completely shattered by a shell.Replacing the canvas, I returned to the child. Her right hand wasthrust into her bosom, and as she held it there in an unnaturalposition, I suspected something, and drew it gently out. I was right.It had been struck, and the middle finger was hanging by a piece ofskin. A mere touch of my knife was sufficient to sever it. As Ibandaged the stump, I tried to console the poor child. She did notappear to care for the pain I unavoidably caused her, but remained quitestill, only saying now and then, in a low voice, "Father," as she lookedwith her tearless eyes at the heap that lay in the passage.
Giving this hapless little one in charge of a woman who seemed to be aninhabitant of the same building, I hurried away, but had not gone ahundred yards when I chanced to meet Nicholas.
"Ha! well met, my boy!" he exclaimed, evidently in a state of suppressedexcitement; "come along. I expected to have had a long hunt after you,but fortune favours me, and we have not a moment to lose."
"Where are you going?" I asked.
"Just think," he said, seizing my arm and hurrying me along, but takingno heed of my question; "we are fairly over the Danube in force! Thenight before last three thousand men, Cossacks and infantry, crossedfrom Galatz in boats and rafts, and gained the heights above Matchin.Zoukoff has beaten the enemy everywhere, and Zimmermann is reported tohave driven them out of Matchin--in fact we have fairly broken the ice,and all that we have now to do is to go in and win."
I saw by the flush on his handsome countenance that the martial ardourof Nicholas was stirred to its depths. There was a noble look of daringin his clear grey eye, and a smile of what seemed like joy on his lips,which I knew well were the expression of such sentiments as love ofcountry, desire to serve, like a brave son, that Emperor whom heregarded as a father, hatred of oppression, belief in the righteousnessof the cause for which he fought, and delight in the prospect of wildanimal excitement. He was full of high hopes, noble aspirations,superabundant energy, and, although not a deep thinker, could tellbetter than most men, by looking at it, whether the edge of a grindstonewere rough or smooth.
We walked smartly to our hotel, but found that our servant had fled, noone knew whither, taking our horses with him. The landlord, however,suggested the railway station, and thither we ran.
A train was entering when we arrived. It was full of Russian soldiers.On the platform stood a Jew, to whom Nicholas addressed himself. TheJew at first seemed to have difficulty in understanding him, but heultimately said that he had seen a man who must be the one we were insearch of, and was about to tell us more, when a Turkish shell burstthrough the roof of the station, and exploded on the platform, part ofwhich it tore up, sending splinters of iron and wood in all directions.The confused noise of shout and yell that followed, together with thesmoke, prevented my observing for a moment or two what damage had beendone, but soon I ascertained that Nicholas and myself were unhurt; thatthe Jew had been slightly wounded, and also several of the people whowere waiting the arrival of the train.
The groans of some of the wounded, and the cursing and shouting of thesoldiers just arrived, made a powerful impression on me.
"Come, I see our fellow," cried Nicholas, seizing me suddenly by the armand hurrying me away.
In a few minutes we had caught our man, mounted our horses, rejoined ourcavalry escort, which awaited us in the marketplace, and galloped out ofthe town.
It is a fact worthy of record that of all the people killed and hurtduring this bombardment of Giurgevo, not one was a Russian! This arosefrom the fact that the soldiers were under the safe cover of theirbatteries. The Turkish shells di
d not produce any real damage to worksor men. In short, all that was accomplished in this noisy display ofthe "art of war" was the destruction of many private houses, the killingand maiming of several civilians, including women and children, and ashameful waste of very expensive ammunition, partly paid for by thesufferers. In contemplating these facts, the word "glory" assumed avery strange and quite a new meaning in my mind.
Soon we were beyond the reach of Turkish missiles, though still withinsound of the guns. Our pace showed that we were making what I supposemy military friends would style a forced march. Nicholas was evidentlyunwilling to converse on the object of our march, but at length gave waya little.
"I see no harm," he said, "in telling you that we are about to cross theDanube not far from this, and that at least one of my objects is tosecure a trustworthy intelligent spy. You know--perhaps you don'tknow--that such men are rare. Of course we can procure any number ofmen who have pluck enough to offer themselves as spies, for the sake ofthe high pay, just as we can get any number of men who are willing tojump down a cannon's throat for the honour and glory of the thing."
"Yes," said I, interrupting, "men like our friend NicholasNaranovitsch!"
"Well, perhaps," he replied, with a light laugh, "but don't change thesubject, Jeff, you've got a bad tendency to do so. I say there is nodifficulty in getting spies; but it is not easy to find men wellqualified for such work. Now one has been heard of at last, and, amongother things, I am commissioned to secure him for the purpose of leadingour troops across the Balkans."
"The Balkans!" said I, in surprise; "you are a long way from thatrange."
"The length of any way, Jeff, depends not so much upon the way as on thespirit of him who measures it. Ten miles to one man is a hundred milesto another, and _vice versa_."
I could make no objection to that, for it was true. "Nevertheless,"said I, after a pause, "there may be spirits among the Turks who couldrender that, which is only a few days' journey in ordinarycircumstances, a six months' business to the Russians."
"Admitted heartily," returned Nicholas, with animation; "if the Turkwere not a brave foe, one could not take so much interest in the war."
This last remark silenced me for a time. The view-point of my futurekinsman was so utterly different from mine that I knew not what toreply. He evidently thought that a plucky foe, worthy of his steel, wasmost desirable, while to my mind it appeared obvious that the pluckierthe foe the longer and more resolute would be the resistance, and, as aconsequence, the greater the amount of bloodshed and of suffering to thewomen, children, and aged, the heavier the drain on the resources ofboth empires, and of addition to the burdens of generations yet unborn.
When, after a considerable time, I put the subject in this light beforeNicholas, he laughed heartily, and said--
"Why, Jeff, at that rate you would knock all the romance out of war."
"That were impossible, Nick," I rejoined quickly, "for there is noromance whatever in war."
"No romance?" he exclaimed, opening his eyes to their widest, andraising his black brows to their highest in astonishment.
"No," said I, firmly, "not a scrap. All the romance connected with waris in spite of it, and by no means the result of it. The heroismdisplayed in its wildest sallies is true heroism undoubtedly, but itwould be none the less heroism if it were exercised in the rescue of menand women from shipwreck or from fire. The romance of the bivouac inthe dark woods or on the moonlit plains of foreign lands, with thedelights of fresh air and life-giving exercise and thrilling adventure,is not the perquisite of the warrior; it is the privilege, quite asmuch, if not more, of the pioneer in the American backwoods andprairies, and of the hunter in the wilds of Africa. The romance ofunexpected meetings with foreign `fair ones' in out-o''-the-waycircumstances, with broken bones, perhaps, or gunshot wounds, to lendpathos to the affair, and necessitate nursing, which may lead tolove-making,--all that is equally possible to the Alpine climber and thechamois-hunter, to the traveller almost anywhere, who chooses to indulgein reckless sport, regardless of his neck.--Of course," I added, with asmile, for I did not wish to appear too cynical in my friend's eyes,"the soldier has a few advantages in which the civilian does not quitecome up to him, such as the glorious brass band, and the red coat, andthe glittering lace."
"Jeff," said Nicholas, somewhat gravely, "would you then take all theglory out of war, and reduce soldiers to a set of mere professional andlegalised cut-throats, whose duty it is callously to knock over so manythousand men at the command of governments?"
"Bear with me a little," said I, "and hear me out. You misunderstandme. I speak of war, not of warriors. As there is no `romance,' sothere is no `glory' in war. Many a glorious deed may be, and often is,done _in connection with_ war. Such a deed is done when a handful ofbrave men sacrifice their lives at the call of duty, and in defence ofcountry, as at Thermopylae. Such a deed is done when a wounded Prussiansoldier, dying of thirst on the battle-field, forgets the accursedcustom--war--which has brought him to that pass, and shares the lastdrops of his water-flask with a so-called French enemy. And such a deedis done, still more gloriously, when a soldier, true to his Queen andcountry, is true also to his God, and preaches while he practises theprinciples and gospel of the Prince of Peace, in the presence of thosewith whom he acts his part in this world's drama. There is indeed muchthat is glorious in the conduct of many warriors, but there is no glorywhatever in war itself. The best that can be said of it is, thatsometimes it is a stern yet sad necessity."
We dropped the subject here, having reached the point of the river whereour party was to cross to the Turkish shore.
The passage was soon accomplished by means of rafts, and many thousandsof Russians having already preceded us we experienced no opposition. Itwas daylight when we rode into a village on the Bulgarian shore, and Ilooked up sleepily at the cottages as we passed.
"We halt here," said Nicholas, with a yawn as he drew rein.
The officer in command of our party had already halted his men, who,gladly quitting their saddles, streamed after us into the courtyard ofthe village.
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