CROSSING THE RIVER
On Oct. 18 a decisive attack was ordered. Our men were to plunge into the river, get across somehow, and take positions on the other side. The entire division moved: but there was no crossing. The attempt was hopeless. Our pontoon service was wretched. The boats were shelled, and sent off in splinters the moment they got to the banks. The Russians then tried the game. They did better than we had done. Two of their companies got across the river, and took up a strong position on a little hill. Our commanders were furious. Orders came at once to dislodge the Russians. I ordered my company to the attack. We got to the foot of the little hill, and came back at once. There was no chance. The foot of the hill was protected by a marsh with water waist deep. The men in vain tried to wade through it. There was no getting beyond that marsh.
In all we made eleven attacks. Other companies were sent. The whole division was thrown against the position, and was driven back. The two Russian companies gallantly held their position. I went to the colonel to explain that it was hopeless to try to take it. I told him about the marsh. A staff officer took out his map, and showed me that there was no marsh. “It is not marked on the map, but the marsh is there,“ I said. I invited him to come and see! He sat down behind a tree, lit a cigarette, and said, “the map is good enough for me.“ The colonel also decided that the map was right. I must be wrong, and I had orders to try again and get to the hill, where there was no marsh. I noticed that the colonel and staff officers had a very fine shelter. It was partly under ground, and safe against shells.
The quarters were in the cellar of and old brewery. What an ideal place it was! There was a good stock of beer left. I had some of it before I went back to my men. I could not help thinking how comfortable the colonel and his staff were in the beer cellar! I counted my men, and saw that they had been woefully reduced. Those Russian companies on that little hill had cost us dear. Thirty per cent of our men had been mowed down by their machine-guns. After eleven attacks the Russians were still there. I was expected to try once more. I told my men that we had to take the position. The staff officers said there was no marsh. The staff officers proved it by their map. “I suppose there is no marsh there,“ I said to my men. “Perhaps we had better wait until it dries up and agrees with the map.“ My men understood. There were no more attacks.
We kept in our trenches. On the fourth night a patrol came into our lines. It was a Czech patrol from the 28th Regiment of Prague. What a joy to meet Czechs! We embraced. We sat down, talked and
