to move forward again,” I thought and decided to take a little nap first. Just then I noticed that something out of the ordinary was going on at the end of the village, nearest to the fighting front. There were a number of soldiers gesticulating in an excited way, and among them two figures in the green Russian uniforms. "As if they had never seen Russians," says I to myself and prepared to go into my hut. But I did not go in; as the group was coming nearer, I heard insults that were not usually applied to the Russian soldiers. The orderly was already coming at a run to report that the prisoners were not Russians, but the “white reds” from that lot that made us run a week before and who were now covering the Russian retreat; those two, he said, were found in the woods stunned, and now they were brought to me. “That will be a short trial,” thought I and ordered my servant to bring out a table and chair.
The group stopped a few paces back, and the sergeant led before me the two prisoners. They were tired, hardly able to stand on their feet, in torn and dirty uniforms. The older one was about thirty-five years old, a big, sturdy fellow with a bright look in spite of his exhaustion., The younger man was just past twenty, had a bloody handkerchief tied around his head and was apparently faint from loss of blood. Both showed the marks of beating administered by Magyar infantry into whose hands they fell. I was almost sorry for them.” And the judge advocate took a long drink to cover up his embarrassment, when he realized what he had said.
I sat down at the table to make the proper protocol. “What is your name,” I asked. No answer. “What is the name of your home town?” Again no answer. They looked at me calmly, indifferently, and the younger one was trying with his weak fingers to roll a cigarette.
I translated these questions into Bohemian—I am quite good in that language (and the captain-judge blushed a little), but no reply. I could not get an answer out of them.
“Then tell me at least what you fought for.”
“For our Country,” they answered almost with one voice.
“And your oath to the emperor?”
“We have no emperor, only our nation.”
“Do you realize what crime you have committed?” I asked them.
“The crime of loving our own country,” said proudly the older man.
These theatrical answers made me nervous. So I said sharply: “Do you know what is going to happen to you?”
The younger one straightened out and declared in a clear voice: “Those there,” pointing to the Russian side, “will achieve victory, and we two will suffer death for our country.”
That was the end of the protocol. I got their names from the papers in their possession. I sent for the provost who had a lot of practice in his trade and for some rope. Rope at that time was not so scarce as now.
In the meantime the two sat down on the ground and paying no attention to me, although they knew that I understodo them, talked together for the last time.
“It’s too bad that we won’t see Prague any more,” said the younger one; “but no matter, the other boys will get there.”
“I am sorry that our side have to retreat now,” said the older man, “but they are sure to come back.”
“We shall win; but it is too bad that I cannot even send a message to my Mary. If I wrote her from here and she found out what happened to me, she would lose her reason.”
“Don’t talk about that please. I have Hanča and two children”—and an involuntary sigh shook him. “Look, you won’t be able to finish your cigarette; they are bringing the rope.” But he did not show any emotion, as the provost with his helper came near.
Just then captain X. came up and tried to make them talk. He promised that if they would give him the names and exact addresses of three others, they would be only shot. They just laughed at him.
The provost tied the ropes to plum trees along the road, tried them out and reported that he was ready. I did no feel very easy, as I saw those two taking it so calmly. When you see the men whimper or struggle, you naturally want it over as quick as possible, but this way—. The captain looked over his audience, but no one even moved. So he went on.
The prisoners seeing that I was hesitating to give the word got up of their own accord and took leave of each other.
“Good by, Frank; we had some good and bad times together, but we were always good chums to each other, and now we can be glad that we die together,” and the older Czech rebel shook the other man’s hand.
“Good by; the boys will avenge us, and we will win after all. Turn around and look toward the West, where lies Bohemia.”
The soldiers that gathered around to witness the executions looked with respect on men who could die like that. The older man especially acted like a hero. He did not even wink and himself jumped up, when they put the noose around his neck.
As far as I am concerned, gentlemen, I really believe that only a Czech can die like that—so ended the judge advocate-captain. But realizing that he said too much, he picked up the glass and called for a toast to the New Year.
Later on F. and I were going to our quarters. Snow crackled under our feet and a freezing wind whipped our faces. There was the Piave like a ribbon of molten silver, and on the other side a new life, new aims, new desires.
I pressed my friend’s arm. There we must go, and the sooner the better.
In a few days I swam across.
