





FOUR WEEKS IN THE TRENCHES

by Fritz Kreisler



To My Dear Wife Harriet

The Best Friend Add Stanchest Comrade In All Circumstances Of
Life I Dedicate This Little Book

In Humble Token Of Everlasting Gratitude And Devotion




Preface

This brief record of the fighting on the Eastern front in the great war
is the outcome of a fortunate meeting.

The writer chanced to be dining with Mr. Kreisler soon after his
arrival in this country, after his dismissal from the hospital where he
recovered from his wound.  For nearly two hours he listened, thrilled
and moved, to the great violinist's modest, vivid narrative of his
experiences and adventures.  It seemed in the highest degree
desirable that the American public should have an opportunity of
reading this narrative from the pen of one in whose art so many of
us take a profound interest.  It also was apparent that since so little
of an authentic nature had been heard from the Russo-Austrian field
of warfare, this story would prove an important contribution to the
contemporary history of the war.

After much persuasion, Mr.  Kreisler reluctantly acceded to the
suggestion that he write out his personal memories of the war for
publication.  He has completed his narrative in the midst of grave
difficulties, writing it piecemeal in hotels and railway trains in the
course of a concert tour through the country.  It is offered by the
publishers to the public with confidence that it will be found one of
the most absorbing and informing narratives of the war that has yet
appeared.

F.  G.





Four Weeks In The Trenches



I



In trying to recall my impressions during my short war duty as an
officer in the Austrian Army, I find that my recollections of this period
are very uneven and confused.  Some of the experiences stand out
with absolute clearness; others, however, are blurred.  Two or three
events which took place in different localities seem merged into one,
while in other instances recollection of the chronological order of
things is missing.  This curious indifference of the memory to values
of time and space may be due to the extraordinary physical and
mental stress under which the impressions I am trying to chronicle
were received.  The same state of mind I find is rather characteristic
of most people I have met who were in the war.  It should not be
forgotten, too, that the gigantic upheaval which changed the
fundamental condition of life overnight and threatened the very
existence of nations naturally dwarfed the individual into
nothingness, and the existing interest in the common welfare left
practically no room for personal considerations.  Then again, at the
front, the extreme uncertainty of the morrow tended to lessen the
interest in the details of to-day; consequently I may have missed a
great many interesting happenings alongside of me which I would
have wanted to note under other circumstances.  One gets into a
strange psychological, almost hypnotic, state of mind while on the
firing line which probably prevents the mind's eye from observing
and noticing things in a normal way.  This accounts, perhaps, for
some blank spaces in my memory.  Besides, I went out completely
resigned to my fate, without much thought for the future.  It never
occurred to me that I might ever want to write my experiences, and
consequently I failed to take notes or to establish certain
mnemo-technical landmarks by the aid of which I might now be able to
reconstruct all details.  I am, therefore, reduced to present an
incoherent and rather piecemeal narrative of such episodes as
forcibly impressed themselves upon my mind and left an
ineradicable mark upon my memory.

The outbreak of the war found my wife and me in Switzerland,
where we were taking a cure.  On the 31st of July, on opening the
paper, I read that the Third Army Corps, to which my regiment
(which is stationed in Graz) belonged, had received an order for
mobilization.

Although I had resigned my commission as an officer two years
before, I immediately left Switzerland, accompanied by my wife, in
order to report for duty.  As it happened, a wire reached me a day
later calling me to the colors.

We went by way of Munich.  It was the first day of the declaration of
the state of war in Germany.  Intense excitement prevailed.  In
Munich all traffic was stopped; no trains were running except for
military purposes.  It was only due to the fact that I revealed my
intention of rejoining my regiment in Austria that I was able to pass
through at all, but by both the civil and military authorities in Bavaria
I was shown the greatest possible consideration and passed
through as soon as possible.

We reached Vienna on August first.  A startling change had come
over the city since I had left it only a few weeks before.  Feverish
activity everywhere prevailed.  Reservists streamed in by thousands
from all parts of the country to report at headquarters.  Autos filled
with officers whizzed past.  Dense crowds surged up and down the
streets.  Bulletins and extra editions of newspapers passed from
hand to hand.  Immediately it was evident what a great leveler war
is.  Differences in rank and social distinctions had practically
ceased.  All barriers seemed to have fallen; everybody addressed
everybody else.

I saw the crowds stop officers of high rank and well-known members
of the aristocracy and clergy, also state officials and court
functionaries of high rank, in quest of information, which was
imparted cheerfully and patiently.  The imperial princes could
frequently be seen on the Ring Strasse surrounded by cheering
crowds or mingling with the public unceremoniously at the cafes,
talking to everybody.  Of course, the army was idolized.  Wherever
the troops marched the public broke into cheers and every uniform
was the center of an ovation.

While coming from the station I saw two young reservists, to all
appearances brothers, as they hurried to the barracks, carrying their
small belongings in a valise.  Along with them walked a little old lady
crying, presumably their mother.  They passed a general in full
uniform.  Up went their hands to their caps in military salute,
whereupon the old general threw his arms wide open and embraced
them both, saying: "Go on, my boys, do your duty bravely and stand
firm for your emperor and your country.  God willing, you will come
back to your old mother." The old lady smiled through her tears.  A
shout went up, and the crowds surrounding the general cheered
him.  Long after I