The Battle of Weiburg

A note from the transcriber—A few years ago I was doing some research in Vienna for a paper I was writing, and had been digging through the old State Archives for a week or so. I’d spent one particularly grey afternoon sifting through boxes of letters and manilla envelopes, and was about to leave with my portfolio when I discovered a small, wooden box buried between some ledgers.It was dark, well-varnished, and decorated with silver latches, but its most impressive feature was an exquisitely detailed carving of a rook holding an arrow in its beak in the centre of the lid. While I don’t pretend to have any knowledge of antiques, I could tell that it was very old.Having looked through its contents, I found a number of documents I can only describe as unusual. The first of these I read were the letters, diaries and personal effects of one Friedrich Holzer, whose life I have begun to piece together.I won’t bore you with any of the minute details, but I will say that Holzer seemed to be a very normal young man who was perhaps slightly prone to nervous tendencies. Shortly after the outbreak of the First World War he decided to enlist as an infantry officer. In January, 1915, he was posted to the Galician Front as a second lieutenant, where he found himself part of a large counterattack.I have done my best to transcribe what he wrote on the night of February 23rd, 1915, in a lengthy letter to his sister a month after an incident which he describes in great detail—the Battle of Weiburg.Finally, it is worth mentioning that I have searched online and read through several books about the War in the east, but have found no account of the Battle of Weiburg, or any record at all of a place by that name. It therefore may be reasonably assumed that either Weiburg is the German name for a place called something else in Ukrainian or Polish, or that these are merely the mental ramblings of a shell-shocked young officer. Perhaps I have simply become the victim of an elaborate hoax.However, there is also another possibility, although it isn’t one to which I give much credence, this being that the Austro-Hungarian General Staff and War Ministry took measures during or after the War to make sure that the town was forgotten, along with the ‘battle’ to which it lent its name, and in which Holzer took part.What follows are his words alone.February 23rd, 1915Dear MariaI apologise for this late letter but my mind has been otherwise preoccupied. I pray you are keeping well in this dismal season, and that you are not too lonely in the house without your Paul. I hope you find some solace in the company of little Anna; please do give her all my love. I am forlorn to have been without you all these last six months, but God willing I will return soon. I wish I could say that I am well, Maria, but I am not.This is a very strange country. Somehow the little roads, the emptied fields and tracks of unchecked woodland no longer lend themselves to pleasant thoughts, but now instill in me nothing more than an itching sense of dread. As you know, dear sister, I am, by some degree, an apprehensive man, but I fear that there is something else in this wild land working at great cost to my spirit.My mind has grown restless. I cannot help but glance behind the company every so often, and I find myself peering into the trees for hours in the evening. My dreams have been unsettling of late. Distant thoughts of home, now buried in my memory, drive away madness, but I fear I am succumbing to a festering anxiety. This attack of nerves would not be so troubling if I did not know the cause, but as it is, I do.I have avoided the subject of Weiburg for a month now, but this morning, looking at the date, I could not believe that it has indeed been a month since our company advanced upon that place. I would censor myself more carefully, Maria, but as I am doubtful of any strategic significance in my account, and as my C.O. has ceased inspecting officers’ letters, I feel that I can report the incident while remaining within the limits of my duty.Neither my men nor fellow officers have spoken of the battle, but I feel it is my responsibility to recall the events of the night of January 23rd, 1915, so that some record of it remains in the event of my capture or injury in the campaign.Our division was facing the Russians, who had taken much ground in their last offensive, but their lines were cut short by trekking into difficult terrain. The mountains and hills here are unforgiving, and they had stopped with the arrival of the winter. In our sector the new front lay along some nameless river at the bottom of a valley, beyond which lay a strip of villages and hamlets. The location of our counterattack centred around three of these settlements, one of which was Weiburg, with which our regiment had been tasked with capturing.Our attack began in the early morning but our company was so hindered by the snow that it was not until late afternoon that we reached the riverbank. Fortunately, the enemy had not been able to dig into the winter earth, and their defences crumbled without much difficulty. Nevertheless, they blew the bridge before we managed to take it, and though it was a shallow river, we could not ford the regiment at once over the ice. Instead, a detachment of the Bohemian Dragoons was sent ahead to run off any of the enemy stragglers, and an hour after they had crossed, our company was ordered ahead, with Captain Pisano leading the advance.The village was separated from the river by an orchard, which was so unkempt and snow-swept that we could not pass through it in a skirmish line, and instead had to march by column up the narrow road. Every so often we would see an abandoned Maxim gun or an artillery carriage, and other evidence of the enemy’s withdrawal. Pisano remarked that we might be driving the Russians out of the Carpathians once and for all, but none of us believed it.We had not marched for very long before Sergeant Krupp spotted a large pillar of smoke climbing out from above the trees. Indeed, having passed ahead, we all began to see a billowing black cloud rising from the direction of the village. He posited that the Russians must have torched it before they left, and that they truly were a barbaric people, though at the time I thought it more likely that it had been shelled by our artillery.We arrived at a dry-stone wall that demarcated the village. It seemed to consist of two broad streets at a crossroads, in the middle of which was a narrow square and a church. Upon entering, Pisano ordered us to fan out and proceed with caution, and slowly, we entered Weiburg.The first thing I noticed was the marked absence of citizenry. Private Reidl pointed out a row of outlying cottages where several horses had huddled together. I sent him to lead them out, where upon inspection we found that they were carrying saddlebags bearing the markings of the Bohemian Dragoons. We moved through the village carefully, checking every corner. However, as we approached the square, it became evident that no Russians remained. Half-emptied ammunition boxes were littered all over the main road, where mules drawing supply carts had been shot.Upon entering the square I saw a group of twenty or so soldiers, as well as a young officer guarding a large pile of firewood by the church. Above them, the steeple was ablaze, sending clouds of black smoke up into the darkening sky. I estimated that there was no more than an hour of daylight left. As they saw us, one of them, the officer, strode towards us.He began yelling that it was ‘about bloody time we showed up’. Captain Pisano, who is not one to suffer impertinence, demanded his name and regiment. He was one Lieutenant Farkas of the Dragoons, and gave a half-hearted salute upon the realising that he was speaking to a superior officer.Pisano asked where his C.O. had gotten to, and Farkas explained that shortly after they arrived at the emptied village, they heard potshots being fired from the east. Major Rubeck, the commander, took the battalion into the eastern woods to drive out any remaining soldiers. Pisano cast an eye skyward, and asked whether the blazing church had been the Russians’ doing.‘No sir, it’s a sniper nest,’ replied Farkas, ‘There’s five or six of the bastards up there, but the flames will flush them out. They stopped firing some time ago.’‘For God’s sake man, why the hell didn’t you just ask them to surrender?’ cried the captain.The lieutenant told him that they had refused to come down, and that the fire had been lit by the Hungarians.‘What Hungarians?’ asked the confounded Pisano.Farkas pointed at the soldiers guarding the woodpile, the meagre command left at the lieutenant’s disposal.‘You mean they’re not your lot?’Farkas responded in the negative, and said that the men had been there upon the Dragoons’ arrival. They were apparently from a Hungarian regiment that had gotten lost en route to its objective.Hearing that, Pisano began to interrogate the soldiers, who were all fairly rattled by my estimation. He asked them when they had become separated from their unit, how long they had been lost for, and what their objective was. They said that they were a reconnaissance party, they had been separated for no more than twenty minutes, and that their objective was the adjacent village to the east.‘That’s impossible, sir.’ remarked Sergeant Krupp, ‘That’s eight kilometres away. It would take an hour at least to get over that terrain.’‘Not to mention the Russians,’ I added.We all looked towards the crooked hill that marked the eastern woodland. Pisano asked whether they had found any Russian pickets in the woods. They said no, that the only resistance they encountered were the snipers in the church. He asked where the townspeople had got to, and both Farkas and the Hungarians said that Weiburg was deserted, but that there were still fires burning the grates of the houses.‘What are you talking about?’ demanded the captain, ‘You mean to say the villagers just packed up and left?’Farkas said that they likely fled when the battle began, but this was easily dismissed considering the only direction they could flee to was the north, towards the enemy lines. We were left without any plausible explanation, only that perhaps the Russians had forced them to leave with them, but none of us could reason why. As the sun gradually dipped below the horizon, Pisano took a brief circular walk about the village square. He took off his cap and lit a cigarette, which dangled limply from his mouth.‘What on earth is going on?’ he finally said in a flustered tone, ‘There’s a battalion of rogue dragoons chasing shots in the woods, a dozen lost Hungarians guarding a ghost town, and not a fraction of enemy resistance save the bloody pacifist snipers in a burning steeple.’He threw the cigarette into the snow, muttering that it was damned fortunate the Russians were more incompetent than we were, otherwise the offensive would have ended up a complete disaster. I postulated that perhaps the enemy was readying an ambush, to which the captain nodded, darting his eyes this way and that. He was evidently distracted, and I must confess that I too was stricken by a feeling that we were being observed from somewhere far off.He reasoned that once Rubeck and his Dragoons returned, the village would be about as secure as it could be. I was certainly looking forward to the prospect of moving onwards tomorrow morning, and I could see that the men, who had been resting in and around the square, taking staggered sips from their canteens, were similarly on edge.About that time, just as the darkness was settling in, second company converged on our position. Pisano approached their captain, the two conversing about the mode of tomorrow’s attack. Just then, the air was pierced by the sound of distant shots. Farkas said that Rubeck must be seeing off the last Russians, and he started for the eastern boundary, the rest of us following in quick pursuit.However, as we gained a view of the wooded hill, we saw no cavalrymen, but rather watched as a lone horse emerged from the tree-line and galloped towards us. Krupp took its reins as it trotted onto the road, and it let out an unsettling whinny as it was brought forward. The sergeant tried to calm it and Pisano caught onto the saddlebag, which, like the others, bore the Dragoons’ regimental symbol. The second company captain remarked that Rubeck was a fool for leading a cavalry charge into such a forested area, but Pisano was too distracted to agree.‘There’s something wrong here,’ he said. More sporadic shots rang out as he made hurried decisions with the other captain. It was quickly decided that the reinforcing troops would secure the village from the north while our company combed the forest.We marched towards the wood under the light of a signal flare which Pisano fired off as we advanced. There was absolute quiet in the ranks, and the only sound was the distant din of the steeple giving way, and the very sudden shots from the woods that marked the enemy’s final resistance. As we entered the forest, it was plain to see even in the dim light that it bore the hallmarks of a skirmish. Gashes from hurried shots marked a good number of tree trunks, rifles had been abandoned in the snow, and the whole place reeked of cordite.I bade my section to be careful of the ridge-line, for that was where the enemy had the advantage. We were going uphill, and atop the summit lay a series of rocky outcrops, only distantly visible through the trees, which I reasoned must be an excellent vantage point, and which Rubeck’s cavalry must have been unfortunately deterred by. Quietly, Pisano ordered my section to cover the right flank. With that, we departed north, maintaining a view of the ridge, but removing ourselves from the sight of the rest of the company.Pisano’s plan was to surround the central position, and then converge, hopefully dispersing the remaining Russians. By now, I believe, the captain presumed the Dragoons to have scattered into the woods, and that it was up to us to secure the position.What had begun as a sparse forest had grown ever denser, and increasingly darker. I heard the noise of another flare being let off, and as the yellow light played upon the trees surrounding us, their spindly shadows gently undulated inwards. Another sharp explosion set me on edge. This one was close. We all crouched down, and cautiously fanned out. I was doing my best to keep us on the base of the hill, but it seemed that any way we went we were inevitably going upwards. The air was marked by a distinct stillness. No birds were sent rocketing upwards after the shot, the only sound was the muffled crunch of snow compacting under our boots.Just as the flare began to die away, I caught a glimpse of a soldier amongst the trees. Not able to judge him friend or foe, I fumbled with my electric lamp, and once I’d got it working aimed it in his direction. In the yellow lamplight I quickly recognised the figure’s brown uniform, and while reaching for my pistol, called for Krupp, who was next to me. The old sergeant raised his rifle and discharged a round in the direction of the Russian.The shot must have connected, for the soldier flew back with some force, though strangely enough he didn’t make a sound. I daren’t say it, Maria, but it was rather like he was being violently hoisted backwards. We all crouched amongst the trunks, afraid to go any farther forward. Silence descended again, and I scanned the trees with my lamp. As I was about to give the order to move off, someone let out a startling cry and we all turned back. Reidl exclaimed that Corporal Brecht was gone. I demanded to know what he meant, but he said that Brecht had disappeared, vanished. I yelled out for the corporal, but was greeted with silence.I said that we must continue our way around the base, estimating that we should meet up with the captain soon. However, before I could finish, the woods erupted with noise. Every direction seemed to howl with gunfire, though I could see neither muzzle flash, nor damage dealt to the trees. Everyone leapt for cover, and I found myself with Reidl, the pair of us pinned by fear to a snow covered log. We each expended an occasional cartridge, but so intense was the enemy barrage that neither of us dared to move from cover. Hoping to extricate us from the situation, I called for Krupp to get the rest of the section moving up the hill. As soon as he went off, Reidl and I ran like hell, and we began our ascent.Thankfully, another flare rocketed skywards, giving us some much needed light. However, just as we were illuminated, the gunfire completely ceased. There was no delayed lull, no sporadic continuation, just silence. Once again, the night air was filled with nothing more than the sound of our crunching steps, although by then it was clear that we were not alone.Someone in the rear cried out, and we all looked back in time to see the poor fellow slip down the slope. He fell with such rapidity that it was as if he was being pulled. The terrain, I suppose, must have been very disadvantageous. By then, we were spooked enough, and our pace quickened as we all rushed as well we could up the incline. The trees around us danced in the light, and a wind must have been picking up, for they had begun to sway.Soon we crested the ridge, where we found nothing but a large rock face covered in logs and debris cleared of snow. I surmised it was some logging site. We collapsed from exhaustion. The snow had taken it out of us, and we all formed a circle around the rocky perimeter. The flare had lit up the woods behind us, but all other sides were enveloped in darkness. Someone was blowing a whistle down the slope, and I realised it must have been either Rubeck or the Captain. Hurriedly, I bent below the ridge, and called out into the darkness. A minute passed, and I was greeted by the haggard figure of Captain Pisano emerging from the trees. His pistol dangled at his side, his whistle was jammed into his mouth, and his head was badly bloodied.Krupp and I took hold of him and leant him against the rock. His face was stricken with terror, and he kept repeating the word ‘withdraw’. I asked him where the rest of the unit was, but he just shook his head. I took this as an order, and the remains of our drained and fearful company descended. We used the flare for guidance, but as it ebbed away so too did our remnant courage. From every swaying tree came the impression of movement. The air wasn’t still. It crept and moved and shrouded us in trepidation. The wind had picked up, and the branches creaked and groaned above. While I clutched the unsteady Captain, the yellow light diminished ever more. I hoped to God that it wasn’t the last one, and that that lonely glimmer would not subside into the night.We were tumbling over the snow by then, slipping and falling forward down the slope. I had to keep my balance so Pisano wouldn’t trip, but in doing so bent too far forward and lost my spectacles in the snow. I am sure that we were all wondering where the enemy had gotten to. They were watching us, or at least they had been. I had sensed them. But why hadn’t they taken their opportunity to strike? It was as if they were toying with us.We had attacked thinking ourselves at a complete advantage, and now we ran like the devil was after us. Slowly, the last glimpse of light disappeared somewhere behind the hill, and I worried that soon we would be submerged in gloom. Between us there were three torches, and I threw Pisano’s to Reidl as I struggled to turn mine on. The electric lights sprang into action, and we silently surveyed our surroundings as if having been transported elsewhere.Just then, a shot rang out, and then another. This was followed by a scattered increase, until it was clear we were under heavy fire. The beams jerked in all directions as we tried to get some sense of the Russian position. It was as if we were surrounded, but whichever way we looked there was only the empty forest. Cautiously, we stumbled forward. Private Holstein screamed behind me, and I swung around to find him gone. The poor fellow was nowhere to be seen, his tracks led nowhere. Someone fired into the woods, and suddenly the gunshots ceased.‘There!’ shouted Reidl, and our torches turned in his direction. His face was frozen in abject horror as he pointed into the darkness. ‘I saw it move! There, look!’, he cried. I peered into the woods, the dim tree-line caught in our collective gaze. He was right. Something was moving, moving in the dark, but it was no Russian, I’m sure of that. The trees were swaying violently now, though I could still sense little of the storm.In amongst them something long and pale was moving, dare I say running, between the trees. It reminded me of the way spiders walk, but so much faster. The thing had a head, or what could be called one, but I could mark no features on it with my blurred vision. The brevity of the moment belays any proper description, and I apologise for my lack thereof, but I do not wish to recall it. I will say that it most definitely had a mouth, however, as it opened, rather than emitting an animal howl or wail, it instead produced a gunshot. A terrible realisation dawned on me, and I will swear by God’s grace that I was taken by the worst panic I’ve ever felt. There are no words to describe the feelings it impressed upon me. I can only say that it did not remotely seem a temporal being.It seemed to turn towards us, and that filled our hearts with dread. At that we set off, all except for Reidl who was frozen in his place. Krupp shouted for him, and locked a round, aiming between the trees. Reidl’s stupor was broken by the shot, and he quickly retreated with the rest of us. Sergeant Krupp, however, stood his ground, turning back the bolt again. I was afraid of losing the Captain under his pressing weight, for my constitution was reasonably exhausted by then. We fled hurriedly, and I’m afraid that was the last I saw of the old man.If our retreat had been unorganised before, it was now even more so. Our two lights barely emitted anything as we went, half running half slipping down the slope. I tried not to look too much ahead of me, and instead focused on the snow and made sure that neither me nor the Captain tripped. It was with unimaginable relief that we saw the next flare go up. This was soon dampened by what was illuminated. From the whole party of two or so dozen, there was now only Reidl, Pisano and myself.Still, we soldiered on, hoping to break the tree-line soon. Pisano was incoherently whispering to me when something lit up behind us. We turned to see a great blaze coming from the outcrop. It became evident that the logs and litter left on the escarpment had been set alight by the flare. This bonfire shot up with such ferocity that it was as if it had been laden with kerosene. The flames quickly leapt to the treetops, and the sound of the crackling increased. The blaze was spreading fast, and despite there being heavy snow on the ground, the trees must have been largely dry.Spurned on by this new threat, we continued. A tree not far from us was rent apart from the heat, and came crashing down into the snow. This sent a large cloud of steam upwards, and the hissing noise was terrible to hear. Our backs were hot with the heat of the growing fire, which was nearly above us. Despite all our hurrying, it seemed we were getting nowhere. The Captain was tiring, and being nearly finished myself, I bade Reidl take him on his back. He set down his rifle, but as he did so, a bough fell between us. Through the heat, I saw something approaching him from behind, and with that, I abandoned him.I hauled Pisano over me, and I began my mad dash. The fire was really going now, and the hissing had spread everywhere. I could barely move my legs, so cold were they through plodding in the snow, and neither could I see the light of the flare with the brightness of the flames. Still, on I went, paying no heed to the direction, only concentrating on the descent. Ahead of us, I saw the tree-line, and then the plain beyond. This rejuvenated me, and I said to the Captain through dwindling breaths that we were going to get out. We escaped the burning wood just as the fire felled a tree behind us.Distantly, I could see the church in Weiburg, still alight, and a perimeter of soldiers watching us. At their head was Farkas, the Hungarians, and a handful of men from the company. Their faces all were pale, and they kept their rifles close. I stumbled over, helped by none of them. I set the Captain limply down, and they asked me what had happened. I could not think, and so simply shook my head. I asked if Krupp or Reidl had gotten out, but only received the same reply.We all withdrew to the village, where some stretcher bearers took Pisano away, and I turned back, searching the blazing woods for any sign of life. I could see nothing, except a brief sharp movement that caught my eye. Amongst the inferno, the silhouettes of two spindly trees toppled into each other, both trunks folding in half at once like the piston of a great machine. Thinking of it now, Maria, I am not really sure if they were trees.I joined Farkas, who was at the base of the church looking upward. I followed his gaze, and saw that the Russians had escaped the steeple through a window, and the four of them were now huddled on the roof, all defenceless, for they had abandoned their arms. I say four, but there was a fifth at the other end of the roof, and it suddenly struck me that he was facing away from them, staring into the night.The huddle moved farther and farther away from the flames. I turned for a moment as I heard someone yelling about a flanking attack, but as I looked away, I heard an ungodly cry of terror. I craned my head and brought my attention back to the unfortunate snipers.I cannot properly describe what I saw, Maria, for it happened so quickly that I was left only with an impression of a moment. As the Russians gathered at the church’s far end, the soldier facing away from the others collapsed, and almost instantly, the man closest to him screamed as he was hauled up into the air by some great force. I watched shocked as he disappeared into the night, and although I had trouble seeing without my spectacles, I could tell that something was moving with him, some dark spindly shape, dark even against the night, and dreadfully large.I do not exaggerate, Maria, when I say that it was the worst thing I have ever witnessed. Perhaps there is some great bat or hawk or other animal that is not yet known to science that whisks men away in the night, but I know that cannot be. Neither was the fellow blown off by a gale, for it would have taken a hurricane to lift him so far. What I cannot reconcile with any explanation I have concocted is that he completely vanished, simply taken away; I know not where.I cannot forget the soldier’s face as he left the roof. It was one of infinite panic and alarm. I have seen him in my dreams, being lifted away by that monstrous force, taken to some dark realm of night, to some inescapable nightmare. I try not to think about it, and I believe this is why everyone else has done their best to put Weiburg out of memory.In the morning we moved on, and continued moving until the offensive ground to a halt with the growing storms. Pisano was sent to the field hospital behind the lines, and I am now acting lieutenant. Rubeck’s Dragoons did not return, and as I heard it they were all reported as missing in action by Farkas. From our own company we lost sixty-seven men. I was the only one of my section left. I feel that I must be to blame for their loss. I could have done something. I could have gotten them out.I must again apologise, dear Maria. I am sure you must think me quite mad, but I must set this incident to the page. Every word enclosed is as true a description as any I can put together in my current state of mind to record that dreadful battle at Weiburg.I remain, as always your dear and loving brother,FriedrichA final word—This was the last piece of Holzer’s writing within the box. It seems that the letter never reached his sister, as I have not been able to find any response. However, I did find a letter from the War Ministry addressed to his mother dated exactly one week later. It said that he had been killed in action during the following offensive, and that his body could not be recovered. via /r/nosleep https://ift.tt/3ogQ2dW