Chapter VIII: A Drawn Battle

The taking of the pass, described in the preceding chapter, was the first really stubborn affair we had been engaged in, but during the remainder of the journey the enemy attacked us many times.

Soldiers have told me that, from a military point of view, the march was a brilliant one, and that it stamped our leader as a most accomplished general.

To us it was exceedingly wearisome and distressing. We had very little food, and that the coarsest. Our boots were dropping to pieces, our uniforms were in rags and tatters. Often we forced a passage through ice and snow knee-deep. Frequently the fog enveloped us so thickly that a man could not see his neighbour, and that in a place where a false step meant death.

At night our bivouac was the snow-covered ground, where, wrapping ourselves in our bundas, we tried to forget our misery for an hour or two in sleep.

In addition, the Austrians gave us plenty of employment in the fighting line, especially near the summit, where they occupied the passes in force.

However, as Goergei had resolved to reach Kaschau, to Kaschau we had to go; and by dint of climbing and fighting we at length forced the mountain barriers, and began the descent of the valleys.

During the march I saw Stephen scarcely at all, but Rakoczy and I were constantly together; and my friend more than ever justified his old name of "The Joyous."

The hardships of the journey had no terrors for him. He appeared warm in the bitterest cold, and when every one else was soaked through, he, to judge by his smiling face, was dry and comfortable.

He joked with the men on their troubles till the poor fellows almost began to believe they were grumbling about nothing.

"Cold?" he would say. "Nonsense! Why, you're glowing as if you'd just come from a vapour-bath. Footsore? I wouldn't like to challenge you to a race for a hundred gulden. Andras, how pleased you'll be when the war's ended to say, 'I went over the mountains with Goergei.' Your neighbours will never let you pay for a bottle of silovitz all the rest of your life. 'The cosiest seat in the inn for Andras,' everybody will say. 'He is a warrior, if you like.' Why, the maidens won't dance with another man in the room while you're there. Look at Janko," as a burly fellow shot head foremost into a snowdrift. "I'll warrant he expects to find something good in there. Lucky fellow, Janko!"

Sometimes he would start one of the fiery, soul-stirring, popular songs, when the whole regiment, joining in and forgetting all else, would swing along quite cheerfully.

At night, while we lay on the snow-covered ground, our teeth chattering with the cold, he would amuse the officers by his glowing descriptions of the mountains in the summer-time.

"The noblest mountains in the world!" he would say with enthusiasm. "It is a treat to saunter through the miles of beautiful pine forests, or to gather the lovely gentians and forget-me-nots, blue as if they had dropped from heaven, or to linger by the edge of some boulder-wrapped lake, and gaze into its clear green waters. In the early morning, when myriads of dewdrops sparkle and flash like countless diamonds, and the sun paints the cliffs with warm gold and crimson and purple hues, the place is like paradise. Then to stand on the summits and gaze over the fruitful plains, yellow with ripening grain--ah, I tell you it is a treat to wander amongst the Carpathians!"

Then some one would point out in a jesting spirit further delights to be enjoyed--the splendid mists, which drenched us to the bone, and prevented us from seeing the frightful chasms, down which we might tumble; the bitter cold, but for which we should not appreciate the comfort of our bundas; the slippery ice, which provided us with endless fun and a cracked head occasionally.

Gradually we would drop off into a restless sleep, and in the morning pinch ourselves hard, to discover if our limbs still had any feeling.

The march towards Kaschau was marked by a series of desperate fights with the troops under the Austrian general Schlick.

Sometimes they took up a favourable position, which it cost the lives of many brave men to capture; sometimes, creeping quietly through the darkness, they made an attack just when, wearied out by the toils of the day, we had fallen asleep.

The last of these assaults was of a very determined nature, and for a time had every chance of succeeding.

We were within a day's march of Kaschau, and had covered many weary miles since the morning.

A thick fog had come up with the night--so thick, indeed, it was that it closed us in like a curtain.

Most of the men fell asleep directly they lay down, and very soon there was not a sound to be heard in the camp.

Towards midnight I was awakened by a wild shouting, and springing to my feet, found that the Austrians were in the midst of us.

The fight that ensued was of the weirdest kind. In the darkness friend could not be distinguished from foe, and many a man lost his life by sword or bayonet thrust without seeing the hand that struck the blow.

Rakoczy's voice kept his regiment well together, and owing chiefly to the steadiness of the 9th Honveds the Austrians were finally repulsed.

Like ghosts they had come, like ghosts they vanished; and but for the groans of the wounded, we might have regarded the whole affair as a bad dream.

However, for the officers, at least, there was no further rest; and though the men went to sleep again, we were kept busy doubling the sentries, restoring order, and seeing after the poor fellows who had been hurt.

Very glad we were when morning came; and having eaten our breakfasts, which occupied little time, we set out for Kaschau.

I think Schlick's daring venture must have cost him dear; at any rate we saw no more of the enemy, and in the evening arrived, footsore and hungry, at Kaschau, where an army corps under General Klapka met us.

Rakoczy pointed out the general to me, and said that, next to Goergei, he was the finest soldier in the army.

In figure he was rather short, but exceedingly well shaped, and he had the oval face, black whiskers and moustache, and fiery, dark eyes of the true Magyar.

His features were refined, his manners those of a high-born gentleman, and his expression was so mild and gentle that in private dress he would hardly have been taken for a soldier.

Yet so brilliant was to be one, at least, of his exploits that his name will live for ever in the memories of his Magyar comrades.

At Kaschau we remained several days, both in order to recover from our fatigue and to obtain a fresh supply of ammunition, as the men had almost come to their last cartridge.

From Kaschau we proceeded to Mischkolz, where Dembinski joined us with another army; and here, to our disgust, we learned that the Polish leader had been made commander-in-chief.

"That's Kossuth's idea," said Rakoczy, "and very badly he'll find it work."

Stephen, who at last had found time to spare an hour with us, was very indignant.

"A Magyar army has no need of a Polish general," he exclaimed, "especially when it counts such men as Goergei and Klapka among its leaders."

"The Pole is a republican," I remarked, thinking of the talk at Vienna. "Goergei is a royalist."

"And his proclamation did him little good with the Kossuth party."

Rakoczy here referred to the address our general had published, in which he declared his army "would oppose itself to all those who may attempt by republican intrigues in the interior of the country to overthrow the constitutional monarchy."

"If Goergei held up his little finger, the army would sweep Kossuth and his Poles out of the country!" my brother cried warmly.

"But he won't, and I'm glad of it," said Rakoczy. "Let us settle with the Austrians first; 'twill be time enough then to fight one another. It's a good rule not to pick up more than you can hold."

What Goergei and Klapka thought of the matter I cannot say; but it took a good deal of enthusiasm out of the soldiers, who had learned to look on Goergei as their natural chief.

However, as Rakoczy well said, the Austrians must be dealt with first; and as Windischgratz was advancing, we broke up our camp, and marched, forty thousand strong, with two hundred and twenty-five guns, to Kapolna, on the road between Pesth and Debreczin.

Here we occupied a strong position on the heights near the town, each wing resting on a ruined village, with our splendid artillery and several squadrons of veteran hussars in the centre.

Daylight had scarcely broken on the morning of the twenty-sixth of February, when the sounds of heavy firing announced that the battle had begun.

My regiment was stationed on the left, and at first I had ample leisure to view the struggle in the centre and on the right.

Compared with this tremendous fight, our encounters with Schlick in the mountains were little more than playing at war.

In the centre, forty great guns on either side, served by skilful gunners, thundered away at each other. Farther along, the Austrian leader hurled battalion after battalion against our right wing.

By means of a field-glass I saw what happened to the first, and the fate of several others was like it.

A great, white-coated mass, looking grey, however, in the early morning, went forward slowly, it appeared to me, yet firmly. A few figures in the front formed a sort of spear-head, which should help the mass to pierce a way.

These greyish-white dots were officers. One carried what might have been a handkerchief; really it was the famous black and yellow colours.

The mass moved on slowly, steadily, firmly. On the right of it shot and shell flew screaming and hissing; flashes of fire burst from the guns; the earth shook with the discharges; a curtain of smoke shut out my view.

When it lifted I looked for the battalion. Yes, there it was, compact as ever, undisturbed by the terrible fight going on elsewhere, and marching steadily towards its destination.

Suddenly some tiny curls of whitish smoke were wafted from the heights. The battalion halted. There was a movement in the ranks--I could not tell what; then the mass advanced again. But as it moved away, I noticed that some parts of it had, so to speak, dropped off; and from this point there began a confused line of dots, thin in some places, thicker in others.

The column had become smaller, and each time the little puffs of curly smoke appeared, it seemed to quiver, as if with cold, and the line of dots was made longer.

The spear-head had done its share towards forming the track. The sides and base of it had vanished, but the apex remained. It was the man with the handkerchief, which he continued to wave without once looking back.

I watched him with intense fascination, till once again a thick black cloud drifted across my lens.

When the battalion next came into sight, it was considerably smaller, and it had left a heap much higher than any of the others about thirty yards in the rear; but the one remaining point of the spear-head still waved its black and yellow folds to and fro.

Suddenly the movement of the mass increased in speed, but it was still one body, save for that detached point in the van.

To it something--I could only guess what--at last happened.

The flag disappeared, the greyish-white figure sank to the ground. I choked back a sigh of regret, when flag and figure came into sight again, only the former had changed its position from right to left.

Now, too, the white puffs came out quicker from the heights; and as the pace of the column increased, so did these curly little clouds.

Then, as I looked, the battalion stopped dead; half of it sank to the ground; the rest, each part separated from its neighbour, fell to pieces; and the various atoms, without any appearance of order, ran back quickly along the track so recently made.

One figure alone moved slowly--it was the apex of the spear-head, the shaft of which had broken; and in spite of the yellow and black colours, I was downright glad to see the flag returning.

"Steady, my boys, steady! Don't fire till you get the word. Remember our general trusts to the 9th Honveds."

The words and the cheer that followed them brought me back with a rush to the reality of my own position.

That which had engaged my attention as a spectator I was about to take part in as an actor.

Two battalions were advancing at the double across the plain, and others had formed up in support.

We held one of the keys of the position, and Goergei himself, trusting to Rakoczy's influence, had placed us there.

If we retreated, the battle would be lost; and no subsequent victory could ever wipe out our disgrace.

Looking at the men's faces, I did not much fear the result. The time had gone by when the 9th would run away at the first shot, as this very battle was to prove.

Steadily the men waited, trusting implicitly in their colonel, while the two battalions crossed the plain and dashed at the heights.

"Fire!"

Sharp and clear the word rang out, and every trigger was pulled at the same instant, as if the regiment had been a machine.

Down below, the slaughter was terrible; but we had to deal with some of the best fighting men who had ever followed the Austrian eagle into the battlefield.

Only the dead stopped at the foot of the heights; all the others, even the wounded, pressed on, and the arrival of the second battalion more than made up for those who had fallen.

Up they came, scorning death, and contemptuous of the Hungarian peasants so recently converted into soldiers.

But "John the Joyous" led us, and we had learned many lessons during our march over the mountains with Goergei.

Standing our ground firmly, we poured volley after volley into the midst of the climbing Austrians.

Still the survivors advanced, and, fed from below, maintained their numbers, while many of our fellows began to drop.

The colonel was everywhere, and his cheery voice encouraged those under his command.

While most of the Austrians came on, climbing and firing in the open, many adopted the wiser course of seeking cover, whence they could pick us off without much risk.

Several men of my company lost their lives in this way; but the fight came at length to a hand-grip, and it was no longer a question of bullets, but of bayonets.

Twice by main force we flung our assailants back; but they returned to the charge, cheering loudly, as if bent upon turning us out or of losing every man in the attempt. We on our side would not give way, and so the stubborn fight continued.

The enemy were continually reinforced; our losses were not made good, and the longer the struggle lasted the more unequal it became.

For myself, I feared that the attack would prove too strong; and, as Rakoczy told me afterwards, he was of the same opinion.

One would not have thought so, however, at the time of the fight. His face was full of confidence; his voice had not lost an atom of its usual cheerfulness. To his troops his presence appeared everywhere as an omen of victory.

Still the position was growing desperate, and though we might have held our own for a while longer, the enemy must finally have captured the heights, as there would have been no one left to defend them.

The colonel had posted my company at a spot where the ascent was fairly easy, and, had the white-coats once broken through, they would have turned the position from the top.

"You must die where you stand," he had said, "for the honour of the Magyars," and we had answered with a cheer.

But the enemy were not at our throats then as they were now, cutting and stabbing, or, seizing us bodily, trying to hurl us over the cliffs.

Still we held our ground, though the company was sadly diminishing in numbers, and every fighting-man who survived was more or less seriously wounded.

I had twice escaped death myself, through the devotion of Mecsey Sandor, who, since the affair in the pass, had taken every opportunity to show his gratitude.

On the second occasion I was engaged hand to hand with an Austrian sergeant, sword against bayonet, when, my foot slipping, down, I went, completely at the fellow's mercy.

Sandor, who though hotly engaged evidently kept one eye on me, was at my side in a moment, and, parrying the sergeant's blow, dealt one himself.

My men cheered as I rose to my feet and again dashed into the thick of the fight.

Then it was that, in the very wreck of our fortunes, a cry rose from the rear--a cry that made our blood hot, and victory, at least in that particular corner of the field, certain.

"Goergei! Goergei! elijen Goergei!"

Louder and louder it grew, putting heart into every man; even the poor fellows on the ground, raising themselves with difficulty, helped to swell the chorus.

Riding along the heights, the general had seen how terribly we suffered, and springing from his horse without a moment's hesitation, had run to our help.

The staff, leaving their animals, followed; and I saw Stephen, his handsome face ablaze with passion, catch his leader, and side by side with him shoot forward into the press.

The reinforcement was few in numbers, but Goergei counted a host in himself, and the sight of his tall, spare frame and spectacled, weather-beaten countenance inspired us all with new courage.

The Austrians now gave way slowly, still fighting with sullen desperation; but we pushed them harder and harder, broke them up into little knots, forced them into a run, till, thoroughly disorganized, they reached the plain a beaten crowd.

Here their misfortunes were by no means at an end. A regiment of hussars, issuing from a wood on the right, scattered those who still kept together, and turned what was already a bad defeat into a total rout.

The cheers for Goergei rose again with tenfold vigour; but the general, taking Rakoczy by the hand, exclaimed, "Colonel, you and your brave lads have done to-day what I shall never forget. I trusted you to hold this position, and you have held it. Through me Hungary thanks the gallant 9th Honveds."

Then, amidst another wild outburst of cheering, he went back to the summit.

While his chief talked thus to Rakoczy, Stephen came to me.

In the struggle he had not received a scratch; but it was different with me, and my brother's face looked very grave.

"It's all right, old fellow," I said, trying to speak lightly. "Not one of these cuts is really dangerous. I'm only a little faint through loss of blood. A night's rest will put me straight."

He shook my hand warmly and followed his chief, but I noticed that more than once he turned and looked back sorrowfully.

The combat, which had lasted for six hours, now ceased on the two wings, but continued in the centre with unabated fury.

There the great guns were massed, and the veterans of both armies strove, the one party to oust its opponents, the other to maintain its position.

The guns roared, sheets of flame sprang from their muzzles, shot and shell tore, screaming, through the air. Occasionally what appeared a solid body of living fire shot skyward, accompanied by a loud report, as a powder-tumbrel was struck by one of the flying missiles.

Then for a time everything would be hidden by a dense bank of smoke, and we waited breathlessly to see it lift. But though human courage may be inexhaustible, there is a limit to human endurance; and at last, as if by common consent, both sides ceased to struggle.

"A drawn battle," said Rakoczy, "and I don't think we've had the worst of it. George, you'd better find a surgeon and have those wounds dressed. We shall have to fight again in the morning."

As I had told Stephen, my hurts were not dangerous, and directly the surgeon had bound them up I returned to the front.

The men lay on the hard ground with only their bundas to shelter them from the bitter, piercing cold that crept into their very marrows.

Rakoczy, with several officers and the least fatigued of the troops, was going about succouring the wounded; but he would not allow me to help, insisting that I needed rest. So, wrapped in my mantle, I lay down, and sad at heart watched the myriads of brilliant stars that shone in the unclouded sky.