“What is your name?”
“David Freedman, your Excellency.”
“You’re a Jew?”
The spokesman nodded.
A pause.
“A Jew may fight well, your Excellency,” came the suggestion softly.
The Colonel looked up. “How many were sent out?”
“Two thousand, your Excellency.”
“And there are only 300 now?”
The Jew nodded.
In the world of literature, fiction can sometimes reveal more about life than simple fact.
Though sometimes based on and emanating from reality, fiction can shed light on how that reality is interpreted and understood – by men as individuals and by the masses; by cultures and civilizations – within the intellectual, emotional, and spiritual context of an age. Perhaps this is especially so for fiction emerging within and from a time of war.
For this post, here are two very different items – one fiction; one possibly fact – that address the experience of Jews during the Great War in very different ways. The first is a news item pertaining to Jewish civilians in “Seletin” (probably “Selyatin“, Ukraine), in the context of the general experience of Jewish civilians in the Eastern War Zone. The second, far lengthier item, is fiction: A story about the interaction of Jewish soldiers in the Russian Army with Jewish civilians in the Eastern War Zone, their Gentile comrades, and, officers.
The full text of both items is presented below…
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The news item appeared in The Jewish World (brother publication of The Jewish Chronicle) in October of 1916. Taken from the Arbeiter Zeitung of Austria, the item recounts the experience of a Jewish woman and her children during the occupation of her district by Cossack forces. The outcome of the short account, concluding upon a note of skepticism and ambivalence, is vastly different from that of most contemporary stories about the treatment during WW I of Jews by Cossack troops (in both the secular and Jewish press) examples of which include “The Tragedy of Israel in Poland” (February 14, 1915), “Loyalty of Jews in War Lands Unshaken” (1915), and “How Russian Jews Suffered in War” (November 3, 1916). In that regard, an underlying theme of this brief item – vaguely akin to Jacob A. Abramowitz’s “My Experience as a Jewish Cossack”, which appeared in The Jewish Exponent (of Philadelphia) on May 6, 1922 – is that of the incongruity between dire expectation and puzzling (and strangely benign?) reality.
Like the great majority of news items in both the Chronicle and World, the names of the item’s author, like that of the correspondent who provided it to the latter publication, is unknown.
The item…
The Cossack in a New Light
The Jewish World
October 11, 1916
An Austrian paper – the Arbeiter Zeitung – is responsible for a story concerning some Cossacks which represents them as far different than the popular notion conceives these gentlemen. We are told that: –
When the Russians were occupying the Seletin district, a Jewess, her children gathered around her, was preparing her scanty evening meal, for provisions were at their scarcest.
There was a knock at the door, and with a look of horror the woman signed to her grown-up daughter to open it. Three Cossacks stepped in, and shaking the snow from their cloaks asked for something to eat. The woman offered all she had and, falling on her knees, begged mercy for her children. The Cossacks looked at her wonderingly, remarking that they were not accustomed to eating human beings, and then, glancing round, noticed the signs of extreme poverty everywhere.
A short whispered conversation among them followed, and then two of the Cossacks went off, leaving the third to chop up some wood. Half an hour later the Cossacks returned, bringing with them an ample store of eatables and drinkables. They had visited the residence of a wealthy Jew, and the store of provisions which he had laid up for the Sabbath feast was now shared by the Cossacks with the Jewess and her little ones – the first good meal they had enjoyed for many months.
We hope this is a true story, but frankly we should like to have the version of the matter as it appeared to the “wealthy Jew” who was deprived of his “Sabbath Feast”.
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The second item, reprinted from the Jewish Comment (about which I’ve no information – !) is by Samuel Roth (likewise, about whom I’ve no information – !!). It’s similar in length and representative of the literary style of other works of fiction, as well as non-fiction essays, published in The Jewish World during the Great War.
The distinguishing quality of Roth’s writing is its very subject: While the main focus and central issue of most World War One-era literary pieces in The Jewish World is the perennial challenge of maintaining and above all perpetuating a sense Jewish peoplehood, let alone Jewish belief – within and through successive generations (the topic of intermarriage is a prominent theme*) within a world in which one’s identity is simultaneously a subject of fascination and deprecation (and more). Roth’s story, however, uses the experience of Jews in the military as a setting to explore both the above conundrum, and, valor and physical courage on the part of Jews.
In terms of dramatis personae, Roth’s characters comprise:
Colonel Sergei Seminovich, an officer in the Russian Army’s 49th Infantry Regiment
Nikolai (last name not given; presumably a Private), a soldier of peasant background serving in Colonel Seminovich’s Regiment
Private David Freedman, newly assigned to Colonel Seminovich’s Regiment
Rivkeh, a Jewish woman, and owner of a dwelling in the village of “T.”, and acquaintance of David, whose husband is also serving in the Russian Army
Rivkeh’s un-named father
The story’s plot elements involve the striking contrast between the peasant soldier Nikolai and David; the interaction of David with Rivkeh and her family – particularly his bravery in protecting them from depredations by Nikolai and some of the latter’s fellow troops; David’s physical strength and leadership qualities, regardless of whether leading troops of Jewish or Russian nationality. Finally, a striking aspect of Roth’s story – particularly in light of the characterization of the attitude of Russian WW I military officers towards Jews, as presented in earlier blog posts – is the attitude of Colonel Seminovich towards David: The Colonel shows neither favor nor disfavor towards David, treating him matter-of-factly, and within the context of the story, entirely fairly. The tale ends with Colonel Seminovich attending David’s funeral, quietly commenting to himself, “God knows, it’s the only honour I can give him now,” before forwarding the Private’s altered surname to Warsaw for commendation.
* Perhaps I’ll bring you examples of such stories in future posts.
And so, “Reinforcements”…
Reinforcements
By Samuel Roth
The Jewish World
June 23, 1915
THE sky had been darkening swiftly, threatening at any moment to send down a furious rainstorm on the little band of soldiers, the remnant of that valiant forty-ninth regiment that a German battalion, falling upon them from the rear by a strategic move, had cut to pieces two days before. The worn-out and frightened survivors lay huddle up in their tents, peering now at the black, fuming clouds, and again across the vast stretches of snow over which the reinforcements were now momentarily expected. Col. Sergei Seminovich, the only remaining officer, walking imperiously through the camp and swearing softly under his breath, was behaving as though he believed that the god of Russia had spared his five-foot-ten just so that the soldiers might be able to look up to him and pick up courage.
One of the soldiers, a big peasant with immense shoulders and menacing black eyes, had spread his blanket on the snow and, defying all military decency, was comfortably smoking a pipe. The colonel paused at his tent and frowned. “Nikolai, why don’t you lie in your tent?”
“It’s warmer out here,” was the sullen reply.
A slight pause.
“Perhaps you would like to take a run, Nikolai?” The colonel’s voice had softened.
The giant rose with a grunt, stared at the colonel and shrugged his thick shoulders unconcernedly. At the same time he emptied out his pipe on the snow. The colonel gave him his own horse and a moment later the peasant was speeding across the plain.
The colonel looked after him for a moment in silence, then retired to his own tent.
An hour later Nikolai reappeared and dismounted before the colonel’s tent.
“Well?” asked the colonel coming out. “Have you seen anything?”
Nikolai, holding one hand on the sadly, looked at the colonel steadfastly. “A wagon-load of potatoes and a handful of Jews,” he answered.
The colonel’s face darkened. “Are you sure about that?” he asked.
The peasant nodded.
Sergi Seminovich was lost in thought for a moment, then he nodded to his inferior to depart.
Nikolai did not budge an inch.
“You may retire to your tent now,” he said, impatiently.
Nikolai grunted, patted the horse’s back, and turning round slowly walked unconcernedly toward his tent.
The colonel’s hand instinctively sought the hilt of his sword. He hated that stupid, impertinent peasant. He wanted to call him back, gaze at him sternly, and say: “Why don’t you say ‘Yes, your Excellency,’ you rogue!”
But he realised that as matters stood he had to exercise extraordinary caution lest his men lose all courage and surrender themselves to the enemy. He decided in his heart to put off the punishment for a more opportune time.
A FEW minutes later the “reinforcements” arrived. It had already spread among the soldiers that the newcomers consisted only of Jews and a few Poles. … So there were no demonstrations.
One of the newcomers, a middle-sized, stocky, man of about 40 years, a private, reported to the colonel.
“Where is your officer,” asked Sergei Seminovich, sternly.
“He fell in the march, your Excellency.”
“And there’s not an officer left?”
“No, your Excellency. They fought bravely and – they died.”
“What is your name?”
“David Freedman, your Excellency.”
“You’re a Jew?”
The spokesman nodded.
A pause.
“A Jew may fight well, your Excellency,” came the suggestion softly.
The Colonel looked up. “How many were sent out?”
“Two thousand, your Excellency.”
“And there are only 300 now?”
The Jew nodded.
The officer bit his lips as though he wished to say that those Germans were a lot of pests!
Five minutes after the arrival of the “reinforcements” the brow of the sky suddenly became as black as night, a blast of thunder broke the impatience of the heavens, and a terrific flood of rain poured down on the frozen plain, frightening even Nikolai into his tent.
The newcomers proceeded calmly though very swiftly with the erection of their tents. Now and then a flash of lightning revealed them to the shivering soldiers peering fearfully out of their tents.
Their attention was drawn particularly by Freedman who, though not very tall and not as thick-shouldered as Nikolai, worked as though he were composed of steel and lightning. They saw him drive a pole into the frozen ground with the same ease with which a child would dig a shovel into the sand. His own tent was up in about a minute, but he did not enter it till every other tent was erected and every man was sheltered.
The storm raged fully an hour. When it ceased night had already spread over the plain.
Nikolai was entering the colonel’s tent with the object of persuading him to let him have another blanket when he heard the Jewish spokesman petitioning the commander thus:
“Your Excellency, we had an eventful journey. Besides, God has spared our lives. The men want permission to pray.”
Nikola protruded his head into the midst, stared hard at the Jew and burst into a torrent of gruff laughter. “Haw! haw! haw! A nice camp this will be with Jewish prayers! The devil take us all!”
The colonel gazed at the peasant sternly. “Nikolai, retire! And do thou not ever dare to intrude in that manner!”
Nikolai grinned and walked out.
Meanwhile, Freedman, without so much as glancing at the peasant, had not taken his eyes from the face of the colonel.
Sergei Seminovich turned to him regretfully. “I fear I cannot grant you that. It may cause a fatal dissension in the ranks.”
Freedman saluted and returned to his comrades.
THE lines were formed before dawn. At noon the “remnant” reached the village of T. From here Sergei Seminovich communicated with the general at Warsaw, revealed to him pitiful plight of his regiment, and pleaded that reinforcements be sent out immediately and under good care to the village, which seemed to be at a safe distance from the Germans. A half hour after their arrival the colonel gave the soldiers permission to “look the place over” as they pleased. Camps was for the time broken, and the soldiers scattered in all directions.
Freedman took a narrow path by himself and walked along thoughtfully. It was a cold, clear day. The mud on the ground was frozen, and the walking was fine. He had only gone a slight distance when he came in front of a farmhouse that was still as though it were inhabited. Seized by curiosity, he went up to the door and knocked upon it gently. No response. His second knock was a little louder. Still no response. This time he knocked heavily. The window opened slowly for a moment so that he could not see who it was, but after waiting another minute he had the satisfaction of hearing heavy footsteps approaching the door. The door was drawn open with a sudden jerk and Freedman found himself face to face with an aged, broad-shouldered man armed with a gun, whom he recognised as one of his own people.
“I am one of the soldiers,” explained Freedman. “We are staying here for some time. I had no intention of entering here. But the stillness of the place aroused my suspicions and so I knocked.”
The man in the doorway gazed at the soldier critically and said, articulating every syllable slowly, “I see you’re a Jew.”
Freedman nodded.
“It’s hard to tell a Jew in a Russian uniform,” continued the aged proprietor. “Won’t you come in?”
Freedman hesitated a moment and entered.
The room gave evidence of a great deal of recent excitement. Chairs were upset, knives and implements lay on the table, a middle-aged women and a girl who must have been her daughter were crouching in the centre of the room and the whimpering of children could be heard from underneath the beds.
Freedman smiled, and turning to the woman: “Your husband is in the army, is he not?”
“Yes,” the woman answered, sighing but turning her face away.
Freedman approached closer to her and paled perceptibly. “I didn’t know I was going to meet you here, Rivkeh,” he said huskily. She did not answer, but looked curiously over his strong, well-knit form.
The old man had meanwhile barred the door and was not approaching them. He looked with surprise at the woman and the soldier.
“Why, father, this is David. Don’t you remember?” There was a tender ring in her voice.
“David!” he exclaimed. “Sure, why”… then he glanced at Rivkeh and did not complete his sentence. “And how about heating the samovar in honour of our guest?” he said instead.
Half an hour later complete peace had been restored in the household. The whole family, including Freedman, were seated around the table drinking tea and chatting.
“So your husband is in the army against which you were just preparing to defend yourself.” He remarked. Then, after a pause: “It’s a sad business, this. And most of us are swallowed up in it. I, too, shall never return!”
“Oh, you mustn’t talk that way!” exclaimed the woman. “Your wife, your children.”
Freedman interrupted her. “I have none, Rivkeh. I – I have kept my word!”
The woman paled swiftly and turned her face away.
SUDDENLY voices gruff and boisterous became audible from without, and then a loud rap sounded against the door. The whole house was again thrown into confusion. Freedman, pistol in hand, went up to the door and unbarred it. A number of soldiers led by Nikolai burst in, but paused at the menacing attitude of the Jew. The latter addressed himself calmly to the leader: “Nikolai, I am known as a sure shot, and I cannot possibly miss you at this distance. I give you a minute to take yourself and your friends out of here!”
Nikolai stared at him in sheer amazement.
“A half minute is up, Nikolai! Your life is less valuable to me than that of a rat!”
Nikolai and his men, scowling fiercely, left the house.
“That’s the ugliest thing about the Russian army, said Freedman after a long pause. “I cannot believe that an army with such things on its conscience can really win battles.”
The man shook his head, but the woman was looking out of the window.
The young girl who till now had not said a word, took the soldier’s hand and said in a shaky voice: “You have perhaps saved us all, sir! How can we thank you?”
Freedman smiled and glanced at her mother. Then he said to the girl: “I don’t think I need thanks. In fact I am glad to have done this for you and – your mother!”
When he left a half hour later, the woman burst into an irrepressible flood of tears.
The colonel had received a warning from a Russian outpost some twenty versts away. So till very late that night the soldiers were compelled to work away at the necessary temporary fortifications. Often Freedman stopped in his work and stood motionless for many minutes gazing dreamily out to the far distance. Where he stood the cold moonlight fell over them as though steeling them to the life of horror they were living.
The following morning Nikolai came up behind Freedman, laid a hand on his shoulder and attempted to swing him around.
“Is there anything you want, Nikolai? asked the Jew, turning around calmly.
“Yes; I want to brain you – you damned Jew!”
“Do it – if you can!” said Freedman, smiling.
The giant drew back his arm and swung it viciously at the head of Freedman. The Jew, still smiling, caught his wrist in a flash and gripped it tightly. The big peasant writhed with pain, but he clinched his teeth and stood his ground.
Freedman acted very swiftly. He gave an additional tug at the giant’s wrist and dropped it at his side.
Nikolai stared hard at him for a few seconds and muttered: “You damned Jew!”
Both of the Jew’s hands reached out like steel bars. He seized the giant by the shoulders, held him that way till every drop of blood had left Nikolai’s face, and then, with one great tug, hurled him bodily over the trench.
Just then the colonel came up. He took in everything in a second, and said, frowning at Freedman: “Report immediately to my tent!”
But no sooner had Freedman entered the commander’s judiciary chamber than one of the advance guard flew into camp terribly excited: “The Germans are coming,” passed along the lines. Everything else was put aside and the defences were completed.
TOWARD evening of that day the colonel received word from the Russian post that the Germans were nearing that section and that they would probably arrive from the north-west by midnight. It was advisable to send out two detachments to meet them. The colonel instantly sent for Nikolai and Freedman.
“The Germans are coming” he explained to them, “and they will be here by midnight. This is very fortunate, because it makes it possible for us to offer them sufficient resistance to last us till the troops from Warsaw arrive. There are no officers at my command, so I am going to put this matter in the hands of both of you. Remember, it is all for the sake of Russia and your own wives and children. You, Nikolai, will take two hundred men and lead them up to the wood near the village of K. There you will hide your men behind the trees and the sides of the hill and attack them as they come. You, Freedman, will take an equal number of men and pause with them about two versts from K. When you hear that the battle is on, bring your detachment up from the near and outflank them. This is bound to confuse them, and unless their numbers are overwhelmingly large it may seriously prevent them from marching on. Do you understand me?”
Both men nodded.
“There is a great deal in this for both of you,” continued the colonel. “It all depends upon the amount of devotion and ability you display in this task that I am assigning you. Now, do your duty!”
The colonel shook hands with both of them, and then proceeded to aid them in the preparation. (Isn’t it peculiar than in such important moments we do not think of distinctions?)
An hour later both detachments were well on their way toward K. They marched silently through the big snow fields, under a swiftly darkening sky. Night fell. The march continued. Freedman’s detachment reached the point designated by the commander and paused. The men spread out their blankets are ate from their knapsacks a few of the things they had been permitted to take along with them for this short while.
A little after midnight the soldiers rose to their feet at the sound of firing that came to them over the fields. The battle was on! Freedman ordered the soldiers to form in line and march on. A little distance up the road they met a number of soldiers retreating from the battle. One of them explained that an overwhelming force of Germans had arrived and opened a terrific fire; there was absolutely no possibility of holding out against them, though Nikolai kept most of his men behind the trees and the hill. Further up the road they met more refugees. Freedman lifted his sword in the air and raised his voice high. “Russians,” he cried, “we are going to outflank those Germans whether they number a thousand or even a million. You will either fall in line or I will have you shot down as traitors and cowards! Choose quickly!”
Reinforced by the refugees from Nikolai’s detachment, Freedman made a sharp turn and marched in a roundabout way so as to reach K. from the north-west.
Nikolai’s men were one by one falling under the steady fire of the Germans. But from their position they did the enemy a great deal of damage. The German detachment had three cannon which were not being used because a big firing machine can be of no avail against an army which is scattered behind trees and under rocks. Nikolai was swearing under his breath as the minutes passed by and there was no sign of Freedman. “The damned Jew!” he growled beneath his breath. “The coward!”
THERE was a burst of drums and trumpets from the rear, and the reinforcements, headed by Freedman, appeared. At first the Germans were nonplussed by this strategic move, but a minute later they charged the newcomers like tigers. Freedman saw in a second what must be done; those cannon must be captured and turned against the Germans. He instantly called thirty men to his side and, headed by himself, they charged the point where the guns stood. Too late the Germans realised their intention. A moment after the strong figure of Freedman mounted one of the cannon. A hundred guns were pointed at him and he fell. But his followers took possession of the three cannon and opened fire on the charging Germans. Ten minutes later the latter were fleeing back, pursued by the forces of Nikolai.
The pursuit of the Russians was only a pose; they knew well enough that they were incapable of contending with the superior force with which they might now be met. So after a slight run they returned.
At dawn Nikolai and his men returned to T. The body of Freedman was borne by twenty of his followers and placed in a sheet in front of the Colonel’s tent.
Nikolai rendered the commander an accurate description of the battle, including the capture of the cannon by the Jew.
“Those Jews certainly know how to die,” remarked Sergei Seminovich.
The peasant bit his thick lips and turned away.
A number of Jewish soldiers petitioned the colonel to permit them to bear along with them the corpse of Freedman till they would come to a town where there was a Jewish burial place. To this the commander consented silently.
Despairing of ever obtaining the necessary reinforcements, the colonel on the following day again broke up camp and continued the retreat toward Warsaw. The body of Freedman was carried all day by his faithful followers.
When night fell, Nikolai approached the colonel and informed him that the soldiers were dissatisfied with the fact that the corpse of the Jew was being carried in their midst and they had fears…
The colonel measured the peasant from head to foot. “Nikolai,” he said sternly, “I have tolerated your insolence a long time. I shall put an end to it right now.” He stepped out and called the guard. “I want you to hold this man in confinement till you get further instructions from me!”
They bowed and led the dazed Nikolai out of the tent.
They were met by reinforcements the next day. When the town of B. was reached the corpse was taken into the Jewish cemetery and buried with prayer on the part of the Jewish soldiers. The colonel stood in the crowd near the grave, bareheaded. “God knows, it’s the only honour I can give him now,” he muttered to himself.
That afternoon he wrote out his report for the general in Warsaw. Among the names recommended for honourable mention was the queer name “Vriedmun.” As the colonel glanced over it he smiled complacently. What an artful people the Russians may be when they want to! [Jewish Comment]