but could not get beyond that screen of bullets.

"Then a 'tank' strolled along, rolled over the trench, with fire flashing from its flanks, and delivered it into the hands of the infantry with nearly 400 prisoners, who waved white flags above the parapet. That was not all. The 'tank,' exhilarated by this success, went lolloping along the way in search of new adventures. It went quite alone, and only stopped for minor repairs when it was surrounded by a horde of German soldiers. These men closed upon it with great pluck, for it was firing in a most deadly way, and tried to kill it. They flung bombs at it, clambered on to its back, and tried to smash it with the butt-ends of rifles, jabbed it with bayonets, fired revolvers and rifles at

I

HAVE just spent a week in the house of one of the Polish inhabitants of Stanislavoff, (Stanislau,) a certain

Pan Michael, a worthy man and an excellent talker. His talk was interesting and valuable, not only because he had closely observed Austrian military developments, but even more because he was on the friendliest terms with many of the Austrian officers with whom Stanislavoff had been filled for months before we captured the city.

Pan Michael hates the Germans and everything German, and rejoices boisterously over the coming liberation of Poland. My knowledge of the Polish tongue completely secured his good graces. So Pan Michael told me about what had happened in Stanislavoff immediately before it fell.

Story of an Austrian Pole

"We who live here," he said, "had known for a long time that things would

go badly with Stanislavoff. The Germans were issuing their orders, the Austrians were issuing theirs. Not that the German orders were bad: quite the contrary; but the vanity of our Austrians was touched. 'We are not their lackeys,' I heard them say, 'that they should order us about at their own sweet wills!' Relations between the German and Austrian officers were very strained. During the last week, the two camps would not even go to the same cafés. But not all our officers hated the Germans as badly as that. Some admitted that but for German help there would have been nothing left of Austria long ago. our pride in our pockets ent!' I heard them say. the time to settle personal grudges. We have our country to save!'

'Let us put for the presThis is not

"The bitterest feeling against the Germans was among the very youngest, the newly gazetted, or the elderly Generals. The latter were the worst of all. I know

for a certainty that, when your Russian armies took Tlumach, a number of superior German officers were sent to Stanislavoff to direct the defense. But nearly all their orders were counterordered or canceled by the Austrian General in command. The Germans began to send frequent telegrams to some of their authorities. The Austrian General did likewise, but, all the same, he was removed. He went, however, on the very eve of your arrival-too late. How could things have gone well under such conditions?

"Later on, when your armies were approaching, our officers lost their heads altogether. No one knew what to expect on the morrow. Many of the inhabitants wanted to leave, but they were not allowed. 'Be quite easy in your minds,' they were told; 'the Russians will never take Stanislavoff!' When at last they were allowed to go, it was too late." Thus spoke Pan Michael.

Austrians Were Confident

Incredible as it may seem, the Austrians were quite convinced that Stanislavoff was in no danger. The admirable condition of the town proves it. Czernowitz, Snyatin, Kolomea, Zaleschiki, and every other town we took from the retreating Austrians had suffered severely at their hands before falling into ours. But as to Stanislavoff-nothing of the kind.

Before they went the Austrians tried to damage the railroad station; a few switches were pulled up, windows were broken in the waiting rooms, a wall was badly damaged by an explosion. Also a few freight sheds about the station had been blown up. But in the city itself neither fire nor explosion had done the least damage.

A captured Austrian officer, angry and embittered to such a degree that for a few minutes he forgot to whom he was speaking, told enough to give me an idea of the anarchy that reigned in Stanislavoff on the eve of its fall. On Aug. 5, early in the morning, two battaljons, to one of which he belonged, came by rail from Halicz to Vladislavoff. According to their orders they were to go, immediately on their arrival, to a post in Tiezmenitsa. But at the railroad station

they were met by a staff officer, who gave them quite different directions; they were to go to Mariampol, not to Tiezmenitsa; that is, north instead of south. But as there was no official cancellation of the first order accompanying the new order, the misunderstanding had first to be cleared up. This took five days. The two battalions went into battle only on Aug. 10, when the Russians were closing in on Stanislavoff. Without doubt, this confusion in the minds of the Austrian Generals (and perhaps of their German mentors, also) made it possible for the Russians to take Stanislavoff with such unexpected speed.

After the capture of Tlumach on Aug. 8, General Letchitsky's army was sent straight to Tiezmenitsa. At dawn on Aug. 9 the same army, having been allowed no breathing space, began to cross the Vorona. It is not a wide river, nor very deep; but the crossing was greatly hindered by the enemy's wonderfully energetic resistance. Several fresh German battalions were hurried to the assistance of the worn-out Austrians. Without losing a minute, they undertook a series of desperate counterattacks.

Five of our companies had just begun to cross the river at the village of Gorodistche, over a newly built bridge, the enemy artillery doing its best to prevent their passage. But the shells flew considerably above the bridge, so that our crossing proceeded more or less unimpeded.

Meeting an Emergency

Further along the bank there was a narrow strip of meadow; still further, a thick copse. The Austrians had hurriedly dug trenches on the edge of the copse. One of our companies got safely across; then another. We began to attack the Austrians in short runs. Rifle fire had been going on for a half hour. Then suddenly the landing Russians saw thick lines of German troops emerging on their right from the copse. Our position became difficult. We could not cross the narrow bridge rapidly enough. Yet the companies who were across must be helped immediately; otherwise the Germans, by a quick flank attack, would

crumple them up and force them back into the river.

Without losing a moment, two of our companies, who were waiting on the furtheir bank of the river, jumped into the water and, some wading and some swimming, intercepted the German blow. A terrible bayonet fight ensued. The Germans fought desperately. The Austrians in the trenches on the edge of the copse attempted several sorties in aid of the Germans, but were driven back into the trenches by our fire. At last the Germans could stand it no longer. They began to fall back.

When they were thus thrown back from the Vorona River, the Austro-Germans retreated northwest, toward the Khriplin station. But in their retreat they clung literally to every hillock, to every group of trees, to every crease in the soil, in order to check our advance. Our regiments, sometimes by frontal attacks, sometimes by encircling movements, as persistently forced the Austro-Germans backward.

By noon we were directly in front of the Khriplin station. The Austro-Germans, drawing their troops to this centre from considerable distances, opened a furious rifle and machine-gun fire. Our advance on the east and southeast slackened. At this moment a battalion of infantry, coming south across the railroad from Tiezmenitsa to Stanislavoff, forded the river between the Russian and the enemy lines and occupied the high further bank, thence directing an attack on the enemy position south of the railroad. This successful move broke the AustroGerman resistance. They began to retreat, after blowing up the station buildings, which vanished in clouds of black smoke, earth, and stones.

The taking of Khriplin station decided the fate of Stanislavoff, which was covered by our artillery fire from that point. On the same day, Aug. 9, our troops captured the village of Poberejie, south of Mariampol. This finally settled the fate of Stanislavoff, for the one re

maining railroad from the town, that to Halicz, is less than three miles from Poberejie.

On the morning of Aug. 10 the battle blazed up again. The Austro-Germans centred their attention on the region of the Bystritsa River, which covered the railroad from Stanislavoff to Halicz. It was of paramount importance for them to hold the railroad, if only for a few hours, so that the staffs could escape from Stanislavoff.

Austrian prisoners later told us that the scene at the railway station baffled description. Fifty cars were alloted to every engine, so that the trains moved like tortoises. The least incline stopped them, or sent them sliding backward. Among them was a hospital train overloaded with wounded. In sliding downgrade, this train ran into one loaded with pontoons. Two hospital cars were smashed and their wounded killed. In other cars the wounded were thrown out of their cots. The sight was terrible.

The train carrying the Austrian staff was caught by our artillery fire. One of our shells smashed the car carrying the staff attendants to tinder, killing fourteen men. A flood in the Bystritsa from recent rains greatly helped the AustroGermans by hindering us.

Our pontoon section, working under the enemy's concentrated fire, succeeded in bridging the Bystritsa at two points west of Khriplin later in the day; meanwhile the Austro-Germans had moved their last supports to positions immediately south of Stanislavoff. A fierce artillery battle ensued.

The decisive stroke came from the east. Six companies of one of our infantry regiments, pressing forward irresistibly, broke into the village of Miketinze. A hand-to-hand fight began. Our men did not give the Austro-Germans time to get away. Quickly crossing the Bystritsa, they reached the outskirts of Stanislavoff from the southeast. That evening Stanislavoff was in our hands.