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Four Weeks in the Trenches - The War Story of a Violinist by Fritz Kreisler
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wounded. But he knew better. He never said a word, only, a few
minutes later, "He was my only hope"; and I can't express how
ominous that word "was" sounded to me. But just then the
command to deploy was given and the excitement that followed
drowned for the time being all melancholy thoughts. We quickly
ascended the hill where the isolated detachment of Austrians had
kept the Russians at bay for fully twenty-four hours and opened fire
on the enemy, while the second regiment tried to turn his left flank.
The Russians slowly fell back but we followed them, and a sort of
running fight ensued, during which my regiment lost about fifty--
dead and wounded. The Russians temporarily resisted again, but
soon the pressure from our other regiment on their flank began to
be felt and they fled rather disorderly, leaving two machine guns,
some ammunition, and four carriages full of provisions in our hands,
while the regiment which had executed the flanking movement took
two hundred and forty prisoners.

Around eight o'clock at night the fight was stopped for want of light,
and we took up our newly acquired positions, entrenched them well,
and began to make ready for the night. Orders for outpost duty
were given and the officers were again called to the brigadier-
colonel, who in a few words outlined the situation to us, thanking us
for the pertinacity and bravery shown by the troops, and adding that
the success of the expedition lay in the fact that we had arrived in
time to save the situation.

Then the question of transporting prisoners to the rear came up,
and while the brigadier's eyes were searching us I felt that he was
going to entrust me with that mission. He looked at me, gave me
the order in a short, measured way, but his eyes gazed searchingly
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