A DAY IN POLAND

Hawera & Normanby Star, Volume LXIX, Issue LXIX, 28 September 1915, Page 5

A DAY IN POLAND

teOME^ESS VILLAGERS

The Time.B; special, correspondent with the Russian forces supplies the following touching picture of horrible ravages or-the war in Poland: The little street of the town is lined with great horse chestnut trees in full bloom, every branch laden with the large white blossoms. For a moment <me stands drinking in the beauty of tha new day and the loveliness of the -lorxng., with one's mind drifting far away to. other- scenes where,, too, flowers, are blooming. But as our eyes \va#cler down the street the thoughts of gentler things are suddenly dissipated, and with a jolt one's mind comes hack to the workaday world, whose daily task now is the destruction ** ±\z enemy. ■» «a" of i renc hes many miles away. What has broken the peaceful tenor of our thoughts is the sight of some soldiers pulling into the town a half-wrecked aeroplane &££?* dow° br fire the day before near the Russian lines. Its wings are shattered and its propellers nunctiS 6 ltS Slim body is torn an<* nel h 1 a SC°re °r mOre of shra $-

Now and again we pass small columns of marching infantry. Every face is cheerful, and almost without exception *wmei aA e S^ ging M they sw^g along In the villages and on the road everything suggests war, but the atmosphere is quite different from that of last autumn. Then all faces were anxious, some apprehensive, some depressed. They were going into a new experience. Now, howevfr, it £ waT as a tried and known profession that is^ about us No longer is there any sign of confusion or uncertainty. , The T™X ?-**? eomP^ga has Scorns as mu*h a ousmess to officers and men engaged m that line of business. The deaths and the wounds are new simply * part pf their profession, and they have &6§n 80 much of this side of it that it has long sihee been discounted El TO lot &\ iho*& they h^d S £Qims tor tea y^rs > and as though they expected to be' fighting for the rest ot their days. War has become the commonplace, and peace seems the unreality. • Somewhat to the south and west of us was the town of , which a few days ago was shelled by the Germans. u% the bombardment it has been abandoned by all the civil population. As it lies on the German side of the slope, we. had three miles of exposed road to cover to reach it, and another three miles in v:ew of the German line fcrget out of it, As we sped along one felt a certain satisfaction 'that P?nnM ta ,J. s"llorse l P<wer motor-car, i capable of doing eighty miles an hour! Une-taird of the town was destroyed by tne German shell fire, the rest was like a c:ty of the dead. Not one of the population was to be seen 'in the streets, which but a week ago were swarming with people. He?- e and there a soldier from the position near by lounged on an abandoned doorstep, or slept peacefully under one of the trees m the square. The noonday sun looked down otherwise upon a deserted place, if one does not count an occasional dog prowling about, or one white kitten sitting calmly on a window ledge m the sunshine washing her already immaculate face ' len miles along the great white road that led back in the direction of Warsaw we came upon a bit of forest where were camping unfortunate villagers who had been driven from their homes by shell fire. They were living in rude lean-tos, surrounded by all the worldly possessions that they had been able to get away. Cows, ducks, pigs and chickens roamed about the forest, while dozens of children played m the dust. One picture I shall not forget. Before a hut made of straw and branches of trees a mother had constructed a rude oven by setting on some stones the steel top or the kitchen stove, /which she had brought with her. Kneeling over the fire she was preparing the primitive noonday meal. Just behind was a oradle in which lay a. few weeks' old baby, rocked by a little sister of four Three other little children stood expectantly round the fire. Behind the cradle lay the family cow, her soft brown eyes gazing mournfully at it as-she chewed her cud reflectively In the door of the miserable little shelter was stretched a great fat sow sleeping soundly, with her lips twitching ner-1 vously. An old hen with a dozen chicks was clucking to her little brood withm the open end of the hut. This was all that war had left of one home. A hundred yards away a I gang of laborers were digging in the forest. It is no wonder that the mother looks nervously from her fire at their work. Perhaps she wonders what they are about. We know. It is another line of trenches. From what we have seen of the front line we believe that they will not be needed, but it is not strange that these poor fugitives look on with anxious eyes, with enquiry written large on every face. Probably to them the war seems something from which they cannot escape. They came to this wood for safety, and now again they see more digging of trenches going on. Another hour on the road brings us back to the headquarters of the army, and our day is over.

One of "America's "ban!? holidays" is called "Arbor Day." On this day nit the school children a"s© let off work in order that they may plant trees. Among the trophies captured from Napoleon at the battle of "Waterloo were two Mving eagles.