An Incident of the Moscow Retreat: A Tableau of Hell.

Otago Witness, Issue 2323, 8 September 1898, Page 61

An Incident of the Moscow Retreat : A Tableau of Hell.

As we approached Gara, a poor hamlet with a few houses, I perceived one of those buildings (a large barn and a small dwelling house attached) of which I have spoken. I pointed it out to a sergeant of tho company, an Alsatian of the name of Mtither, and proposed that we should pass the night there if we could reach it first and find places. So we started running, but whon we arrived the barn was so crowded with superior officers, soldiers, and horses, that we could not geb in, despite all our efforts to do so, as they pretended that there were SOO persons within already. . . . On this we resolved to pass the night under the horses, which were fastened to the doors. Several times those who were bivouacking around tried to demolish the barn, so that they might use the wood of which it was built for making fires and shelters, and get the straw which was stored in an adjoining granary. There was also a quantity of pine wood, dry and resinous. Those inside were lying on the straw, and though they were so crowded they made little fires to warm themselves and roast their horse flesh. So far from letting their habitation be demolished they threatened to shoot those who made the attempt. . . . . It was about 11 o'clock. Part of these unfortunates were asleep : others warming their limbs at the fire. A confused noise was heard ; a fire had broken out in two places — in the middle of the barn and at the end, close to the door near which we were lying. When they tried to open it the horses, frightened by the flames and smothered with the smoke, plunged |so that the men, notwithstanding thenefforts, were unable to get through, and when they would have made for the other door | were driven back by the flames ! Nothing was to be heard but hoarse howlings. The unfortunates whom the fire was devouring screamed dreadfully. They mounted on each other's shoulders and made a hole through the roof, but that let in air, the fire blazed higher, and the few men who got tip to the hole, their heads without hair, their clothe.? burning, fell back into the abyss. . . It was a veritable tableau of hell. — Memoirs of Sergeant Burgogne.