The farmer and mechanic. [volume] (Raleigh, N.C.) 18??-19??, 1915-10-05

legions there follow a number oil
poets. who inscribe crosses on rocks,
trunks Of trees. or fence posts OF ruin
ed homes, little tributes to the dead,
according to an article in the New
York paper. Unadorned by any fine
style or metaphor, this untutored
muse visits the trench or battlefield,
expressing the simple emotion with
whichc the Russian soldier in a few
lines of an epitaph, often washed
away by the next days rain, seeks to
perpetuate the m of a fallen
ccrnrade.
These writings appear to one search
ing for curious mementoes of the bat
tlefield in hooks and n OF a
roadside, along forest edges, or
wherever a favorite comrade may
have been buried. And they are
buried in the strangest spots, for wal
makes beggars even Of the dead, and
they cannot choose their resting
places. Sometimes, when the exigen-
cies of battle require haste, the slain
are heaped into huge bitches, and
over the mound is erected a rude
brentwood cross. with a single line,
such as Here lie men who died for
the Gar" and nothing more.
But, for the most part, the Rus
SLAMS try not to neglect their dead.
Sometimes, with the hope that hu-
iNAiA I'LL Ah"y " NNAS ~ WV
graves, they bury them near a
peasants howell, now desolate and
shattered by cannon, or on the banks
Of some quiet stream, where the dead
may listen to the perpetual sOlace OF
murmuring waters. Or they n a
dozen or more fallen soldiers around
the foot Of a tree, which, swaying and
signing in the wind, becomes, in
the superstition Of h mujik, in
spired with the breath Of the SOILS
whose bodies lie beneath.
Thus the Russian surrenders his
dead comrade to the communion Of
nature. His farewell tribute will be
contained in a few lines Of verse writ
ten on a cross, on the white bark OF
q tree, on a stone, or on anything near
the grave that will carry the tracings
OF a pencil.
Some Of them ring with hope in ul-
innate victory and proclaim in naive
bombastic terms the almighty power
Of the Car to vanQuish the enemy
Some of them ven threaten the Ger
mans with retribution for invading
the sacred soil Of Russia. But mos
of the epitaphs, avoiding harsh note
Of vengeance and hatred, breath
nothing but affection for a dead com
rade.
A young Russian officer who linger
ed like a truant along the line o
march picked up many Of these verse
wherever they were Fegible, and sen
them to the Novoe Vremya, the lead
ing newspaper in Petrograd, with
request that they be printed. Anl
not having a D'Annunzio or a Kiplin
at the front, the Novoe Vremya print
ed them. not as literature, but as re
vealing better than any official repol
from the battle front the morale c
the Russian soldier in the face Of dc
feat, adversely, and death.
Here is an example. The scene is
secluded corner Of a Polish forest !
the battle zone, where a number
soldiers have been buried in grave
carefully trimmed with sod. Fac
grave bears a rough wooden eros
and on one of them the following linz
were written.
Sleep, dear brother. From all earth
misfortunes thou art sped,
Fol Russia, for the Car, and f,
truth thy blood thou hast she
Upon sacred records of the Churc
shall be written thy name,
And God shall receive you, de;
brother, in His own holy name,
Bravely has thou sacrificed mothe
children, and wife.
Now must we conquer or, like the
perish in the strife.
Another grave, near the edge of
stream, is that of a certain Ivan, d
scribed as a brave. jolly fellow, XII
ed with a smile on his lips" His col
rades. who gathered over his boo
penciled the following tribute on
tree nea by:
1t is not long since you came amo
us, oh, Comrade.
And no better servant in battle t
Car ever had,
Yet around you grave we have
ready stood.
And erected thereon a simple or,
OF wood,
An ikon, and an image lamp,
roughly made,
So that you might hear the bles:
Snronodo