Diary of a Prisoner in World War I

Front matter

Diary of a Prisoner in World War I 2nd revised edition

by Josef Šrámek

Published by Tomáš Svoboda ([mailto:tomas@svoboda.com tomas@svoboda.com]) using the service of CreateSpace.com

Introduction and historical context

Introduction and historical context

At the beginning of 20th century Europe was fragmented into a number of states which were remains of former feudal establishment and were heplessly out of date with the new trends of capitalist economy and national emancipation.

One very large of these states was the Hungaro-Austrian monarchy where the two leading nations were holding in subordinance other nations including Czechs. In 1914 there has been a well established Czech national movement due to which Czechs' loyalties belonged more to their subdued nation than to their Hungaro-Austrian state.

One of these Czechs was my grandfather Josef Šrámek. He was a boy working for a textile distribution company owned by Jewish partners Kohn & Kornfeld. He must have been quite good at trading and accounting as is reflected in wide use of numerals in his diary.

Then in 1914 came the irrational beginning of World War—a huge conflict that no one wanted and no one could really explain why it started. The Czechs were dragged into the war unwillingly and unmotivated because it was Austria's war, not theirs. The usual practice at that time was to draft young men into the military with no respect for their individual or national or ethnic opinions. This was very similar to a prison system in many respects. Civil disobedience has not been invented yet so most had no choice but to enter the military. This is what happened to my grandfather and this is where his diary starts.

First page of the diary

Austrian Army—1914

Austrian Army—1914

September 26, 1914

Having passed a four-week training, we are leaving Plzeň [Pilsen] for Budějovice [Budweiss], Gmund, and Vienna to the Serb front. We are going to kill people who have done us no wrong. "It is God's will," said the army chaplain in his sermon!

Passing through Salzburg, Semmering, I am leaving this charming sight of a foreign country unnoticed. It is hard for me to part with our beautiful homeland. I am thinking of my parents and feeling sad. Shall we ever see each other again? Will I come back alive?

Josef Šrámek in 1914

September 30

We passed Slovenia, then Bosnia, and now we are getting off in Doleni Tuzla. Two days' rest, then we marched to Zvornik. We walked to the mountains in terrible heat for 2 days. When we approached Zvornik we heard the guns' salutes. We crossed the Drina River.

October 2

Now we are in Serbia. It's a sea of mud—that Serb mud I've gotten to know so well while lying in it. We are walking forward. We see burnt kutchas [cottages], the initial signs of raging war.

October 5

Having wandered hopelessly without food and bread for 3 days, we found our battalion today. It is located 6 hours from Zvornik, and it took us a full 3 days to get here! Warm welcome—everybody found somebody they knew—but I am alone here! Met Capt. Jupa, he's from somewhere near Unhost. A nice man. He's bringing in bread at a time of shortage and hunger. Snow and rain, and we do exercises.

October 8

Building deckung [shelter] in mud and water; I sleep in water pools. The water has flooded our dwelling. We are building a new one on a hill. It rains hard every day.

October 10

We patrolled, walking for 4 hours; we could barely get there, and now we must get back. I stayed behind. I got back in the morning, and the battalion was about to move, so I followed slowly behind. I cannot go any farther. I am out of strength. I follow my battalion for 3 days, eating and sleeping with the regiments I meet.

October 13

I found my battalion in new trenches at the verge of a forest today. Hunger every day, too little bread available. Dysentery is spreading is among us. A portion of bread costs 3 crowns. Jupa furnishes me with bread from the kitchen. I am expecting packages from home in vain—feldwebels stole them. The same happens to rum and wine! Officers are drunk. They push us around and beat us with sticks.

October 15

We exercise "Marsch einz" [March] daily while our stomachs rumble. We are still in reserve. What will it be like when we are at the front? I write letters home and to Ústí often, but I seldom get a letter.

Being in the army is getting tougher day by day. One is hungry so he eats a canned meal—so they tie him to a post for twelve hours, and he has to pay a 3 crown fine. The officers are drunk every day! We even lack water.

October 19

We were in the middle of our march when shrapnel started to hit us, so we ran away. Dysentery is on its way. So are the first lice. Patrols are getting tougher—we are expecting Serbs. My deckung is safe, but what if I have to go out?

October 24

Serbs killed our corporal while he was on patrol. Beautiful weather. Jupa went shopping to Zvornik so we are now bargaining with tobacco, chocolate, etc.

November 2

We were attacked at night. The Serbs assaulted us—but failed. Our officers were hidden like rats. I was lucky—a bullet went in through the loophole just by my head. The next night there was another attack, a heavier one. It is getting tough. A control wire leads from my trench to a bomb. Patrolling in the forest at night, the enemy was some 300 meters away from us!

November 5

Forward! This morning at 5 we put our bayonets on and scrambled to attack. At 8 we hit the Serbs, and there was a scramble. They are well-hidden in corn and blow us away with their machine guns. 32 people out of my platoon of 56 men are hurt or dead. My hat caught a bullet when I raised my head carelessly. At last the Serbs retreated in the afternoon, but their artillery played some music for us. I'm spending the night in a hole dug just so-so. My friend Šimeček was hit by a bullet in his neck.

November 6

Getting up all freezing, marching on, eating in the forest, and shrapnel hit us. The major and the captain are hurt. Marching on, we got into a real bullet rain. A bullet missed my head but hit my coat. I counted 23 holes in it. We stay in Serb trenches.

November 7

We entered Krupanja and patrolled the entrance to the town. We cooked hens. The artillery is going toward Valyevo, which still endures. With great enthusiasm we think we have now won the war; there are even some prophets saying we will be home by Christmas. After all that's what Wilhelm the Almighty said!

November 13

Going to Zavlaka, doing a parade in front of the corps leader at night. Me and cadet Brejnik go to patrol in the hills. We are covered with snow by the morning. It's freezing. We find half of a pig and cabbage—we are cooking. We stay in the kutchas and eat dried plums.

November 16

Back to the camp. There are many prisoners in there—we are taking 1300 of them to Lozhnica. It was terribly muddy on the way back so I stayed in a kutcha overnight. I went to Zavlaka the next morning and found the village covered by water. The hard rain, and maybe the Serbs too, caused the flood. Our train and the bakeries are underwater. The battalion is gone, and I am in the water, which reaches up to my waist, for an hour-long journey. I am looking for the battalion. I have plenty of time.

November 21

After 3 days I finally caught my battalion in Valyevo. I didn't have a bad time on my way there. When the night was about to come, we [the batallion] found a kutcha, killed a sheep, and roasted it. When we left Valyevo, it was freezing and snowing. We slept in the fields—hungry, freezing, exhausted. Going on patrol, I was caught in a rain of grenades. Miraculously I survived.

We are pretty near the Serbs who occupy the hills. Scrambles on patrol are our daily job. No bread—there is one portion for ten men. We stay without meals for 3 days, and the soup has not been salted for a month. Searching for food all around—anything goes, mostly apples and plums.

November 27

Progressing in snow that is up to our knees. We reached the hills that the Serbs defended so tenaciously. A dead Serb is in every trench; they are frozen. Repeated scrambles. We progress as well as retreat every day. We are hungry while the Hungarian soldiers near us have bags full of meat.

December 1

Something is going on. I think we will run away. We are here as the "rückzugbedeckung." We lie in the snow, hungry every day. It is really strange that I have been escaping an injury or death so far.

December 6

It is all in vain! We've been firing for the 4th day now. The Serbs are all around. For 4 days now, we've had no food, no officers, and we've kept the last hill. Today I was in a real rain of bullets 3 times. The unit is destroyed; each of us has run a different direction. Grenades crackle in the snow around me. I am dead tired. At night I sit at the fire with the Hungarians.

Suddenly the Serbs were here: "Bacaj puški!" [Drop your guns.] I was taken prisoner. The Serbs robbed us immediately. I didn't want to give them my bag. A Serb hit me with the butt end of his gun, and I fell down. Then the Serb artillery came in, and I was saved.

Serbian Captivity—1915

Serbian Captiv5

December 9

Kraguyevats! It took three 3 days to get there, and they were filled with trouble. The first thing our brothers the Serbs did was take off our coats and put them on themselves. The same with our shoes. All that had any value—underwear, blankets, watches, money—everything comes in handy for them. All we ate in three days was 3 halves of a bread loaf. We slept on the snow the first two nights and saw the first swamps.

December 12

We arrived at Skoplye today. We'd been crammed in boxcars for 3 days and 3 nights, not even able to sit down. First they took us there and back, all over the town, and then they gave each of us one loaf and a piece of bacon, and that was it! The journey was terrible. It was there that I caught lice for the first time—that Serb specialty no one can escape. I could not get rid of them all the time I was in Serbia.

December 15

We have our lodging now. It is a former stable that's too bad for cattle but good enough for the "Schwabs." There are several thousand of us crammed in here. Food is the same all the time—cabbage soup and mutton. I am writing my first postcard home. No work so far. The weather here is beautiful, like in May back home.

December 20

Diseases spread among us—typhus and dysentery. More and more people die every day. Bad food, foul water, and dirt are to blame. They forbid us to drink the water but there is nothing else. The soup is all pepper. The lice proliferate. We cannot wash clothes as there is nowhere to do so, to say nothing about drying. So, instead of picking the lice out, I brush them away. They're everywhere—in shirts, socks, blouses, coats, and hats. You can find them in your hair, your beard—simply everywhere. If you find 150 of them in your shirt, it's not so many! If you pick them all one day, you're full of them the next morning again.

We lie on the ground. There is no straw, and we must not lie on our backs but only on our sides as there is no room. It's worst at night—whoever goes out cannot get through and stomps on feet or heads. Batina rules here. You get hit with a fist or stick for nothing, and if you can get away soon, good for you. The almighty master here is Captain Dogič, a true animal. "I am your God. I can kill you" is his favorite proverb. And our feldwebels, the Croats and the Bosnians, help him bravely, hitting everyone they meet.

December 24

Christmas Eve. How many memories run through my head! What a difference between now and a year ago! What are my parents doing at this moment? It is getting dark, and I am lying on my elevated bed (I sleep in a trough). I got in here to avoid the dirt and the lice, which cannot get in here so easily. I am recalling my homeland. My Christmas Eve dinner is a few apples and one dinar's worth of chocolate. And there are many here who don't have even that. All is quiet—perhaps everyone is thinking. If there were more light, I could see a tear in many an eye! We are so sad at heart. I am listening—there, in the corner, the 102nd Regiment starts to sing "Where Is My Home." Everyone is trembling. Other voices join in, and our sty resounds with a sublime song, illustrating our feelings! Deep silence—and then a carol. And then silence again. Everybody is recalling. There is supper, and then everybody gets ready for the midnight mass. Many of those who have not prayed in a long time are now praying to the one who gave the world peace, asking for peace soon and that they may return happily! Will this ever be?

December 27

Christmas is over. On Christmas Day I worked all day and fasted. My whole lunch was a bit of cheese and bread. We work every day, doing various things. We go to the station, to building sites, to clean, dig, press hay, or build roads. Our jailkeepers drive us out to the courtyard at half past five in the morning. There we stand in the rain and cold for an hour. Most of us are barefoot. Dogič walks by with his stick. Our feldwebels and gendarmes divide us into teams. At last all are divided. But not much work gets done. Those who work on the roads end up searching for lice; those who pass through the town tend to disappear—some go drinking at a cafe, some go to make money, some go begging. When the guard arrives at the station with 80 people out of 300, he swears: "I fuck their Schwabish mother in the ass." And that's it. They could never count us all, even if we were to be here for the next five years.

December 31 The last day of the year. The devil may take this year—it has dealt us badly. Recalling how nicely we welcomed it, I think it was in Krásné Březno at the Czech House. I am mad!

January 1

New year, what news do you bring? The beginning of the year was pretty bad—I carried sacks at the station all day. I could not slip away.

January 5

I am sick. I have fever, cannot eat anything. I just want to drink but this water is deadly. I am lying on the ground like a dog. Nobody cares, nobody notices. I am not alone—more than half of the men are lying here too. Epidemic. And the town is not better off! Hospitals are overfilled, there are no doctors, and the prisoners—who have never even treated a sick person—are the nurses. They are masterful in robbing the sick!

January 10

I feel better, so I can walk again. I was commanded out to work today. I was to drag flour sacks, but I was barely able to walk. I asked for an examination. They lined us up in the yard. Dogič came around with his stick, and the examination began: "What's the matter with you?" "My head hurts." "Your cunt..." And the stick danced on his back. The rest of us did not wait, and the examination was over.

January 14

The first postcard from home. Karel wrote: "Daddy is glad that you are out of danger." If only he knew what dangers are here. Hundreds of prisoners die daily in the worst dirt. There are so many lice I cannot stand it anymore. I haven't washed my shirt for a month. In hospitals, people die helpless; here we have no doctors, no medicine, no beds, no food.

January 17

More news about peace. The shortage is getting worse. There is no bread; when there is, sometimes it is purple and sometimes it is yellow. We've had no meals for 6 days now—first there was no wood, then there was no water, and now there is no meat. I am waiting for money from home, but it is in vain—the officers here steal everything.

January 23

I work every day. We get damson cheese instead of meals, and there are beatings every day. There is no prison here, and trials are wonderfully easy: "25 blows on the butt, is the usual sentence. Those who are beaten stay marked for several days.

January 28

The epidemic is peaking. Our crammed sties got terribly empty—more than half of the men moved beyond that white wall. Men who are full of life in the evening cannot get up in the morning.

February 5

A Greek countess visited us and brought us boxes of underwear, sugar, and tea. I got a shirt, 2 handkerchiefs, and some sugar. We press hay, and I drive oxen. Now and then I get a postcard from home, but the deliveries are bad.

February 14

I was commanded to work at the hospital as a nurse, but when I saw the mess there I ran away. Here in Skoplye just a handful of us prisoners were left out of 1200. Again several days with no meals, just some spoiled cheese and damson cheese for lunch.

February 26

We left Skoplye for Djevdjekia. It is on the very border with Greece, on the track that goes Nish-Skoplye-Salonica. There are 15 of us, and we are assigned to be nurses. The town is nice, and there are Turks, Bulgarians, Greeks, etc. The weather is lovely. There are about 500 Austrians serving within an American medicinal mission. Some of them are enjoying a golden age; the Americans have brought just about everything—underwear, medication, beds, food cans, sugar, tea, kerosene, boots. Everything. They are putting everything in order, setting up hospitals, and separating the injured from the typhus-infected.

February 28

I work as a nurse. The hospital is a former Turkish state store, an enormous building of 5 floors. I was assigned to department Soba VI. There are 5 of us as nurses serving more than 80 people who are sick with typhus. I shudder to look at them. The majority of them are Serbs, thin recruits with frostbitten legs. They lie on mattresses on the ground, in dirt like I have never seen in my life. They cannot walk, and the toilets are too far anyway. The ceiling is made of planks so it's dripping and running upon them from above. It's hell. 6 or 8 of them die every day, and others take their places.

The lice seem to move the entire building. There is no medication. A doctor comes once every in 3 days. We have a lot to do. We carry meals and divide them, clean the rooms, carry water (to the 3rd floor), and apply compresses. I don't know how long I can take it. We must be on duty and apply compresses at night too. And all you get for that toil is swearing. All you hear all day every day is just swearing. "Yebat!" The Croats and Bosnians rob the dead and search them—I would not touch them even if they had thousands on them. They immediately sell the clothes and shoes they take off the dead.

March 2

I have a fever—39°C—but I keep on working as I am afraid to lie down. Few of those who lie down can get up again.

March 22

Finally I came around again. I don't know what was going on with me for 20 days. They say I could not accept anything for 7 days; later I could only accept tea and milk. My fever reached 4l°C. I got a grip on myself slowly. I did not know where I was or what my name was. I am still too weak to stand up.

March 25

I am slowly regaining power and hunger. I could eat five times as much as they give me. In the meantime someone stole my uniform and coat, so I am naked. They also stole my wallet. I had my letters and about 4 crowns in it. I saw the wallet with one of the Serbs, but when I demanded it he hit me. I am so hungry and penniless. I spent my last 2 dinars on bread, roasted meat, and wine.

March 28

Today I was dismissed from the hospital and sent to the headquarters. A harsh wind came, and the feet of the sick in the hospital got frostbitten.

April 4

I'm a nurse in Hotel Magasin, an old Turkish tobacco store. Here there are just the injured or frostbitten. The order here is much better. The Americans and our fellows manage it. There is a lot to do, but enough food too. I like it here. Figs are blossoming out in our garden.

An incomplete article from Samostatnost ("Independence"), dated February 15, 1918, is inserted here. It is as follows:

There were no weapons, no ammunition, no clothes or sanitary aids. The lack of means of communication caused bad food deliveries. The result was that we ran from the larger centers, where people were really friendly to us, to the newly won countries of Serbia where most people, although they were good in their hearts and hospitable as true Slavs, did not understand our rebellion the way it deserved to be understood due to their ignorance. Only the lucky ones could join the heroic defenders of the still endangered small homeland of Serbia. And then, at our heels, the terrible typhus epidemic crawled to Serbia. So many Czech heads and hands helped in insufficient hospitals in Serbia to beat this vigorous enemy. And the reason, why hundreds and thousands of our boys died along with those who faced the insidious disease with superhuman zeal but insufficient means, was that they fulfilled their helping duty with true understanding, self-sacrifice and love in the harsh Balkan conditions. Small wooden crosses on Serb cemeteries are aching memorials of those terrible times; but this sublime effort and work of ours so endeared us to...

The rest is missing.

April 20

The Americans left, and Dr. Borssitch took over the hospital. There was a massive alarm—the Bulgarians assaulted the Serb corps near Strumtets. They killed many. The inhabitants move out for fear of the Bulgarians. We receive a full train of injured soldiers in terrible condition! All covered with blood, unconscious, dying. We have been bandaging and washing all night and all day. Many of them died the very first night, some are in agony, some are wounded horribly. One was stabbed by a bayonet 16 times. The Bulgarians were like animals.

April 26

Now we are taking care of the wounded only; those with fever are moved to the other hospital. I am well off now. We have an abundance of everything, including milk, tea, and eggs. I seldom receive anything from home. I am still looking forward to this situation ending soon—and, meanwhile, newspapers say Italy has declared war.

April 30

The new Serb sobar started off rough but slackened soon. I discovered his dirty deals, and now he has to be quiet. I met Sergeant Roubík. The first batch of prisoners is leaving to build the railway to Knyezhevats. Then we all will leave.

May 5

I am leaving Djevdekiya for Nish to build the railway. We got 2 dinars each for the journey. Before we got from the station to the stables in Nish, we got all wet from rain. This is our lodging with a new surprise—fleas. They are as big as flies, and you get hundreds of them within half an hour. Nobody can even think about sleep.

May 7

Each of us got 3 loaves of bread and a piece of smoked meat for the journey. We went through Nish to Knyezhevats. We spent the first night in a forest. I froze to the bone, having no coat and no blanket and sleeping on damp grass. The other night was better—we slept in an abandoned school. The journey is getting harder, going over hills and ravines unlike anything I have ever seen.

May 1

We rested for 2 days in Knyezhevats, where we were accommodated in a café and slept under the tables. Everyone got a pair of sandals, and some were hit with a stick.

We arrived in Banitsa in late afternoon. We bathed there in a thermal well while our uniforms were boiled in cauldrons. When they were so-so dry, we went to sleep in Ragost, where I and several boys slept in a chicken shack.

May 23

We finally arrived, having marched all day in immense danger. We are to live in a large cave where a kitchen is set up. Rocks are all around us, wild Timok is underneath, a bit of blue sky is above, and eagles are our partners. One can't see grass anywhere—it is all bare rocks. A real wasteland. We have to dig our paths—make a bad move and fall down. There are 35 of us, mostly Czechs with Sergeant Roubík. Our commander is Theodor Tcheikovitch from Monte Negro, a first-class bastard. He looks like a fugitive convict. The boys immediately nicknamed him Babinský. It fits him perfectly. With an oak stick, he is always ready to earn recognition through slaps and blows, and he becomes a real nightmare for everyone.

We are assigned work on a railway construction here. The railway is routed along nothing but bridges, tunnels, and embankments. Dynamite has to be used to dig everything. The work is very hard. We sleep in the rocks like badgers, and I am cold, as I have neither coat nor blanket. Meals are all the same: beans with a bit of goat's meat for lunch and supper, thickened soup in the morning, and one loaf of bread daily.

June 3

I do not work the rock but go for bread and kitchen stuff every day. I must get up at 4:00 a.m. to bring the meat before 7. They carry it from the slaughterhouse to Glisura on carts. From there we have to drag it on our backs across the rocks for almost one hour's distance.

When there is no rain it is good. But when the rain starts, it goes on for days and days, and you can't get your feet out of the mud.

June 20

120 new men arrived. We work hard. Our wage is from 50 hellers up to 1 dinar but it's worth nothing because we can't buy anything but rakiya. The Section pays when they want (well, when they have).

June 28

Two prisoners were wounded during explosions today. You can't hear anything but thundering noise all day long. Instead of soup we get damson cheese in the morning. It is great. We have coffee. We are not hungry. I am glad for one thing—we got rid of the lice. Well, one can be found here or there, but we got cleaned. But fleas still pop up.

July 12

Our team increased to 300 men. They came from Skoplye and Brtolye. Everyone has a nice, new pair of boots that arrived from the American Czechs. They say 30 thousand pairs had arrived but the Czechs only got about 3,000 of them. The Serbs "took care" of the rest. With the transport, Salomon Hruska arrived, among others.

July 25

I got a card from Karel. He's been drafted. Messages from home arrive seldom. Sometimes I get cards from Ústí from F.T. or A.M., but also one from S.F. We still think the end will be here soon. We don't hear any news of the world; it is like we are on a bare islandA provisionary track has been built so we carry bread on trolleys. People get hurt in explosions every day.

August 10

Days pass on by, and we keep working like slaves. God knows, maybe it's our fate not to return. Here one is permanently in danger of being hit with a flying stone.

August 25

Babinsky wheedled my watch, which didn't work, from me for 5 dinars, but he raised my wage. Now I get 80 H.

September 12

The construction goes on well. The tunnels have been made, and very high bridges cemented. This costly track is made of the calluses and sweat of the zaroblyeniks. People who have never done such work in their lives work with hammers and wedges as if they have done it from their birth. Nobody here asks about your profession—you get a pickaxe or a wheelbarrow and go!

September 25

These days I only go for meat and I bargain with plums, pears, nuts, cucumbers, even sausages. The butchers at the slaughterhouse made sausages. I brought 200 of them back for myself and the others, and they were all gone in a moment.

October 2

Last night, 7 boys ran to Bulgaria. It is not far—about 6 hours. Men from other units escape every day. We fear the winter; it will be rough here. I bought a blanket and a fur coat. This week I received money from home two times: first 10 dinars and then 12.