At last the
train arrived,--departed; shortly thereafter there poured through the
doors of that little church a train of human misery such as I never
saw before or afterward during the war, and pray God I may never see
again. Until that night the tale of the retreat from Moscow had seemed
to me overdrawn; ever since I can well believe "the half has not been
told." They came, each revealing some form of acute disease, some
tottering, but still on their feet, others borne on stretchers.
Exhausted by forced marches over interminable miles of frozen ground
or jagged rocks, destitute of rations, discouraged by failure, these
poor fellows had cast away one burden after another until they had not
clothes sufficient to shield them from the chilling blasts of winter.
Not one in twenty had saved even a haversack, many having discarded
coats and jackets. One man had gained possession of an india-rubber
overcoat, which, excepting his underclothing, was his only garment.
Barefooted,--their feet were swollen frightfully, and seamed with
fissures so large that one might lay a finger in them. These were
dreadfully inflamed, and bled at the slightest touch; others were
suppurating.
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