Winter begins officially in Russia with the closing of navigation on the Neva, but already snow is lying on the ground on the western frontier, and in Poland there are severe frosts at night.
A new touch of horror is introduced by the freezing of the ground, which makes it practically impossible to dig graves for the great number of dead in the woods, where recent floods washed the bodies from the shallow graves in which they had been hastily buried.
The villagers report the presence of an unparalleled number of wolves, and have petitioned the army authorities to detach soldiers to shoot them.
The Germans are suffering intensely from the cold. In every town which they occupied they carried off all the available winter clothing, furs, sheepskins and leather coats. At Lodi and Shiradow, where there are great cloth factories, they commandeered the whole of the stocks and kept the plants working day and night providing materials for export to Germany. They failed, however, to bring away much of this owing to the destruction of the railway bridges by Polish guerillas, whose activities are acknowledged to have contributed to the Russian success.
Life in the trenches appears by no means to be the irksome and dreadful thing it is reported to be. According to soldiers just back in Paris from the firing line troops that are supposed to face each other grimly across a fire-swept space only a few hundred yards wide are not the bloodthirsty fellows we all took them for.
They carry chivalry into their work, and certain conventions, all making for comfort, have been tacitly established between them. For example, toward midday both sides suspend fire in order that they may eat luncheon in peace. They would undoubtedly oblige each other when the evening meal is due but for the unhappy fact that the dinner hours of the contending armies do not tally.
Obviously, says a facetious Frenchman, it is somebody's duty to see that the meal hours of the opposing forces synchronize exactly. The soldiers entertain each other with music, the trenches on either side furnishing items turn and turn about.
"Oh, yes, the Russians pay for what they take," exclaims the Koenigsberger _Zeitung_, and adds:
"The inspector of a great farm, who was riding a fine horse, his saddle and bridle ornamented with silver, encountered a troop of Russians.