In August 1916, the Central Powers' front was subjected to powerful assaults by the Entente armies. On the Somme, enormous English and French forces struggled for a decision. The fire flared up anew on the blood-soaked fields around Verdun. In the east, the front was still shaken from the effects of the Brussilov offensive which had cost our Austrian allies half a million men. In Macedonia a large Allied army under General Sarrail, stood ready to attack. And on the Italian front, the sixth battle of Isonzo had ended with the loss of the Gorz bridgehead and the city of Gorz. Here too, the enemy prepared new offensives.
At this point the Rumanians marched onto the stage as new enemies. They believed that their entry into the war would result in a quick Entente victory. As reward they expected much from their allies. On August 27, 1916, Rumania declared war on the Central Powers and half a million Rumanian soldiers crossed the frontier pass and moved into the Siebenburgen district.
When toward the end of October, the Wurttemberg Mountain Battalion arrived in the Siebenburgen district, far-reaching victories had already been won in the Dobrudja, at Hermannstadt and at Kronstadt, and the Rumanians had been thrown back across their frontiers, but the decisive battle remained to be fought. The Russians reinforced the Rumanian Army, which a few weeks before had crossed the frontier with the brightest of hopes, but had been forced back across that frontier.
The Wurttemberg Mountain Battalion detrained at Puy on the wrecked railway line which ran to Petrosceny. The hard march toward Petrosceny continued over churned-up roads which were blocked by columns of every description. The following expedients proved effective for getting ahead. The leading squads of the Company marched with fixed bayonets. They cleared a way through the confused traffic which time and again blocked the way. The Company's vehicles were accompanied by riflemen. The men took hold whenever the horsepower threatened to fail. With this arrangement, the troops moved slowly but steadily forward. We met Rumanian prisoners in their high, pointed, caps.
Shortly before midnight the Company arrived in Petrosceny and slept for a few hours on the bare floor of a schoolhouse. Our feet were burning from the long march. Nevertheless, before dawn, the 2nd and 5th Companies climbed into trucks and travelled southwest through Lupeny toward the threatened mountain front.
A few days before, the drive of the 11th Bavarian Division through the Vulcan and Skurduk Passes had failed. In bitter fighting for the pass exits, parts of the infantry and the artillery were thrown back and badly scattered. At present, the Schmettow Cavalry Corps was in possession of a ridge running along the border. Had the Rumanians continued their attack, it would have been difficult for our weak forces to hold them in check.
After a truck ride of several hours, we de-trucked in Hobicauricany. Here the cavalry brigade to which we had been attached started us toward the border range in the direction of Hill 1794. We climbed over a narrow footpath and our packs with their four days' uncooked rations weighed heavily on our shoulders. We had neither pack animals nor winter mountain equipment, and all officers carried their own packs. We climbed the steep slopes for hours. We met a few men as well as an officer from a Bavarian unit which had fought on the other side of the mountain. Their nerves appeared to be pretty well frayed.
According to their stories, they had had an extremely tough time in a battle in the fog, and a majority of their comrades had been killed in close fighting with the Rumanians. For days and without food, these few survivors wandered through the mountain forests and had finally found their way across the frontier range. They described the Rumanians as wild and dangerous adversaries. Well, we would see for ourselves.
Late in the afternoon, we reached an altitude of 3960 feet and located the sector command post. While the various companies cooked supper, Captain Gossler (commander of the 5th Company) and I were given the situation and ordered to continue the march as rapidly as possible, reach Hill 1794 that same evening, occupy the positions on top of it and reconnoitre southward through Muncelul and Prislop. The latest reports from the reconnaissance troop which had penetrated south of Muncelul were two days old, and the location of the troop itself was unknown. A telephone station and horses were supposed to be on Hill 1794. Contact did not exist with the units on the right and left.
It began to rain as we started to climb without benefit of a guide. The rain grew heavier as night began to fall and it was soon pitch black. The cold rain turned into a cloudburst and soaked us to the skin. Further progress on the steep and rocky slope was impossible, and we bivouacked on either side of the mule path at an altitude of about 4950 feet. In our soaked condition it was impossible to lie down and as it was still raining, all attempts to kindle a fire of dwarf pine failed. We crouched close together, wrapped in blankets and shelter halves and shivered from the cold. As soon as the rain slackened, we again attempted to build a fire, but the wet pine branches only smoked and gave out no heat. Slowly the minutes of that terrible night crept by. After midnight the rain ceased, but in its stead an icy wind made it impossible for us to relax in our wet clothes. Freezing, we stomped our feet around the smoking fire. Finally it became light enough to continue the climb toward the summit, and soon we reached the snow line.
When we reached the summit, our clothes and packs were frozen to our backs. It was below freezing and an icy wind was sweeping the snow-covered summit. Our positions were not to be found. A small hole in the ground, barely capable of holding ten men, sheltered the telephone squad. Over on the right were some fifty shivering horses. Shortly after our arrival a blizzard enveloped the elevated region and reduced visibility to a few yards.
Captain Gossler described the situation to the sector commander and tried to have the two companies withdrawn. However, all representations of the experienced alpinist were in vain, even though the surgeon also warned that a continued stay in the snowstorm in wet clothes, without shelter, without fire, and without warm food, would result in many sick and much frostbite within the next few hours. We were threatened with court-martial proceedings if we yielded one foot of ground.
To ascertain the whereabouts of the missing troop, Staff Sergeant Buttler was sent in the direction of Stersura via Muncelul; the mountain troops pitched tents in the snow. We did not succeed in making fire. Numerous cases of high fever and vomiting were reported, but renewed representations to sector were without effect. A horrible night began. The cold became more biting and soon the men could not stay in their tents and, as on the previous night, tried to keep warm by moving about. A long, long winter night! When day broke the doctor had to evacuate forty men to the hospital. I was on orders from Captain Gossler to the sector commander to give a personal description of conditions on the summit, and I at least succeeded in having our request forwarded for immediate disposition. When I returned to Hill 1794, Captain Gossler had decided to move off with the remainder of the companies, come what may; ninety per cent were under medical treatment because of frostbite and cold symptoms. The weather cleared at noon just as we were being relieved by fresh troops equipped with pack animals, wood and other items of equipment. Meanwhile the reconnaissance troop had been discovered by the Buttler scout squad on one of the southern spurs of the mountain. There, at an elevation of thirty-six hundred feet, bearable temperatures prevailed. There was no trace of the Rumanians.
After three days the company was back in good shape. Under considerably more favourable weather conditions and with better equipment, we climbed the Muncelul. After a bivouac at 5940 feet, we moved forward toward Stersura, a foothill of the Vulcan mountains which drops perpendicularly to the northeast and north. The company sent outposts about eleven hundred yards north of Stersura. While they were digging a hedgehog on a wooded knoll, secured by three sentries, things got lively on the Stersura. Rumanians in about battalion strength were dug in across the way in several closely linked positions.
During the ensuing days, encounters with a weak enemy resulted in no losses on our side. We lived in tents near our positions; pack animals brought provisions daily from the valley on the other side of the mountain ridge; telephone communication connected us with the Sproesser group and with our sentries. Over on the right was Arkanului. On its steep southeast slopes we could see the howitzers of the 11th Division's artillery which had been abandoned there. About a mile and a third east of us, on the next ridge, were other units of the Wurttemberg Mountain Battalion.
Fog covered the plain far below us and broke like ocean waves against the sunlit peaks of the Transylvanian Alps. A wonderful sight!
Observations: The occupation of Hill 1794 showed how high mountain weather can influence the efficiency and resistance of the troops, especially when the equipment is not suitable and complete, and supply fails. On the other hand, we saw what the soldier can endure in the presence of the enemy. Under certain circumstances dry wood or charcoal must be furnished for troops living at an elevation of six thousand feet. A few days later, on the southern slopes of the Vulcan mountains, we were heating our tents with small charcoal fires built in suspended tin cans.
World History
