Evening Republican, Volume 19, Number 178, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 29 July 1915 — GENERAL DOOMS NEPHEW CAUGHT AS A DESERTER [ARTICLE]

GENERAL DOOMS NEPHEW CAUGHT AS A DESERTER

Russian Commander’s Vote Decides Fate of Young Pole Who Quit Regiment. JOINED THE AUSTRIAN ARMY General Rad).v.no Had the Misfortune La rr>t;oe at the Court-Martial Which Sealed the Fate of His Favorite Relative.

By DR. WOLF VON SCHIERBRAND.

(Correspondent of the New York Sun). Vienna. —Doubtless the darkest national tragedy in this world war is that of the Poles. There one sees a distinct ethnological entity, a people whose tongue is the most musical and cultivated of all the Slavic languages, with a fine literature showing names like that of Henry K. Sienkiewicz, of universal fame, advanced in all the arts, Paderewski being a fine example; the most gifted of all the Slavs, of high valor, of a quality both distinct and elevated. Yet the curse of destiny has brought it about that this people of altogether about 22,000,000 has been split up into three unequal parts —roundly, 12,000,000 of them under Russian rule, about 7,000,000 under Austrian and about 3,000,000 under German rule. And what results of even the present giant upheaval will be so far as the Poles are concerned not even the wisest can foretell. Tragedies Every Day. Meanwhile every day tragedies on a minor scale are happening among the Poles which, for the most part, will never see page and printer’s ink. Yet many are worth the telling. Here is one in point. 1 tell it just as it was told to me. without the slightest attempt at coloring the facts. Let the reader judge for himself. Among the Russian prisoners taken tt Tarnow, Galicia, some three weeks go by the Austrian army was a fine, dignified looking man, a general who had not yielded without first using his sword. He was General Stephen Radymno, a Pole by race and language, but a brave, undaunted soldier of the czar. He is now recovering from his injuries in one of the reserve hospitals of Vienna, and later on will be taken as prisoner of war to one of the great camps in Bohemia. Nephew a Deserter. General Radymno had the misfortune to be forced to condemn his favorite nephew to death. He presided at the court-martial which sealed the young man's fate, and his was the deciding voice that doomed the young man to immediate execution; for the nephew, Jan Radymno, had committed treason. Although serving in one of his uncle's own regiments as first lieutenant, he had gone over to the enemy—to the Polish legion fighting under the banner of the Hapsburgs. This he had done in the middle of the night, and in bis shabby quarters, a short distance back of the trenches, there was found the next morning a slip of paper on which were a few lines addressed to his uncle, the general saying he found himself “forced to choose between two duties —and that toward Poland came first.” Then he had added a word or two to the general himself imploring him to follow his example "and help free Poland from the Muscovite yoke.” Poles Make Raids.

All this happened early last December; the general’s trenches were held for five months longer. Back of his positions were woods, impenetrable, deep in snow, and into them he was frequently obliged to send skirmishing parties to attack the rear of the Polish Legion of Austria, who made frequent raids. The rumor somehow spread in the regiment to which Lieutenant Radymno had belonged that he was with these legionaires and that he even directed a number of the raids and sudden attacks. The Russians were bittej, and many prisoners captured were given short shrift. One Russian soldier named Destyatuk. who had belonged to the “rotte (squad) formerly commanded by Lieutenant Radymno, swore he had recognized his former officer in the ranks of the enemy on one occasion. The general, his uncle, never heard any of these rumors, however. One night late in March, when the snow still lay thick and a gale was blowing, the very company to which the deserter had belonged was surprised. The men had changed their quarters only the day before, having lost many in their trenches, and had been sent to the rear. This particular raid was singularly bold, rapid and desperate. The Russians were surprised in their sleep, and before they could gather for a stand they were badly beaten. But at last there came succor, and then there was hard fighting, chiefly with the bayonet on account of the uncertain light With half the little force slain, the Russians finally got a small band of their foes into the church, and there, after a hand to hand struggle, took some prisoners. - . ■ -: —i Uncle Condemns Him. Among the prisoners was Jan Radymno, or what was If ft of him. A bayonet thrust had .split his cheek and cut his lips. His blouse hung about him in flatters. In this condition he

was taken before his uncle, the Russian general. The general looked his nephew over, but said nothing. At once (it was but six in the morning and still dark) he summoned a court-martial. There were five —he himself as chief. Captain Stchukin. Captain Fyedotoft. Lieutenant Tau and Sergeant Major Yevseyenko. The accused was called in, then the witnesses. Among them was the man who had bayoneted his former lieutenant, and two others who identified him. The facts were plain, indisputable. Jan Radymno was questioned. He admitted everything—in a thick voice, for the thrust had lacerated his tongue—but without flinching. Two of the five in the court-martial were in favor of having the prisoner taken to headquarters, some ten miles ofT; two others, including Captain FyedotofT, wanted sentence pronounced and executed at once. The decision rested with the general. He said that inasmuch as responsibility regarding operations in the woods had been confided to him he was in favor of Immediate sentence. The two captains nodded their heads. Jan Radymno had b6en a gallant officer, a good comrade, but this was a plain case. General Pronounces Sentence. So the general in a cold, inflexible Voice . pronounced sentence. Then he said, as an afterthought: "Have you some wish to express?” Jan Radymno took one step forward, leaned hard on the table and said: ‘‘l have a little boy, Piotr, six years old. I ask, I command, I implore, that he be brought up as a Pole —to remember, to love his people and his native land, and to be informed how his father ench ed. That is my last wish. My everlasting curse on you, uncle, if it be not carried ouL” Then they took him away behind the house. His uncle leaned against the wall and shaded his eyes, but he said nothing. This had been his favorite nephew. He sank into a chair and hid his face in both hands. He waited. Outside six men were digging a grave in the sandy soil. Jan sat motionless near by, his head on his breast, gazing at a faded photograph of his little boy. At last he lifted his head. He stood up, removed his torn blouse, and that showed his shirt in shreds as well. He slowly moved to the wall and put his back against it The sergeant of the firing squad came up with a handkerchief. Jan motioned him away. Then the old general, waiting, heard the shot that meant his nephew's death.