Diary of a Napoleonic Footsoldier

by Jakob Walter

  The same night I lodged in a house and bought some bread and wine, for free quarters were not to be thought of. One could scarcely creep along the streets on account of the throngs of people. Early in the morning I traveled across the bridge and saw with astonishment that the city during this year of war had been developed into an important fortress. However, they had used only wooden walls and sand around the high walls. I now grew weaker and weaker, and only with great exertion did I reach the city of [Inowr]azlav. Here I reached the third convoy of our people and presented myself immediately to the commander, who asked, “Where are you from?” “From the army,” was my answer. “So you are also one of those Moscow bums,” he retorted, and that was the welcome at my return.

  I was given arms and had to guard the park that same night. Spending this night in the cold again gave me the fever. The next day I was even forced to continue my way on foot alone, but toward evening it became impossible. Either to die on the way or to go off to a village seen from the highway—that was my only choice. I decided then to go into the village. Here I went into a room and immediately lay down on the floor, where the fever shook me frightfully. The people there wanted to give me whiskey and something to eat, but I could drink nothing but water, and all those who looked at me made gestures of hopelessness. I naturally could not understand their conversation, but I could plainly feel their pity. In the morning I gathered together my last strength, left my arms behind because of my weakness; and only toward evening did I arrive in the station-town two hours away, where I found my convoy had already marched off again. I did not want to go to the quartering office first to obtain lodging but lay down in a tavern where there were two Westphalian soldiers who also had the fever at its worst stage. I still could not eat anything but could only drink beer, which I could get there.

  The next day a citizen of the town came to the inn, too, and asked what ailed us three. He could speak German. We answered him that each of us had the fever. “The fever?” said he. “I can help you get rid of that.” This he really did, sitting down, writing three notes, and saying that each of us should now eat one of them. I, at least, had little faith that such a thing could help. Nevertheless, I ate mine, too; and, when the time came for me to be shaken frightfully again, I waited longer and longer, and actually the fever left not only me but also my other two comrades at the same time. This seemed miraculous and delightful to all of us, and we thanked this good man, without whom certainly none of us would have escaped death. The next day, when we could partake of something to eat again, we obtained a wagon from the police, and I reached the convoy again outside the city of Posen. However, I was no longer able to walk from then on.

  The march went on then through Posen toward Crossen. The cold was still extraordinarily great; and, since I could not walk, I froze terribly. Also at night we came into the most miserable huts where even a healthy person had a hard time bearing the cold and the smoke in the rooms with their earthen floors. The convoy consisted of 175 men. However, one or two men of this number were brought dead to their lodgings every day. Our nourishment was still insufficient, and medicine was not to be hoped for. Although the groaning and shrieking on the wagons continued without interruption and several who were severely sick were crushed to death by the healthier people, since the space on the wagons was too small, nevertheless the impulse to help one another was still quite dulled.

  19. BIVOUAC NEAR MIKALEWKA (MIKHALEVKA), 7 NOVEMBER 1812. G. KÜSTNER, PRINTER. THE RETREATING SOLDIERS, SOME WITHOUT BOOTS, REST AND DIE IN LARGE GROUPS BENEATH SNOW-COVERED BLANKETS.

  As I went through Posen, I met a man from my company—among the 175 men, there was not one from my regiment, much less an acquaintance. When we recognized one another, we kissed each other for joy, and tears flowed down as each one said, “There were five of us common soldiers when we marchd out of Moscow; likely we are the last two of these left.” This moved usto tears, as I said. This man from my company had been so unfamiliar to me before that I do not even know his name now. When I had to go on, he said that he was well and was just going home but not with the convoy of the sick. I learned at home that he succeeded in doing this. I had asked him, when he went home, to go through Ellwangen and give my friends the news that they could be quite certain of my return, since I was hurrying home in good health and would soon arrive.

  It was still 250 leagues home; so my homecoming was still uncertain. Nevertheless, hope strengthened me always; so I finally came to Crossen, Torgau, and Leipsic, in which region German life began again, and because of decent eating and warm rooms my strength increased somewhat. In Leipsic especially I had good quarters, and everywhere there was sympathy and decent care for us. Each of us also obtained a new shirt, and those who could walk the best also got shoes, but I obtained only a shirt. This shirt was of fine white-mangled cloth, yet is was not quite free from little shives, and not until I came to Plauen did I try to put it on. In my quarters there I took off my old shirt and laid it in the warm stove upon a few small pieces of wood in order to murder my evildoers; but, when I looked at it again, I pulled out only the shirtsleeve: all the rest had been burned. Now what else could I do but put on my new shirt? I tried it, put it on and lay down in it, but the shives irritated me so much that I slipped into my clothes without it and exchanged it at my landlady’s for a woman’s shirt.

  During the same night, I also learned there were in our convoy two brothers from Bernlohhof. These were of the Grenadier Company in the regiment of the Crown Prince, and one of them had died that very night. This strange chance, that two brothers who had brought themselves as far as the home stretch by supporting each other should now be separated by the death of one, is surely moving, more so for him who has a brother of his own to remember as I had.

  Then the march went through Bayreuth, Nuremberg, Ansbach, and Dinkelsbühl. Everywhere we were quartered without hesitation in towns and villages. Gifts also were given us on the wagons, especially in Dinkelsbühl.

  Finally, on February 24, 1813, I arrived here [at Ellwangen] with my extraordinary uniform. For such a long time I had been looking forward to my arrival at home; but, the closer I came, the more my heart pounded at the thought of seeing my friends. I would rather have arrived at nighttime; but it had to be by day, toward three o’clock in the afternoon.

  My convoy from [Inowr]azlav to here had left behind 100 dead out of 175 men, and 75 men on a few wagons reached the border. Since people here already knew of the arrival of a third part of the Württemberg army, my brother and my brother-in-law, Herr Wagner, hurried toward Rettstadt to ask about me if they should not meet me. All at once I saw my brother-in-law and my brother. They would not have recognized me, of course, as I looked then; but I called, thrust out my hand, and greeted them. They jumped into the air for joy and pressed my hands, and our hearts alone could feel, for we could not speak. Oh, that all people might know how high the love of friends and relatives can mount through such a chance meeting! One feels in it heavenly joy, the all-wise providence of God, and at the same time the miracle of nature.

  So my brother-in-law ran at once with powerful stride, toward the town and announced my arrival to everyone. Thus I made my entrance with a sooty Russian coat, an old round hat, and, under and in my clothing, countless traveling companions, among which were Russians, Poles, Prussians, and Saxons. I stopped off at my very good friend’s, the innkeeper’s. Everyone wanted to lift me down and lead me, and everyone regarded me as weaker than I really was. However, I stayed only a few minutes in the room before I took off my clothes in the haymow, put on the new ones already provided for me, and washed myself. Only then was I fit for clean company.

  Now I also awaited my dear sisters, who did not come in from Rosenberg until the following day and were another object of joy. The sincere joy of meeting again kindled the love of kindred as a divine flame, and now the wish was fulfilled for which they had shed so many tears and had so often prayed to God.

  The next day, on Shrove Thursday, a re
st day was observed upon the request of the innkeeper; he brought it about through the city commandant, Alberti, who often came to the tavern. I now had good eating and drinking, but my stomach could not stand many things as yet. I had to be quite careful all the time. On the third day, when we had driven on again, we came to Schorndorf in the evening and were shut into a house together so that we should spread no sickness, for everywhere in Württemberg we were shunned like lepers.

  When we came to Waiblingen, the transport was divided, and those who were in better health, of whom I was one, went to Waldenbuch; those whose health was worse went to Vaihingen-on-the-Enz. After a fortnight I was detached to Asperg as a convalescent and was incorporated into the sharpshooters who were stationed there then, and I marched out several times with them. Barely four days had gone by, however, before the fever shook me again, although it did not break out. I ran a high temperature; and my nosebleed grew so bad that for several days a wet cloth had to be put around my head and neck every five or six minutes and the bed had to be arranged for sitting up instead of lying down; but, since my illness got worse, I was examined by the general army physician as to my physical condition, and leave was granted to me on account of my arm, which had been hurt at the time of my capture, having been wrenched somewhat in the shoulder blade and reset. At the same time an invalid pension was also promised me.

  When I had grown so weak that I became delirious and everyone doubted that I would recover, I was loaded upon a wagon with several “Russians” and driven to Vaihingen. I was now so weak that I had to be lifted into and off the wagon and I could take nothing any more but drinking water. In Vaihingen I was laid immediately in the room where all were brought who were near death. No medicine or food would stay with me. However, the bleeding had stopped.

  Finally, after eight or nine days had passed, I longed for vinegar, and I poured some of it into my soup. These few spoonfuls of soup stayed with me, and now my desire increased for vinegar and lettuce. The lettuce also stayed with me, although I had to take it secretly without the doctor’s knowing about it. My appetite gradually rose so that I had potato salad, pure vinegar, pork, potatoes and cabbage, and cooked meat from the butcher brought to me secretly, and then I took no more medicine. I could attribute my recovery to nothing else than the bleeding, by which the corrupted blood came from me, and to the vinegar, which washed off the encrusted lining in my body, cleaned my blood, and encouraged my appetite again.

  When my relatives and friends heard of my illness, my little or younger sister, greatly worried, came to visit me, in two days traveling thirty hours. All the sick were in the castle, and the fathers and mothers were kept from entering by the guard. All of them had to go away again without being permitted to speak with their sons. This caused my sister great pain, and she could not weep enough about it; yet chance and luck made a secret meeting possible, for my sister waited until the time when Sharpshooter Seybold from Hohenberg came to the post at the outer gate. He gave her permission to speak to me near the castle wall at the left and sent secretly and had someone ask me to come out. When I saw my sister and she saw me, it took a long time for her to stop weeping and to speak. My appearance had frightened her terribly, for I was deathly pale, my coat was full of blood, and my voice, deep and weak; but, when I said that I thought myself out of danger, since I felt almost well and could eat everything, she was somewhat comforted. However, the fear that she might not be allowed to speak with me had made her almost more ill than I thought myself to be. Thus we tarried as loving brother and sister for an hour’s time and then parted again with tears.

  During a period of two weeks I still had violent attacks of gout in the soles of my feet as well as a strong headache, and yet I did not take the medicine but always told the physician that I was well now. However, he did not believe me but said that I must have a headache and gout in my feet, in which I agreed with him, but only in my thoughts.

  Finally, I was again brought as a convalescent with about 70 men to Waldenbuch to the convalescent hospital and was quartered on the way in a village, but because of the fear of the nervous fever we all had to go to the town hall and were not supposed to go out. This was hard on us, always to be treated like lepers. We went, therefore, into the inns and had some fun. It did not last long, though, until the citizens wanted to storm us, with alarms ringing and with the threat of bringing the militia from Stuttgart if we would not go back to the town hall at once. There was nothing left but to give in and to accept scorn as our reward.

  At Waldenbuch Castle I more or less got my strength back, since I bought what I wanted in addition to my regular diet. Then I wrote a letter to Lieutenant Stimmer at Asperg, asking him to help me in getting my promised discharge. This was done, too, since the colonel in the hospital told me that if I wanted to go I could call for my discharge from Herr Stimmer.

  At once I went through Stuttgart and toward Asperg; but, as I came to the first village in the direction of Ludwigsburg, I suddenly got such a pain in my foot that I had to walk an hour instead of a quarter hour to get to the village. Several people who saw me and recognized me as a “Russian”—as everyone who had been there was called at that time—gave me presents. Finally I came to the mayor’s house and was given a conveyance to Asperg. I obtained my discharge and had myself driven home, where I then in a short time became entirely healthy and well.

  Historical

  Appraisal

  of

  Walter’s

  Chronicle

  BY LONG-APPROVED PRACTICE, writings recovered from the past are usually given a historical introduction to the public. This practice sagely recognizes that such writings have become identified with the past, or by virtue of their age have themselves a past; hence they need to be viewed historically. First, caution requires that the trustworthiness of the document be validated by test of historical criticism. Then, curiosity asks that the content of the document be elucidated and appraised by the aid of special historical knowledge. The need of such a commentary is most obvious where the nature or motive of a document is inherently historical, or where historical factors have influenced its finding and publication.

  In the testing of historical evidence a first question, regularly, is how it came to light. The story of the finding of the Walter manuscript is related here for this reason. However, the story has significance for yet other reasons. The chance which brought it to light should suggest the possibility of other discoveries under like circumstances. That it should have turned up when it did, and where it did, shows the persistence of such material even in Kansas. Indeed, because of the unity and reach of Europeanism, which has contributed to the peopling of the inmost region of America, the discovery of sources for European history and culture may well be expected anywhere. The finding of such new records is a normal feature of historical study, with its constant exploring of the abundant mysteries of the past. The thrill of uncovering such treasure-trove is most often the reward of tireless research, but it can come as a chance by-product of routine teaching. Such was my experience in the autumn of 1932 in connection with a course in nineteenth-century European history. The introductory lectures had stressed the revision of current notions of the historical situation at the opening of the century, hence had dealt with the downfall of the first Napoleonic empire, and this incidentally had involved some reconsideration of the tragic campaign of 1812 in Russia. Necessarily much stress was laid upon the restudy of sources and the importance of new material, such as had been ferreted out that summer in European archives. Thereby a member of the class was led to tell of a reputed diary of the Moscow retreat, a treasured heirloom of a nearby Kansas farmstead, and thereafter I had an opportunity to examine the document.

  A first critical examination of the heirloom showed that it was a German soldier’s account—partly in two versions—of campaign experiences during 1806 to 1813, under Napoleon. With it was a letter of family information written in 1856 by the Napoleonic veteran to an emigrant son in America, whose
grandson, Mr. Frank Walter of Lecompton, Kansas, is at present heritor of the papers. It was possible to separate, and put in order, the several versions and portions of the narrative, and to give a report upon this and the letter. But since the narrative was written in old script and in dialect, the edition of the manuscript had to wait upon the coming to the University of Kansas, from the very locality of the Swabian soldier, of Professor Otto Springer. He received with enthusiasm information about the Walter manuscript, and his special knowledge and assiduity have now resulted in the publication of the Walter story.

  The circumstances having thus placed historical responsibilities for the Walter manuscript upon its discoverer, the first concern has been to apply tests of historical validity in so far as handicaps of distance and lapse of time would permit. On the point of authorship, family tradition affirmed that the Jakob Walter of Ellwangen in Württemberg, who wrote the paternal letter of February 17, 1856, to his son Albert, in America, was the same Jakob Walter who wrote the accounts of his Napoleonic war experiences. This tradition was presumably confirmed by the script and style and internal evidence of the papers themselves. A proper chance for supplementing this evidence seemed to be offered by the wish of the Kansas descendants to reestablish communication with German kindred. Through the German Embassy at Washington and the Army Archives at Stuttgart the identity of the soldier Jakob Walter was established, and incidental reference was made to his having received an 1812 service medal. The last of the kindred whose age and situation might have afforded knowledge of personal details had recently died. The Ellwangen city officials from their records could supply little but family-registry information, which largely confirms, and slightly amplifies, the data found in family letters at Lecompton.