volodz, through
Opoczno and along the River Nida to the Vistula and beyond it through
Tarnow into Galicia. In spite of their strong intrenchments and their
heroic fighting the Russians were gradually, though very slowly, forced
back. A great deal of this fighting was trench warfare of the most
stubborn type. This necessarily meant that for weeks the line wavered.
One day the Germans would force a passage across one, or perhaps all, of
the rivers at one or more points, only to be thrown back the next day
and to have the Russians follow their example with an offensive
excursion on the west bank. These continually changing "victories" and
"defeats" make it next to impossible to follow in full all the
developments along this line. By December 25, 1914, the Germans held
Skierniewice; by December 27, 1914, Inovolodz; by January 3, 1915, Rawa;
by January 5, 1915, Bolimow.

Throughout the entire month of January, 1915, the most ferocious
fighting continued around all these places, and many of them changed
hands two or three times. Both sides very freely used the protecting
darkness of night to make attacks, and this naturally added a great deal
to the hardships which the troops had to suffer. It must also not be
forgotten that by this time winter had set in in earnest. Snow covered
the ground and a very low temperature called for the most heroic
endurance on the part of everybody.

One of the American war correspondents, who at this time was with the
Russian forces before Warsaw, gives a very vivid description of a night
cannonade in the neighborhood of Blouie: "The fire of the German cannons
is unbearable. Night grows darker and darker. Everywhere, in a great
circle, the country is lighted up by camp fires which send their flames
toward heaven in a cloud of smoke. These little red spots throw
everywhere a fiery glow over the snow, and down upon this wonderful
color symphony the moon pours its weak, ghostlike light through a
curtain of clouds so that people seem to float away as in a dream. In
the foggy twilight three battalions march to the front.... The noise of
the gunfire penetrates to us in separate, spasmodic outbreaks. Flashes
of fire flare up on the horizon.... Gradually we come closer and closer
to the firing line. Now we are only two or three miles away from the
firing batteries. We turn toward the west and there a magnificent battle
panorama lies before our eyes. The moon sheds just enough light through
the clouds