Kolecny glanced away from his gunsights to take his cue from Krysz Skiedweza, the young man who had led him and several other Polish soldiers since their Austrian officers had abandoned them. They had been running, and hiding – as much from the Slovenian patriots and their rebellion as from German Austrians who might want to return them to the Emperor’s service.
Krysz took note of his friend’s deference, but lowered his eyes. He wasn’t sure what to do. He wasn’t an officer. He wasn’t trained for this. What to do?
At length, he raised his rifle and began to stand from his hiding place in the Slovenian woods. He held up his hand, to signal his friends to stay put. These soldiers, still in Austrian uniform – gray, and getting grayer day by day – had lost some of their discipline now that their German-speaking leaders were gone. Some of them squirmed uncertainly, and Kolecny emphasized Krysz’ point by staring down anyone who dared to move.
Krysz stood to his full, lanky height, and began to wade through the underbrush down the hill toward the horse soldiers.
Quickly, one of the Prussian cavalrymen took note of the unarmed figure in Austrian uniform. A shout caused initial alarm and confusion, as it was unclear whether a threat existed, but when their leader held up his gloved hand in signal, the 30 horsemen reined in and waited.
Leutnant Radim Sobczak rode back down the line to meet the stranger. He greeted him politely, if with some uncertain reserve.
“My name is Krysz Skiedweza,” he said. “I represent about a dozen Polish conscripts who were chased out of our unit when the Empire collapsed. I wonder if you could help us.”
“Very well,” said Sobczak. “What is your request?”
“I am actually a Prussian citizen,” Krysz said, in pressing his case. At Sobczak’s wondering glance, he continued. “My family is settled in the mountains near Teschen, and we cross from side to side of the border. I was drafted while on the Austrian side.” He gave a disarming smile of embarrassment. “I would like to know if you can help me and my men get back to Galizien, so we can see our families again.”
“Corporal,” Sobczak said, taking note of the large chevrons on Krysz’ sleeve. “We are part of General Schwedt’s command, here to put down a rebellion and secure the port of Trieste for the Prussian Crown. We are under no obligation to assist Austrian soldiers, nor are we really equipped to do so.”
“Would you at least tell me where we can find some food? We have gone mostly without for several days now.”
“Well, you are nearest to Bleiburg. About thirty miles behind us on this road.” Sobczak peered back the way they had come, then turned to gaze thoughtfully into the unknown distance ahead of them. Returning his attention to Skiedweza, he asked, “Soldier, have you been stationed in this region for very long?”
“Do you need to know where to find something?” Krysz anticipated.
“I have a deal for you.” Sobczak fixed him in the eye. “As a Czech Prussian to a Polish Prussian, I wish to make a personal request.”
Krysz unconsciously took a step back. Had he backed himself into a corner while trying to gain an advantage?
“I will personally see that your men are cared for and returned home if you will join us as a guide. We do not know these lands, but if you do, you could save many lives and much time.”
Krysz’ mouth moved, trying to form words that would get him out of this predicament. “Sir, I… I have been wanting to return to my family. I didn’t want to be here in the first place.”
“I would like to return to my family as well. Preferably without unnecessary holes.” Sobczak grinned, then cooled a bit. “As you are a Prussian citizen, I could compel you to join us. I would rather not have to do that.”
Choices. Hesitation. Denial? I lied? Not really Prussian, see…
Krysz frowned, and looked up at his friends, hidden along the ridge. Reluctantly, he said, “Leutnant, I will do as you ask. If you will conduct my friends home.”