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16 WWW. UNWLA.ORG “НАШЕ ЖИТТЯ”, ЖОВТЕНЬ 2014 Nataliya Kobrynska Timely Again: Nataliya Kobrynska’s War Stories Nataliya Kobrynska (1855-1920) is most often remembered as one of the founders of the Ukrainian women’s movement and a writer of prose on feminist topics. As a result, discussions of her works tend to focus on how her writing embodies her political and social ideals concerning women’s rights. Yet Kobrynska’s literary legacy is much more varied and multi-faceted than that: take, for instance, her little-known cycle of realist war stories written in the early years of World War I. Living in Halychyna, Kobrynska not only became witness to the atrocities of war since its very beginning, but also exper i- enced some of them firsthand. In 1915, just like the Ukrainian writer Vasyl’ Stefanyk, Kobrynska was accused of espionage for Russia and arrested. She was able to avoid the Austrian conce n- tration camps only thanks to Andriy Chaikovsky, a well-known Ukrainian writer and lawyer, who put forth a strong defense of Kobrynska. The devastation of war, its heavy toll on the soldiers and the civilian population became one of the primary themes in Kobrynska’s writing during this period. The story featured below, “The One Left Behind,” was published in 1915 together with several other pieces on the war in the L’viv newspaper, Nove slovo ( The New Word ). The realism of the story hits hard especially now, when almost exactly a hundred years later Ukraine is once again embroiled in war and every single day brings more news of the casualties, the wounded, and the displaced. War tactics and tec h- nologies may have changed significantly since then, but the horror of human suffering remains the same. – Olesia Wallo __________________ Nataliya Kobrynska The One Left Behind (1915) I The hail from the machine guns stopped its clattering, and the din of the canons receded, reverberating with a muffled sound like a passing thunderstorm. Terrified, and white with fear, people crawled out of their homes and hiding places. They slowly regained their senses and began to look around. All along the road, covered medical carts stretched endlessly, transporting the wounded to the local school that was transformed into a te m- porary hospital. Heavy groans tore at the hearts of the onlookers, and tears rolled down their faces. Some people came up to the forest's edge, where the fiercest battle had raged. Many trees had fallen, including a beech tree so huge that two men could barely encircle it with their arms; sap was already pooling at its foot. It was dreadful. Nevertheless, those who are alive think about living. The more prudent people began making their way to the forest to gather broken branches and larger pieces of wood. The youn g- sters — both boys and girls — ran after them. Among them was a group of young ad o- lescents: two boys, two girls, and twelve-year-old Mahdunya. They took a cart and set out for the forest to search for firewood. The boys pulled the cart, while the girls tr od carefully among scattered shells, fragmented s hrapnel, and large patches of congealed human blood. “ That's blood, blood!” Mahdunya, wide- eyed with fright, cried out from time to time. And blood, brimming with sorrow, floo d- ed their youthful hearts. The setting sun, seeking shelter behind clouds that glowed like fiery e m- bers, suffused the fresh graves, covered lightly with the yellowish soil of the forest, with a blood- red light. As they drew nearer to the forest, there was more blood, more graves, bullets, and aba n- doned soldiers’ caps. The ground was с hu rn ed up, mixed with blood and leaves, and deeply gouged
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