Yashka · Part III · Chapter 13 (2/3)

The journey was a triumphal procession. At every station we were hailed by crowds of soldiers and civilians. There were cheers, demonstrations and speeches. My women had strict orders not to leave the cars without permission. Our meals were provided for us at certain stations, through telegraphic orders, and we alighted for our meals at those places. At one stopping-place, while I was resting, a demonstration took place in our honour, and I was suddenly taken out of bed and carried out in view of the crowd.

Thus we moved to the front, arriving at Molodechno. I was met there by a group of about twenty officers and taken to dine with the Staff. The Battalion was quartered in two barracks upon our arrival at Corps Headquarters.

There were about a score of barracks in Molodechno. Almost half of these were filled with deserters from the front, former police and gendarmes who had been impressed into the army at the outbreak of the Revolution, and had soon escaped from the ranks. There were also some criminals and a number of Bolshevist agitators. In a word, they were the riffraff of that sector of the front.

They soon got word of the arrival of the Battalion, and while I was being driven to dinner they crowded round my women and began to curse and molest them. The officer in charge perceived with alarm the growing insolence of these ruffians, and hurried to the Commandant of the station to beg protection.

“But what can I do?” answered the Commandant helplessly. “I am powerless. There are fifteen hundred of them, and there is nothing to be done but to submit patiently to their derision and win their goodwill by kindness.”

The death penalty had already been abolished in the army.

The officer in charge returned with empty hands. She found a few of the rioters in the barracks, behaving offensively towards the women. Having tried vainly to get rid of them by persuasion she telephoned to me. I had barely seated myself at the dinner table when her summons reached me. I hastened into a motor and drove to the barracks.

“What are you doing here?” I asked sharply, as I jumped from the car and ran inside. “What do you want? Go out of here! I will talk to you outside if you want anything.”

“Ha, ha, ha!” the men jeered. “Who are you? What sort of a baba is this?”

“I am the Commander.”

“The Commander, eh? Ha, ha, ha! Look at this Commander!” they scoffed.

“Now,” I spoke slowly and firmly, “you have no business here whatever. You have got to go away. I will be at your service outside. If you want anything you can tell me there. But you must get out of here!”

The men, there were only a score of them, went towards the door, still jeering and muttering curses. I followed them. Immediately outside a large crowd had collected, attracted by the noise. As I faced these depraved men in soldiers’ uniforms my heart was pained at the sight of them. A more ragged, tattered, demoralized lot of soldiers I had never seen. Most of them had the faces of murderers. Others were mere boys, corrupted by the Bolshevist propaganda.

A little while ago, in the old days of January, 1917, it would have been sufficient to execute a couple of them to transform the fifteen hundred into respectable and obedient human beings. Now, the mighty Russian military organization, while engaged in a mortal combat with an enemy of stupendous strength, had been rendered incapable of coping with even such a small group of recalcitrants! This was my first experience of the front after an interval of two months. But what a great stage the disintegrating influences had advanced in this short period of time! It was four months since the Revolution, and the front was already seriously infected by the blight of disobedience.

“Why did you come here? What devil brought you here? You want to fight? We want peace! We have had enough fighting!” was shouted at me from every side.

“Yes, I want to fight. How can we have peace save by fighting the Germans? I have had more experience of war than you, and I want peace as much as anyone here. If you want me to talk more to you and answer any questions you care to ask me, come tomorrow. It is getting late now. I shall be at your disposal tomorrow.”

The gang drifted away in groups, some still scoffing, others arguing. I transferred the women from the second barrack into the first for greater safety, and posted sentinels at every entrance. This cheered up the women somewhat, but they were even more encouraged when they heard me refuse an invitation to spend the night at Staff Headquarters. How could I leave my women alone with these fifteen hundred ruffians in the neighbourhood? So I resolved to sleep with them, under the same roof.

Night came and my soldiers went to bed. Many of us must have wondered that evening whether the deserters would heed my words or return during the night and attack the barrack. It was not yet midnight when a party of them came knocking at the windows and the thin wooden walls. They cursed us all, and particularly me. They tried to enter through the doors, but were met by fixed bayonets. When their scoffing proved ineffective, they stoned the barrack, breaking every pane of glass and bruising about fifteen of my women.

Still we made no complaint. If the Commandant confessed his powerlessness to control them, what could we do? Besides, we were going to the front to fight the Germans, not to engage in a battle with three times our number of desperadoes.

The more patience we exercised the bolder grew the attacks of the men. Some of them would suddenly thrust their hands through the shattered windowpanes and seize some of the women by their hair, causing them to cry out with pain. Nobody slept. All were excited and on edge. The crashing of the stones against the wooden walls would every now and then shake the whole building. It required a lot of patience to endure it all, but my orders were not to provoke a fight.

However, as the night wore on and the noises and jeering did not cease, my blood began to boil, and I finally lost control of myself. Hastily putting on my overcoat I ran out of the barrack. The day was just breaking, an early July day. The band of scoundrels, about fifty in all, stood still for an instant.

“You villains, you rogues! What are you doing?” I shouted with all my strength. “Didn’t you want a rest on the way to the trenches? Can’t you let us alone, or have you no sense of shame? Perhaps some of the women here are your sisters. And I see that some of you are old men. If you want anything, come to see me. I am always ready to talk and argue and answer questions. But leave the women alone, you shameless ruffians!”

My tirade was met by an outburst of laughter and jeers that incensed me even more.

“You will go away this instant or kill me here!” I shrieked, flinging myself forward. “You hear? Kill me!” I was trembling with rage. The roughs were impressed by my tone and words. They left one by one, and we settled down for a couple of hours of sleep.

In the morning General Valuyev, now Commander of the Tenth Army, reviewed the Battalion. He was greatly pleased and expressed his gratification to me at the perfect discipline and bearing of the unit. Our own two kitchens then prepared dinner, after they had received a supply of food and provender. There were twelve horses attached to the Battalion, six drivers, eight cooks, two shoemakers. In addition to these sixteen men, there were two military instructors accompanying us. The men were always kept separate from the women.

After dinner the deserters began to assemble around our barracks. I had promised to debate with them on the preceding day, and they now took me at my word.

“Where are you taking your soldiers? To fight for the bourgeoisie? What for? You claim to be a peasant woman, then why do you want to shed the peoples’ blood for the rich exploiters?”

These and many similar questions were fired at me from many directions.

I stood up, folded my arms and eyed the crowd sternly. I must confess that a tremor ran over me as my eyes passed from one rascal to another. They were a desperate lot, looking more like beasts than human beings. The dregs of the army, truly.

“Look at yourselves,” I began, “and think what has become of you! You, who once advanced like heroes against the enemy’s devastating fire and suffered like faithful sons of the Motherland in the defence of Russia, lying for weeks in the muddy, vermin-infested trenches, and crawling through No Man’s Land. Consider for a moment what you are now and what you were a little while ago. Only last winter you were the pride of the country and the world. Now you are the execration of the army and the nation. Surely there are some among you who belonged to the Fifth Siberian Corps, aren’t there?”

“Yes, yes.”

“Then you ought to remember me⁠—Yashka⁠—or have heard of me.”

“Yes, we do! We know you!” came from several parts of the crowd.

“Well, if you know me, you ought also to know that I waded in the mud of the trenches together with you; that I slept on the same wet ground as you or your brother; that I faced the same dangers, suffered the same hunger, shared the same cabbage soup that you had. Why then do you attack me? Why do you jeer at me? How and when have I earned your contempt and derision?”

“When you were a common soldier,” answered a couple of voices, “you were like one of us. But now, being an officer, you are under the influence of the bourgeoisie.”

“Who made me an officer if not you? Didn’t your comrades, the common soldiers of the First and Tenth Armies, send special delegates to honour me and present icons and standards to me, thus raising me to the grade of officer? I am of the people, blood of your blood, a toiling peasant girl.”

“But we are tired of war. We want peace,” they complained, unable to find fault with me personally.

“I want peace, too. But how can you have peace? Show me how?” I insisted vigorously, observing that my words were soothing the temper of the crowd considerably.

“Why, simply by leaving the front and going home. That’s how we can have peace.”

“Leave the front!” I shouted, with all the force at my command. “What will happen then? Tell me! Will you have peace? Never! The Germans will just walk over our defences and crush the people and their freedom. This is war. You are soldiers and you know what war is. You know that all is fair in war. To leave the trenches! Why not hand Russia over to the Kaiser! It’s the same thing, and you know it as well as I. No, there is no other way to peace than through an offensive and the defeat of the enemy. Conquer the Germans and there will be peace! Shoot them, kill them, stab them, but do not fraternize with the foes of our beloved Russia!”

“But they fraternize with us. They are tired of the war, too. They want peace as much as we,” said a few men.

“They are deceiving you. They fraternize here and send soldiers to fight our Allies.”

“What are the Allies to us if they do not want peace?” some argued.

“They do not want peace now because they know that the Germans are treacherous. You and I know it, too. Haven’t the Germans asphyxiated thousands of our brethren with their deadly gases? Haven’t we all suffered from their base tricks? Aren’t they now occupying a large part of our country? Let’s drive them out and have peace!”

There was silence. Nobody had anything to say. Greatly encouraged, I resumed, just as a happy idea dawned upon me.

“Yes, let us drive them out of Russia. Suppose I were to take you along to the front, to feed you well, to equip you with new uniforms and boots, would you go with me to attack the treacherous enemy?”

“Yes, yes! We will go! You are our comrade. You are not a bourgeois vampire! With you, we will go!” many voices rang from all sides.

“But if you go with me,” I said, “I shall keep you under the severest discipline. There can be no army without discipline. I am a peasant like you, and I would take your word of honour to remain faithful. But should anyone of you attempt to escape, I would have him shot promptly.”

“We agree! We are willing to follow you! You are one of us! Hurrah for Yashka! Hurrah for Bochkareva!” the crowd roared almost unanimously.

It was a soul-stirring scene. But an hour ago these tattered men acted as if their hearts were deadened. Now they were beating warmly. A short time ago they looked like the most degraded ruffians; now their faces were lit with the fire of humanity. It seemed a miracle. But it was not. Such is the soul of the Russian; at one moment it is hardened and brutal, at another it is full of devotion and love.

I spoke to General Valuyev and begged permission to take the body of deserters to the front, asking for equipment for them. The General refused. He was afraid that they would demoralize the rest of the men. I offered to be responsible for their conduct, but I could not bring over the General to my point of view.

So I had to return with empty hands, but I did not disclose the truth to the men. I told them that there was no equipment available and that as soon as it arrived they would be dispatched to the Battalion’s sector. Meanwhile, I invited them to escort us out of Molodechno in the morning.

We started out, in full array, at ten the following day. Each of the girls carried her full equipment, a burden of about sixty-five pounds. There were twenty miles ahead of us to Corps Headquarters. The road was open, fields alternating with woods stretching on both sides of it.

I had telegraphed to Headquarters ordering supper, expecting to arrive there early in the evening. But clouds gathered overhead and showers impeded our progress to such an extent that the women could scarcely keep up their strength. Whenever we passed a village, it was a great temptation to let them take a rest in it, but I knew that I should never be able to rally them again that day if I once allowed them to break the ranks. So I was compelled to keep the Battalion on the march and to press on regardless of the condition of the road or the weather.

It was eleven at night when we arrived at Corps Headquarters and were met by General Kostiayev, Chief of Staff, who invited us to go to eat the meal prepared for us. The General in command would review us tomorrow, he said. The girls were too tired to eat. They fell like logs in the barn assigned to the Battalion and slept all night in their clothes.

The Corps Headquarters were situated at Redki. We breakfasted in the barracks, after which we proceeded to prepare for review by the General in command. I had been invited to lunch at Staff Headquarters after review.

It was then that I found that several of my girls were suffering from the effects of the arduous march on the preceding day. Two of them, Skridlova, my adjutant, the daughter of an Admiral who had commanded the Black Sea Fleet, and Dubrovskaya, the daughter of a General, were too ill to remain in the ranks and were sent to a hospital. I appointed Princess Tatuyeva, who belonged to a famous Grusin family in Tiflis, to be my adjutant. She was a brave and loyal girl, of high education and spoke fluently three foreign languages.

At twelve I formed the Battalion for review. Knowing how much the women had gone through the previous day, I relaxed my sternness for the moment and joked with my soldiers, coaxing them to make an effort to make a good impression on the General. The girls did their best to pull themselves together and were ready to show the General what the Battalion was worth. The Corps Commander arrived soon. He reviewed my soldiers, gave them a thorough examination, resorting even to some catch tests.