Yashka · Part IV · Chapter 20 (2/3)

Before taking the necessary steps for the departure I resolved to look up my girls and I visited a hospital to which my poor little soldiers were said to have been taken. When I arrived at the address I found the building closed and was referred to a certain professor, whom I finally traced. He told me that those of the girls who were not severely wounded had left for their homes. Only about thirty invalids remained. Five of these were suffering from shell shock and were either hysterical or insane. Many of the others were nervous wrecks. He had worked hard to get them into the Home for Invalids, but hardly had they arrived there when the building was requisitioned by the Bolsheviks and the inmates turned out into the streets. Vera Michailovna, a wealthy woman, had rescued them from the streets and sheltered them in her house, but just before my visit she had telephoned to him that the Bolsheviks had now requisitioned her own house, and she was at a loss to know how to dispose of the girls. He concluded with the suggestion that both of us should go over to Vera Michailovna.

With a heavy heart I entered the large house in which my unfortunate girls were staying, expecting every moment to be ordered to leave. My visit was a complete surprise to them. But there was no joy in my heart as I crossed the threshold of their room. It was not a happy reunion. I had no means with which to help them, no power, no influential friends.

“The Commander! the Commander!” the women exclaimed joyously as soon as they saw me, rushing toward me, throwing themselves upon my neck, kissing me, hugging me.

“The Commander has come! She will save us! She will get us money, bread, a home!”

They danced about me in high glee, making me feel even more bitter and miserable.

“My dear girls!” I said, in order to undeceive them at once, “I am myself penniless and hungry. You mustn’t expect any help of me now.”

“No matter! You know how to get everything!” they said confidently. “You will take us to fight the Bolsheviks as we fought the Germans!”

There was a conference between Vera Michailovna, the professor and myself on the problem confronting us. Vera Michailovna suggested that I should take the girls along with me to my village. I rejected the idea at first, both because I did not intend to remain at Tutalsk, but only to pass through it on the way to Vladivostok and because of my lack of funds. Vera Michailovna, however, insisted that the wisest thing in the circumstances would be to take them away from Moscow. She told me that several of the girls had been enticed away and maltreated by the Bolshevik soldiers and that the result of leaving them in Moscow would be their ruin. She offered to provide tickets for them all to my village and a thousand roubles in ready money. I finally consented to take my invalids with me, hoping to obtain sufficient funds in America to ensure them a life of peace and comfort.

I had resolved to go to America. But I had no funds. As my destination was to be London, for the reasons mentioned, I thought of seeking assistance from the British Consul in Moscow. With the aid of the Vasilievs I succeeded in finding the Consul’s offices and went to see him. There were many people waiting to see the Consul, and I was informed that he could not be seen. His secretary came out and asked me the purpose of my call. I gave him my name, told him of my plight and of my decision to go to London, to visit Mrs. Pankhurst, and asked for aid on the ground that I had fought and sacrificed much for the cause of Russia and the Allies. He reported my presence to the Consul, who received me almost immediately.

The Consul was very courteous. He met me with a smile and a cordial handshake, said that he had read in the papers of my arrest at Zverevo and inquired what he could do for me. I showed him the document from the Soviet, but did not reveal to him the fact of my mission to Kornilov, adding:

“Consul, this paper, as you see, allows me freedom of movement. I want to take advantage of it and go to London, to visit my friend, Mrs. Pankhurst. But I am without means. I came to ask you to send me, as a soldier, who had fought for the Allied cause, to England. If Russia should awake, I shall eagerly resume my service on behalf of this cause.”

The Consul explained that the Bolsheviks would not allow him to draw on the Consulate’s deposits in the banks, but, in view of my circumstances, he could supply me with some money for expenses. As to my visit to London, he said there were almost insuperable difficulties in the way, even for his own countrymen, let alone Russians.

But I would not alter my mind, and persisted in begging him to send me to his country. He promised to consider the matter and give a definite answer that night. He then invited me to dine with him at eight o’clock that evening.

When I returned for dinner the Consul informed me that he had already telegraphed to the British Consul at Vladivostok of my going to London by way of America, requesting him to aid me in every way he could. At dinner I told the Consul how Mrs. Pankhurst had come to know me, but kept to myself the real purpose of my journey, as I feared that the Consul would not want to antagonize the Bolsheviks by extending his protection to me. He gave me five hundred roubles (about £52 15s. 6d.), and I decided to leave immediately. A Siberian express was leaving at 12:40 the same night. I had a few hours left to get my girls to the station and to bid farewell to the Vasilievs.

My immediate destination was Tutalsk, on the Great Siberian Line. I was uneasy about the treatment our party might receive from the soldiers, who occupied three-quarters of the space on the train. But here again the mental transformation was obvious. The passengers discussed affairs sensibly. There were many officers on the train, but they were not molested. The soldiers were friendly to them and to us. The all-absorbing topic was the advance of the Germans. Lenin and Trotsky were cursed and denounced as despots worse even than the Tsar. There were many refugees from the newly-invaded provinces, and their tales further increased the mutinous spirit of the men.

“We were promised bread and land. Now the Germans are taking both away.”

“We wanted an end to the war, but Lenin has got us into a worse position than before.”

“We went to the Bolshevist offices and told them of our hunger, and they advised us to enlist in the Red Guard.”

“It is impossible to find work, all the factories are shut down or disorganized.”

These and similar sentiments were expressed on every side. Underlying them all was a greater hatred for the Germans than ever. There was no doubt in my mind that those men were ready to follow any trusted leader, with arms and food, against the Germans.

At Chelyabinsk the train stopped for a couple of hours. There were two regiments stationed there, and there were several hundred soldiers on the express. A meeting was quickly organized quite near the station, within a short distance of the place where I had been thrown off the train some three months ago. But how different was the mood of the masses now! There were thousands at the meetings. A refugee addressed the crowd. He made a stirring, sarcastic speech.

“Every one of us,” he began, “has something at stake in Russia. We all want to defend our country. We have all made our sacrifices. For three years I fought in this war. Then I was set free to return home. But I found my home in the hands of the Germans. I could not return. I lost my parents, my wife, my sisters! What do I now get for all my sacrifices?

“Liberty! I came to Petrograd. For three days I went hungry. I was not alone. There were many other soldiers who suffered the same fate. They gave us no bread. What have we gained?

“Liberty!

“I went to see the chief of the Government in Petrograd. But I was not admitted to him. I was nearly beaten to death and thrown out of the building. Why?

“Liberty!

“The Germans are taking everything they can lay hands on, and at the same time the Red Guard is being strengthened in order to fight⁠—whom, the Germans?⁠—no, the so-called bourgeoisie! But are they not our own brethren, our own blood? In whose name are we urged to slaughter our own people while the Germans ravish our land?

“In the name of Liberty!

“Our country has been disgraced and ruined and still we are being called upon to destroy our own educated and intelligent classes.

“Is this liberty?

“I hear that in Moscow a thousand invalids were thrown out into the street. These invalids are soldiers like yourselves and myself, only maimed and crippled for life. Why were they thrown out?

“For the sake of liberty!”

We were all deeply impressed by this speech. Not a single voice was raised in protest. Every heart felt that the liberty we had received was not the kind of liberty we had dreamed of. We wanted peace, happiness, brotherhood, not civil war, foreign invasions, strife, starvation and disease.

Another speaker arose and said:

“He is right. We have been deceived and disgraced. We go hungry and no one cares. But how can we get out of this shameful situation? We should have to overthrow the present leaders, and reestablish the front. The Japanese are already moving into Siberia, and the Germans are occupying Russia, all because we are divided. We shall be under some foreign yoke if we don’t join our forces. We quarrelled with our officers, but how can we ever hope to do anything without officers? We might make peace with them, but where can we get arms to overthrow our present leaders, who have surrounded themselves with bands of Red Guards?”

For a moment the vast gathering remained silent. It was a pathetic calm. There was a painful sense that our much-cherished freedom had turned into an oppressive bondage.

Suddenly a couple of men raised their voices, shouting protests, denouncing the speaker, even threatening him. They were promptly seized and placed under arrest, and quiet was restored.

“Allow me to answer the question!” I shouted to the chairman from the distant place I occupied.

“Bochkareva! It’s Bochkareva!” a number of voices passed the word to the platform, and immediately I was lifted up and carried on to the platform.

“It’s a pleasure to speak to you now,” I began, “only a few weeks ago you would have torn me to pieces.”

“Yes, it’s true! We killed many!” several men interrupted. “But we were told that the officers wanted to enslave us, that’s why we killed them. We now see that our real enemies are not the officers, but the Germans.”

“Before I answer the question put by the previous speaker, let me ask you what your attitude is toward the Allies?” I said.

“America, England, and France we trust. They are our friends. They are free countries. But we distrust Japan. Japan wants Siberia,” came in reply from many directions.

Here a soldier interrupted and asked permission to ask a question. It was granted.

“I can’t understand why our Allies do not defend us,” he said. “Not even one of them has come to our help at a time when Germany is devouring our land. The Allied envoys are running away from Russia, and those that remain do not listen to the voice of the masses, but to the representatives of Lenin and Trotsky. At Moscow I saw an official of the Soviet escort an Englishman to a train. I was hungry. There were hundreds of soldiers like me at the station. Our hearts were aching. We wanted to give him a message, but he did not even turn to us. Instead, he warmly shook hands with the Soviet official.”

“What if we should appeal to the Allies, to America, England, and France, to furnish us with bread, arms and money for the reconstruction of the front?” I resumed.

“How can we trust them?” I was interrupted again. “They will come here and work in league with Lenin and his band of bloodsuckers.”

“Why not join forces and elect a Constituent Assembly, and let your own leaders cooperate with the Allies?” I suggested.

“But whom could we choose?”

“That we would decide later. There are plenty of good men still left in Russia,” I answered. “But what if I, for instance, should want to do something, would you trust me?”

“Yes, yes! We know you! You are of the people!” hundreds of voices cried out.

“Well, let me tell you then, I am going to America and England. If I should succeed and come back with an Allied force, would you come to aid me in saving Russia?”

“Yes, we will! Yes, yes!” the crowd roared.

With this the meeting ended. The train was now about to start and we hurried towards it, singing on the way. I felt happy and hopeful. Several thousand soldiers were not to be disregarded. They were almost unanimous in their new view of the country’s condition. Taken in combination with what I had observed in Moscow and on the way to Petrograd, this meeting further reinforced my hopes for Russia’s salvation. It was obviously a phenomenon of widespread occurrence, this awakening of the soldiers.

My mother had received Petrukhin’s letter, and for six weeks had mourned me as dead. She was overwhelmed with joy upon my return, but became a little uneasy as she perceived a long line of girls, many of them almost barefoot, file after me into the little hut. She took me aside and asked what it meant, confiding to me that she had only fifty roubles left of the money I had brought home on my previous visit. I begged her to be patient and assured her that I would arrange matters promptly. I immediately went to the owner of the hut and several others of the leading peasants of the community, got them together, explained to them the situation, informed them that I had only one thousand roubles to spend toward the support of the girls, and asked if they would undertake to feed and house them on credit till my return from America.

“I swear that I will pay every kopeck due to you. I will get enough money to pay not only the debts, but to ensure for them sustenance and shelter to the end of their lives. Now I want you to keep a record of all your expenses. Will you trust me?”

“Yes,” replied the peasants. “We know that you have done a great deal for Russia, and we have confidence in you.”

This was the arrangement under which the thirty invalids of my Battalion of Death were left by me in the village of Tutalsk in March, 1918. The thousand roubles I gave to my mother with instructions to buy shoes for the most destitute of the girls. Of the five hundred roubles given to me by the Consul, I gave three hundred to my mother. I decided to take my youngest sister, Nadia, with me to America. Accompanied to the station by my parents, the thirty girls, and half the community, I started eastward, for Irkutsk and Vladivostok, dressed once more as a woman.

At the station in Irkutsk I noticed a young girl, with two tiny children in her arms. Somehow her face looked familiar to me, but I could not recall who she was. She was evidently in trouble, poor and ragged. For a while she stared at me. Then she ran up and cried out breathlessly:

“Mania!”

She was the younger daughter of the woman Kitova, whose husband had killed the dog-catcher and who had accompanied him into exile, at the same time that I had gone into exile with Yasha. Then she was only a little girl, not more than eleven or twelve years old. Now she was the mother of two children.

For three days, she told me, her mother and herself had been living on the floor of the station. They had only seventy kopecks left in their possession. With this money the mother had gone to the town to find a lodging! More than three months they had been travelling from Yakutsk, where this girl had married a political. All the money in my purse was two hundred roubles. I gave forty and then another twenty to the poor girl.

While I was nursing one of the two babies, an official approached me.

“Are you Bochkareva?” he asked.

“Yes,” I answered.