Read Ebook: Yashka by Bochkareva Mariia Levine Isaac Don

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Ebook has 1436 lines and 68176 words, and 29 pages

"The Twenty-Eighth Polotsk Regiment."

My heart leaped for joy. The soldier did not recognize me. He was a new man. But the others must have told him of me.

"I am Yashka," I said.

That was a pass-word. They all knew the name and had heard from the veterans of the regiment many stories about me. I was taken to the Colonel in command of the supply train, a queer old man who kissed me on both cheeks and jumped about, clapping his hands and shouting, "Yashka! Yashka!"

He was kind-hearted and immediately began to look after my comfort. He promptly ordered an orderly to bring a new outfit and gave instructions for the bath used by the officers to be prepared for me. Clean and in the new uniform, I accepted the invitation to sup with the Colonel. There were several other officers at the table and all were glad to see me. The news spread that Yashka had arrived, and some soldiers could not restrain their desire to shake hands with me. Every now and then there would be a meek knock at the door and in answer to the Colonel's question, "Who's there?" a plaintive voice would say:

"Excellency, may I be allowed to see Yashka?"

In time quite a number of comrades were admitted into the house. One part of it was occupied by the owner, a widow with a young daughter. I spent the night with the latter and in the morning started out to the front. Some of our companies were in reserve and my progress became a triumphal journey. I was feasted on the way and given several ovations.

I presented myself to the Commander of the Regiment, who invited me to dine that afternoon with the Regimental Staff, certainly the first case of an ordinary soldier receiving such an invitation in the history of the Regiment. At dinner the Commander toasted me, telling the story of my work with the Regiment and wishing me many more years of such service.

At the conclusion he pinned a cross of the 3rd Degree on my breast, and marked with a pencil three stripes on my shoulder, thus promoting me to the grade of senior non-commissioned officer. The Staff crowded round me, pressing my hands, praising me and expressing their good wishes. I was profoundly moved by this display of cordial appreciation and affection on the part of the officers. This was my reward for all the suffering I had undergone.

And it was a reward worth having. What did I care for a wound in the spine and four months' paralysis if this was the return that I received for my sacrifice? Trenches filled with bloody corpses held no horror for me then. No Man's Land seemed quite an attractive place in which to spend a day with a bleeding leg. The screech of shells and the whistle of bullets presented themselves like music to my imagination. Ah, life was not so bleak and meaningless, after all. It had its moments of bliss that compensated for years of torment and misery.

The commander had, in his order of the day, stated the fact of my return and promotion. He furnished me with an orderly to show me the way to the trenches. Again I was hailed by everybody as I emerged from the dugout of the Commander of the Company, who had placed me in charge of a platoon of seventy men. In this capacity I had to keep an inventory of the supplies and equipment of my men, a soldier acting as clerk under my instructions.

Our positions were on the bank of the Styr, which is very narrow and shallow at that point. On the opposite bank were the German trenches. Several hundred feet from us was a bridge across the stream which had been left intact by both sides. At our end of it we maintained a post while the enemy kept a similar watch at the opposite end. Our line was very uneven, owing to the irregularity of the river's course. The Germans were very persistent in mine-throwing. However, the mines travelled so slowly that we could take cover before they fell on our side. My Company occupied a position close to the enemy's first line.

I had not spent a month in the trenches when a local battle occurred which resulted in my capture by the Germans. The latter had continued their mine-throwing operations for a period of about twelve days so regularly that we grew accustomed to them and were not expecting an attack. Besides, it was past the time of year for active fighting, and the cold was intense.

One morning about six o'clock, when we had turned in for our daily sleep, we were suddenly awakened by a tremendous "Hurrah!" We nervously seized our rifles and peeped through the loop-holes. Great Heavens! There, within a hundred feet of us, in front and in the rear, the Germans were crossing the Styr! Before we had time to organize resistance they were upon us, capturing five hundred of our men. I was among the number.

We were brought before the German Staff for examination. Every one of us was tormented with questions, intended to extract valuable military information. Threats were bestowed on those who refused to disclose anything. Some cowards among us, especially those of non-Russian stock, gave away important facts. As the examination was proceeding, our artillery on the other side opened up a violent bombardment of the German defences. It was evident that the German Commander had not many reserves, as he made frantic appeals by telephone for support. It required a considerable force to keep guard over us and an even larger force to take us to the rear. As the enemy expected a Russian attack at any moment, it was decided not to remove us until help arrived.

"So I am a German prisoner," I thought. "How unexpected! There is still hope that our comrades on the other side will come to our rescue. Only, every minute is precious. They must hurry or we are lost. Now my turn is coming. What shall I tell them? I must deny being a soldier and invent some kind of a story."

"I am a woman and not a soldier," I announced as soon as I was called.

"Are you of noble blood?" I was asked.

"Yes," I answered, promptly deciding to claim that I was a Red Cross nurse, dressed in man's uniform, in order to pay a visit to my husband, an officer in the front line trenches.

"Have you many women fighting in the ranks?" was the next question.

"I don't know. I told you that I was not a soldier."

"What were you doing in the trenches then?"

"I came to see my husband, who is an officer of the Regiment."

"Why did you shoot, then? The soldiers tell that you shot at them."

"I did it to defend myself. I was afraid to be captured. I serve as a Red Cross nurse in the rear hospital, and came over to the fighting line for a visit."

The Russian fire was growing hotter every minute. Some of our shells wounded not only enemy soldiers but several of the captives. It was past noon, but the Germans were too nervous to eat their lunch. The expected reserves were not forthcoming, and there was every sign of a fierce counter-attack by our troops.

At two o'clock our soldiers went over the top and started for the German positions. The enemy Commander decided to retreat with his batch of prisoners to the second line rather than defend the front trenches. It was a critical moment. As we were lined up the "Hurrah" of our comrades reached us. It stimulated us to a spontaneous decision.

We threw ourselves, five hundred strong, at our captors, wrested many of their rifles and bayonets and engaged in a ferocious hand-to-hand combat, just as our men rushed through the torn wire entanglements into the trenches. The confusion was indescribable; the killing merciless. I grasped five hand grenades that lay near me and threw them at a group of about ten Germans. They must have all been killed. Our entire line across the river was advancing at the same time. The first German line was occupied by our troops and both banks of the Styr were then in our hands.

Thus ended my captivity. I was in German hands for a period of only eight hours and amply avenged even this brief stay. There was great activity in our ranks for a couple of days. We fortified the newly-won positions and prepared for another attack. Two days later we received the signal to advance. But again our artillery had failed to cut the German wire defences. After pushing on under a devastating fire and incurring heavy losses we were compelled to retreat, leaving many of our comrades wounded and dying on the field of battle.

Our Commander improvised a relief party by calling for twenty volunteers. I responded among the first. Provided with twenty red crosses which we prominently displayed, and leaving our rifles in the trenches, we went out in the open daylight to rescue the wounded. I was allowed to proceed by the Germans almost to their barbed wire. Then, as I leaned over a wounded man whose leg was broken, I heard the click of a trigger and immediately lay flat on the ground. Five bullets whistled over me, one after another. Most of them hit the wounded soldier, who was killed. I continued to lie motionless, and the German sniper was evidently satisfied that he had killed me as well. I remained in this position till night, when I crawled back to our trenches.

Of the twenty Red Cross volunteers only five returned alive.

The following day an order was issued by the Commander thanking all those soldiers who had been captured three days before and had resolved to save themselves by fighting their captors. My name appeared first on the list. Those of us who had refused to give any information to the enemy were praised in the order. One soldier, who had revealed to the Germans a great deal of important information, was executed. I was recommended for a cross of the 2nd Degree, but, being a woman, I received only a medal of the 3rd Degree.

The opening of the year 1917 found us resting two miles in the rear. There was much fun and merriment in the reserve billets. Although the discipline was as strict as ever, the relations between the officers and men had, in the course of the three and a half years of the war, undergone a complete transformation.

The older officers, trained in pre-war conditions, were no longer to be found, having died in battle or been disabled. The new junior officers, all young men taken from civil life, many of them former students and school teachers, were liberal in their views and very humane in their conduct. They mixed freely with the men in the ranks and allowed us more liberty than we had ever enjoyed. At the New Year festival we all danced together. These new relations were not entirely due to the new attitude from above. In a sense, they were generated from below by a dumb and yet potent undercurrent of restlessness.

We were reviewed before returning to the front line by General Valuyev, the Commander of the Fifth Corps. I was presented to him by the Commander. The General shook my hand warmly, remarking that he had heard many praiseworthy things of me.

Our positions were now on a hill, in the vicinity of Zelenaya Kolonia, while the enemy was at our feet in the valley. The trenches we occupied had been in German hands some time before.

It was late in January when I made an expedition into No Man's Land at the head of a patrol of fifteen men. We crawled along a ditch that had once been a German communication trench. It ran along a very exposed part of the field and we exercised the utmost caution. As we came near to the enemy's trench line I thought I heard German conversation. Leaving ten men behind, with instructions to come to our aid in case of a fight, five of us crept forward at a snail's pace and with perfect noiselessness. The German voices grew clearer and clearer.

Finally we beheld a German listening-post. There were four of them, all seated with their backs toward us. Their rifles were scattered on the ground while they warmed their hands over a fire. Two of my men stretched their hands out, reached the rifles and removed them. It was a slow and difficult operation. The Germans chattered on unconcernedly. As I was cautiously reaching for the third rifle two of the Germans, having apparently heard a noise, made as if they were about to turn.

In an instant my men were upon them. The two were bayoneted before I was able to realize what was happening. It had been my intention to bring in the four alive. The other two Germans were safe in our hands.

In all my experience of patrol duty, and I must have taken part in at least a hundred expeditions into No Man's Land, it was the first case of a German listening-post being caught in such a manner. We returned triumphantly with our prizes.

One of the prisoners was a tall, red-headed fellow, the other, who wore pince-nez, was evidently an educated man. We took them to Regimental Headquarters, accompanied on the way by much cheering and congratulations. The Commander wanted to know the details of the capture and had them written down word for word. He congratulated me, pressing my hand, and so did all the other officers, telling me that my name would live for ever in the annals of the Polotsk Regiment. I was recommended for a gold cross of the 1st Degree and given two days' leave for rest in the village.

At the end of the two days my Company joined me in the reserve. Strange things were occurring in our midst. In subdued voices the men repeated dark rumours about Rasputin's death. Wild stories about his connections with the Court and Germany were communicated from mouth to mouth. The spirit of insubordination was growing among the soldiers, though at that time it was still kept within bounds. The men were weary, terribly weary of the war. "How long shall we continue this fighting?" and "What are we fighting for?" were on the lips of everybody. It was the fourth winter and still there was no end in sight.

Our men were genuinely anxious to solve the great puzzle that the war had become to them. Hadn't it been proved again and again that the officers at Headquarters were selling them to the enemy? Hadn't a multitude of reports reached them that the Court was pro-German? Hadn't they heard of the War Minister placed under arrest and charged with being a traitor? Wasn't it clear, therefore, that the Government, the official class, was in league with the enemy? Then, why continue this carnage indefinitely? If the Government was in alliance with Germany, what prevented it from concluding peace? Was it the desire to have millions more of them slaughtered?

This was the riddle that forced itself upon the peasant mind. It was complicated by a hundred other suggestions that were injected into his brain from various channels. Depressed in spirit, discouraged and sullen in appearance was the Russian soldier in February, 1917.

We returned to our positions and took up the heavy burden. It was not long before an attack was organized against the German line. Our artillery again displayed little effectiveness and again we climbed out of the trenches and swept across No Man's Land while the enemy's wire defences were intact. It was not the first wave of Russian breasts that had beaten itself in vain against that deadly barrier, to be hurled back with grave losses without even coming to grips with the foe. But each of those waves had left its drop of bitterness in the hearts of the survivors. And it was a particularly strong draught of bitterness that this last futile attack had left in the souls of the soldiers upon our sector.

Nevertheless, in February, 1917, the front was unprepared for the eruption that was soon to shake the world. The front maintained its fierce hatred for the Germans and could not conceive of a righteous peace save through the efficient organization of a gigantic offensive against the enemy. The obstacle in the way of such an offensive was the traitorous Government. Against this Government were directed the indignation and suppressed discontent of the rank and file. But so old, so stable, so deep-rooted was the institution of Tsarism that, with all their secret contempt for the Court, with all their secret hatred for the officials of the Government, the armies at the front were not ripe yet for a conscious and deliberate rising.

Part Three

REVOLUTION

THE REVOLUTION AT THE FRONT

The first warning of the approaching storm reached us through a soldier from our Company who had returned from leave at Petrograd.

"Oh, heaven!" he said. "If you but knew what is going on behind your backs! Revolution! Everywhere they talk of overthrowing the Tsar. The capital is flaming with revolution."

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