The following story illustrates the doggedness of the Russian soldier. "A detachment of twenty Russian cavalry met a hundred of the enemy's horsemen, and, being so greatly outnumbered, decided to beat a retreat. One of the Russians, however, was slightly wounded, and thrown from his horse. As he lay on the ground he took up his rifle and began to pick off the Germans who were pursuing his comrades. His shooting was so good that he killed three of them. Peasants came up and offered to carry him to a place of safety; but he said, 'No, I will not hide from Germans,' and went on firing. Meanwhile the enemy, suspecting an ambush, gave up the chase. When they returned and found that they had been foiled by a single man they at once finished him off. He died happy, knowing that he had by his self-sacrifice secured the safety of his comrades."
Here is a grim story which illustrates the splendid patience and uncomplaining endurance of the Russian wounded:—
"A tall, thin soldier stopped near. 'You are wounded, old chap?' inquired the general.
"'Yes, sir,' the man replied, not recognizing the general in the gloom. 'How do I get to the hospital?'
"'You ought first to find your regiment, and give up your rifle and cartridges. But can you get there? where are you wounded?'
"The soldier threw open his cloak, and the general examined him with a pocket electric torch. The entire shirt and the inner part of the cloak on the breast were soaked with black blood. One knew that underneath was an enormous gaping wound. The soldier stood erect, slightly supporting himself on his rifle.
"'Go to the hospital,' said the general. Then he turned to me. 'You saw? That is what they are like, and all are the same.'"