“Oh,” he made a deprecatory gesture.
“One of the comrades made a mistake,” he said. “He shot at you without orders. But you also made a mistake.”
“What was that?” I asked.
“You carried a white flag,” he said, grinning. “It should have been red.”
CHAPTER II
WITH THE RED SOLDIERS
I asked to be taken to the commanding officer and two soldiers were detailed to escort me. One of the “comrades” laid down his rifle and picking up my suitcase led the way down the trenches; the other shouldered his rifle and followed close behind me. I kept my eye on the suitcase and trudged along.
They were both very friendly, and with a great show of their English began talking to me at once.
“Do you know,” said one of them, “that the dock workers are on strike in New York?” And while I was still wondering to myself how Russia, shut off from all the rest of the world, could have heard this piece of news, the other “comrade” burst out:
“Who is going to win the pennant in the National League?”