I was told that Jacob was among those buried in the common grave. Quite likely. I whispered a Kaddish over the grave, giving it the benefit of the doubt.
Of course, I was not foolish enough to cry over the cadaver of a dog; and yet it was a pity. After all, it was a living creature, too; it had shared all kinds of things with me: exile, hunger, rations, blows. And it had loved me, too. . . .
The next morning we were out again. In a moment line faced line, man faced man, enemy faced enemy. It was a mutual murderous attraction, a bloodthirsty love, a desire to embrace and to kill.
It was very much like the pull I felt towards Marusya.
. . . . Lightening. . . . shots. . . . thunder. . . . The talk of the angel-protectors it is. . . . Snakes of fire flying upward, spreading out . . . . shrapnel . . . . bombs a-bursting . . . . soldiers standing . . . . reeling . . . . falling . . . . crushed, or lapping their own blood. . . . Thinning lines . . . . breast to breast. . . . Hellish howls over the field. . . .
Crashing comes the Russian music, drowning all that hellish chorus, pouring vigor, might, and hope into the hearts of men. . . .
Alas, the music breaks off. . . . Where is the bugle? . . . . The trumpet is silenced. . . . The trombone breaks off in the middle of a note. . . . Only one horn is left. . . . Higher and higher rise its ringing blasts, chanting, as it were, "Yea, thought I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil; for Thou art with me!"
In mighty embrace men clasp one another. . . . Stabbing, being stabbed . . . . killing, being killed. . . . .
I work away right and left, I expect my death-blow at every moment, but I seem to be charmed: swords and bayonets surround me, but never touch me. . . .
Yes, it was a critical moment; it could not last much longer; one side had to give way.