In the last month of our training we engaged in almost continuous rifle practice. I applied myself zealously to acquiring skill in handling a rifle and won an honourable mention for good marksmanship. This considerably enhanced my standing with the soldiers and strengthened our feeling of comradeship.
Early in 1915 our regiment received orders to prepare to proceed to the front. We received a week’s leave. The soldiers passed these last days in drink and revelry and gay parties. One evening a group of boys invited me to go along with them to a house of ill repute.
“Be a soldier, Yashka,” they urged me laughingly, scarcely expecting me to accept their invitation.
A thought flashed through my mind.
“I will go with them, and learn the soldier’s life, so that I may understand his soul better.” And I expressed my willingness to go. Perhaps curiosity had something to do with my decision. It was greeted with an explosion of mirth. Noisily we marched through the streets, singing and laughing, until we came to our destination.
My knees began to tremble as the party was about to enter the house. I wanted to turn back and flee. But the soldiers would not let me. The idea of Yashka going with them to such a place took a strong hold on their imagination. Soldiers, before going to the front, were always welcome in the haunts of vice, as they spent their money freely. Our group was, therefore, promptly surrounded by the women of the place, and one of them, a very young and pretty girl, picked me out as her favourite to the boundless mirth of my companions. There was drinking, dancing and a great deal of noise. Nobody suspected my sex, not even my youthful sweetheart, who seated herself in my lap and exerted all her charms to entice me. She caressed me, embraced me and kissed me. I giggled, and my comrades gave vent to peals of laughter. Presently I was left alone with my charmer.
Suddenly the door swung open and an officer entered. Soldiers were forbidden to leave their barracks after eight o’clock, and our party had slipped out in the dark when we were supposed to be asleep.
“Of what regiment are you?” the officer asked, abruptly, as I rose to salute.
“The Fifth Reserve Regiment, your Excellency,” I replied ruefully.
While this was going on the boys in the other rooms were notified of the officer’s presence and made their escape through windows and all available doors, leaving me to take care of myself.