It was May, but there was autumn in my breast. There was autumn also in the heart of Mother-Russia. The sunshine was dazzling. The fields and the forests rioted in all the glories of spring. There was peace in the trenches, calm in No Man’s Land. My country was still celebrating joyously the festival of the newly-born Freedom. It was scarcely two months old, this child of generations of pain and suffering. It came into being with the first warm wind, and how deep were the forces that it aroused in us, how infinite the promises it carried! My people still entertained the wonderful illusions of those first days. It was spring, the beginning of eternal spring to them.
But my heart pined. All joy was dead in it. I heard the autumn winds howling. I felt instinctively an immense tragedy developing, and my soul went out to Mother Russia.
The entire Regiment was formed in line so that I could bid them farewell. I addressed them as follows:
“You know how I love you, how I have cared for you. Who picked you up on the field of battle? Yashka. Who dressed your wounds under fire? Yashka. Who braved with you all dangers and shared with you all privations? A baba, Yashka. I bore with your insults and rejoiced in your caresses. I knew how to receive them both, because I knew your souls. I could endure anything with you, but I cannot endure this any longer. I cannot bear fraternization with the enemy. I cannot bear these incessant meetings. I cannot bear this endless chain of orators and their empty phrases. It is time to act. The time for talk is gone. Otherwise, it will be too late. Our country and freedom are perishing.
“Nevertheless, I love you and want to part from you as a friend.”
Here I stopped. I could not go on. My comrades gave me a hearty good-bye. They were sorry, very sorry, to lose me, they said, but of course I was entitled to my opinion of the situation. They assured me that they respected me as ever and that, when they had been at home on leave, they had always told their mothers to pray for me. And they swore that they would always be ready to lay down their lives for me.
The Commander placed his carriage at my disposal to go to the railway station. A delegate from the Regiment was leaving the same day for Petrograd, and we went together. As the horses started, tearing me away from the men, who clasped my hands and wished me luck and God-speed, something tore a big hole in my heart, and the world seemed desolate....
CHAPTER XI
I ORGANIZE THE BATTALION OF DEATH
The journey to Petrograd was uneventful. The train was crowded to overflowing with returning soldiers who engaged in arguments day and night. I was drawn into one such debate. Peace was the subject of all discussion, immediate peace.
“But how can you have peace while the Germans are occupying parts of Russia?” I broke in. “We must win a victory first or our country will be lost.”