The Great White Army

by Max Pemberton

It was clear by this time that the fire had begun in the barn which harboured so many of our men, and that it had not yet reached the buildings we occupied. For all that, it promised to be a terrible conflagration, and my ears were assailed already by the woeful screams of the wretched company, themselves waking to the peril. What kept the poor fellows in the barn, I knew no more than the dead. I could see two great doors opening upon the yard, and they were wide enough to let a wagon go through. Yet no one unbarred them, and all the time flames and smoke were pouring from the thatch above, and the shrieks of the imprisoned growing louder. This perplexed me beyond words, and it was not until I had shaken the heavy sleep from my eyes that the thought of treachery occurred to me, and I began to understand much that had happened.

The monster of a farmer who had lured us here—he had done it, I said, and God knows, if I had had my hand about his throat at the moment, I would have strangled the life out of him.

Well, I bounded down the stairs at the thought, and found myself immediately amid my brother officers, who were striving like madmen to set their compatriots free. Unable to hear a word that was spoken, I nevertheless understood by their gestures that the main gates of the barn had been bolted and barred, and that, until they could be unlocked, the only chance for our fellows was the narrow window at the southern end. For this I now made, Léon at my side, and others as ready to risk their lives in the face of such a disaster.

Let me tell you that the roar of the conflagration was like that of a sea beating angrily upon a barren shore. Commingled with it were the sounds of rending woodwork and the screams of men already burning in the flames; while all was made worse by the intolerable north wind which swept about the building and howled dismally beneath the frozen eaves.

This paralysed the faculties, so that even the bravest found his limbs benumbed and his brain bewildered. No company of raw recruits could have worked to less purpose—some crying for hatchets, some vainly for water, yet all incapable of rendering any useful aid, and all equally terrified by the spectacle they beheld. Alas! to see those pitiful faces at the window of the barn above; to watch the flames creeping about them; to behold them fall one by one into the deadly furnace behind them; and to know that they were Frenchmen and brethren! Such was the price of the brief respite we had enjoyed; such was the hospitality that the woman Petrovka had shown us.

Someone got a ladder about this time, and others found axes in the wood-house of the farm. I was among the latter, and I remember with what fury our little party attacked the great front gates and tried to force an entrance. Could we but burst the bolt, our comrades were free in a twinkling; and you may imagine how we went at it—the blows which we struck, and the curses we uttered.

Minute by minute now the flames were creeping toward this end of the barn. We had no need of lanterns; the snow was blood-red, and the very wood stood out as though the sun were setting and the night not yet begun. Had we any longer a doubt that treachery had fired the barn, the disappearance of the Russians themselves would have clenched the argument. Not a peasant did we see, not a man or woman of those who had served us last night and welcomed us with such smiling faces. The whole farm had become a desert, and, be sure, that of them all Petrovka had been the first to go.

Such was my opinion for a long time, and it endured until, to my great astonishment, I perceived her at Léon's side, and saw that he was in close talk with her. Good God! that a man could have argued with such a woman when his comrades were perishing—that he did not strike her down where she stood! Any other but Léon would have done so; yet, when was the day that a woman's eyes could not win him?

All this went through my head in a flash as I hewed at the giant doors and called upon my comrades to redouble their efforts. The shrieks within the building were now most dreadful to hear. None but a man of iron could have remained deaf to the piercing cries which marked the approach of the fire and told us that our task must be impotent. None the less, we worked with a vigour unimaginable, while the heat became choking, and showers of glowing sparks rained down upon us. The very snow was melted far away from the barn by this time; the sky had turned blood red; the branches of the trees were burning. The great door alone stood between our comrades and salvation.

In the end we beat this in, and an aperture was made. Through that we dragged some thirty men and carried them quickly to the farm. Poor fellows, they were terribly burned, and their flesh fell from their bones as we lifted them. What lay beyond in that holocaust I did not dare to inquire. The barn was now but a roaring furnace; the cries had ceased; the moaning of the fire and the night wind alone remained.