The surgeons told us that both Russians had been shot through the chest and would not live an hour longer, and therefore that it was advisable to put only a few important questions while they retained consciousness. One of the examiners said: “Of what regiment and of what place are you?”
The poor captive answered, gaspingly: “The Twenty-sixth Regiment of Infantry sharpshooters.” “Who is the commander of your division?” “Don’t know.” The interpreter expostulated. “You can’t say you don’t know. You ought to know the name of your own commander.”
The captive showed his sincerity in his countenance; probably he meant what he said. He was breathing with difficulty, and blood was running out of his mouth.
“Please give me a drink of water.”
I was standing nearest to him and obtained a glass of spring water. When I gave him to drink he would not even look at it.
“There is boiled water in my bottle; give me that.”
I did as was requested. I do not know whether this Russian, even in his last moments, disdained to receive a drink from the enemy, but I was struck with his carefulness in observing the rules of hygiene and not drinking unboiled water. Because of this strength of character, he had bravely fought with our scouting party until he was struck down. But he was not the only Russian soldier who did not know the name of his commanding general. Afterwards when I had chances of cross-questioning a large number of captives, I found out that the majority of them were equally ignorant. Moreover, they did not know for what or for whom they were fighting. Nine men out of ten would say that they had been driven to the field without knowing why or wherefore.
No more time was allowed for questioning this captive. He became whiter and whiter, breathed with more and more difficulty; his end was fast approaching. The surgeon said: “Do you suffer? Have you anything to say?”
At these kind words he raised his head a little and said, with tears: “I have left my wife and one child in my country; please let them know how I died.”
He breathed his last soon afterward. This man sacrificed his life without knowing what for. To be driven to the far-away East, to be captured by the enemy, and die thinking of his wife and child! He brought tears of sympathy to our eyes. He was honorably buried under a cross, and Chaplain Toyama offered Buddhist prayers.