As we lowered his coffin into the grave the thought inevitably suggested itself to me whether I would be buried like this or my body lost and blown to the winds in No Man’s Land. The same thought must have passed through several minds.
Another friend, made at the same time, was the wife of Lieutenant Bobrov, the former school teacher. Both of them helped me to learn to write and improve my reading. The peasant women of the locality were so poor and ignorant that I devoted part of my time to aiding them. Many of them were suffering from minor ailments that were in need of attention. One evening I was even called to attend a woman in childbirth, this being my first experience in midwifery. Another time I was asked to visit a very bad case of fever.
Then came the trenches again. Again intense cold, again unceasing watchfulness and irritating inactivity. But the air was full of expectation. As the winter drew to its close, rumours of a gigantic spring offensive grew more and more insistent. Surely the war cannot end without a general battle, the men argued. And when, towards the end of February, we were again taken for a two-weeks’ rest, it became clear that we were to be prepared for an offensive. We received new outfits and equipment. On March the 5th the Commander of the Regiment addressed us. He spoke of the coming battle and appealed to us to be brave and win a great victory. He told us that the enemy’s defences were very strong and that it would require a mighty effort to overcome them.
Then we started for the front. The slush and mud were unimaginable. We walked deep in water, mixed with ice. On the road we met many wounded being carried to the hospital. We also passed by a cemetery where the soldiers who had fallen in our lines were being buried in one huge grave. We were kept in the rear for the night, as reserves, and were told to await orders tomorrow to proceed to the trenches.
March the 6th began with an unprecedented bombardment on our side. The Germans replied with equal violence, and the earth fairly shook. The cannonade lasted all day. Then an order came for us to form ranks and march into the trenches. We knew that it meant that we were to take part in the offensive.
Lieutenant Bobrov came up to me unexpectedly with these words:
“Yashka, take this and deliver it to my wife after the attack. I have had a presentiment for three days that I shall not survive this battle.” He handed me a letter and a ring.
“But, Lieutenant,” I objected, though I knew that protestations were of no avail at such a moment, “you are mistaken so. It will not happen. Presentiments are deceiving.”
He grimly shook his head and pressed my hand.
“Not this one, Yashka,” he said.
We were in the trenches already, under a veritable hail of shells. There were dead and dying in our midst. Waist-deep in water we crouched, praying to God. Suddenly a gas wave came in our direction. It caught some without their masks, and for them there was no escape. I, myself, narrowly missed this horrible death. My lips contracted and my eyes watered and burned for three weeks afterward.
The signal to advance was given, and we started, knee-deep in mud, for the enemy. In places the pools reached above our waists. Shells and bullets played havoc among us. Of those who fell wounded, many sank in the mud and were drowned. The German fire was devastating. Our lines grew thinner and thinner, and progress became so slow that our doom was certain in the event of a further advance.
The order to retreat rang out. How can one describe the march back through the inferno of No Man’s Land on that night of March 7th, 1916? There were wounded men submerged all but their heads, calling piteously for help. “Save me, for Christ’s sake!” came from every side. From the trenches there went up a chorus of the same heartrending appeals. So long as we were alive we could not remain deaf to the pleadings of our comrades.
Fifty of us went out to do the work of rescue. Never before had I worked in such harrowing, bloodcurdling circumstances. One man was wounded in the neck or face, and I had to grip him under the arms and drag his body through the mud. Another had his side torn by a shell, and it required many difficult manoeuvres before I could extricate him. Several sank so deep that my own strength was not sufficient to drag them out.
Finally I broke down, just as I reached my trench with a burden. I was so exhausted that all my bones were aching. The soldiers got some drinking water, a very hard thing to get, and made some tea for me. Somehow they obtained for me a dry overcoat and put me to sleep in a sheltered corner. I slept about four hours, and then resumed my search for wounded comrades.
All day the artillery boomed again, as violently as on the previous day. At night, our ranks having been replenished with fresh drafts, we climbed out again and rushed for the enemy. Again we suffered heavily, but our operation this time was more successful. When the Germans saw us pressing forward determinedly in their direction they came out for a counterattack. With bayonets fixed and a tremendous “Hurrah” we hurled ourselves at them.
The Germans never did
