It was not till a week later, however, that I was permitted by the doctor to walk a little, supported by the attendants. But I had taken only ten steps, beaming with triumph and making every effort to overcome my pain, when I collapsed and fainted. The nurses were alarmed and called the doctor who told them to be more cautious in the future. I steadily improved, however, and a couple of weeks later I was able to walk. Naturally I did not feel sure of my legs at first; they trembled and seemed very weak. Gradually they regained their former strength and at the end of six months spent in the hospital I was again in possession of all my faculties.
IX
Eight Hours in German Hands
The morning on which I was taken before the military medical commission I was in high spirits. It was a late December day, but my heart was aglow as I was led into the large room in which about two hundred other patients were waiting for the examination which would decide whether they were to be sent home or were considered fit to be returned to the front.
The chairman of the commission was a General. As my turn came and he reached the name of Maria Bochkareva he thought it a mistake and corrected it to Marin Bochkarev. By that name I was called out of the crowd.
The General shouted the order that was given to every soldier awaiting discharge.
“Take off your clothes.”
I walked up resolutely and threw off my clothes.
“A woman!” went up from a couple of hundred throats, followed by an outburst of laughter that shook the building. The members of the commission were too amazed for words.
“What the devil!” cried the General. “Why did you undress?”
“I am a soldier, Excellency, and I obey orders without question,” I replied.
“Well, well. Hurry up and dress,” came the order.
“How about the examination, Excellency?” I queried, as I put my things on.
“That’s all right. You are passed.”
In view of the seriousness of the injury I had sustained the commission offered me a couple of months’ leave, but I declined it and requested to be sent to the front in a few days. Supplied with fifteen roubles and a railway ticket I left the hospital and went to Daria Maximovna, who had invited me previously to stay with her for a little time. It was a short visit, lasting only three days, but a very happy one. It was so pleasant to be in a home again, to eat home food and to be under the care of a woman who became a second mother to me. With packages for myself and Stepan and the blessings of the whole family following me I left Moscow from the Nikolaiev Station. The train was crowded and there was only standing room.
On the platform my attention was attracted to a poor woman with a little baby in her arms, another mite on the floor and a girl of about five hanging on to her skirt. All the woman’s property was packed in a single bag. The children were crying for bread, the woman tried to calm them, evidently in dread of something. It touched my heart to watch this little group, and I offered some bread to the children.
Then the woman confided in me the cause for her fear. She had no money and no ticket and expected to be put off at the next station. She was the wife of a soldier from a village in German hands and was now bound for a town three thousand versts away, where she had some relatives. I felt that something must be done for this woman, and I made an appeal to the soldiers who filled the car, but they did not respond at first.
“She is the wife of a soldier, of one like yourselves,” I said. “Suppose she were the wife of one of you! For all you know, the wives of some of you here may be wandering about the country in a similar state. Come, let us get off at the next station, go to the stationmaster and ask that she may be allowed to go to her destination.”
The soldiers were moved and they helped me to take the woman and her belongings off the train at the next stop. We went to the stationmaster, who was very kind, but explained that he could do nothing in the matter. “I have no right to give permission to travel without a ticket, and I can’t distribute free tickets,” he said, and he sent us to the military commandant. I went with the woman, having been deserted by the soldiers who had heard the train whistle and did not want to miss it. I waited for another train.
The commandant repeated the words of the stationmaster. He had no right to provide her with a military pass, he said.
“No right!” I exclaimed, beside myself. “She is the wife of a soldier and her husband is probably now, at this very moment, going into battle to defend the country, while you, safe and well-fed in the rear here, won’t even take care of his wife and children. It is an outrage. Look at the woman. She needs medical attention, and her children are starved.”
“And who are you?” sharply asked the commandant.
“I will show you who I am,” I answered, taking off my medals and cross and showing him my certificate. “I have shed enough blood to be entitled to demand justice for the helpless wife of a soldier.”
But the commandant turned his back on me and went away. There was nothing to be done but to make a collection. I went to the First-Class waiting-room, which was filled with officers and well-to-do passengers, took my cap in my hand and went round, begging for a poor soldier’s wife. When I had finished there were eighty roubles in the cap. With this money I
