Thus we moved to the front, arriving at Molodechno. I was met there by a group of about twenty officers and taken to dine with the Staff. The Battalion was quartered in two barracks upon our arrival at Corps Headquarters.
There were about a score of barracks in Molodechno. Almost half of these were filled with deserters from the front, former police and gendarmes who had been impressed into the army at the outbreak of the Revolution, and had soon escaped from the ranks. There were also some criminals and a number of Bolshevist agitators. In a word, they were the riffraff of that sector of the front.
They soon got word of the arrival of the Battalion, and while I was being driven to dinner they crowded round my women and began to curse and molest them. The officer in charge perceived with alarm the growing insolence of these ruffians, and hurried to the Commandant of the station to beg protection.
“But what can I do?” answered the Commandant helplessly. “I am powerless. There are fifteen hundred of them, and there is nothing to be done but to submit patiently to their derision and win their goodwill by kindness.”
The death penalty had already been abolished in the army.
The officer in charge returned with empty hands. She found a few of the rioters in the barracks, behaving offensively towards the women. Having tried vainly to get rid of them by persuasion she telephoned to me. I had barely seated myself at the dinner table when her summons reached me. I hastened into a motor and drove to the barracks.
“What are you doing here?” I asked sharply, as I jumped from the car and ran inside. “What do you want? Go out of here! I will talk to you outside if you want anything.”
“Ha, ha, ha!” the men jeered. “Who are you? What sort of a baba is this?”
“I am the Commander.”
“The Commander, eh? Ha, ha, ha! Look at this Commander!” they scoffed.
“Now,” I spoke slowly and firmly, “you have no business here whatever. You have got to go away. I will be at your service outside. If you want anything you can tell me there. But you must get out of here!”
The men, there were only a score of them, went towards the door, still jeering and muttering curses. I followed them. Immediately outside a large crowd had collected, attracted by the noise. As I faced these depraved men in soldiers’ uniforms my heart was pained at the sight of them. A more ragged, tattered, demoralized lot of soldiers I had never seen. Most of them had the faces of murderers. Others were mere boys, corrupted by the Bolshevist propaganda.
A little while ago, in the old days of January, 1917, it would have been sufficient to execute a couple of them to transform the fifteen hundred into respectable and obedient human beings. Now, the mighty Russian military organization, while engaged in a mortal combat with an enemy of stupendous strength, had been rendered incapable of coping with even such a small group of recalcitrants! This was my first experience of the front after an interval of two months. But what a great stage the disintegrating influences had advanced in this short period of time! It was four months since the Revolution, and the front was already seriously infected by the blight of disobedience.
“Why did you come here? What devil brought you here? You want to fight? We want peace! We have had enough fighting!” was shouted at me from every side.
“Yes, I want to fight. How can we have peace save by fighting the Germans? I have had more experience of war than you, and I want peace as much as anyone here. If you want me to talk more to you and answer any questions you care to ask me, come tomorrow. It is getting late now. I shall be at your disposal tomorrow.”
The gang drifted away in groups, some still scoffing, others arguing. I transferred the women from the second barrack into the first for greater safety, and posted sentinels at every entrance. This cheered up the women somewhat, but they were even more encouraged when they heard me refuse an invitation to spend the night at Staff Headquarters. How could I leave my women alone with these fifteen hundred ruffians in the neighbourhood? So I resolved to sleep with them, under the same roof.
Night came and my soldiers went to bed. Many of us must have wondered that evening whether the deserters would heed my words or return during the night and attack the barrack. It was not yet midnight when a party of them came knocking at the windows and the thin wooden walls. They cursed us all, and particularly me. They tried to enter through the doors, but were met by fixed bayonets. When their scoffing proved ineffective, they stoned the barrack, breaking every pane of glass and bruising about fifteen of my women.
Still we made no complaint. If the Commandant confessed his powerlessness to control them, what could we do? Besides, we were going to the front to fight the Germans, not to engage in a battle with three times our number of desperadoes.
The more patience we exercised the bolder grew the attacks of the men. Some of them would suddenly thrust their hands through the shattered windowpanes and seize some of the women by their hair, causing them to cry out with pain. Nobody slept. All were excited and on edge. The crashing of the stones against the wooden walls would every now and then shake the whole building. It required a lot of patience to endure it all, but my orders were not to provoke a fight.
However, as the night wore on and the noises and jeering did not cease, my blood began to boil, and I
