“You villains, you rogues! What are you doing?” I shouted with all my strength. “Didn’t you want a rest on the way to the trenches? Can’t you let us alone, or have you no sense of shame? Perhaps some of the women here are your sisters. And I see that some of you are old men. If you want anything, come to see me. I am always ready to talk and argue and answer questions. But leave the women alone, you shameless ruffians!”
My tirade was met by an outburst of laughter and jeers that incensed me even more.
“You will go away this instant or kill me here!” I shrieked, flinging myself forward. “You hear? Kill me!” I was trembling with rage. The roughs were impressed by my tone and words. They left one by one, and we settled down for a couple of hours of sleep.
In the morning General Valuyev, now Commander of the Tenth Army, reviewed the Battalion. He was greatly pleased and expressed his gratification to me at the perfect discipline and bearing of the unit. Our own two kitchens then prepared dinner, after they had received a supply of food and provender. There were twelve horses attached to the Battalion, six drivers, eight cooks, two shoemakers. In addition to these sixteen men, there were two military instructors accompanying us. The men were always kept separate from the women.
After dinner the deserters began to assemble around our barracks. I had promised to debate with them on the preceding day, and they now took me at my word.
“Where are you taking your soldiers? To fight for the bourgeoisie? What for? You claim to be a peasant woman, then why do you want to shed the peoples’ blood for the rich exploiters?”
These and many similar questions were fired at me from many directions.
I stood up, folded my arms and eyed the crowd sternly. I must confess that a tremor ran over me as my eyes passed from one rascal to another. They were a desperate lot, looking more like beasts than human beings. The dregs of the army, truly.
“Look at yourselves,” I began, “and think what has become of you! You, who once advanced like heroes against the enemy’s devastating fire and suffered like faithful sons of the Motherland in the defence of Russia, lying for weeks in the muddy, vermin-infested trenches, and crawling through No Man’s Land. Consider for a moment what you are now and what you were a little while ago. Only last winter you were the pride of the country and the world. Now you are the execration of the army and the nation. Surely there are some among you who belonged to the Fifth Siberian Corps, aren’t there?”
“Yes, yes.”
“Then you ought to remember me—Yashka—or have heard of me.”
“Yes, we do! We know you!” came from several parts of the crowd.
“Well, if you know me, you ought also to know that I waded in the mud of the trenches together with you; that I slept on the same wet ground as you or your brother; that I faced the same dangers, suffered the same hunger, shared the same cabbage soup that you had. Why then do you attack me? Why do you jeer at me? How and when have I earned your contempt and derision?”
“When you were a common soldier,” answered a couple of voices, “you were like one of us. But now, being an officer, you are under the influence of the bourgeoisie.”
“Who made me an officer if not you? Didn’t your comrades, the common soldiers of the First and Tenth Armies, send special delegates to honour me and present icons and standards to me, thus raising me to the grade of officer? I am of the people, blood of your blood, a toiling peasant girl.”
“But we are tired of war. We want peace,” they complained, unable to find fault with me personally.
“I want peace, too. But how can you have peace? Show me how?” I insisted vigorously, observing that my words were soothing the temper of the crowd considerably.
“Why, simply by leaving the front and going home. That’s how we can have peace.”
“Leave the front!” I shouted, with all the force at my command. “What will happen then? Tell me! Will you have peace? Never! The Germans will just walk over our defences and crush the people and their freedom. This is war. You are soldiers and you know what war is. You know that all is fair in war. To leave the trenches! Why not hand Russia over to the Kaiser! It’s the same thing, and you know it as well as I. No, there is no other way to peace than through an offensive and the defeat of the enemy. Conquer the Germans and there will be peace! Shoot them, kill them, stab them, but do not fraternize with the foes of our beloved Russia!”
“But they fraternize with us. They are tired of the war, too. They want peace as much as we,” said a few men.
“They are deceiving you. They fraternize here and send soldiers to fight our Allies.”
“What are the Allies to us if they do not want peace?” some argued.
“They do not want peace now because they know that the Germans are treacherous. You and I know it, too. Haven’t the Germans asphyxiated thousands of our brethren with their deadly gases? Haven’t we all suffered from their base tricks? Aren’t they now occupying a large part of our country? Let’s drive them out and have peace!”
There was silence. Nobody had anything to say. Greatly encouraged, I resumed, just as a happy idea dawned upon me.
“Yes, let us drive them out of Russia. Suppose I were to take you along to the front, to feed you well, to equip you with new uniforms
