The Colonel, the Company Commanders and some of the braver soldiers tried to persuade the regiment to go over the top. Meanwhile, day was breaking. Time did not wait. The other regiments of the corps were also hesitating. The men, raised to a high pitch of courage by Kerensky’s oratory, lost heart when the advance became imminent. My Battalion was kept in the trench by the cowardly behaviour of the men on both flanks. It was an intolerable situation, unthinkable, grotesque.
The sun crept out in the East, only to shine down upon the extraordinary spectacle of an entire corps debating upon their Commander’s order to advance. It was four o’clock. The debate still continued heatedly. The sun rose higher. The morning mist had almost vanished. The artillery fire was slackening. Still the debate continued. It was five o’clock. The Germans were wondering what in the world had become of the expected Russian offensive. All the spirit accumulated in the Battalion during the night was waning, giving way under the physical strain which we were enduring. And the soldiers were still discussing the advisability of attacking!
Every second was precious. “If they would only decide in the affirmative, even now it might not be too late to strike,” I thought. But minutes grew into hours, and there was no sign of a decision. It struck six, and then seven. The day was lost. Perhaps all was lost. One’s blood boiled with indignation at the absurdity, the futility of the whole thing. The weak-kneed hypocrites! They feigned concern as to the advisability on general principles of starting an offensive, as if they hadn’t talked for weeks about it to their hearts’ content. They were nothing but cowards, concealing their fear in floods of idle talk.
Orders were given to the artillery to continue the bombardment. All day the cannon boomed while the men argued. The shame, the humiliation of it! These very men had given their words of honour to attack! Now fear for the safety of their skins had taken possession of their minds and souls. The hour of noon still found them in the midst of the debate! There were meetings and speeches in the immediate rear. Nothing more stupid, more empty of meaning could be imagined than the arguments of the men. They were repeating in stumbling speech those old, vague phrases that had been proved false again and again, to the complete satisfaction of their own minds. And yet they lingered, drawn by their faint souls towards doubt and vacillation.
The day declined. The men had arrived at no final resolution. Then, about seventy-five officers, led by Lieutenant-Colonel Ivanov, came to me to ask permission to enter the ranks of the Battalion for a joint advance. They were followed by about three hundred of the most intelligent and gallant soldiers in the regiment. Altogether, the Battalion’s ranks had swollen to about a thousand. I offered the command to Lieutenant-Colonel Ivanov as to a superior, but he declined.
Every officer was provided with a rifle. The line was so arranged that men and women alternated, a girl being flanked by two men. The officers, now numbering about a hundred, were stationed at equal distances throughout the line.
We decided to advance in order to shame the men, having arrived at the conclusion that they would not let us perish in No Man’s Land. We all felt the gravity of the decision. We had nothing to justify our belief that the men would not abandon us to our fate, except a feeling that such a monstrosity could not happen. Besides, something had to be done. An offensive had to be launched soon. The front was rapidly deteriorating to a state of impotence.
Colonel Ivanov communicated to the Commander by telephone the decision of the Battalion. It was a desperate gamble, and every one of us realized the grimness of the moment. The men on our flanks were joking and deriding us.
“Ha, ha! The women and officers will fight!” they jeered.
“They are pretending. Who ever saw officers go over the top like soldiers, with rifles in hand?”
“Just watch those women run!” joked a fellow, amid a chorus of merriment.
We clenched our teeth in fury but did not reply. Our hope was still in these men. We clung to the belief that they would follow us over the top and, therefore, avoided giving them cause for offence.
At last the signal was given. We crossed ourselves and, hugging our rifles, leaped out of the trenches, every one of our lives dedicated to “the country and freedom.” We moved forward under a devastating fire from machine guns and artillery, my brave girls, encouraged by the presence of men at their sides, marching steadily against the hail of bullets.
Every moment brought death with it. There was but one thought in every mind: “Will they follow?” Each fleeting instant seemed like an age that lurid morning. Already several of us were struck down, and yet no one came after us. We turned our heads every now and then, piercing the darkness in vain for support. Many heads were raised above the trenches in our rear. The laggards were wondering if we were in earnest. No, they decided that it was all a trick. How could a bare thousand women and officers attack after a two-days’ bombardment on a front of several miles? It seemed incredible, impossible.
But, dauntless of heart and firm of step, we moved forward. Our losses were increasing, but our line was unbroken. As we advanced further and further into No Man’s Land, the shadows finally swallowing us completely, with only the fire of explosions revealing our figures at times to the eyes of our men in the rear, their hearts were touched.
Through the din and crash of the bombardment we suddenly caught the sound of a great commotion in the rear. Was it a feeling of shame that stirred them from their lethargy? Or was it the sight of this handful of intrepid souls that aroused their spirit? Anyhow,
