iogolevitch young russian corporal.txt

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THE YOUNG RUSSIANCORPORAL

[See page 57

' lOGOLEVITCH, HE SAID, " I AM VERY MUCH OBLIGED TO YOU FORTHE ENTERTAINMENT YOU HAVE GIVEN US "

THE

YOUNG RUSSIANCORPORAL

The Story of the YoungestVeteran of the IVar

BY

Corporal PAUL lOGOLEVITCH

A Soldier in the Russian Jrmy at Tzvelvei ILLUSTRATED

HARPER & BROTHERS PUBLISHERS

NEW YORK AND LONDON

The Young Russian Corporal

Copyright 1919, by Harper & Brothers

Printed in the United States of America

Published September, 1919

I-T

CONTENTS

CHAP. PAGE


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I. Who said slac

er? i

II. First blood 15

III. A LEAP IN THE DARK 37

IV. I CAPTURE A GENERAL 48

V. I JOIN THE "fighting THIRD DRAGOONS" .... 60

VI. Dead man's shoes 76

VII. Cold steel 97

VIII. Surrounded by Germans iii

IX. On patrol 135

X. The battle of vSavendi

i 157

XI. WhEELLESS wagons ANT5 FIRELESS GUNS .... l8l

XII. A DISASTROUS FURLOUGH 203

XIII. Souvenirs 216

XIV. Two AGAINST TWENTY 233

XV. I MEET THE CZAR 245

XVI. Revolution 253

XVII. Across Siberia 276

XVIII. In the land of the free 285

XIX. Under the American eagle 307

ILLUSTRATIONS

"IOGOLEVITCH" he said, "I AM VERY MUCH OBLIGED TO

YOU FOR THE ENTERTAINMENT YOU HAVE GIVEN US." Frontispiece

I SAW THE HORSE REAR HIGH IN THE AIR, AND THEN THE

HUN THREW UP HIS HANDS CONVULSIVELY .... Page 32, 33

The next moment somebody's strong hand had

grabbed me by the nec " 7 1

"What was the meaning of the three horses I

noticed not far from here?" " 85

"You poor fiddler! Don't you now a dead man's


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boots are the luc

iest you can wear?" . . " 95

Before me was a huge German brandishing his gun " 105At length we managed to get out of the open

field and found shelter in the woods . . " 1 29

As I SNATCHED IT FROM THE TABLE I DETECTED A

STRANGE MOVEMENT OF THE OTHER TABLE-CLOTH " I5I

"Go UP-STAIRS AND WAIT UNTIL THE GERMANS COME!"

I ORDERED " 171

"I AM A POOR BOY AND I WANT TO EARN SOME MONEY IN

THE VILLAGE BY PLAYING MY VIOLIN'" , . . " 1 83

When I regained consciousness I was riding on a

HORSE, strapped ACROSS HIS BACK, HEAD DOWN-WARD " 201

When I came to my senses I was still lashed to

THE post " 217

The weapon was just in my hand when the officerturned and found himself facing his ownrevolver " 224

ILLUSTRATIONS

Captain Panunsev made a speech telling the men

OF MY experiences AND ANNOUNCED THAT I WASTO BE PRESENTED FOR A SECOND WAR CrOSS OF ST.

George Page 235

I LEAPED IN FRONT OF THE RIFLES AND ORDERED THEMEN WHO WERE ADVANCING TOWARD THE DOOR TOSTOP AND THROW UP THEIR HANDS " 239

A PATROL OF MOUNTED POLICE CAME GALLOPING DOWNTHE STREET AND FIRED A VOLLEY OF SHOTS POINT-

BLANK INTO A CROWD ON A CORNER " 257

"You CALL ME A ROBBER, YOU RUSSIAN DOg!" HESHOUTED, JUMPING AT ME AND SEIZING ME BY THETHROAT " 293

''He seems TO WANT TO BLEED THE ReD CROSS, THAT's

all is that a crime in this count .y?" ... " 298"Courage and bravery won't win a war without


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ammunition to bac

them up," i declared . . " 323

PUBLISHERS' NOTE

When Paul logolevitch was wor

ing on the manu-script presented in these pages he dined one eveningwith Mr. Godfrey M. Lebhar, of New Yor

, whowas helping him to put the boo into shape forpublication.

Paul didn't ta

e any dessert.

Some evenings later, when the two were againdining together, Paul again declined dessert.

The idea of a boy consistently "passing up"dessert was unusual enough to prompt a questionas to the reason.

"I have not eaten sweetness since I was sevenyears old," the Russian boy explained, in his peculiar

phraseology. "I was so fond of sweetness then thatI thought it would be a good thing not to eat it.It taught me to say 'No' when I was stronglytempted to say 'Yes.' After a year or two I lostall desire for sweetness, and now I never eat it."

The incident, unimportant in itself, is interestingbecause it reveals a phase of the boy's characterwhich explains better than any other single factorhow it was possible for him to have accomplishedmore at the age of seventeen than most of us evendream of achieving in a lifetime. The strength ofwill which he developed as a mere boy carried him

PUBLISHERS' NOTE

safely over obstacles which would have stopped mostof us.

When the Great War bro e out Paul was wellstarted on a musical career which promised to puthim in the front ran of modern violinists. Forthe sa

e of an ideal to prove that a Russian boy ofthe Jewish faith was not afraid to fight for his

country Paul promptly decided to abandon hismusical career and fight for Russia. Because of hisyouth and other handicaps he had a hard time gettinginto the army, but his determination and persistencewon the day for him. The boy violinist becamethe boy cavalryman. During the two strenuousyears which followed, his will-power and devotionto an ideal carried him triumphantly through manya hair-raising adventure.


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When the war was over so far as Russia was con-cerned Paul made his way to America, where hehoped to continue his fight for the Allied cause.Despite his military record, there was no place forhim in our army. He was too young.

Then some one told him that he could rendergreater service as a spea

'er in the campaign whichthe United States Shipping Board was waging tospeed up war wor

, but Paul could spea

hardlya word of English.

He started at once to master the English language,and within two or three months had made suchprogress that he was able to address rough-and-ready American wor

ing-men in their native tongue.His success as an orator was so pronounced that hewas sent all over the country to arouse the patriot-ism of war wor ers.

PUBLISHERS' NOTE

When the armistice was signed and his war-time activities were over, the obvious thing for Paulto have done would have been to have resumed hismusical career, but Paul had another vision.

"I believe that Russia and America are the twogreatest countries in the world," he declared, "andI have decided to devote the rest of my life tobringing them closer together. I love my music,but 1 love my Russia more!"

He at once obtained a position in the ForeignDepartment of one of America's most important

ban

ing institutions, and to-day, at the age of seven-teen, he is in the Far East, engaged in establishing abranch ban for the organization he represents.

In presenting the inspiring story of Paul logole-vitch the boy violinist, the boy soldier, the boyorator, the boy patriot, and, above all, the boyidealist the publishers wish to ac

nowledge theassistance of Mr. Godfrey M. Lebhar, who helpedhim to prepare his manuscript for publication.




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WHO SAID SLACKER?

WHEN the Great War bro e out, the ideathat I might play an active part in itnever occurred to me. At any rate, if it did Icertainly never gave it a moment's seriousconsideration.

In the first place, I was only a boy. Secondly,I had a watchful father and a doting mother.Thirdly, and perhaps principally, I had acareer.

Somebody had discovered when I was aboutfoiu* years old that I had some musical talent,and my family had promptly decided that onemore name a very long and unwieldy name was to be added to the long list of great mu-sicians that Russia had produced.

From th^t time on, everything I had done,

THE YOUNG RUSSIAN CORPORAL

every plan I had made, every step I had ta en almost every breath I had breathed hadbeen based upon the one thought that one dayI was to be the world's greatest violinist!

Thus, when I was eight years old, in orderthat I might enter the Imperial Conservatoireat St. Petersburg, my family had moved allthe way from Harbin, Manchuria, a distanceof nearly six thousand miles! We had beenliving at Harbin since the Russo-Japanese War,

when my father, who was a doctor in the Russianarmy, was stationed in that vicinity. I hadplayed before the great Prof. Leopold Auer, atthe Conservatoire, and had impressed him tosuch an extent that I had been admitted as astudent under the special care of his assistant.Professor Nalbandian.

Certainly I did not imagine that a littlething li e the war would be allowed to interferewith the program that I had been following soreligiously ever since my infancy. Indeed, ifany one had as ed nie, I should have said that

about the last boy in all the world to be af-fected by a universal call to arms would bePaul logolevitch.

It required only about four wee s after theRussian mobilization, however, to demonstratethat whether or not I might ever turn out to bethe world's greatest violinist, no one could everdeny me the title of the world's poorest guesser.


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Ml

WHO SAID SLACKER?

The Russian mobilization began July 31,1914.On that day I was still at a small place inFinland where I had been spending my summervacation. I started for St. Petersburg at once,and three days after I got bac my father leftfor the front, having been given a commissionas major in the medical corps of the Twenty-fifth Tvers

aia Drudgina, an infantry regimentstationed near Warsaw.

The new term at the Conservatoire didn'tbegin until August 20th. Most of the studentslived out of town and had not yet come to St.Petersburg, but some, of course, lived in thecity. One of the latter was Sammy Fin el.Outside of myself, he was perhaps the youngestof the three thousand students at the Conserva-toire, and that fact had made us close chums.

I met him on the Nevs

y Prospect the Broad-way of St. Petersburg the day after I got totown.

"Well, Sammy," I said, after we had ex-changed vacation experiences, " in a wee or twonow, I suppose, we'll be hard at it again, eh?"

"Not me, Paul!" he replied, very positively."I don't mind telHng you that the Conserva-toire has seen the last of me. I'm going toenlist!"

"Enlist!" I repeated, amazedly. "Why,you're only fifteen ! You couldn't if you wanted\o. They won't ta e you, and, besides"


"That's all right, Paul," interiiipted Sammy.'Til find a way. Did you see in the paperswhere the government doesn't expect muchhelp from the Jews? Did you read where itsaid the Jews are slac ers, Paul that we are

refusing to fight for Russia, and "

"That's a lie, Sammy!" I retorted. "Myfather didn't hesitate a moment, my cousins, too,have volunteered, and I now lots of other fel-lows who "

"Well, you'll now one more before the wee is out!" And Sammy left me, with a loo ofdetermination on his face that was quite un-


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mista able.

As I turned bac home I could not helpthin ing of Sammy's words: "The Jews areslac ers" "refusing to fight for Russia."

I new, of course, that Russia had treated ourpeople shamefully in the past although, becauseof my father's education and professional position,our own family had always enjoyed privilegeswhich were denied others of our race but surelythis was no time to throw our grievances inRussia's face. Refusing to fight for Russia!

As for myself, I loved Russia with all thepatriotic ardor that a boy can feel for hiscountry. I had seen much more of it than theaverage Russian boy more of it than theaverage American boy sees of the United States, and Russia is nearly three times as big. |

WHO SAID SLACKER?

had lived in central Siberia at Verchne Udins

,on La e Bai al, where I was born; in the FarEast, at Harbin, Manchuria; and in the capitalcity of St. Petersburg. Besides that, however,there was hardly a section of the country north, south, east, or west that I had notvisited in connection with my concert wor . Istarted to play at concerts when I was nine,had been on a concert tour all through Russiaand Siberia before I was eleven, and at twelve Ihad played in all the capitals of Europe.

The more I had seen of other countries andpeoples the more I had come to love my own. Iloved Russia's mighty rivers, her endless forests,her fertile plains, her teeming mines, her bound-ing orchards, her gushing oil-fields, and her lof-ty mountains, and I loved the Russian people,whose hearts are as big as their country andwhose minds are as simple and as guileless astheir winter snows. I new that in some re-spects Russia was far behind some of the othercountries I had visited, but I loved her just asshe was. Refuse to fight for Russia 1

That night and the following day I read thenewspapers closely. Sure enough, I ran acrossa paragraph here and an editorial there whichpointedly questioned the patriotism of RussianJews, just as Sammy had said, and it made theblood rush to my chee s to read it,

I decided to call on Sammy and tal it all

l5)


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over with him. On my way, I passed a shornipunct a m.obiHzation center. There was quitea crowd of men and women gathered outside,and in the center of one Httle group was aRussian cavalryman in full uniform.

He was a big, blond, intelligent-loo

ing fel-low, and, while only a private, he was not of theusual muzhi

, or peasant, type. I could nothelp thin ing what a bad time Germany wasgoing to have if our army of eight million menincluded many li e this powerful trooper.

"Luc y for Russia she doesn't depend uponthe Jews to defend her!" he was saying as Iapproached. "I can tell you the Huns wouldbe in St. Petersburg by this time if we had todepend on those slac ers!"

"You're right, soldier, you're quite right!"agreed a big, hul

ing fellow in civilian clotheswho had stood with open mouth, listening to thespea er, and who now too off his cap andwaved it.

"It's a wonder you wouldn't do some fightingyourself!" I cried, stepping up to him and then,as he turned and swung at me, darting quic lyout of his reach.

This incident only served to emphasize whatthe newspapers were printing. It might not be

true that the Jews were shir

ing their duty, but,at any rate, everybody seemed to thin it was,and that was bad enough.

\o\

WHO SAID SLACKER?

I tal ed the matter over with my brotherBoris. He was two years older than I, andhe had a pretty level head.

"I wouldn't worry about it at all, Paul," hesaid, reassuringly. "We're too young to getinto this, anyway, and, besides, what do we carewhat the papers say? Haven't they alwaysattac ed us? If it isn't one thing it's another,and now, of course, it is only natural that theyshould cast slurs at our patriotism. Forget it!"

I couldiit forget it. During the days that


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followed I thought of it more and more. WhenI went out I overheard conversations amongpeople in the streets and between passengers inthe street-cars, and when I stayed home I readthe same false insinuations in the papers.

Then the Conservatoire opened and I went toreport. Every one was tal

ing about the war.Reports of the successful invasion of East Prus-sia by our troops had come in and filled us allwith enthusiasm. Many of our students didn'tshow up. Others came in uniform just to saygood-by before joining their regiments. Stillothers were planning to leave within a wee

ortwo.

Never in the course of my musical studies hadI made a worse showing than I did those first fewdays of the term. No matter how hard I tried,I just could not

eep my thoughts on my wor

.The teachers made allowances, of course, bC'


cause of the distraction of the times, but therewere hmits to their patience.

One afternoon I was playing for Professor Nal-bandian. Other students were in the studioawaiting their turn, and peering through theglass partition which formed one of the wallsof the room were still others who usually as-sembled when one of the big professors wasgiving instruction.

I started off all right, but soon my thoughtswandered to Sammy, who had failed to showup, and who I figured must have carried outhis intention to enlist. I was just picturinghim in a trench with shrapnel exploding allaround him when bang! crash! something ex-ploded right at my elbow.

It was the professor! Without any prelim-inary warning, he had arisen from his chair,grabbed the music I was supposed to be reading,and thrown it angrily out of the door, themusic-stand crashing to the floor at the same

time.

It was just his polite way of saying to in-attentive students, "If you can't follow themusic on the violin, follow it on your handsand nees!"

As I stooped, shamefacedly, to pic up thescattered sheets I apologized to him, but hewas too angry to notice me and bec oned for


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the next student to ta e my place at the musig-

WHO SAID SLACKER?

stand, which the accompanist had replaced.I had seen the professor act in this way withother students, but this was the first time Ihad given him cause to treat me in that man-ner, and I felt very much ashamed of myselfas I made my way out of the studio.

This incident acted upon me as a dash ofcold water upon the face of a fainting person.It brought me to my senses. Instantly I sawthat my musical career, for the present, at anyrate, was over. It was useless for me to attemptto continue my wor when other things, whichnow seemed to me of far greater importance,were uppermost in my mind. There was onlyone thing for me to do, and I

new what it was.

That night, when Boris and I were getting

ready for bed, I started the subject again.

''Why don't you enlist, Boris?" I as ed.

"Me enlist?" he repeated. "Me? I wouldin a minute, and you now it, only I'm tooyoung."

"Well, you're as old as Sammy Fin el, aren'tyou, and he's gone? Of course, if you tell themhow old you are, they won't ta e you, butyou don't have to tell them all you now.Boris, I'm going to try it myself!"

" Yoii, Paul!" he answered, satirically, "why,you must be crazy! After all the time you'vedevoted to your musical education and every-thing, you're going to give it all up? You a

I9]


soldier! Why, Paul, if they put you on sentry-

go they'd have to send some one with you tohold your hand you're even afraid to sleepalone, and you

now it!"

The latter charge was so near the truth thatI had no answer to ma e, and I got into bedwithout another word. Ever since I had beenan infant I had been afraid to sleep alone. Inthe days that were to come, during many along and lonely vigil in the dar est of Russian


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nights, with German snipers all around me, Isometimes recalled this conversation with Boris but that's getting ahead of my story.

The next morning I had a serious tal withmy mother. I told her I wanted to get into thefight for Russia, and I wanted her consent.

My mother was not easily startled, but thisentirely unexpected suggestion from me nearlytoo her off her feet. She would not give it amoment's consideration. I was entirely tooyoung, it wasn't necessary, Russia didn't needboys, and last, but not least my career!

I argued and coaxed and fumed. I told her Irealized what a lot I would be sacrificing if Ileft the Conservatoire, but I felt that I wouldbe sacrificing more if I stayed. It did no good.

"No, Pavli ," she answered, finally. "It isout of the question. You might as well give upthe idea now once and for all."

"Every one is saying that the Jews are trying

[lo]

WHO SAID SLACKER?

to get out of fighting," I pointed out. "Whenthey are called to the colors, they try to getpositions that will eep them out of the firing-line. It loo s "

"Who's saying it, Pavli

? A lot of muzhi

swho can neither read nor write, and a lot ofchinovni i [petty officials], who thin that theeasiest way to earn promotion is to vent theirspleen on the Jews and the peasant classes!"

"No, mother, I've heard it from others intelligent people," and I told her of the Russiancavalryman whom I had heard spea ing at theshorni punct. "We've got to correct that notion,mother, and the only way those of us who arenot called can do it is to volunteer, and that'swhat I want to do."

"Well, I'll wire your father," she finally agreed,"but I can tell you now it will be useless."

In due course word came bac that in myfather's opinion I would ma e a far better vio-linist than I ever could hope to be a soldier, andthat, as Russia had all the soldiers she needed,I had better stic to the Conservatoire, becausethe world could never have too many great


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violinists.

I did not let the matter rest there. Day afterday I tal ed it all over with Boris, and at lastI got him almost as enthusiastic as I was myself.One day he came into the house and told me hehad a big surprise for me.

[ii]


We went up to our room.

"Paul," he whispered, "I've decided you'reright. The thing for us to do is to enHst. Let'sgo!"

I could hardly believe my ears. At once webegan our preparations. We had only a fewhours, as we soon decided to ta e the train thatvery night for Warsaw a distance of some

fifteen hundred miles and a three-day journey.I shall not go into that adventure at lengthbecause I have so many more to relate thatwor ed out more successfully. This one proveda fizzle.

Suffice it to say, we bought some uniforms,pac ed them into a bundle, and got away allright, and we were able to get our railwaytic ets without much difficulty, but after wehad traveled all night the train stopped at oneof the important stations, a couple of gendarmesentered, pic ed us out without hesitation, and,

after as

ing us a few questions, sent us bac

home! We found out then that the fellow whohad sold us the uniforms had afterward becomescared and had called up my mother. A hastywire to the authorities was all that had beennecessary to nip our flight in the bud.

Boris decided that he was through, but Ibecame more determined than ever, and I toldmy mother that if she didn't help me to getinto the army somehow I would do something

[12]

WHO SAID SLACKER?

desperate. She must have seen I was in earnest,for she wired my father again, and this time,much to my surprise, she got the followinganswer :


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Bring Paul to me at once. We'll give him a taste ofwar and see how he H

es it. Major Iogolevitch.

I didn't now exactly how to interpret this,and my doubts were materially increased when,on the day of our departure, my mother insistedthat I ta e my violin with me.

"What's the idea?" I protested. "Am Igoing to war or is it a concert tour?"

I was so glad to be on my way to Warsawwithout fear of being stopped and sent home,however, that I did not press my objections,and so I went to war with my mother in onehand and my violin in the other! Little did Ithin then what an important part a violinmight play on occasion even in actual warfare.

When we got to Warsaw my father disclosedthat he had obtained permission from the Com-mander-in-chief of the Russian army for me towear the uniform of a Russian soldier and toact as mounted messenger under his protection!

My joy

new no bounds, and the three daysthat followed, which were spent in sight-seeingin Warsaw, were all too long. They came toan end at last and my mother returned to St.Petersburg, while my father and I went on to2 [13]


camp. On the way my father explained that

the only reason he had as

ed me to bring myviolin was that I might provide amusement forhis fellow-officers, in whose company I was tospend much time.

I had to have a uniform made specially forme, as the regular army clothing issued atcamp was miles too big. I was glad of it whenI saw the outfit my father had ordered. Itmade my eyes swim.

There was a green coat, riding-breeches with leather on the insides of the legs high

leather boots lined with fur, a white Persian-lamb fur hat, and a Sam Browne belt fromwhich hung a Lady Browning revolver and asmall sword! Besides this I was provided witha carbine, or short cavalry rifle of the regulationtype.

Attired in his full uniform, the new mountedmessenger of the Twenty-fifth Tvers aia Drud-gina must have loo ed li e the Czar of all the


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Russias himself. Of this much I'm sure hecertainly felt li

e it.

II

FIRST BLOOD

'T'HE camp of the Twenty-fifth Tvers

aia* Drudgina, to which I was attached asmounted messenger, was about five miles fromWarsaw. It was a regiment of infantry re-serves from the town of Tver "Drudgina"meaning "regiment," and "Tvers aia," "ofTver."

During the first wee

I was given very littleto do in fact, the ofBcers refused to ta e meseriously, and the men, because of the positionmy father occupied, did not treat me as I wouldhave preferred to be treated and as would havebeen more befitting the lowly ran I occupied.I was only a messenger. I didn't want to be

treated li

e an officer.

Things were so unsatisfactory to me in thisrespect that I spo e to my father about it.

"If you have tried to ma e things easy forme, father," I said, "you haven't done me anyfavor. I wanted to be treated li e any othersoldier."

[15]


He insisted that no special favors had beenas ed for me, and when, that same afternoon,the colonel's orderly handed me a pac et to becarried to the brigade headquarters at Warsaw,I felt that perhaps my misgivings had beenunwarranted.

At any rate, I jumped on my horse andstarted off for Warsaw as proud as if I had beenintrusted with a mission of life-and-death im-

portance. Indeed, as I trotted along the much-traveled road between the camp and the city,I could not help regretting that there was noprospect of attac by hostile patrols and thatI would have no chance to show how bitterlyI would fight if the occasion arose. We weretoo far from the front for any such adventure,however, and about the only danger that couldcome to the pac et which I had carefully placedin my inside poc et was that I might lose it,


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and to ma e sure that it was still secure I eptslapping the breast of my coat as I jogged along.

I had gone about two miles when I heard thehoofs of a horse behind me, and I slowed up alittle. As the rider approached I recognizedin him one of the cavalrymen attached to theregiment.

"Well, Ivanoff," I said, as he came abreast ofme, "I suppose you're headed for Warsaw, too,eh?"

" Yes," he repHed. " That's the idea." And

Ii6j

FIRST BLOOD

then, somewhat sul

ily, he added, " I'm supposedto see that no one steals you!"

I was so angry at the thought that my fatherhad evidently felt it necessary to have me"chaperoned" that I dug my spurs into myhorse's side and galloped off as fast as I could.I new how to ride ^my brother and I had eachowned a pony when we were ids in Harbin and before my "escort" had time to reaUzewhat had happened I was half a mile ahead ofhim. As I came to the outs irts of Warsaw, thetraffic became so thic and there were so manychildren in the streets that I was forced to slowdown and I was afraid I would be overta en,but, fortunately, my "escort" encoimtered the

same difficulties, and when I reached brigadeheadquarters I was alone.

"I have here" ^indicating my breast poc

et "important papers from the Twenty-fifth Tver-s aia Drudgina for his Excellence the brigadier-general," I declared, importantly, to the orderlyon duty at headquarters.

The orderly happened to be only a yoimg fel-low himself, and he felt perhaps as importantas I did.

"Very well, hand them over, and "

"Hand them over, nothing," I interrupted."I will hand them to his Excellence myself!"

The orderly eyed me carefully from head tofoot and then from foot to head he did not

[17]


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"You are going home with me, logolevitch,"he said, "to be my guest."

I don't now who was the more surprised, Ior the orderly, but as I saluted and turned tofollow the general out of the room I got a glimpseof the most astounded young man I had everseen in my life. He had been standing againsta fiat-top des when the general came out, andwhen he heard me addressed by name andinvited to the general's home he just fell forward,supporting the weight of his body on his bentfists, his lower jaw dropped, and his eyes fairlypopped out of his head.

But I was almost equally amazed. How didthe general now my name ? Why was he ta inga mere mounted messenger as a guest to hishome?

I as ed no questions, but my amazementincreased when, at the house where the generalwas stopping, he introduced me on terms of

[19]


social equality to the rest of the party. Therewere about ten in all, including two very hand-some young ladies, three young officers, and thehost and hostess. When the general referredto me as the "rising young violinist" I assumedthat he must have heard of me in connectionwith my concert wor , and I let it go at that.

After supper I was as ed to play the violin, aninstrument being provided for me, and one ofthe young ladies accompanied me on the piano.The performance lasted until after midnight.Apart from the fact that it was necessary to eep the shades entirely drawn down so as notto let any light into the street, on account ofpossible air-raids, there was little to distin-guish this from an ordinary gathering in peace-times.

In the morning the general directed me to

return to camp.

"Is there no answer, your Excellence," Iventured, "to the papers I brought you yes-terday?"

' ' Papers? " he repeated, vaguely. * ' What pa-pers do you refer to, logolevitch? "

"Why, the pac et from the Twenty-fifth


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Tvers aia Drudgina."

"Oh, that," he replied, indifferently. "Thatwas merely a letter of introduction from yourfather telling me that you could play the violinand would be pleased to amuse us!"

[20]

FIRST BLOOD

A letter of introduction! I don't

nowwhether the general noticed my disappointmentor not, but I was quite sure my father should now the state of my feelings when I sawhim.

"If I thought I got into the army just toamuse the officers," I declared, angrily, when Isaw my father, "I would get out of it just assoon as I could. That wasn't what I gave upmy career for! I want to do real army wor

,

and if I am not going to be allowed to, thesooner I

now it the better!"

My father assured me that more importantwor lay ahead of me and cautioned me not tobe too impatient.

From that time on I did receive more im-portant assignments, the officers beginning tosend me on errands of a military character assoon as I learned my way about.

This continued for about two months, and

then our regiment and the hospital force wereordered nearer to the front lines.

I don't thin

I slept a win

the night beforewe were to start I was so excited at the pros-pect of getting into action. We started earlyin the morning, abovit three o'cloc . It waspitch-dar

when we too

the road. By thistime I had been detailed as personal messengerto Colonel Yannaw, the commander of theregiment, and I rode right behind him at the

[21]

GNG RUSSIAN CORPORAL

/entire regiment. The hospital unit^

A my father was connected, brought

^ar.


20/225

as very cold, but I didn't notice it at

1. I didn't even notice that we got no

breaKfast. As the hours wore on, however,

hunger, fatigue, and cold formed a combination

which began to ma

e itself felt. I heard an

occasional complaint among the men, but I was

determined to let none escape me. After all,

one has to expect privations in the army, I

argued to myself, and up to that time I had

nown none. Mine were to come in full meas-

ivre later.

At last, early in the afternoon we received

orders to rest, get out otu'

itchen, and eat din-ner. Never before had borsch (Russian soup)tasted so good to me, and the asha (corn-meal), the blac bread, and the veal were allinfinitely better than any asha, blac bread, orveal I had tasted in all my life before.

We soon resumed the march, and with ourstomachs well lined we were in much brighterspirits, although, if a foreigner had heard ussinging as we swung along the snow-bound roads,he would never have guessed how light-heartedwe really felt, because the songs the Russian

soldiers sing have the most mournful airs imag-inable and the words are seldom more thanchildish nonsense.

[22]

FIRST BLOOD

What, for instance, could be more ridiculousthan such lines as these:

Three hamlets, two villages,

Eight girls, I only.

Where the girls go, there go I,

Girls in the woods, I go with them,

Girls out of the woods, I go with them,


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22/225

We had been at Ulinec about a wee when Iwas ordered by the colonel to get a rifle andtwo hundred bullets from the quartermaster

[24]

FIRST BLOOD

and be ready at three o'cloc to start on a joiir-ney. At the appointed time I reported at thecolonel's quarters, leading his horse by the reins.He appeared promptly and ordered me to fol-low him. We rode for an hour through theforest, the colonel continually consulting a mapand telling me to watch our course carefully, asit would be necessary for me the next day toguide one of the companies of our regiment overthe same route.

We finally came to a clearing, where we leftour horses and went wal ing around the hills,going through various openings in barbed-wire

fences. The place seemed to me to be entirelyuninhabited, but the colonel explained to methat right behind the fences were our reservetrenches, and, siu-e enough, as I approached nearenough to see, what appeared to be a deadplain was veritably alive with men. There werehundreds of them quartered in the trenches.

"The men here are not wasting their time,as you may thin ," the colonel pointed out."The more time our men can spend here themore valuable this reserve line becomes, becausethe whole terrain in front of us is laid out li e

a chec

er-board and every day's calculationsand gun-practice enable us more effectively tocontrol each particular square."

On the way bac to Ulinec I made a secondeffort to observe the landmar s, and the next

[25]


day, when I was given a map and told to con-duct one of our detachments, under a youngofficer, to the reserve trenches, I felt sure, abso-lutely sure, that I new the way.

It wasn't until we had been traveling abouttwice as long as the march ought to have ta

enthat I realized that we were lost!

"Give me that map," the officer demanded,


23/225

angrily, seeing my confusion. "We're abouttwo hours late already. You'll have us bac

inWarsaw if we leave it to you much longer!"

I had no answer and handed the mapover to the officer. After studying it for severalminutes and starting off once or twice in thewrong direction, we finally struc

the right pathand eventually landed at our destination aboutfive hours late!

For the delay caused by my misdirection Iwas severely reprimanded by the commanderin charge of the reserve trenches. For the nextfew days, every hour I had to myself I spent inthe saddle familiarizing myself with the roads,determined that no such misfortune should everoccur again if I could help it.

As I became more familiar with the map, Iwas again intrusted with missions to the reservetrenches, and soon I was attached to the trenchcommand as messenger.

I lived in the trenches for about a month.The experience was a valuable one. While it

I26J

FIRST BLOOD

was well beyond the danger zone, it gave me ataste of military life in the open and hardenedme considerably.

It was bitterly cold down there in the officers'dugout where I was quartered. There was nodoor to the place, and the fire we built madelittle impression on the cold winds that invadedour quarters. The place was lined with fir-tree branches and it had a wonderfully pleasantaroma, but it certainly was cold.

German airplanes flew over us almost daily,and that gave me a chance to practise pistol-and carbine-shooting, although in most casesthe Him machines were far beyond the rangeof my weapons. Outside of an occasional shell

from a German long-range gun, little occurredduring the next four wee s to disturb the regularroutine into which my life had fallen.

Then came word that the Germans were ma -ing a second big drive on Warsaw, and ourmedical unit was ordered to, the front lines,where it was badly needed. My father did notwant to leave me at Ulinec, and he was lessinclined to ta e me with him, and so he suggested


24/225

that I be transferred to Warsaw. I refused to go.

"Here is a real opportunity for me to serve,"I complained, "and you want me to quit! I now the roads now: I might be a real help toyour contingent on its way to the front. I wantto go with you!"

[27I


After considerable argument, that was theway it was arranged. My father as

ed thecolonel to transfer me to the medical imit as myfather's body-guard and guide, and his requestwas granted.

We started in a motor-car for Blonie andarrived there without incident. From there ourplan was to ma e Sochaczef , on the Bzura River.We had not gone far, however, when we en-

countered increasing numbers of retiring Rus-sian soldiers and transports. The roads becameso congested that we could ma e little headway.Suddenly German shrapnel began to burst aboveus and we realized that the enemy was nearerthan we had imagined. A big grenade struc fifty yards from our car, and the thin blac column of smo e that rose from the groundloo ed li e a geyser.

It was no fun. Sitting In a slow-movingmotor-car with shrapnel bursting all around youhas little to commend it. I was scared stiff,

but I

ept my mouth shut and tried not toshow how scared I really was.

"I thought our troops were still in possessionof Sochaczef," our chauffeur declared to one ofthe soldiers who was passing our car. "That'seighteen miles from here, isn't it?"

"Yes," was the answer, "but we were toldto evacuate it, and if you don't turn bac you'llpretty quic find out why!"

[28]

FIRST BLOOD

According to another soldier we hailed, ourtroops were still in possession of Sochaczef, andhe was at a loss to account for the shrapnel andthe retreating soldiers.


25/225

We decided to proceed until we could get anintelligent idea of the exact situation, but wehad gone only about five miles more when thefire became so intense that we instructed thechauffeur to turn bac without further delay.In trying to turn the car he got stuc

in theditch, and while he was struggling with hissteering-wheel a shell burst right above us andshowered us with pieces of steel.

I turned quic ly to see whether my fatherhad been hit, and then I saw one of the physi-cians who had been sitting in the bac of thecar throw up his hands and fall forward, hishead covered with blood. The physician nextto him was also wounded, his right arm havingbeen almost severed at the elbow by a piece offlying shell. My father was apparently un-touched, but suffered from the shoc .

As for myself, I was untouched, I thought.My left hand was clutched in the hand of thechauffeur, who had grasped it with his wheel,and his grip was so tight that my wrist was

bleeding. Then I became aware of a sharppain in my shoulder, and, tearing open my coatto examine it, a piece of shrapnel which hadpenetrated the flesh just above the collar-bone

3 [29]


fell to the floor of the car. It was not a very-deep wound, but was bleeding freely. I closed

my coat quic

ly, as I did not want to alarm myfather.

My father and the chauffeur seemed to bestunned. I shouted at them, and, the Germanshelling abating for a moment, I finally mademyself heard and brought them to. We de-cided to abandon the car and, summoning help,lifted out the wounded doctors and carried themto a Red Cross ambulance which was trying toworm its way through the retiring soldiers.

Then I suggested that my father, the chauffeur,

and I try to ma

e our way through the woodsand thereby get more quic ly out of range ofthe German shells which were again beginningto bvirst all around us.

For five miles we continued through thewoods in the direction of Warsaw. All the timeI was trying to conceal my wound from my father.The blood had oozed through my coat and wasfreezing on me, and when my father finally noticed


26/225

it I said it came from the wounded doctors.

Suddenly I heard rifle-shots, and almost si-multaneously two Russian cavalrymen dartedby us and told us to hide as quic ly as we could.

"There's a German cavalry patrol not a milebehind us!" they shouted.

Before we could ma

e up our minds what todo the Germans were upon us.

[30]

FIRST BLOOD

In my hand was my father's revolver. Theleading German was not twenty feet from usand had raised his saber, when bang! bang! Ihad fired two shots in quic

succession. I sawthe horse rear high in the air, and then theHun threw up his hands convulsively. The

next moment his body was hanging lifeless fromthe saddle.

Almost simultaneously the chauffeur startedblazing away, and the second and third menfell. I fired the remaining shots in my gun,but I don't now what at the German patrolwas gone! All that was left was a prancinghorse, striving frantically to free itself from thereins which had become entangled around itslegs and were still held in the deathly grip ofits former rider, and two other Germans wholay quite still among the trees, their horses hav-

ing freed themselves and galloped away.

The whole thing happened so quic ly thatI had not had a real chance to get frightened, butmy father clasped me to his breast and said somenice things to me, and then he shoo the chauf-feur's hand and told him that his presence ofmind would be promptly reported to the com-mander of the outfit.

Finally we got on to the main road again, andthe soldiers we met informed us that the Ger-man drive had been definitely stopped.

When we got bac to Ulinec I had one of the

[31]

f !


27/225


28/225

been suffering and the shoc his system musthave sustained, he had calmly and quietly w^an-dered into the doctor's office and waited patient-ly with his uncanny burden until my fatherhad happened to give him attention !

What was my suffering compared with that?I as

ed myself, and it made it easier for me tobear the pain.

Nevertheless, I was sent to the hospital andthey

ept me there a wee

, and then I receivedthe unwelcome tidings that I was to be senthome! There was no use rebelling this time.My father pointed out that he himself had beenput temporarily on the reserve list on accountof the shell-shoc he had sustained, and as theorder under which I had been admitted into thearmy provided specifically that I could serveonly with my father, there was nothing more tobe done. Before I left the colonel shoo myhand and told me that he was presenting myname for a decoration for bravery and self-control.

The next day we started for Warsaw. Westayed there two days. Before we left I re-ceived a paper stating that I had been pro-

[35]


moted to the ran of corporal and that I washonorably discharged from the army on account

of my wound.

This was the beginning of February, 191 5. Ihad been in the army less than six months.

As we traveled bac to Petrograd, my fatherand I, I wondered whether the sacrifice I hadmade in giving up my musical career had reallybeen worth while. What had I accomplishedfor Russia? How had my humble participa-tion in the war helped in even the slightestdegree to remove the slurs which had been castat Jewish patriotism?

A copy of a Petrograd newspaper which thenewsboys brought into the train at Vilna gaveme the answer.

There, on the front page, was my picture, and,above it, glaring head-lines declared:

RUSSIA'S YOUNGEST HERO A JEW!


29/225


30/225

and so you'll find him over there" again point-ing to the infirmary. "He will be glad to seeyou, Paul."

I lost no time in getting across the campus tothe infirmary, but there they told me that Sammywas wheeling himself around the par in a wheel-chair, and after wandering around a bit I methim. Poor, poor fellow! The tears came tomy eyes and a big lump came up in my throatas I recognized him coming toward me. He

[38]

A LEAP IN THE DARK

loo ed very pale and run-down and that madehis blac

eyes flash even more brightly thanthey were accustomed to do. On his breastwas a medal.

I couldn't say a word, but Sammy was less

affected.

''Hello, Paul!" he greeted, cheerily. "Whatbrings you bac ?" And then we went fullyinto all the experiences we had had, and Sammy'sstory made all my adventures seem li e child'splay.

"You're a luc y fellow, Paul," he declared,as I wheeled him bac to the infirmary; "you'vegot another chance. I'm all through!"

"But my father insists that I have had

enough of fighting and "

"Don't you believe it!" interrupted Sammy,turning around in his chair and sha

ing his fin-ger in front of his face vehemently as he spo e ;"no one has had enough of fighting in a time H ethis as long as he is still able to fight somemore. As long as a fellow can fight and hiscountry needs him and everything, I thin heought to drop everything else and fight! I justwish I could go bac , that's all!"

I promised to see Sammy again very soon,

which I did. In the mean while, my father wasordered to Vitebs , as head of the medicalexamining board there, but before he went headvised me to give up any notion I might have

[39]



31/225

of getting bac

into the army and to go bac

tothe Conservatoire instead.

Within a wee or two I received throughthe provost-marshal in Petrograd a medal whichhad been awarded me by the Empress of Russia.It hung on a ribbon of orange and blac

, thecolors of the Order of St. George, and it borethe inscription, "For Bravery."

Following my father's advice, although it wasmuch against my personal inclination, I dis-carded my uniform, donned civilian clothes,and went bac to the Conservatoire. My civillife lasted, however, only a few wee

s.

In April came word that the Russian forceswere suffering reverses. After our tremendoussuccesses in Galicia, our capture of the fortressof Przemysl, our victorious campaign in theCarpathians, and our second invasion of EastPrussia, the Hun lines had stiffened, superiorleadership and strategy had outgeneraled us,

and now the Huns were sweeping our armiesbefore them as easily as we had dispersed theirs.

Again the newspapers began to belittle thepart the Jews were playing in the war. Indeed,some of them went so far as to say that thereverses our armies were .suffering were dueto the treachery of Jews in the ran s who werebetraying their comrades.

It did not ta e me very long this time toma e up my mind where my duty lay. My

[40]

A LEAP IN THE DARK

mother new what was in my mind, but shewould do nothing to help me get into the armyagain, and so I decided to try it on my ownaccount. My former experience, my medal, andthe fact that I now ran ed as a corporal werefactors in my favor, but my age and the factthat I had been discharged from the army were

against me.

At the Warsaw station in Petrograd, fromwhich the troop-trains left for the front, I foundit almost impossible to ma e any headway having neither a viniform nor special permissionto cross the trac

s.

As I hung around the trac s, wondering howI could possibly get aboard one of the trains,


32/225

I was approached by an officer.

"Which trac does troop-train No. 5 leavefrom?" he demanded, as I greeted him.

"Why, that is the train that I am going on,"I replied, quic ly recognizing my opportunity."I'm siu-e it leaves from one of the left trac

s.Will the officer accompany me?"

He indicated his consent, and with him at myside it was a simple matter to get by the gen-darmes.

When we got over to the set of trac s on theleft I pointed out a train several trac

s awayand told him that that was trac No. 5, and ashe left me I jtimped aboard a freight-car attachedto a train which was just starting on my right.

I41I


In the car were several cavalrymen, eighthorses, and a lot of saddles and hay. I ex-plained my plight to the soldiers, showed themmy medal, and pleaded with them to let meride in the car with them. They promptly as-sured me that they had not the slightest objec-tion, and invited me to join them in the tea andbread which they had just prepared, which Idid.

We were soon all very good friends, and when

we were approaching our first stopping-place themen advised me to jump into the hay and covermyself up, in case the car should be entered byany of the authorities. Transportation roomwas so valuable at that time that every precau-tion was ta en to prevent unauthorized peoplefrom "stealing" a ride even in a freight-car.

All day long we traveled without incident,but the following morning a gendarme enteredour car and made a rather careful survey of theindividuals in it, and the nearer we approachedVilna the more frequent these inspections be-

came. The co-operation of the soldiers invaria-bly did the tric for me, however. In fact, theygot so proficient in concealing me that the in-spections gave me no concern. As we ap-proached an important station I would jumpinto the hay and the soldiers would cover mewith saddles, and so I would remain until thetrain was well on its way again.

[42]


33/225

A LEAP IN THE DARK

At Vilna, however, instead of a gendarme, anofBcer entered the car and behind him was thegeneral of the whole division! Instantly themen jumped to attention, while I remained, asmotionless as I could, on the floor of the car,beneath a pile of hay and saddles.

"We're searching for a boy wearing a medaland answering to the name of Paul logolevitch ! "the officer stated quic ly, glancing at a telegramhe had in his hand. I could see him through mycamouflage. ' ' Have any of you men seen him? ' *

It seemed li e an hour before their answercame, and then almost as one man they an-swered, "No, sir, we have seen no such boyduring the whole trip from Petrograd!"

I breathed such a sigh of relief that some of

the saddles on top of me shifted and I wasafraid for a moment the whole collection wouldcome toppling to the floor and attract the of-ficers' attention.

"This boy is missing from his home. Thelocal authorities inform us that he boarded thisvery train. If any of you men now anythingabout it and are trying to shield him, I warnyou now that you will be court-martialed and itwill go hard with you if you don't give me thefacts now!"

There was no answer, and the officers turnedto leave. At the door they stopped, and onceagain the officer spo e:

[4-3]


"I'll give you men one more warning. Ifany of you have seen this boy, spea

up nowor suffer the consequences!"

My mind had been wor ing very quic ly. Ifthe men stuc

to their story in order to save me,and I was discovered afterward despite theirloyalty, they would be most severely punished.If, on the other hand, I were to give myself upnow and declare that the men

new nothing ofmy presence in the car, while my whole planwould be shattered, these big-hearted muzhi swould not suffer for their indness to me.


34/225


35/225

would assist me to get away.

4 [45]


I had not really thought of ttying to escape,but it was so hot in the car from the steam heatthat the door had been left open, and it wouldnot have been a very difficult matter to havegotten out. As we approached a station orslowed down the gendarme was alert enough tostation himself at the door, although I don'tbelieve he imagined I had any idea of escaping.

We had been rumbling along for about anhour when it suddenly occurred to me that if Iwas going to escape, the sooner I accomplishedit the better it would be for me, because thefarther we got away from Vilna the greater thedistance I would have to travel in my effortto get to the front.

Telling the baggagemen that I was going tota e a nap, I went over to one of the comersof the car and lay down. I had been lyingthere only a few minutes when I overheard aspirited argument going on between the men andthe gendarme over some unimportant subject,and I got the idea that they were merely tryingto divert his attention from me to give me anopportunity to escape if that were my inten-tion.

Carefully I edged my way to the open door.

The train was going not more than fifteen milesan hour, but outside it was pitch-dar and I hadnot the slightest idea what I might jump into ifever I could get up the courage to ma

e the leap.

[46I

A LEAP IN THE DARK

I got to within three feet of the door withoutattracting the gendarme's attention. The train

did not seem to be going particularly fast, thegendarme was not paying the slightest attentionto me, thin

ing, no doubt, that I had fallenasleep, the open door bec oned to me, andwithout a moment's further hesitation I got tomy nees, crawled to the door, stood erect for abrief second, and jumped out into the dar

ness!


36/225

IV

I CAPTURE A GENERAL

AS soon as my feet touched the ground it^ seemed to jump up and hit me in the head.Over and over again I rolled and I did not seemto be able to stop myself, and then I landedplump up against a fence. If that fence hadn'tbeen there, I thin

I would have been rollingstill.

For a moment or two I lay still. I was afraideven to try to move my arms or legs, for fear offinding that I had been badly injured. WhenI finally did ta

e an inventory of myself I foundthat all I had was a sprained an le, a fine col-lection of bruises and scratches, and a deep-rooted grievance against the man who selectedthe stones for that road-bed. He must havespent a lifetime pic ing out the ones with thesharpest edges.

I decided to get away from the trac

as fast

as I could, feeling that as soon as the gendarmediscovered my escape he would give the alarmand, perhaps, have the train stopped to search

[48]

I CAPTURE A GENERAL

for me. About a mile away I could see somelights, and I limped my way toward them.

At the first little hut I came to, an old womanopened the door after I had noc ed severaltimes.

"What do you want, you little devil?" shedemanded, angrily, as she held up a candle andgot a glimpse of perhaps the most disreputable-loo

ing young man her eyes had ever beheld.I was cut and scratched and covered with dirtand gravel.

"I want to come in and clean myself. I hada bad fall. And then I want to get to Vilna," I

replied, showing her a ruble.

"Vilna! It is twenty-five miles from here.You can come in, but you will have to ta e thetrain to Vilna," and then she called out a nameand an old man, evidently her husband, cameclattering through from a rear room, where hehad been sleeping.

When I was cleaned up as well as their primi-


37/225

tive facilities made possible I succeeded, aftermuch argument, in getting the old man to wa

eup one of his neighbors, who had a horse andwagon, and bargained with him to ma e thetrip at once.

We drove all night. It was eight o'cloc when we reached the city the next morning.The cost of the trip left me with but a few dollars.I bought brea

fast at a cheap restaurant, and

[49]


then I went over to the station where the troop-trains were going out.

There were hundreds of freight-cars loadedwith ammunition, food, and troops standingalong the reserve trac s, waiting for their turnto come to start for the front. One train

seemed just about to start, and to a group ofcavalrymen who were squatting on the floorof one of the cars I told my story as briefly asI could.

They grasped the situation quic ly and thenthey grasped me by the hands and pulled meup to them. They were just as sympatheticas my former traveling companions had been I wondered if all cavalrymen were so big-hearted and they told me to go over to one corner of thecar and ma e myself at home with the horses.

It was nearly three hours before the trainfinally started, and just before it got under waya young officer jumped aboard and declaredthat he was going to honor us with his companyas far as the next station we stopped at, whichhe said would be about three hours later. As Iwas fairly covered by a pile of saddles, whichseemed to grow heavier every minute, I did notrelish the idea of having to remain in that con-dition for three hours even for the honor oftraveling with an officer but I was afraid toreveal my presence to him, and decided tostic it out.

l5o]

I CAPTURE A GENERAL

My discomfort was increased very shortly bya restlessness which developed among the horses.They started to fight! Their hind legs began


38/225


39/225

" Yoimg man," he said, in a indly way, "I amgoing to do what I can to help 3^ou. There's acavalr}" regiment in town now and I now thecommander. I will see him to-day or to-morrowand I will spea to him about you."

I than ed him a thousand times, and as edhim whether I could increase my indebtednessto him to the extent of a uniform.

"Yes, yes. I'll trust 3^ou. I'll fix up a uni-

[52]

I CAPTURE A GENERAL

versity student's overcoat for you. I have onein stoc

. Come bac

this afternoon and we willsee what we can do."

That afternoon I returned to the store ac-cordingly, and in very short order I came out

attired in a regular student's overcoat whichfitted me well and made me loo

so much olderthat I no longer had any fear that I would berejected on account of my youth.

Two days later the merchant too me to divi-sion headquarters and presented me to the gen-eral.

"How old are you, logolevitch?" the generalas ed, after I had given him a few facts regard-ing my former army experience.

"Eighteen, sir!" I replied, but the blush thatcame to my chee s revealed at once that I waslying, and, under the sharp gaze of the officer,I could not stic

to it.

"Seventeen, I should say," I stimibled.

"How old are you, logolevitch?" he repeated,firmly, as though he had heard neither my firstnor my second answer.

"Fourteen, sir," I replied, unable longer tolie; "that is, I will be fourteen in December."

Then I showed him some newspaper clippings,my discharge papers, and the paper which myfather had received from the main headquartersof the Russian army granting me permission toserve as his messenger.

[53]


40/225


"I have heard, your Excellence," I hastened tosay, fearing that he was going to decide againstme, "that no man who wants to serve his countrywill be turned down if he appeals to you. Ireally did not mean to lie about my age, but Iwanted to get into the army so very muchthat"

"I'm going to give you a chance, logolevitch,"he replied, getting up and sha ing my hand."I'm going to write your father to get his con-sent, but in the mean while I will ta e theresponsibility upon myself. If you really wantto serve, we'll put you in the regimental

itchen, as the coo

's assistant. How willthat do?"

"I am very grateful," I replied. "I am anx-ious to serve in any capacity," for, although Icould not see much glory in itchen wor , I hada suspicion that the general was only trying me

out, and I wanted to show him that I

new thata soldier's first duty is to obey orders, and obeywillingly.

My theory did not wor out, however, forinto the itchen I went and there I stayed, andthere was no play about the wor the coo made me do, either. It had one compensa-tion, though in the itchen we saw to it thatwe didn't get the worst of the food that we hadto prepare.

The next day I was called into the general's

[54]

I CAPTURE A GENERAL

quarters and as

ed for my father's address. Igave him an address of six months ago, whichhad since been changed. I hoped that, with theimperfect telegraph system prevaihng in Russia,my father would never receive the general'smessage and that, in the mean time, the condi-

tions imder which I had been ta

en into theregiment might be forgotten.

That was another theory that didn't wor out,as I discovered when, a wee after I had beeninstalled as coo 's assistant, I was again sum-moned before the general.

"logolevitch," he said, "no word has comefrom your father. It is a wee since I wired. I


41/225

am afraid I shall have to let you go ! "

"Will your Excellence give me two daysmore?" I pleaded. "Perhaps the answer willcome by that time." I had no idea that thetwo days or two years, for that matter would ma e any difference so far as word frommy father was concerned, but I figured that thedelay could not possibly do me any harm, whilesomething might develop that would help meout of the difficulty.

It did. The general said he would wait twodays more, and I went bac

to my

itchen. AsI sat there despondently loo ing out of thewindow and wondering if it could be half ashard to get out of the Russian army as it was toget into it, I noticed a machine stop in front of

[55]


the place. A lieutenant jumped out, but hissaber caught in the door and he did not seem tobe able to extricate it.

I ran out to help him.

"Paul!" he cried, as I approached him, ''whaton earth are you doing here? "

I was so surprised to be called by name by anofficer whom I did not recognize that I almostforgot to salute him, but I recovered my pres-

ence of mind quic

ly and came to attention, andas I did so I recognized in the officer an oldfriend of my father's.

In a few words I told him of my experiencesand my present status.

"We'll fix that for you in no time, Paul," hedeclared, optimistically, and then, with a smile,he added, "I now the general slightly!"

When we got to the general's quarters hewal ed right into the inner office without even

noc

ing on the door, and then, to my surprise,greeted his superior familiarly as "Uncle"! Fora moment or two they carried on a whisperedconversation, and then I was told to go bac tomy quarters.

That night the lieutenant came to me with aviolin he had procured, and said he had arrangedto have me play in the officers' mess.


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"Do your very best, Paul," he suggested.**The general's very susceptible to music, andI thin you can get anything you want out of

[56]

I CAPTURE A GENERAL

him if you win him to-night. Play the Ber-ceuse, by Jarnfeld. If you play it as well asyou did when I heard you at a concert in Petro-grad, I thin

the general will be ready to turnthe division over to you!"

"I'll be satisfied if he just eeps me in one ofhis regiments, lieutenant!" I answered, "andyou may be sure I'll do the very best I can."

During the evening meal I was ordered tothe officers' mess and invited to play. Theviolin was not the very best I had played on, butI played it for all I was worth, and I aimed

directly at the general.

When it was all over they ept me at it fornearly two hours the general came towardme and shoo my hand. From the expres-sion on his face I felt that I had capturedhim.

" logolevitch," he said, "I am very muchobliged to you for the entertainment you havegiven us. Now what would you li e me to dofor you?"

"Put me in one of your cavalry regiments,your Excellence," I answered. "I now of noway in which you could ma e me happier."

He seemed about to demur, but his nephew,the lieutenant, whispered a few words to him,and he said he would see what he could do forme in the morning, and as I left the mess-roomthe lieutenant came behind me and whispered:

[57I


"It's all right, Paul. He's going to eep youwith us."

I slept little that night. I felt that my im-mediate purpose had been gained, and I than edGod for the talent with which He had endowedme and which was proving valuable to me in


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such an unexpected direction.

In the course of the few hours of sleep I didsnatch I dreamed that I was in the Russiantrenches in East Prussia, and when it came myturn to relieve Sammy Fin

el on watch, insteadof a rifle, he handed me a violin and a bow ! Theinstrument was covered with ice, and icicles werehanging from the bow, but when I started toscrape it across the strings music came. As Iplayed at the parapet of the trench to the accom-paniment of rifle, machine-gun, and artilleryfire I saw three figures suddenly arise from theHun trenches before me and, with hands up-raised, come toward me. As they reached theparapet I recognized the leader as the Kaiser,behind him was von Hindenburg, and bringingup the rear was von Mac

ensen!

I was so startled I dropped my bow, and thefigures turned away from me. I stooped andpic

ed up my bow and went on playing, andagain they advanced toward me. I playedmore vigorously than before and they quic

ened

their steps! In a moment they would be rightin our trenches, and then bang! Something

[58)

I CAPTURE A GENERAL

had snapped. It was a board which the coo had swung across my bac .

"Get up, you good-for-nothing fiddler!" he

was yelHng, good-naturedly. "The general'sorderly is here. You are to report at head-quarters at once!"

V

I JOIN THE "fighting THIRD DRAGOONS**

WHEN I got to the general's quarters ^andI didn't lose any time getting around there he was at brea fast, but his orderly told me togo right in.

"Sit down, logolevitch," he invited, as he ;poured a cup of tea from a steaming samovar, \"and tell me which of my regiments you would jli e to join."


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equipment, the general's orderly had just de-livered a pac age.

"The regiment has been ordered to the frontat once," he confided to me. "You certainlyare in luc

."

It was more than half an hour before the colo-nel would see me, the general's message havingbeen followed by a natural burst of activity.One officer after another was summoned beforethe colonel, remained closeted with him for amoment or two, came out smiling all over, anddeparted bris

ly to prepare, undoubtedly, forthe move to the front which had been ordered.

"I'm Sony, logolevitch," the colonel replied,hastily, to my appeal for equipment, "but Ireally don't now what I can do for you. Wehave been ordered to the front! I haven'tenough horses for the regiment as it is. Really,you'll have to equip yourself the best way you

can and join the regiment later!"

"Have I the colonel's permission to ta e thematter up with the general? " I as ed, not want-ing to get into trouble by going over my com-mander's head.

"Yes, yes. Do anything you li e."

At the general's quarters I ran into his nephew,the lieutenant.

"I wouldn't bother any more with that Cos-

sac

outfit," he suggested. "What's the mat-ter with the Third Dragoons? Now I come to

[62]

THE "FIGHTING THIRD DRAGOONS"

thin of it, there are one or two fellows in thatregiment, volunteers, who would ma e excel-lent chiuns for you. In the first company, forinstance, there's Stanislav Nedzvegs i, a won-

derful singer, and one of the most popular menin the division. I'll spea to the general aboutit at once. Come bac

in half an hour and I'lllet you now if it can be fixed."

Within two hours my transfer had beenarranged, I had been accepted as a member ofthe Third Dragoons and assigned to the firstcompany of the first squadron a squadron towhich, I was informed, only men who had been


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decorated for bravery were assigned and half anhour later I was sha

ing hands with StanislavNedzvegs i, a tall, blond cavalryman, with blueeyes and a comical expression about his mouthwhich revealed at once the secret of the popu-larity which the man seemed to enjoy.

Stanislav they called him Stassie in the regi-ment had been on a short furlough, and hestarted at once to tell us some of his adventures.He told them so funnily that he soon had us allconvulsed in laughter, and every now and thenhe interpolated a rhyme or two which he im-provised as he went along. He seemed to havea wonderful talent in that direction, and as hehad a good singing voice he frequently burstinto song, improvising the lines to familiar airs.

"And now," he declared, as he finished the

I63]


story of his furlough, "the next order of busi-ness, I suppose, is the initiation of Paul logole-vitch," and then, without a moment's reflection,he sang some lines to the following effect :

"When duty calls us to the frontWe go with songs and laughter.We're called the 'Fighting Third Dragoons,'We get what we go after.

"So when you join the Third Dragoons

Prepared to join our laughter,Remember, Paul, our business isTo get what we go after ! "

Perhaps the last line was a signal. At anyrate, what the Dragoons went after just thenwas me, and they certainly got me. My feetwent from under me and the next moment I washanging head down from a beam in the ceiling.The men, about ten in number, then formed acircle and started marching around me, eachone letting me

now he was present by slammingme on the bac as he passed. Then I was

ta

en down and thrown around the room li

ea medicine-ball. Some of the men were betterthrowers than they were catchers, and theylet me slip through their arms and land heavilyon the floor.

I

new I was expected to ta

e everything thatcame to me in good part, and I didn't protest

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THE "FIGHTING THIRD DRAGOONS'*

or resist. They soon got tired of the man-handling they were giving me and left the hutin which the company was quartered and inwhich the initiation was ta ing place, loc ingthe door as they went.

"Stay here till we come bac

for you," w^asStassie's parting word. As I felt bruised allover, I was glad enough to be let alone andhoped they would forget to come bac at all.

As it was, however, they were bac again inperhaps twenty minutes, and then I was led toanother hut some two hundred yards away.They didn't ta

e me inside, but through theopen door I could see a big fire burning. It hadbeen built on the ground the hut had no floor and one of the soldiers was feeding it. Bigstones were all around it.

I was ordered to undress. It was bitterlycold, and there was snow all around us, but therewas nothing for me to do but comply. Theblazing fire in the hut was too far away to helpme; on the contrary, it only made the groundand air seem colder by contrast. It was so coldthat I had to jump from foot to foot as I disrobedto eep from freezing. My Siberian blood wasnot unaccustomed to low temperatures, butnever before had I been compelled to bare mybody to the winter air in this fashion, and Ishivered and shoo li e a half -drowned dog who

has bro

en through the ice of a frozen pond

I65]


and has finally managed to struggle bac to dryland. The goose-flesh stood out all over meli e a nutmeg-grater.

After I was stripped they ept me in the open

for a moment or two while they conversedamong themselves and pretended that they werepaying not the sHghtest attention to me. Thenthey too me over to the shanty, shoved me inand closed the door. The place was small,not more than eight feet square, but the heat wasintense, and I pressed myself up against thefarthest wall to get as far away as I could fromthat fiery bonfire. Then through a small win-dow they threw pail after pail of water not


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on me, but on the hot stones around the fire.The effect was appalling; the little room becamefilled with hot steam. I felt that I was goingto be boiled alive! Through the steam I couldsee the burning logs, and I ept as far away fromthem as I could. After a while they let me outinto the open air while the fire was replenished,and then I was thrust bac

again and putthrough the same ordeal. I don't now whichwas the worst, the cold outside or the fearfulheat inside, although they gave me enoughopportunities to judge.

At length they tired of this form of tortureand for a change threw me into a tub of waterwhich was so cold that I don't

now how they ept it from freezing. Every time I attempted

[66]


to get out, which I did almost instinctively,they threw me bac

, and I finally stayed whereI was put.

The cold bath was followed by a massagesuch as only Russian soldiers can give. Perhapsit saved my life ; but while it was going on I hadno idea that that was its purpose. Every oneof them seemed to hit me at once.

"And now, Paul logolevitch," declared Stas-sie, who had acted as master of ceremonies,"you may dress yourself and we will consider

your application for membership in the bestcompany of the best squadron of the best regi-ment in the best army in the world!"

I new, by the smile on his face as he spo e,that he was only idding and that I had alreadybeen accepted, and I than ed the company forthe honor thay had done me and expressed thehope that they would not regret it.

"One minute, logolevitch," interrupted Stas-sie, after I had sha

en hands all around, "don'tforget you're only a ' plain ' member of the com-

pany now ; to become an ' honorable ' member itis necessary now to go through the initiationordeal again. Are you ready?"

"Not on your life, Stassie," I replied, appre-ciating the evident fact that he was jo ing."A 'plain' member is honor enough for me.I'll become an 'honorable' member some othertime and, preferably, in some other way."


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[67]


"Very well, just as you say, Paul," he replied."And now you are privileged to call me by myfirst name."

I answered that I would rather call him bysome other name, but I would wait until I hadfully recovered from the "initiation" before Iapplied it.

In the evening the porntchi

(lieutenant) ofour company, a man named Panunsev, a typicalRussian cavalryman, hard as nails and stern ofvisage, said he would give me a try-out. I wasgiven a horse, which I afterward christenedWania, and put through a few cavalry exercises.I was so stiff from the manhandling I had re-ceived that afternoon that I don't now how Iwas able to go through with it, but I did. Pa-

nunsev told me I had done wretchedly, but oneof the men told me that he usually meant theopposite of what he said, and from the encourag-ing way he had patted me on the shoulder as heinstructed me to ta e care of the horse and thenturn in, led me to thin that the man was right.

The next day we learned that the ThirdDragoons was to leave for the front at four thefollowing morning. Our whole organization im-mediately became alive with bustling activity.Despite the excitement, I was able to get enoughequipment from the quartermaster and from

members of the regiment, who were

ind enoughto help me out, to ma e some sort of an appear-

[68]


ance what sort of an appearance I could judgefrom the smiles my appearance invariably pro-duced wherever I went. Nothing fitted me.My hat was so big it slipped over my eyes. I

could turn around inside my shoes, but I filledthem with paper and that made them half-wayserviceable. All the overcoats offered me wereimpossible, and I decided to wear my sailor-suitunder my uniform instead. It served two pur-poses: it provided me with additional warmthand it helped fill out the uniform.

My equipment consisted of a saber, a gun,a lance, and a belt of bullets. The saber was


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"You cannot blame poor Wania,She is a wise old pony.The freight-car has no charms for her,She feels she is too bony !Tra-la, tra-la, tra-la,Tra-la, tra-la, la-lee."

And then he too

my horse by the head,rubbed his own against her face, whisperedsomething in the animal's ear, pointed to thedoor, and the next moment, to our surprise,Wania bolted up the incline so eagerly thatone might have thought we had been holdingher bac

!

We followed our horses into the cars at onceand an hour or two later the train started, We

l74l


traveled for two days without incident, livingon canned food, and disembar

ed at Keidany,a little town near Kovno, in Lithuania.

There we too possession of the estate of aLithuanian noble, a wonderful place, and theofficers occupied the mansion, while we foundquarters in the smaller houses. The stablesprovided the best quarters for our horses thatthey had had in a long while.

At the first opportunity we too a stroll aroundthe little town of Keidany. It showed very

plainly the effects of German artillery fire andair-raids. Numbers of buildings were in ruinsand most of the stores were closed up.

Some of the inhabitants told us that two wee sbefore the Huns had come within a mile or twoof the town and they had prepared for theworst, and then something had happened andthe foe had retreated. Later we met someinfantrymen who told us that they had par-ticipated in the defense of the line. They hadstopped the Huns, but their forces had notbeen strong enough to drive the enemy bac .

"That's what you're here for, I suppose!" headded.

The prospect of actual fighting at last pleasedall of us. That was what we were in the armyfor, and that, it turned out, was what we wereabout to have.

[75]


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sternly.

"The Russian soldiers!" he answered, face-tiously.

I translated his answer to my commander,who, seeing that we could get nothing of valueout of him, called two soldiers and ordered themto ta e the prisoner and the extra horse bac toour main forces. Among his papers was a scoutmap, which indicated that he had been on patrolduty the same as we were, and I could not helpthin ing that this patrol wor was pretty ris ybusiness.

We proceeded a little more cautiously, doub-ling our guards in each direction, as we werecertain that the patrol we had run into, part ofwhich had escaped, indicated that the Germanswere in force somewhere in the vicinity.

In the afternoon we came to an open plain

[80]

DEAD MAN'S SHOES

near the village of Eragola, where we were sup-posed to camp until morning and wait for ourmain forces.

Our company was ordered to proceed to thevillage, the rest of the squadron following at adistance, a line of communication between ourcompany and the squadron being maintained

by means of men stationed at distances of aquarter of a mile.

The road was wider here, and we formed ourcompany of thirty men in two lines, the lancersforming the front ran and the others the rear.Our sergeant, a short, sturdy Caucasian namedDemetri Pirov, was sent ahead, Stassie wasposted a quarter of a mile to the right, and Iwas detailed as Panunsev's messenger.

About midway between the plain, where wehad left our squadron, and Eragola we met a

peasant with a horse and cart.

''The Germans are at Eragola!" he shrie

ed."Their cavalry arrived this morning theyturned us out of ovir houses they made us digtrenches they are preparing for more soldiersto come to-night! You will be outnumbered;you better turn bac !"

Without comment Panunsev ordered us to


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proceed, and we trotted along. On our leftthere was a ravine, on the other side of whichwas a hut. Our left guard was ordered to ap-proach it and loo it over.

[8i]


He reached the ravine and was just about tocross it when there came a shot from the hutand he fell from his horse, his lance falling fromhis hand and his arms hanging limp at his sides.As he fell he yelled frantically. We were aboutto run to him, when we recognized his apparentcry of pain to be: "Stop! Keep away!"

Panunsev ordered us to close up into mass for-mation, so that, from a distance, we could notbe distinguished individually, and then he di-rected three of our men to dismount, leavingtheir horses in the mass, and crawl along the

ground toward our fallen comrade. As the menstarted on their mission of rescue the rest of us,with the three horses, were ordered to gallopoff, as though we had decided to abandon ourfallen left guard.

When we had covered quite a distance andreached a hill we were halted, and Panunsevtoo his field-glasses to the top of the hill toobserve the wor of our rescue-party. As hismessenger I dismounted and accompanied him.

With my na ed eye I could see several spec s

emerge from the hut, advance toward the ravineon the other side of which lay our wounded com-rade, and then I noticed some more spec s comeout from behind some haystac

s which we hadnot been able to see before because the hut hadobscured them.

I saw them descend the ravine and then I

[82]

DEAD MAN'S SHOES

lost them. A moment or two later one of themreappeared on our side of the ravine, and thenI saw a flash come from his rifle. Almost si-multaneously something flew toward his head it loo

ed li

e a gun and he toppled over bac

-ward into the ravine.

His place was immediately ta en by two


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others, who promptly dropped to the earth whether they had been shot or were merelysee ing cover I could not see.

"Now, logolevitch, we'll go for them!" Pa-nunsev declared, running down the hill, mount-ing his horse, and ordering us to follow him.

With shouts and cheers we flew down the roadand never stopped until w^e reached the ravine.There we found the two Germans whom I hadseen fall, but who had not been hit, in thehands of our rescue-party. In the ravine wefound our left guard's horse. He himself wasuninjured he had dropped from his horse atthe first shot merely as a ruse. There, too, wefound the body of the first Hun who had fallen.He was dead.

The two prisoners, tied to their horses, andthe third horse were then sent bac to our divi-sion imder guard of one soldier and we pro-ceeded on to Eragola.

When we reached the outs

irts of the villagetwo of our men were sent ahead to secure what-ever information they could, but they returned

[83]


very soon and reported that they could not getnear enough to the village to learn anythingworth while without showing themselves, and

they had not been fortunate enough to meetany of the villagers,

"We have with us, porutchi

,'" suggestedStassie, "a young soldier who, underneath hisuniform, wears a sailor- suit. Let him ta e offhis uniform, forget for the moment that he isa soldier, and wal

boldly into Eragola as acivilian. Could anything be simpler?"

"That's a good idea, Stassie," responded Pa-nunsev. "How about it, logolevitch?"

For answer I tore off my blouse and got outof my trousers and was ready to proceed. Itwas easy enough to start off, with my wholesquadron loo ing on, but as I got farther andfarther away from them and nearer and nearerto the village which I new was occupied by theenemy my heart beat fast. My errand was adangerous one, despite

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