A GARRISON TOWN
This was my first visit to a city, and I gazed with very wide wonder at
the wooden sidewalks, the big stores, the many two-story houses, the
well-dressed women and the numerous soldiers on the street. I could
hardly understand what father said to me, so absorbed was I in the
entirely new scenes before me.
Suddenly we heard the sound of trumpets, cymbals, and tambourines,
accompanied by a lively song. Then a company of Cossacks on horseback
issued from a side street. At the head of the column rode a group of
special singers,--_pesenniki_.
Father and I stationed ourselves near the edge of the street, and
tried to find a familiar figure. The long row of faces splashed here
and there with mud; the similar uniforms, with rifles protruding from
leather straps at the back and swords at the side; the hats tipped to
the right, all exactly at the same angle; every left hand holding the
bridle reins, every right hand placed on the hips;--how was it possible
to distinguish among them?
I soon decided that my only chance of finding Dimitri was to look for
his horse, which I knew to be gray, while the majority were bay. It was
not long before I shouted: "Father, look at the eighth row! Dimitri!"
Then still louder: "Dimitri! Dimitri! Look! Here we are!"
Brother turned and nodded, but, to my great astonishment, did not come
to us, but followed the others without giving any other expression of
recognition.
Then I heard father saying, "Why can't you be quiet? Dimitri can't come
to us until his company is dismissed."
Meanwhile the Cossacks, six abreast, continued to ride past us
whistling and singing.
The entire population of the place now seemed to gather on the
sidewalk. There were merchants in front of their stores, boys who tried
hard to keep step with the horses, women returning from market with
baskets on their arms, all gazing with appreciation at what was a daily
sight. How very desirable it seemed to me to be one of such a company.
How glad I was that my brother belonged to it, and that my father was
a Cossack. Hoping to impress a pretty little girl who stood near me, I
took off my felt cap with its yellow cloth top, symbolic of the East
Siberian Cossacks, and then having looked at it, slowly put it on again.
The Cossack officers rode on one side of the men. They were
distinguished not only by their brighter uniforms but also by the
half Arabian horses on which they were mounted. Many of them had
silver-plated belts around their waists. They had no rifles, only
swords that shone brightly, while revolvers hung from their left sides.
The bridles of their horses glimmered with silver. All the horses were
covered with foam, showing that the drill had been no easy one.
When we reached the barracks, the commanding officer gave an order, and
the whole company leaped like one man from their horses to the ground.
Another order, and the horses were led to the stables, adobe buildings
covered with thatched roofs.
After the horses were rubbed down and fed, Dimitri at last came and
embraced us, saying: "Wait for me at the rooms of the second platoon,
where I'll join you as soon as I am free."
Then he ran with others to wash before taking his place in the
dining-room. As we made our way to the dormitory, my attention was
again attracted by singing, but of a different kind. It was the solemn
prayer which was always chanted before dinner.
Soon we found ourselves in a long room in a brick building. Everything
about it was exceedingly neat. High windows admitted plenty of light,
and as all were open there was a fine circulation of fresh air. The
walls were apparently freshly white-washed, the floors painted. In one
corner hung a big ikon with a lamp under it. About fifty iron beds
placed in two rows were down the middle. Each bed was covered with a
gray blanket and each was marked with the name of the owner. Along the
inside of the wall stood racks for the rifles.
When, after a half hour, we heard the chanting of the prayer of thanks
in the dining-room near by, we looked expectantly at the door. The
company soon filed in. Some stretched themselves on their beds, some
sat down to read, and some began to mend their clothes.
When Dimitri came, one of father's first inquiries was regarding
schools and the promotion to officer rank. My brother was not well
posted and so called the sergeant-major to help him. Time passed
quickly until the hour for drill. Then the first Cossack who noticed
that an officer had entered the room, exclaimed, "Silence! Rise!"
At once there was deep quiet as all arose. I was amazed at the sudden
change, and looked with respect and fear at the man who could produce
it. It was father's old-time friend, Captain Mongalov. I watched
everything that he did with great intentness, noted how his worn-out
uniform was tightly buttoned, how erect he held his body. Even the
curves of his legs, probably caused from living so much on horseback,
and the way he swayed from side to side as he walked, attracted me.
And how splendid and fierce I thought his big black mustache reaching
almost to his ears.
His face was a peculiar mixture of the Russian and Asiatic types,
occasionally met among Siberian Cossacks. When he smiled, he showed two
rows of perfect ivory, and he smiled often. Yet even with his comrades
his expression could change to one of great sternness at the least
break of discipline.
When he saw us he turned to my father with, "From where do you hail,
friend?"
Father slowly and smilingly replied, "Don't you recognize me, Ivan
Petrovitch? I have just come from the Ussuri."
"What! Is it you, Alexis Pavlovitch!" Mongalov exclaimed. "It's ages
since I last saw you." And he embraced my father.
After a short exchange of reminiscences, he turned to me. "Is this your
son? He promises to make a fine Cossack! Are you keeping in mind, my
son, Cossack ideals of bravery and honor?"
Drawing myself to my full height in imitation of the bearing of those
around me, I answered as well as I could, looking straight into his
eyes as I did so.
"Good!" he exclaimed, and taking hold of me under the elbows he tossed
me, like an old acquaintance, high into the air.
Then, suddenly, he turned to my father. "You must excuse me now. I want
to see more of you some evening at my house." And, in a flash, the
genial friend had changed into the stern commander of a company who,
at a single word from him, proceeded to do the various tasks necessary
before retiring.