MY FIRST EXPERIENCE OF NO MAN’S LAND
Our train was composed of a number of vans and one passenger-car. These
vans, in which the soldiers sleep, have two bunks on each side, and are
called _teplushkas_. There are no windows in a _teplushka_, as it is
really only a converted luggage van. The passenger-car was occupied by
the four officers of our regiment, including our new Company Commander,
Grishaninov. He was a short, jolly fellow and soon won his men’s love
and loyalty.
There was plenty of room to spare in the passenger-car and the officers
took it into their heads to invite me to share it with them. When the
invitation came the soldiers all shook their heads in disapproval. They
suspected the motives of the officers and thought that Yashka would
fare as well among them as among their superiors.
“Botchkareva,” said Commander Grishaninov, when I entered his car,
“would you prefer to be stationed in this carriage? There is plenty of
room.”
“No, your Excellency,” I replied, saluting. “I am a plain soldier, and
it is my duty to travel as a soldier.”
“Very well,” declared the commander, chagrined. And I returned to my
_teplushka_.
“Yashka is back: Good fellow, Yashka!” the men welcomed me
enthusiastically, bestowing some strong epithets on the officers. They
were immensely pleased at the idea that Yashka preferred their company
in a _teplushka_ to that of the officers in a spacious passenger coach,
and made a comfortable place for me in a corner.
We were assigned to the Second Army then commanded by General Gurko,
with headquarters at Polotsk. It took us two weeks to get there from
Tomsk. General Gurko reviewed us at Army Headquarters and complimented
the commander upon the regiment’s fitness. We were then assigned to
the Fifth Corps. Before we started, the news spread that there was a
woman in our regiment. Curiosity was at once aroused. Knots of soldiers
gathered about my _teplushka_, peeping through the door and cracks in
the sides to verify with their own eyes the incredible news. Then they
would swear, emphasizing their words by spitting, to having witnessed
the inexplicable phenomenon of a _baba_ going to the trenches. The
attention of some officers was attracted by the crowd, and they
came up to find out what the excitement was about. They reported me
to the Commandant of the station, who immediately sent for Colonel
Grishaninov, demanding an explanation. But the Colonel could not
satisfy the Commandant’s doubts and was instructed not to send me with
the men to the fighting line.
“You can’t go to the trenches, Botchkareva,” my Commander addressed me
upon his return from the Commandant. “The General won’t allow it. He
was very much concerned about you and could not understand how a woman
could be a soldier.”
For a moment I was shocked. Then the happy thought occurred to me that
no General had the authority to overrule an order of the Tsar.
“Your Excellency!” I exclaimed to Colonel Grishaninov, “I was enlisted
by the grace of the Tsar as a regular soldier. You can look up His
Majesty’s telegram in my record.”
This settled the matter, and the Commandant withdrew his objections. We
had to walk about thirteen miles to Corps Headquarters. The road was
in a frightful condition, muddy and full of ruts. We were so tired at
the end of seven miles that a rest was ordered. The soldiers, although
they were tired out, made a dry seat for me with their overcoats. We
then resumed our journey, arriving for supper at Headquarters, and were
billeted for the night in a stable. We slept like the dead, on straw
spread over the floor.
General Valuyev was then Commander of the Fifth Corps. He reviewed us
in the morning and was extremely satisfied, assigning us to the Seventh
Division, which was situated some miles distant. The Commander of the
Division, whose name was Walter, was of German blood and a thorough
rascal. We were quartered, during the night, in the woods, behind the
fighting line.
In command of the reserves was a Colonel named Stubendorf, also of
German blood, but a decent and popular officer. When informed that a
woman was in the ranks of the newly-arrived regiment, he was amazed:
“A woman!” he cried out, “she can’t be permitted to remain. This
regiment is going into battle soon, and women were not made for war.”
There was a heated discussion between him and Commander Grishaninov,
which ended in an order for my appearance before them. I was subjected
to a searching inquiry and passed it well. Asked if I wanted to
take part in the fighting, I replied affirmatively. Muttering his
astonishment Colonel Stubendorf allowed me to remain till he had looked
into the matter further.
A big battle was raging at this time on our section of the front. We
were told to be ready for an order to move at any moment to the front
line. Meanwhile, we were sheltered in dugouts. My company occupied ten
of these, all bomb-proof, though not in first-class condition. They
were cold and had no windows. As soon as day broke we busied ourselves
with cutting windows, building fire-places, repairing the dilapidated
ceilings of timber and sand, and general house-cleaning. The dugouts
were constructed in rows, the companies of odd numbers being assigned
to the row on the right, while those of even numbers went to the left.
There were notice-boards along the road and each company had a sentinel
on duty.
Our position was five miles behind the first line of trenches. The
booming of the guns could be heard in the distance. Streams of wounded,
some in vehicles and others on foot, flowed along the road. We
drilled during most of the second day under the inspection of Colonel
Stubendorf. He must have kept a close eye on me, for at the end of the
drilling he called me, praised my efficiency, and granted me permission
to stay in the ranks.
On the third day came the order to move to the trench lines. Through
mud and under shell-fire we marched forward. It was still light when
we arrived at the firing-line. We had two killed and five wounded. As
the German positions were on a hill, they were enabled to observe all
our movements. We were therefore instructed by field-telephones not to
occupy the trenches till after dark.
“So this is war,” I thought. My pulse quickened, and I caught the
spirit of excitement that pervaded the regiment. We were all expectant,
as if in the presence of a solemn revelation. We were eager to get
into the fray and to show the Germans what we, the soldiers of the
Fifth Regiment, could do. Were we nervous? Undoubtedly. But it was not
the nervousness of cowardice, rather was it the restlessness of young
blood. Our hands were steady, our bayonets fixed. We exulted in our
adventure.
Night came. The Germans were discharging a volume of gas at us. Perhaps
they noticed an unusual movement behind the lines, and wished to
annihilate us before we entered the battle. But they failed. Over the
wire came the order to put on our masks. Thus were we baptized in this
most inhuman of all German war inventions. Our masks were not perfect.
The deadly gas penetrated some and made our eyes smart and water. But
we were soldiers of Mother Russia, whose sons are not unaccustomed to
half-suffocating air, and we so withstood the irritating fumes.
Midnight passed. The Commander went through our ranks to inform us that
the hour had come to move into the trenches and that before dawn we
should take the offensive. He addressed us with words of encouragement
and was heartily cheered. The artillery had been thundering all night
the fire growing more and more intense every hour. In single file we
moved along a communication trench to the front line. Some of us were
wounded, but we remained dauntless. All our fatigue seemed to have
vanished.
The front trench was a mere ditch, and as we lined up along it
our shoulders touched. The positions of the enemy were less than
three-quarters of a mile away, and the space between was filled with
groans and swept by bullets. It was a scene full of horrors. Sometimes
an enemy shell would land in the midst of our men, killing several and
wounding more. We were sprinkled with the blood of our comrades and
spattered by the mud.
At two in the morning the Commander appeared in our midst. He seemed
nervous. The other officers came with him and took their positions
at the head of the men. With drawn swords they prepared to lead the
charge. The Commander had a rifle.
“Climb out!” he shouted.
I crossed myself. My heart was filled with grief for the bleeding men
around me and stirred by a fierce desire for revenge upon the Germans.
My mind was a kaleidoscope of many thoughts and visions. My mother,
death, mutilation, various petty incidents of my life filled it. But
there was no time for thinking.
I climbed out with the rest of the men, to be met by a volley of
machine-gun fire. For a moment there was confusion. So many of our
number had fallen like ripe wheat cut down by a gigantic scythe wielded
by the invisible arm of Satan himself. Fresh blood was dripping on the
cold corpses that had lain there for hours or days, and the moans were
heart-rending.
Amid the confusion the voice of our Company Commander was raised.
“Forward!”
And forward we went. The enemy had seen us go over the top, and he
let loose Hell. As we ran forward we kept firing. Then the order came
to lie down. The bombardment grew even more concentrated. Alternately
running for some distance and then lying down, we reached the enemy’s
barbed wire entanglements. We had expected to find them demolished by
our artillery, but, alas! they were untouched! There were only about
seventy left of our Company of two hundred and fifty.
Whose fault was it? This was an offensive on a front of thirteen
miles, carried out by three army corps. And the barbed wire was uncut!
Perhaps our artillery was defective! Perhaps it was the fault of some
one higher up! Anyhow, there we were, seventy out of two hundred and
fifty. And every fraction of a second was precious. Were we doomed to
die here in a heap without even coming to grips with the enemy? Were
our bodies to dangle on this wire to-morrow, and the day after, to
provide food for the crows and strike terror into the hearts of the
fresh soldiers who would take our places in a few hours?
As these thoughts flashed through our minds an order came to retreat.
The enemy let a barrage down in front of us. The retreat was even worse
than the advance. Only forty-eight of our Company got back to our
trenches alive. About a third of the two hundred and fifty were dead.
The greater number of the wounded were in No Man’s Land and their cries
of pain and prayers for help or death gave us no peace.
The remnant of our Company crouched in the trench, exhausted, dazed,
incredulous of their escape from injury. We were hungry and thirsty and
would have welcomed a dry and safe place in which to recover ourselves.
But there we were, smarting under the defeat by the enemy’s barbed
wire barrier, with the heart-breaking appeals for help coming from
our comrades. Deeper and deeper they cut into my soul. They were so
plaintive, like the voices of hurt children.
In the dark it seemed to me that I saw their faces, the familiar faces
of Ivan and Peter and Sergei and Mitia, the good fellows who had taken
such tender care of me, making a comfortable place for me in that
crowded _teplushka_, or taking off their overcoats in cold weather and
spreading them on the muddy road to provide a dry seat for Yashka.
They called me. I could see their hands outstretched in my direction,
their wide-open eyes straining in the night in the hope of rescue, the
deathly pallor of their faces. Could I remain indifferent to their
cries? Was it not my bounden duty as a soldier, a duty as important as
that of fighting the enemy, to render aid to stricken comrades?
I climbed out of the trench and crawled under our wire entanglements.
There was a comparative calm, interrupted only by occasional rifle
shots, when I would lie down and remain motionless, as though I were
a corpse. There were wounded within a few feet of our line. I carried
them one by one to the edge of our trench where they were picked up and
carried to the rear. The saving of one man encouraged me to continue my
efforts till I reached the far side of the field. Here I had several
narrow escapes. A sound, made accidentally, was sufficient to attract
several shots, and I only saved myself by at once lying flat upon the
ground. When dawn broke in the East, putting an end to my expeditions
through No Man’s Land, I had saved about fifty lives.
I had no idea at the time of what I had accomplished. But when the
soldiers whom I had picked up were brought to the relief-station
and asked who rescued them, about fifty replied, “Yashka.” This was
communicated to the Commander, who recommended me for an Order of the
4th Degree, “for distinguished valour shown in the saving of many lives
under fire.”
Our kitchen had been destroyed the previous night by the enemy’s fire,
and we were very hungry. Our ranks were replenished by fresh drafts,
and our artillery again boomed all day, playing havoc with the enemy’s
wire fences. We guessed that it meant another order to advance the
following night, and our expectations proved correct. At about the same
hour as the previous morning we climbed out and started to run towards
the enemy’s position. Again a rain of shells and bullets, again scores
of wounded and killed, again smoke and gas and blood and mud. But we
reached the wire entanglement and it was down and torn to pieces this
time. We halted for an instant, emitting an inhuman “Hurrah! Hurrah!”
that struck terror into those Germans that were still alive in their
half-demolished trenches, and with fixed bayonets rushed forward and
jumped into them.
As I was about to descend into the ditch I suddenly observed a huge
German taking aim at me. Hardly did I have time to fire when something
struck my right leg, and I had a sensation of a warm liquid trickling
down my flesh. I fell. My comrades had put the enemy to flight and were
pursuing him. There were many wounded, and cries of “Save me, Holy
Jesus!” came from every direction.
I suffered little pain and made several efforts to get up and reach our
trenches. But every time I failed. I was too weak. There I lay in the
darkness of the night, within fifty feet of what had been, twenty-four
hours before, the enemy’s position, waiting for dawn and relief. To be
sure, I was not alone. Hundreds, thousands of gallant comrades were
scattered on the field for miles.
It was four hours after I was wounded before day arrived and with it
our stretcher-bearers. I was picked up and carried to a first-aid
station a mile and a half in the rear. My wound was bandaged, and I
was sent on to the Division Hospital. There I was placed on a hospital
train and taken to Kiev.
It was about Easter of 1915 when I arrived in Kiev. The station there
was so crowded with wounded from the front that hundreds of stretchers
could not be accommodated inside and were lined up in rows on the
platform outside. I was picked up by an ambulance and taken to the
Eugene Lazaret, where I was kept in the same ward with the men. Of
course, it was a military hospital, and there was no woman’s ward.
I was there all through the spring of 1915. The nurses and physicians
took good care of all the patients in the hospital. My swollen leg
was restored to its normal condition, and it was a restful two months
that I passed in Kiev. At the end of that period I was taken before
a military medical commission, examined, pronounced in good health,
provided with a ticket, money and a certificate and sent to the front
again.
My route now lay through Molodechno, an important railway terminus.
When I arrived there in the early part of July I was sent to the Corps
Headquarters by wagon, and thence I proceeded on foot to my Regiment.
My heart throbbed with joy as I drew nearer to the front. I had been
eager to get back to my comrades. They had endeared themselves to me
so much that I loved my Company as much as my own mother. I thought
of the comrades whose lives I had saved and wondered how many of them
had returned to the fighting line. I thought of the soldiers whom I
had left alive and wondered if they were still among the living. Many
familiar scenes came up in my imagination as I marched along under the
brilliant rays of the sun.
As I approached the regimental headquarters a soldier saw me in the
distance and, turning to his comrade, he pointed towards me.
“Who can that be?” he asked, thoughtfully. The partner scratched his
neck and said:
“Why, he looks familiar.”
“Why, it’s Yashka!” exclaimed the first, as I moved nearer. “Yashka!
Yashka!” they shouted at the top of their voices, running toward me as
fast as they could.
“Yashka is back! Yashka is back!” the news was passed along to men and
officers alike. There was such spontaneous joy that I was overwhelmed.
Our regiment was then in reserve, and soon I was surrounded by hundreds
of old friends. There was kissing, embracing, handshaking. The men
capered about like children, shouting, “Look who’s here! Yashka!” They
had been under the impression that I was disabled and would never
return. They congratulated me upon my recovery. Even the officers came
out to shake hands with me, some even kissing me, and all expressing
their gratification at my recovery.
I shall never forget the welcome I received from my comrades.
They carried me on their shoulders, shouting, “Hurrah for Yashka! Three
cheers for Yashka!” Many of them wanted me to visit their dugouts
and share with them the food parcels they had received from home.
The dugouts were really in a splendid state, clean, furnished, well
protected. I was reassigned to my old company, the Thirteenth, and was
now considered a veteran.
Our company was shortly detailed to act as the protecting force to a
battery of artillery. Such duty was regarded by the men as a holiday,
for it made possible a genuine rest in healthful surroundings. We spent
between two and three weeks with the battery and were then moved to
Sloboda, a town in the vicinity of Lake Narotch, about twenty-seven
miles from Molodechno. Our positions were in a swampy region, full of
mud-holes and marshes. It was impossible to construct and maintain
regular trenches there. We, therefore, built a barrier of sand-bags,
behind which we crouched, knee-deep in water. It was impossible to
endure such conditions for any length of time. We were compelled to
snatch brief intervals of sleep standing, and even the strongest
constitutions quickly broke down. We were relieved at the end of six
days and sent to the rear to recuperate. Then we had to relieve the men
who had taken our places.
Thus we continued to hold the line. As the summer neared its end
and the rains increased, the water would rise and at times reach our
waists. It was important to maintain our front intact, although for
several miles the ground was so boggy as to be practically impassable.
The Germans, however, made an attempt in August to outflank the
marshes, but they failed.
Later we were shifted to another position, some distance away. There
was comparative quiet on our front. Our main work consisted in sending
out raiding parties and keeping a keen watch over the enemy’s movements
from our advanced listening-posts. We slept in the morning and stayed
wide-awake all night.
I was assigned to numerous observation parties. Usually four of us
would be detailed to a listening-post, located sometimes in a bush,
another time in a hole in the ground, behind the stump of a tree, or
some similar obstacle. We crawled to our post so noiselessly that not
only the enemy but even our own men would not know our hiding places,
which were on an average fifty feet apart. Once at the post, our safety
and duty demanded absolute immobility and caution. We had to strain our
ears to catch any unusual sound, and communicate it from post to post.
Besides, there was always a chance of an enemy patrol or post being in
close proximity without our knowing it. Every two hours the holders of
the posts were relieved.
One foggy night, while on guard at a listening post, I detected a dull
noise. It sounded like a raiding party, and I took it at first for
our own, but there was no answer to my sharp query for the pass-word.
It was impossible to see in the mist. We opened fire, and the Germans
flattened themselves on the ground and waited.
There they lay for almost two hours, until we had forgotten the
incident. Then they crawled toward our post and suddenly appeared in
front of us. There were eight of them. One threw a grenade, but missed
our hole, and it exploded behind us. We fired, killing two and wounding
four. The remaining two escaped.
When the Company Commander received an order to send out a scouting
party, he would call for volunteers. Armed with hand-grenades, about
thirty of the best soldiers would go out into No Man’s Land to test the
enemy’s strength by drawing his fire, or to alarm him by heavy bombing
and shooting. Not infrequently scouting parties from both sides would
meet. Then there would be a regular battle. It sometimes happened that
one party would let an enemy party pass in front, and then attack it
from the rear and capture it.
The fifteenth of August, 1915, was a memorable day in our lives. The
enemy opened a violent fire at us at three o’clock in the morning,
demolishing our barbed-wire defences, destroying some of our trenches,
and burying many soldiers alive. Many others were killed by enemy
shells. Altogether we lost fifteen killed and forty wounded out of
two hundred and fifty. It was clear that the Germans contemplated an
offensive. Our artillery replied vigorously, and the earth shook with
the thunder of the guns. We sought every protection available, our
nerves strained in momentary anticipation of an attack. We crossed
ourselves, prayed to God, made ready our rifles, and awaited orders.
At six o’clock the Germans were observed climbing over the top and
running in our direction. Closer and closer they came, and still we
made no move, while our artillery rained shells on them. When they
approached within a hundred feet of our line we received the order to
open fire, and we greeted the enemy with such a concentrated hail of
bullets, that his ranks were decimated and plunged in confusion. We
took advantage of the situation and rushed at the Germans, turning them
back and pursuing them along the twelve-mile front on which they had
started to advance. The enemy lost ten thousand men that morning.
During the day we received reinforcements, and also new equipment,
including gas masks. Then word came that we were to take the offensive
the following night. Our guns began a terrific bombardment of the
German positions at six in the evening. We were all in a state of
suppressed excitement. Men and officers mixed together, joking about
death. Many expected not to return and wrote letters to their dear
ones. Others prayed. Before an offensive the men’s camaraderie would
reach its height. There would be affectionate partings, sincere
professions by some of their premonitions of death and the sending of
messages to friends. Universal joy was displayed whenever a shell of
ours tore a gap in the enemy’s wire defences or fell into the midst of
his trenches.
At three in the morning the order, “Advance!” rang out. In high spirits
we started for the enemy’s positions. Our casualties on the way were
enormous. Several times we were ordered to lie down. Our first line was
almost completely wiped out, but its ranks were filled up by men from
the second row. On we went till we reached the Germans and overwhelmed
them. Our own Polotsk Regiment alone captured two thousand prisoners
and our jubilation was boundless. We held the enemy’s positions, and
No Man’s Land, strewn with wounded and dead, was now ours. There were
few stretcher-bearers available, and a call went out for volunteers to
gather in the wounded. I was among those who answered the call.
There is great satisfaction in helping a suffering human being. There
is great reward in the gratitude of a man tortured with suffering whom
one has saved. It gave me immense joy to be able to maintain the life
in an unconscious human body. As I was kneeling over one such wounded
man, who had suffered a great loss of blood, and was about to lift him,
a sniper’s bullet hit me between the thumb and forefinger and passed
on and through the flesh of my left forearm. Fortunately I realized
quickly the nature of the wounds, bandaged them, and, in spite of his
protests, carried the bleeding man out of danger.
I continued my work all night, and was recommended to receive the
Cross of St. George of the 4th Degree, “for bravery in defensive and
offensive fighting and for rendering, while wounded, first aid on the
field of battle.” But I never received it. Instead, I was awarded a
medal of the 4th Degree and was informed that a woman could not obtain
the Cross of St. George.
I was disappointed and chagrined. Hadn’t I heard of the Cross being
given to some Red Cross nurses? I protested to the Commander. He fully
sympathized with me and expressed his belief that I certainly deserved
the Cross.
“But,” he added, disdainfully, shrugging his shoulders, “it is
_natchalstvo_ (officialdom).”
My arm was painful, and I could not remain in the front line. The
medical assistant of our regimental hospital had been severely wounded,
and I was sent to act in his place, under the supervision of the
physician. I stayed there two weeks, till my arm improved, and attained
such proficiency under the Doctor’s instructions that he issued a
certificate to me, stating that I could temporarily perform the duties
of a medical assistant.
The autumn of 1915 passed, for us, uneventfully. Our life become one of
routine. At night we kept watch, warming ourselves with hot tea, boiled
on little stoves in the front trenches. At dawn we would go to sleep,
and at nine in the morning the day would begin for some of us, as that
was the hour for the distribution of bread and sugar. Every soldier
received a ration of two and a half pounds of bread daily. It was often
burned on the outside and not done on the inside. At eleven o’clock,
when dinner arrived, everybody was awake, cleaning rifles and generally
setting things in order. The kitchen was always some distance in the
rear, and some of the men were sent to bring the dinner pails to the
trenches. The dinner generally consisted of a hot cabbage soup, with
some meat in it. The meat was often bad. The second dish was always
_kasha_, Russia’s popular gruel. Our daily ration of sugar was supposed
to be three-sixteenths of a pound. By the time our dinner got to us it
was cold, so that tea was resorted to again. After noon we received our
orders, and at six in the evening supper arrived, this being the last
meal, and consisting only of one course. It was either cabbage soup or
_kasha_ or half a herring, with bread. Many ate all their bread before
the supper hour, or if they were very hungry, with the first meal, and
were thus forced to beg for morsels from their comrades, or go hungry
in the evening.
Every twelve days we were relieved and sent to the rear for a six-days’
rest. There we found ready for us the baths established by the Union
of Zemstvos which in 1915 had extended its activities along the whole
front. Every Divisional bath was in charge of a physician and a hundred
voluntary workers. Every bath-house was also a laundry, and the men,
upon entering it, left their dirty underwear there, receiving in
exchange clean linen. When a company was about to leave the trenches
for the rear, word was sent to the bath-house of its coming. There
was nothing that the soldiers welcomed so much as the bath-house, so
vermin-infested were the trenches, and so great was their suffering on
this account.
I suffered more than anybody else from the vermin. I could not think
at first of going to the bath-house with the men. My skin was eaten
through and through and scabs began to form all over my body. I went
to the Commander to inquire how I could get a bath, telling him of my
condition. The Commander listened with sympathy.
“But what can I do, Yashka?” he said. “I can’t keep the whole Company
out to let you alone make use of the bath-house. Go with the men. They
respect you so much that I am sure they won’t molest you.”
I could not quite make up my mind at first. But the vermin gave me no
rest, and I was nearing desperation. When we were relieved next and the
boys were getting ready to march to the bath-house I plucked up courage
and went up to my sergeant, declaring:
“I’ll go to the bath-house, too. I can’t endure it any longer.”
He approved of my decision, and I followed the company, arousing
general merriment. “Oh, Yashka is going with us to the bath-house!” the
men joked good-naturedly. Once inside, I hastened to occupy a corner
for myself and begged the men to keep away from it. They did, although
they continued to laugh and poke fun at me. I was very ill at ease the
first time, and as soon as I had finished my bath, I hastily put on my
new underwear, dressed with all speed and ran out of the building. But
the bath did me so much good that I made it a habit to attend it with
the Company every two weeks. In time, the soldiers got so accustomed to
it that they paid no attention to me, and were even quick to silence
the jests of any new member of the Company.