THE BATTLE ON THE SEYBI
Constant dangers develop one’s watchfulness and keenness of perception.
We did not take off our clothes nor unsaddle our horses, tired as
we were. I put my Mauser inside my coat and began to look about and
scrutinize the people. The first thing I discovered was the butt end of
a rifle under the pile of pillows always found on the peasants’ large
beds. Later I noticed the employees of our host constantly coming into
the room for orders from him. They did not look like simple peasants,
although they had long beards and were dressed very dirtily. They
examined me with very attentive eyes and did not leave me and my friend
alone with the host. We could not, however, make out anything. But then
the Soyot Governor came in and, noticing our strained relations, began
explaining in the Soyot language to the host all about us.
“I beg your pardon,” the colonist said, “but you know yourself that now
for one honest man we have ten thousand murderers and robbers.”
With this we began chatting more freely. It appeared that our host knew
that a band of Bolsheviki would attack him in the search for the band of
Cossack officers who were living in his house on and off. He had heard
also about the “total loss” of one detachment. However, it did not
entirely calm the old man to have our news, for he had heard of the
large detachment of Reds that was coming from the border of the Usinsky
District in pursuit of the Tartars who were escaping with their cattle
south to Mongolia.
“From one minute to another we are awaiting them with fear,” said
our host to me. “My Soyot has come in and announced that the Reds are
already crossing the Seybi and the Tartars are prepared for the fight.”
We immediately went out to look over our saddles and packs and then took
the horses and hid them in the bushes not far off. We made ready our
rifles and pistols and took posts in the enclosure to wait for our
common enemy. An hour of trying impatience passed, when one of the
workmen came running in from the wood and whispered:
“They are crossing our swamp. . . . The fight is on.”
In fact, like an answer to his words, came through the woods the sound
of a single rifle-shot, followed closely by the increasing rat-tat-tat
of the mingled guns. Nearer to the house the sounds gradually came. Soon
we heard the beating of the horses’ hoofs and the brutish cries of the
soldiers. In a moment three of them burst into the house, from off
the road where they were being raked now by the Tartars from both
directions, cursing violently. One of them shot at our host. He stumbled
along and fell on his knee, as his hand reached out toward the rifle
under his pillows.
“Who are YOU?” brutally blurted out one of the soldiers, turning to us
and raising his rifle. We answered with Mausers and successfully, for
only one soldier in the rear by the door escaped, and that merely to
fall into the hands of a workman in the courtyard who strangled him.
The fight had begun. The soldiers called on their comrades for help.
The Reds were strung along in the ditch at the side of the road, three
hundred paces from the house, returning the fire of the surrounding
Tartars. Several soldiers ran to the house to help their comrades but
this time we heard the regular volley of the workmen of our host. They
fired as though in a manoeuvre calmly and accurately. Five Red soldiers
lay on the road, while the rest now kept to their ditch. Before long we
discovered that they began crouching and crawling out toward the end of
the ditch nearest the wood where they had left their horses. The sounds
of shots became more and more distant and soon we saw fifty or sixty
Tartars pursuing the Reds across the meadow.
Two days we rested here on the Seybi. The workmen of our host, eight in
number, turned out to be officers hiding from the Bolsheviks. They asked
permission to go on with us, to which we agreed.
When my friend and I continued our trip we had a guard of eight armed
officers and three horses with packs. We crossed a beautiful valley
between the Rivers Seybi and Ut. Everywhere we saw splendid grazing
lands with numerous herds upon them, but in two or three houses along
the road we did not find anyone living. All had hidden away in fear
after hearing the sounds of the fight with the Reds. The following day
we went up over the high chain of mountains called Daban and, traversing
a great area of burned timber where our trail lay among the fallen
trees, we began to descend into a valley hidden from us by the
intervening foothills. There behind these hills flowed the Little
Yenisei, the last large river before reaching Mongolia proper. About ten
kilometers from the river we spied a column of smoke rising up out of
the wood. Two of the officers slipped away to make an investigation.
For a long time they did not return and we, fearful lest something had
happened, moved off carefully in the direction of the smoke, all ready
for a fight if necessary. We finally came near enough to hear the voices
of many people and among them the loud laugh of one of our scouts.
In the middle of a meadow we made out a large tent with two tepees of
branches and around these a crowd of fifty or sixty men. When we broke
out of the forest all of them rushed forward with a joyful welcome
for us. It appeared that it was a large camp of Russian officers and
soldiers who, after their escape from Siberia, had lived in the houses
of the Russian colonists and rich peasants in Urianhai.
“What are you doing here?” we asked with surprise.
“Oh, ho, you know nothing at all about what has been going on?” replied
a fairly old man who called himself Colonel Ostrovsky. “In Urianhai an
order has been issued from the Military Commissioner to mobilize all
men over twenty-eight years of age and everywhere toward the town of
Belotzarsk are moving detachments of these Partisans. They are robbing
the colonists and peasants and killing everyone that falls into their
hands. We are hiding here from them.”
The whole camp counted only sixteen rifles and three bombs, belonging
to a Tartar who was traveling with his Kalmuck guide to his herds in
Western Mongolia. We explained the aim of our journey and our intention
to pass through Mongolia to the nearest port on the Pacific.
The officers asked me to bring them out with us. I agreed. Our
reconnaissance proved to us that there were no Partisans near the house
of the peasant who was to ferry us over the Little Yenisei. We moved off
at once in order to pass as quickly as possible this dangerous zone of
the Yenisei and to sink ourselves into the forest beyond. It snowed but
immediately thawed. Before evening a cold north wind sprang up, bringing
with it a small blizzard. Late in the night our party reached the river.
Our colonist welcomed us and offered at once to ferry us over and swim
the horses, although there was ice still floating which had come down
from the head-waters of the stream. During this conversation there was
present one of the peasant’s workmen, red-haired and squint-eyed. He
kept moving around all the time and suddenly disappeared. Our host
noticed it and, with fear in his voice, said:
“He has run to the village and will guide the Partisans here. We must
cross immediately.”
Then began the most terrible night of my whole journey. We proposed
to the colonist that he take only our food and ammunition in the boat,
while we would swim our horses across, in order to save the time of
the many trips. The width of the Yenisei in this place is about three
hundred metres. The stream is very rapid and the shore breaks away
abruptly to the full depth of the stream. The night was absolutely dark
with not a star in the sky. The wind in whistling swirls drove the snow
and sleet sharply against our faces. Before us flowed the stream of
black, rapid water, carrying down thin, jagged blocks of ice, twisting
and grinding in the whirls and eddies. For a long time my horse refused
to take the plunge down the steep bank, snorted and braced himself. With
all my strength I lashed him with my whip across his neck until, with a
pitiful groan, he threw himself into the cold stream. We both went all
the way under and I hardly kept my seat in the saddle. Soon I was some
metres from the shore with my horse stretching his head and neck far
forward in his efforts and snorting and blowing incessantly. I felt the
every motion of his feet churning the water and the quivering of his
whole body under me in this trial. At last we reached the middle of the
river, where the current became exceedingly rapid and began to carry us
down with it. Out of the ominous darkness I heard the shoutings of my
companions and the dull cries of fear and suffering from the horses. I
was chest deep in the icy water. Sometimes the floating blocks struck
me; sometimes the waves broke up over my head and face. I had no time to
look about or to feel the cold. The animal wish to live took possession
of me; I became filled with the thought that, if my horse’s strength
failed in his struggle with the stream, I must perish. All my attention
was turned to his efforts and to his quivering fear. Suddenly he groaned
loudly and I noticed he was sinking. The water evidently was over his
nostrils, because the intervals of his frightened snorts through the
nostrils became longer. A big block of ice struck his head and turned
him so that he was swimming right downstream. With difficulty I reined
him around toward the shore but felt now that his force was gone. His
head several times disappeared under the swirling surface. I had no
choice. I slipped from the saddle and, holding this by my left hand,
swam with my right beside my mount, encouraging him with my shouts. For
a time he floated with lips apart and his teeth set firm. In his widely
opened eyes was indescribable fear. As soon as I was out of the saddle,
he had at once risen in the water and swam more calmly and rapidly.
At last under the hoofs of my exhausted animal I heard the stones.
One after another my companions came up on the shore. The well-trained
horses had brought all their burdens over. Much farther down our
colonist landed with the supplies. Without a moment’s loss we packed
our things on the horses and continued our journey. The wind was growing
stronger and colder. At the dawn of day the cold was intense. Our soaked
clothes froze and became hard as leather; our teeth chattered; and in
our eyes showed the red fires of fever: but we traveled on to put as
much space as we could between ourselves and the Partisans. Passing
about fifteen kilometres through the forest we emerged into an open
valley, from which we could see the opposite bank of the Yenisei. It was
about eight o’clock. Along the road on the other shore wound the black
serpent-like line of riders and wagons which we made out to be a column
of Red soldiers with their transport. We dismounted and hid in the
bushes in order to avoid attracting their attention.
All the day with the thermometer at zero and below we continued our
journey, only at night reaching the mountains covered with larch
forests, where we made big fires, dried our clothes and warmed ourselves
thoroughly. The hungry horses did not leave the fires but stood right
behind us with drooped heads and slept. Very early in the morning
several Soyots came to our camp.
“Ulan? (Red?)” asked one of them.
“No! No!” exclaimed all our company.
“Tzagan? (White?)” followed the new question.
“Yes, yes,” said the Tartar, “all are Whites.”
“Mende! Mende!” they grunted and, after starting their cups of tea,
began to relate very interesting and important news. It appeared that
the Red Partisans, moving from the mountains Tannu Ola, occupied with
their outposts all the border of Mongolia to stop and seize the peasants
and Soyots driving out their cattle. To pass the Tannu Ola now would be
impossible. I saw only one way--to turn sharp to the southeast, pass
the swampy valley of the Buret Hei and reach the south shore of Lake
Kosogol, which is already in the territory of Mongolia proper. It was
very unpleasant news. To the first Mongol post in Samgaltai was not more
than sixty miles from our camp, while to Kosogol by the shortest line
not less than two hundred seventy-five. The horses my friend and I were
riding, after having traveled more than six hundred miles over hard
roads and without proper food or rest, could scarcely make such an
additional distance. But, reflecting upon the situation and studying my
new fellow travelers, I determined not to attempt to pass the Tannu Ola.
They were nervous, morally weary men, badly dressed and armed and most
of them were without weapons. I knew that during a fight there is no
danger so great as that of disarmed men. They are easily caught
by panic, lose their heads and infect all the others. Therefore, I
consulted with my friends and decided to go to Kosogol. Our company
agreed to follow us. After luncheon, consisting of soup with big
lumps of meat, dry bread and tea, we moved out. About two o’clock the
mountains began to rise up before us. They were the northeast outspurs
of the Tannu Ola, behind which lay the Valley of Buret Hei.