Chapter One 1916.October.night.wind and rain.Wooded lowlands.On the edge of a marsh overgrown with alder trees was the trench.In front is a layer of barbed wire.The trenches were icy mud.The sodden iron guard of the watch post gleamed dimly.Sparse light shines from the earthen houses here and there.A short and sturdy officer stood for a while at the door of an officer's earthen hut; his wet fingers slipped on the buttons of his coat, and he hurriedly unbuttoned his military overcoat, shaking off the drops of water from his collar, and soon trampled on the rotten dry grass. After wiping his boots, he pushed open the door, bent down and walked into the earthen house.

The yellow light of the small kerosene lamp shone brightly on the face of the visitor.An officer with his leather jacket unbuttoned got up from the plank bed, stroked his messy hair that was beginning to turn white, and yawned. "Is it raining?" "Where are you going," answered the guest, and undressing, he hung his overcoat and rain-soaked cap on a nail by the door. "You're warm here. Lots of people and lots of air." "We just started the fire not long ago. The bad thing is the water is coming out of the ground. Damn it, the rain is driving us away... huh? What do you think, Benchuk?" Benchuk rubbed his hands, bent down, and squatted beside the small stove.

"You put the floor on. Our mud hut is beautiful: you can go barefoot. Where's Listnitsky?" "Where are you going to sleep?" "Have you slept for a long time?" "I'll sleep when I come back from the sentry." "Should I wake him up?" "Wake him up. Let's play a game of chess." Chuuk wiped off the raindrops on his wide and thick eyebrows with his index finger, and without looking up, he called softly: "Evgeny Nikolayevich!" "Fall asleep," sighed the slightly grizzled officer. "Evgeny Nikolayevich!"

"What's the matter?" Listnitsky raised himself up on his elbows. "Shall we play chess?" " Lisztnitsky's legs slumped from the bunk, and he rubbed his chubby chest with his soft pink palms for a long time. At the end of the first set, two officers from the fifth company came, one was Captain Kalmykov and the other was Lieutenant Chubov. "Good news!" Kalmykov shouted from the door. "Our regiment is likely to withdraw." "Where does this news come from?" the grizzled captain Merkulov asked with a suspicious smile. "Don't you believe it, Uncle Petya?" "Frankly, I don't."

"The commander of the artillery company called us. Where did he know that? It's easy to explain. He just came back from division headquarters yesterday." "It would be nice to be able to soak in the tub." Chubov smiled a little foolishly, and pretended to whip his hips with a birch branch.Merkulov laughed. "We only need a bathtub in this earthen house——as much water as we want." "It's too damp here, too damp," Kalmykov said angrily, looking at the log wall and the creaking earth. "There is a swamp next to it, so it can't be wet."

"You thank the Highest God that you are as comfortable as you are in the arms of Christ at the edge of the swamp," put in Bunchuk. "Other areas are attacking, but here we only fire one round a week." "It's better to go to the front line than to rot here." "Uncle Petya, you don't feed the Cossacks so they can go to the front and die. You're pretending to be confused." "Then you say—for what?" "As usual, the government only plays the Cossack trump card at critical moments." "Nonsense," Kalmykov waved his hand.

"How is this a lie?" "that is." "Forget it, Kalmykov! The truth cannot be refuted." "What kind of truth is this..." "It's a well-known thing. Why are you pretending to be stupid?" "Attention, officers!" cried Chubov, bowing in all directions like a theatre, and pointing to Bunchuk, he said: "Second Lieutenant Bunchuk is about to dream according to the Social-Democratic dream book." "Are you making a fool of yourself again?" Benchuk sneered, his eyes pressed against Chubov's. "However, you continue to make fools of yourself-everyone has his own ambitions. I want to say that since the second half of last year, we have never seen war again. As soon as the positional battle started, the Cossack team was all dispersed to the secluded place place to stand by."

"And then?" Listnitsky asked as he packed up the chess pieces. "And then, as soon as the disturbances start on the front lines - and this is inevitable: the soldiers have grown disgusted with war, as evidenced by the increasing number of deserters - then, to suppress the mutiny, the Cossacks will come in handy The Cossacks supported by the government are like a stone tied to a stick. At a critical moment, the government will use this stone to break the cranium of the revolution.” "My dear, you are simply fascinated! Your assumptions are so unconvincing. First, the course of events cannot be determined in advance. Besides, how do you know that there will be riots and other events in the future? Suppose Another scenario: the Entente crushes the Germans, the war ends in a glorious victory—then what use will you make for the Cossacks?" retorted Listnitsky.A smile flitted across Benchuk's face.

"There's no sign of an end in sight yet, let alone a gloriously victorious one." "The war has dragged on..." "It's going to drag on," Benchuk predicted. "When did you come back for vacation?" asked Kalmykov. "The day before yesterday." Bunchuk puffed out his mouth, popped out a small puff of smoke with his tongue, and threw away the cigarette butt. "Where have you been?" "Petrograd." "Oh, how's it going there? Is it lively in the capital? Well, damn it, if I can get there, I don't care what it costs, even if I live there for a week." "There are not many happy things, Bunchuk weighed his words and said, "Bread is scarce. There is hunger, dissatisfaction and silent protests in the workers' quarters." "It is not easy for us to survive this war. What do you think, everyone?" Merkulov looked questioningly at all those present. "The Russo-Japanese War gave rise to the revolution of 1905—this war will inevitably end in a new revolution. And not only a revolution, but also a civil war." Listnitsky listened to Bunchuk's words. , made a vague gesture, as if to interrupt the second lieutenant, then stood up, frowning, and paced up and down in the earthen house.Suppressing his rage, he spoke:

"I find it very strange that there is such a figure among our officers," he pointed towards the slightly hunched Bunchuk. "The strange thing is - to this day I have not been able to figure out his attitude towards the country, towards the war ... He said in a conversation, although vague, it is enough to prove his position, he wants us to be in this war Failure. Do I understand that correctly, Bunchuk?" "I hope to be defeated." "Why is that? I think that, no matter what your political views, you want your country to be defeated - it is, after all, ... a betrayal of the country. It's a - disgrace to any decent person! "

"Do you remember? The Bolshevik faction in the State Duma preached against the government and thereby hastened the defeat of the war," Merkulov interrupted. "Benchuk, do you agree with them?" Listnitsky asked. "Since I want to be defeated, of course I agree; as a member of the Russian Social Democratic Labor Party, a Bolshevik, it is not a joke that he should disagree with the views of his own parliamentary group. Yevgeny Nikolay I am even more amazed, Vichi, that you, as an intellectual, are politically ignorant..." "I am above all a soldier loyal to the Tsar. When I see the face of the 'socialist comrades' nausea." "You're a jerk first, and a smug, rough soldier second," Benchuk thought to himself, and suppressed his smile. "There is no god but Allah..." "The situation in our military circle is peculiar," Merkulov interrupted, as if apologetically, "we all seem to be far from politics, we all live in the village." Lieutenant Kalmykov sat there, stroking his drooping beard, his fiery, Mongolian eyes gleaming sharply.Lying on the bed, Chubov listened to the conversation and looked at Merkulov's tobacco-stained picture on the wall: a half-naked woman with a face like Mary Magdalene, her He looked at his bare chest with a disturbing, frivolous smile.The two fingers of the left hand are holding the brown nipple, the little finger is raised up cautiously, there is a shadow under the drooping eyelids, and the pupils are shining with warm light.She shrugged her shoulders slightly, holding the shirt that was about to slide off, and there was a soft light and shadow in the collarbone socket.The posture of the woman is so natural and elegant, and the tone of the whole picture is so dark, there is really an indescribable beauty, which makes Chubov smile involuntarily, and admire this wonderful painting with fascination. It became a deaf ear. "That's great!" he exclaimed admiringly, taking his eyes off the picture, but as luck would have it, Bunchuk had just finished the following sentence: "... Tsarism must be destroyed, you can be sure of it!" Listnitsky twirled a cigarette in his hand, smiled maliciously, looked now at Bunchuk, now at Chubov. "Benchuk!" cried Kalmykov. "Wait, Listnitsky! . . . Bunchuk, do you hear? . . . Oh, well, even if this war turns into a civil war . . . then what? Well, you overthrow the monarchy ...Then, in your opinion, what kind of government should be established? What should the regime look like?" "It is a regime of the dictatorship of the proletariat." "Like Congress, isn't it?" "What is Congress!" Benchuk said with a smile. "What the hell is that?" "There should be a dictatorship of the working class." "Hey, it's yours! . . . So what's the role of intellectuals and peasants?" "The peasants will follow us, and some intellectuals who are good at independent thinking will follow us, and the rest...we will deal with the rest of them in this way..." Benchuk quickly held the original in his hands Twisted a piece of paper inside into a tight twist, then shook the twist, and squeezed out a sentence like this from between the teeth: "This is how to deal with these guys!" "You're flying too high..." Listnitsky said mockingly. "We're just going to be condescending," Benchuk concluded. "You need to spread some hay on the ground first..." "And why do you still volunteer to go to the front and get promoted to an officer? How does this fit with your opinion? It's - it's - wonderful! A person who opposes the war... Hey Hey...against the annihilation of your own...class brothers - and suddenly...promoted to second lieutenant!" Kalmykov slapped the shaft of his boot and laughed happily. "How many German workers did you kill with your machine guns?" asked Listnitzki. Bunchuk took out a large roll of papers from the side pocket of his military overcoat, turned his back to Listnitsky, rummaged through the rolls for a long time, then went to the table and slapped a paper that had turned yellow with time. newspaper laying flat. 513 "How many German workers have I killed - that is ... the question. I volunteered at the front because sooner or later I would be captured. I think what I learned at the front, in the trenches, will be Useful... In the future, look, that's what it says here..." Then he read Lenin's article: Take the modern military as an example.The military is a good example of an organization.Such an organization is good because it is flexible and at the same time can bring millions of people to a single will.Today, these millions of people are still sitting in their homes, scattered all over the country; tomorrow when the mobilization order is issued, they will gather at designated places.Today they are still squatting in the trenches, sometimes for months, and tomorrow they will charge in other formations.Today they create miracles by avoiding the hail of bullets, and tomorrow they create miracles in hand-to-hand combat.Today their vanguard planted mines in the ground, and tomorrow they will advance tens of versts according to the instructions of the pilots in the air.Millions, inspired by the same will, to change their modes of intercourse and actions, their places and methods of activity, their tools and weapons, to the changing requirements of changing situations and struggles, for the same purpose,— — This is the real organization. The same is true of the struggle of the working class against the bourgeoisie.If there is no revolutionary situation today... "What is the 'situation'?" Chubov asked, interrupting him.Benchuk shook his body for a while, as if waking up from a big dream. He wanted to understand the meaning of the question, and wiped his bumpy forehead with the knuckle of his thumb. "I ask you, what does the word 'situation' mean?" "I understand what these two words mean, but I can't say them clearly..." Benchuk had a cheerful, innocent, and childish smile on his face; The smile seemed so incongruous, like a little light gray rabbit jumping happily across the melancholy and desolate field after the autumn rain. "Situation—meaning situation, situation, etc., am I right?" Listnitsky shook his head vaguely. "Read on..." ... If the revolutionary situation is not in place today, the conditions for mobilizing the masses and increasing their enthusiasm are not yet available, and you are handed ballots today, take them, organize them well, and use them to strike at your enemies, not to drive those The man who clutches the easy chair for fear of death in prison is sent to sit in parliament for a fat seat.If tomorrow you are stripped of your vote and handed you guns and the latest rapid-fire guns, take over these weapons of massacre and destruction, and don't listen to sentimental despondents who fear war; for the sake of the working class Liberation, there is much in the world to be destroyed by gunfire and sword; if the hatred and despair of the masses are growing, if there is a revolutionary situation, start to form new organizations and use these very advantageous weapons of massacre and destruction to destroy Against their own government and their own bourgeoisie... Before Benchuk finished reading, the Chief of the Fifth Company knocked on the door and walked into the earthen house. "Sir," he said to Kalmykov, "here comes the regimental orderly." Kalmykov and Chubov put on their clothes and went out.Merkulov whistled and sat down to draw.Listnitsky was still pacing up and down the earthen hut, twirling his mustache, thinking about something.After a while, Benchuk also left.Holding his collar with his left hand and the lower part of his military coat with his right, he walked along the muddy traffic trench.Gusts of cold wind rushed through the narrow trenches of the traffic trenches, whistling and whirling when they hit bends.Benchuk walked in the dark with a bewildered smile on his face.He returned to his mud hut, soaked in the dampness of the rain and the smell of rotting alder leaves.The captain of the machine gun team was asleep.His swarthy, black-bearded face was livid from sleep deprivation (he played poker three nights straight).Bunchuk rummaged through the military bags he had kept earlier, burned a pile of papers at the door, stuffed two cans and some pistol bullets into his trouser pockets, and walked out of the house.The wind blew in through the open door, blowing away the gray paper dust beside the door, and blowing out the small smoking oil lamp. After Bunchuk left, Lisztnitsky walked up and down in silence for about five minutes, then came to the table.Merkulov was drawing with his head on one side.A sharpened pencil draws smoky shadows.Benchuk's face with a rare, seemingly forced smile was presented on this white paper. "A very powerful face," said Merkulov, pushing away the painting at hand, looking up at Listnitsky. "Well, what do you think?" Listnitsky asked. "The devil knows him!" Merkulov guessed the essence of the question and replied. "He was an unpredictable fellow, and now that he has shown himself, many things have become clear, but I didn't know how to understand him before. You know, he is very popular among the Cossacks, especially among the Among the Heavy. Did you notice?" "Yes," replied Listnitsky vaguely. "The machine gunners—all Bolsheviks. He's managed to get them all mobilized. I'm surprised he's showing his sign today. Why? He's doing it to us Just said, really! He knows that none of us will agree with these views, and I don't know why, he has said what is in his heart. You know he is not an impulsive person. He is a dangerous person .” Merkulov thought about Bunchuk's puzzling behavior, put the picture aside, and undressed.He hung his damp socks over the little stove, wound his watch, smoked a cigarette, lay down, and soon fell asleep.Listnitsky sat down on the same stool as Merkulov had been sitting a quarter of an hour ago, broke off the point of his pencil, and wrote boldly on the back of the picture: grown ups: Previously, the conjectures that I had reported to the adults were completely confirmed today.Lieutenant Bunchuk, in a conversation today with officers of our regiment (in addition to me, there were Lieutenants Kalmykov and Lieutenant Chubov of the 5th company, and Captain Merkulov of the 3rd company) (frankly admitted that , I do not yet fully understand his purpose), explaining those tasks that he was assigned to perform in accordance with his political beliefs, and no doubt his party organization.He also had a volume of prohibited documents with him.He read, for example, passages from the party's Geneva organ, The Communist.There is no doubt that Second Lieutenant Benchuk was working secretly in our regiment (it is conjectured that he came to our regiment as a volunteer for this purpose), and the machine gunner was the direct target of his agitation.We have been disintegrated.His bad influence has been manifested in the mental state of the team - the refusal to carry out combat orders has occurred frequently, and I have reported this situation to the Divisional Secret Service and other agencies at any time. Lieutenant Bunchuk has recently returned from leave (he had been to Petrograd) with a destructive mass of literature; he is now attempting to do more vigorous work.In summary, I believe that: (1) Lieutenant Benchuk's crimes have been established beyond doubt (the officers who spoke with him can testify under oath what I have reported); (2) in order to stop his revolutionary activities, he should be immediately Arrest them and send them to a field court-martial; (3) The machine gun team should be cleared immediately to eliminate particularly dangerous elements, and the rest should be sent to the rear or dispersed to various regiments. I implore my lord not to forget the loyalty of serving the motherland and His Majesty the Emperor.I will send a copy of this document to S. T. Corp. at the same time. Captain Yevgeny Listnitsky On October 20, 1916, in the seventh theater. The next morning Listnitsky sent his messengers to take the report to division headquarters; he came out of the mud hut after breakfast.On the swamp beyond the muddy trench walls, the mist rose as if hanging from the spikes of the barbed wire.Half an inch of mud accumulated on the bottom of the trench.Small streams of brown water dripped from the holes.The Cossacks, some in their wet and muddy overcoats, boiled tea in pots on their guards, and some leaned their rifles against the wall, squatting and smoking. "How many times have I told you that no fires are allowed on the fenders! You bastards, why don't you understand?" Lisztnitsky walked up to the nearest group of Cossacks sitting around the fire, and cursed viciously. road. Two Cossacks stood up reluctantly, while the rest tucked up the lower skirts of their military overcoats, continued to squat there, smoking cigarettes.A dark-faced, bearded Cossack with silver earrings dangling from his wrinkled earlobes, now and then stuffing little bunches of dry twigs under the pot, replied: "We'd rather not use the fenders, but sir, how can there be a fire? Look how deep the water is here! It's several inches deep." "Pull out the shield immediately!" "Then we're going to squat here hungry?! It's—this—like..." A broad-faced, pockmarked Cossack frowned, looking aside. "I'm telling you... take the guard out!" Listnitsky kicked the burning dry twigs from under the pot with the toe of his boot. The bearded and earring Cossack sneered in bewilderment and maliciously, poured the hot water from the pot, and whispered: "Brothers, even if you have had tea..." The Cossacks silently watched the back of the captain walking along the position.The moist eyes of the bearded Cossack shone like fireflies. "He's mad, bitch!" "Ah, ah! . . . " sighed a Cossack, throwing the belt of his rifle over his shoulder. In the area defended by the fourth row, Merkulov overtook Listnitsky.He walked over panting, his new leather jacket rustling, and he smelled pungent of leaf smoke.Calling Listnitsky aside, he said hastily: "Have you heard the news? Bunchuk deserted last night." "Bunchuk? What—what—?" "Absent... Do you understand? Machine gun captain Ignatych, who shared the mud hut with Bunchuk, said that he never came back when he came to us. That is to say, he came from us. As soon as you come out there, you just slip away...that's what happened." Listnitsky frowned and wiped his pince-nez for a long while. "You seem excited?" Merkulov said, looking at him carefully. "Me? Are you talking nonsense? Why am I excited? It's just that this unexpected thing you said surprised me."