The fact that all these men were armed, and the accidental discharge of a rifle now and then in the middle of the throng, made this orgy tragical. Sometimes a dusty Cossack rode in with the news that the Japanese were coming. " They fired on us half a mile off — other side of the river." On such occasions there was a momentary commotion, bloodshot eyes and flushed faces were turned towards the frozen stream, fire-arms were clutched, preparations were made to fly, to advance; but, a few moments after, the panic had subsided, and the orgy had recommenced.
Being Irish, I can understand a crowd of men getting drunk in order to make themselves cheerful, but this was the most sombre crowd of drunkards I had ever seen. Instead of making them gay, the drink made them mad.
Meanwhile there were the usual contrasts in which war is so prolific. A short distance from the station I met three officers of the Zamostie regiment, who looked dirtier and more wretched than even their own soldiers. One was wounded; two were suffering from contusions, which were probably worse than wounds. Dazed and feeble, with arms around each others necks, these unfortunate gentlemen staggered along — a tragical parody on Burns's famous drinkingsong.
Still more neglected, of course, were the wounded privates. I met long strings of them in the streets of Suhudyapu. Several of them came to me on one occasion with their wounds bound up in dirty pocket handkerchiefs, and asked me " for Christ's sake" (radee Khrista) the way to the " Perevyazyochny
Punkt." Not being able to give them the necessary information, and knowing that my accent would at once betray me, I remained silent, whereupon one of the wounded men caught at the arm of a man worse wounded than himself, saying:
"Come along, little brother! Come along, golubchik tui moi (my little pigeon). You see nobody will answer. Nobody speaks."
His tone was charged with sorrowful resignation, not with anger. He was a typical Slav.
Some of the Cossacks excited my admiration by stealing bags of corn for their little ponies before they themselves tackled the " vodka," thus unconsciously carrying out the orders of their Cossack-poet Davidoff. Close by, a gang of soldiers were working hard, loading boxes of shell into a train. Why they did not throw all discipline to the winds and join in the mad revel that was going on beside them, I cannot imagine.
Other soldiers were carefully lifting the wounded into poseelkee (stretchers). Even in the midst of this indescribable uproar, some Red Cross sisters, all honour to them, remained at their posts not only selfpossessed, but cheerful. I remember little Rikacheff significantly drawing the attention of one of them, a large, red-cheeked lassie, with the bearing of a Tsaritza, and the serene self-possession of one of Turgeneffs heroines, to his horse, which he was tying up in the yard of the hospital, the inference being that she would keep an eye on it, for at this time all the distinctions between " meum M and " tuum " had completely disappeared. After listening for a second, her dark eyes brimming over with merriment, she flew lightly backwards towards the door of the hospital,
clapping her hands together, and giving vent to a clear, ringing laugh, the memory of which did me good for weeks after. " So! so! " she said, " you want me, then, to mount guard (' vstupeet' v'karaool ') over your precious horse. ' Spasibo ' (thanks), I've got enough to do looking after my little boys " — and sure enough she had, poor girl, for the wounded were being carried in by scores.
The reports brought us from time to time by the Cossacks with regard to the advance of the enemy were not exaggerated. The Japanese were coming on with the force of an inundation. Their right wing rolled like a tidal wave into the villages of Sankiatsz, Hsiaofanghsin and Mentapu. Their centre drove the Russians out of Meturan, Davanganpu (which I had left only a few hours before), and Danjanhay, Tserpitsky's former headquarters. Their left wing swept along the west bank of the Hun, capturing Wokiapu, in the rear of Suhudyapu, the village in which I was standing. One could almost fancy that he heard the increasing roar of this fierce advance, that he could catch, like the deep rumbling of unchained waters, the sound of this oncoming ocean of armed men.
Meanwhile, in the north, Nogi and his outflanking army were literally carrying all before them. They even reached Tehshengyingtsz, due north of Suhudyapu, and almost in a straight line between that place and Mukden. Indeed, as I shall afterwards tell, Japanese horsemen rode as far as Madyapu or Mokiapu, the point where the road from Suhudyapu to Mukden crosses the Hun river, and fired on the retreating Russians there.