Introduced to No Man's Land
Our train was composed of a number of box-cars and one passenger-car. A box-car, having two bunks on each side, in which the soldiers sleep, is called teplushka.
From: 1915 C.E. To: 1913 C.E.
Note: This article has been excerpted from a larger work in the public domain and shared here due to its historical value. It may contain outdated ideas and language that do not reflect TOTA’s opinions and beliefs.
“Introduced to No Man's Land“ from Yashka, My Life as Peasant, Officer and Exile by Maria Bochkareva and Isaac Don Levine, 1919.
Our train was composed of a number of box-cars and one passenger-car. A box-car, having two bunks on each side, in which the soldiers sleep, is called teplushka. There are no windows in a teplushka, as it is really only a converted freight-car. 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 much empty space in the passenger-car, and the officers bethought themselves 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 could 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 backl Good fellow, Yashka!" the boys welcomed me enthusiastically, flinging some strong epithets at 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 officers upon the regiment's fitness. We were then assigned to the Fifth Corps. Before we started the word went out that there was a woman in our regiment.
There was no lack of curiosity-seekers. Knots of soldiers gathered about my teplushka, peeped through the door and cracks in the sides to verify with their own eyes the incredible news. Then they would swear, emphasizing by spitting 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 along 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 much wrought up over 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. There were about twenty versts to Corps Headquarters to be walked. The road was in a frightful condition, sticky and full of mud-holes. We were so tired at the end of ten versts' walking that a rest was ordered. The soldiers, although fatigued, 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 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 several versts distant. The Commander of the Division, by the name of Walter, was of German blood and a rascal of first rank. We were placed, during the night, in the woods back of 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 received a thorough test and passed it well. Asked if I wanted to take part in the fight, I replied affirmatively. Muttering his wonderment, Colonel Stubendorf allowed me to remain till he looked into the matter further.
A big battle was raging at the time on that 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 caved-in 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. Signs were posted oh the streets and each company had a sentinel on duty.
Our position was eight versts behind the first line of trenches. The booming of the guns could be heard in the distance. Streams of wounded, some on vehicles and others trekking along on foot, flowed along the road. We drilled most of the time, the second day watched by 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 shells 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 telephone 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 to show the Germans what we, the boys 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 releasing a gas wave 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 so we withstood the irritating fumes.
The midnight hour 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 would 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 plain ditch, and as we lined up along it our shoulders touched. The positions of the enemy were less than one verst 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 many. Then we would be sprinkled with the blood of our comrades and spattered by the mud.
At two in the morning the Commander appeared in our midst. He was seemingly nervous. The other officers came with him and took their positions at the head of the men. With drawn sabers they prepared to lead the charge. The Commander had a rifle.
"Viliezai!" his voice rang out.
I crossed myself. My heart was filled with pain for the bleeding men around me and stirred by an impulse of savage revenge toward the Germans. My mind was a kaleidoscope of many thoughts and pictures. 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 boys, to be met by a hail of machine gun bullets. For a moment there was confusion. So many dropped around us, 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, they were so heart-rending, so piercing!
Amid the confusion the voice of our Company Commander was raised:
"Forward!"
And forward we went. The enemy had perceived us go over the top, and he let loose Hell. As we ran ahead, we fired. Then the order came to lie down. The bombardment grew even more concentrated. Alternately running for some distance and then lying down for awhile, 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 of our Company of two hundred and fifty left.
Whose fault was it? This was an offensive on a twenty-verst line, 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. By the time we got back to our trenches there were only forty-eight of our Company left alive. About a third of the two hundred and fifty were dead. The larger part 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 to recover our poise. But there we were, smarting under the defeat by the enemy's barbed wire barrier, with the heart-tearing appeals for succor 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 expectation of rescue, the deathly pallor of their countenances. Could I remain indifferent to their pleas? Wasn't it my bounden duty as a soldier, 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, imitating a corpse. Within a few feet of our line there were wounded. 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 stimulated me to continue my labors, till I reached into the far side of the field. Here I had several narrow escapes. A sound, made involuntarily, was sufficient to attract several bullets, and only my anticipating that, by flattening myself against the ground, saved me. When dawn broke in the east, putting an end to my expeditions through No Man's Land, I had accounted for 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 valor shown in the saving of many lives under fire."
Our kitchen had been destroyed the previous night by the enemy's fire, and we hungered. Our ranks were refilled by fresh drafts, and our artillery again boomed all day, playing havoc with the enemy's wire fences. We knew 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 on the run for 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 parapet 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 aiming 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. The boys 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 dark of the night, within fifty feet of what was, 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 versts.
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 in the immediate 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 women's ward.
I spent the spring of 1915 there. 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 terminal. 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 anxious to get back to the boys. They had endeared themselves to me so much that my Company was as beloved to me 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 toward me.
"Who could that be?" he asked, reminiscently. The partner scratched his neck and said:
"Why, he looks familiar."
"That'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!" went out the word to men and officers alike. There was such spontaneous joy that I was overwhelmed. Our Regiment was then in the reserves, and soon I was surrounded by hundreds of old friends. There was intermittent kissing, embracing, handshaking. The boys pranced about like kids, 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 ovation I received from my comrades.
They carried me on their shoulders, shouting, "Hurrah for Yashka! Three cheers for Yashkal" 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 detailed soon to act as the protecting force to a battery of artillery. Such an assignment was regarded by the men as a vacation, for it made possible a genuine rest in healthful surroundings. We spent between two and three weeks with the battery and were removed to Sloboda, a town in the vicinity of Lake Narotch, about forty versts 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. One could not endure long in such circumstances. One was compelled to snatch bits of sleep standing, and even the strongest constitutions broke down quickly. We were relieved at the end of six days and sent to the rear for recuperation. 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 bogs were practically impassable. The Germans, however, made an attempt in August to outflank the marshes, but failed.
Later we were shifted to another position, some distance away. There was comparative quiet at our front. Our main work consisted of 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 participated in 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 of fifty feet apart. Once at the post, our safety and duty demanded absolute immobility and caution. We were to make every effort 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 caught 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 against 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 remainder 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 intensive bombing and shooting. Not infrequently scouting parties from both sides would meet. Then there would be a regular battle. It has happened that one party would let an opposite party pass by, 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 A. M. of that date, demolishing our barbed-wire defenses, destroying some of our trenches and burying many soldiers alive. Many others were killed by his 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 from the thunders of the cannon. 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 the Germans were observed climbing over the top and running in our direction. Closer and closer they came, and still we were kept inactive, while our artillery rained shells on them. When they approached within a hundred feet of our line the order was issued to us to open fire. It was such a concentrated hail of bullets that we let loose at the foe, decimating his ranks, that confusion resulted in his midst. We took advantage of the situation and rushed at the Germans, turning them back and pursuing them along the eighteen-verst front on which they started to advance. The enemy lost ten thousand that morning.
During the day we received reinforcements, also new equipment, Including gas masks. Then word came that we would 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, joking about death. Many expected not to return and wrote letters to their dear ones. Others prayed. Before an offensive the men's camaraderie reached a climax. There would be affectionate partings, sincere professions by some of their premonitions of death and the intrusting of messages to friends. Universal joy was displayed whenever a shell of ours tore a gap in the enemy's barrier of wire or fell into the midst of his trenches.
At three in the morning the order "Advance!" rang out. Buoyant in spirit, 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 aiding an agonized human being. There is great reward in the gratitude of some pain-convulsed boy that one wins. It gave me immense joy to sustain life in benumbed human bodies. As I was kneeling over one such wounded, 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 objections, carried the bleeding man out of danger.
I continued my work all night, and was recommended "for bravery in defensive and offensive fighting and for rendering, while wounded, first aid on the field of battle," to receive the Cross of St. George of the 4th degree. 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."
My arm pained, 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 became one of routine. At night we kept watch, warming ourselves with hot tea, boiled on little stoves in the front trenches. With 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 repairing things generally.
The kitchen was always about a verst in the rear, and we sent messengers to bring the dinner pails to the trenches. The average dinner consisted of a hot cabbage soup, with some meat in it. The meat, frequently, was spoiled. 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 assignments, and at six in the evening supper, the last meal, consisting only of one course, arrived. 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 thus were 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' recuperation. There the baths of the Union of Zemstvos, which had already extended its activities in 1915 throughout the front, awaited us. Every Divisional bath was in charge of a physician and a hundred volunteer 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-ridden were the trenches, and so great was their suffering on this account.
More than anybody else did I suffer 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 sympathized.
"But what can I do, Yashka?" he remarked, "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 for awhile. But the vermin gave me no rest, and I was nearing the point of 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 boys joked, good-naturedly. Once inside, I hastened to occupy a corner for myself and demanded that the men stay away from there. They did, although they kept laughing and teasing. I was awfully embarrassed the first time, and as soon as I got through I hurried into my new underwear, dressed quickly 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 fun-making of any new member of the Company.
Bochkareva, Maria and Levine, Isaac Don. Yashka, My Life as Peasant, Officer and Exile. Frederick A. Stokes Company, 1919.
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