Page:The Russian Review Volume 1.djvu/210

184 covered with logs and earth, with openings for rifles and indentations for commanders. The second line is a series of well-protected earth-works for the batteries. The third line is for the reserves. The three lines of trenches are connected by transverse underground passages. When we go into action, the reserves leave the third line of trenches and take our place.

We are really in an underground town, with streets and alleys, and this town constantly changes its outlines as the battle progresses. New saps are made, the network of trenches is extended, new earth-banks are heaped up, false covers are constructed in order to deceive the enemy. And all this work is done while the battle is in progress, while the guns are roaring ceaselessly, while lead and iron are falling as thick as hail. Yet, we experience no fear in performing the work; on the contrary, we are in good spirits, for we forget about everything except the fact that this spot needs straightening out, another place needs deepening, a third, levelling.

And the bullets fall and fall, without end

Towards evening it became known that we were going into action that night. As usual, the soldiers "prepared" for battle: put on clean underwear, if they had any, and washed themselves*.

"You must be clean when you go out to die," they say.

Tomilin, who had entered the army as a volunteer, was sitting in a corner of the trench, deep in thought. Suddenly he rose and approached me.

"I told you once," said he, "that I am an unbeliever. But now I do believe. And do you know? war changes all of us, it seems. That is, your convictions and your point of view may remain the same, but there is something new in your soul."

"'Communion with Are and blood?'" said I, recalling the words he used on a previous occasion.

"No, not that. I cannot express it. Words seem to be pretentious and affected. Zverev or Zozulenko can express it, but I can't It is a kind of an anxious, passionate expectation, before which my own death is but a trifle, a small incident, that has no significance."

"Are you afraid, brother?" suddenly asked somebody in the darkness, a few steps away from us.

"Why should I be afraid? Before others, too?" said the unseen person, to whom the question was addressed. "And even if I am afraid, they won't ask me about it. It must be done, and that's all there is to it."