For two days no movement was observable in the enemy lines, and it began
to look as though he would or could not take full advantage of his
extremely favourable position.
I had waged an unequal contest with millions of mosquitoes while trying
to sleep in a field telephone hut made of rough branches and marsh
grass. The Czech soldier who acted as operator had helped me as much as
possible, but at last in desperation I got up and walked about until the
wonderful colouring in the East heralded another glorious Siberian
summer day. The bluey-purple pall had given place to a beautiful
orange-tinted yellow such as I had never seen before. The sentry prodded
a sleeping Tommy who had a huge black frog sitting on the highest point
of his damp, dewy blanket, and a bugle glistening by his side. The
sleeper awoke, and after washing his lips at the tank, sounded the
soldiers' clarion call, the "Reveille." Instantly the whole bivouac was
alive, but scarcely had the bugle notes died away when the telephone
buzzer began to give forth a series of sharp, staccato sounds. The Czech
operator gave a sharp ejaculation, like "Dar! Dar! Dar!" looking more
serious as the sounds proceeded. He then calmly hung up the
speaking-tube on the tree that supported our home and began to explain
to my interpreter, Lieutenant Bolsaar, the message just received.
Pages:
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45