I was ready to resume my travel. The woman provided us with sufficient food to last for several days’ journey. She also gave me some rags with which I wrapped my feet so that they would not slide around in my boots. We passed many wheat fields and woods of tall oak trees; many had been uprooted and were lying dead, leaving big holes in the ground which were now filled with water and mud. The trenches were uncovered and deserted and the rain made rivers of them. The war had turned this area into a battleground. We could see pieces of clothing, brass artillery shell cases, chains, pieces of iron and other odds and ends of metal buried in the trunks of trees--mute testimony to the destructive power of artillery. Tragedy was all around us. Rains had washed away the traces of blood shed here during the past four years. Suddenly I spied a geranium plant in the midst of the holocaust. Here and there were pieces of blankets and abandoned, rusty canteens. Unexpectedly, here something gave away under my feet, uncovering some leaves. I screamed. It was a pair of feet--the flesh was all gone, just bones. They fell apart under the impact of my weight. The others responding to my scream came over and removed the leaves from the sunken body of a Russian soldier. His uniform was so rotted and stained, it was impossible to tell that he was an officer, but a rusty watch was still wrapped around his wrist bone. The woods showed all kinds of tragedies. Father knew this battlefield as he himself had been shelled several times while inspecting the troops. For this he and Alexei received their St. George decorations. Father had had his to the last day. He knew the devotion and bravery of his men, those heroes who sacrificed everything. In the end they, too, paid with their lives, making room for Lenin and Trotsky. The day before the war in 1914, I dreamed that woods like these I had just crossed were in flames, the fire was red and went high up to the sky. I heard the crackling of the trees. I knew then that the war was unavoidable, especially when in the evening for the first time Father appeared late for dinner. Now I recalled my dream as I saw this place of suffering. In distress I left the touching scene. The men carried me through the deep mudholes, taking turns. I worried that I was too heavy. Actually I weighed only forty kilograms, not quite ninety pounds. The latest companion to join us, the Austrian soldier, had been stationed in these parts with the Austrian army and knew well the nearby villages. Moreover, he himself came from this part of the country. He volunteered to be our guide. A day or two later, in the afternoon, we came to a stretch of woods where we saw some women picking yellow mushrooms. A young woman among them already had her baskets full. We spoke to the young woman who said she was going home, part way to the nearby village.