We realized this risk when we went to the Alexander Station to see Father entrain for Mogilev. The waiting room was filled with guards and secret police. No one was admitted except by special permit. Even ministers and relatives could not enter except by invitation. When the big, blue, Imperial train, with its double eagle crest, pulled out of the station, we saw Father standing at the wide window of his sitting room. It was a comfort to know that each hundred feet of track was guarded by a soldier against accidents or bombs. No one knew in which car Father rode. All the church bells rang until the train was no longer in sight. The Nicholas railway on which they travelled provided a direct line to General Headquarters. Several days before the trip, roads were searched and guards were posted. As a further precaution, railroad tracks crossing the Nicholas line were removed until Father’s train passed. Once he said, “I have known from my early years that I will fall a victim for my country.” Nevertheless, Father disliked all the fuss. With Father speeding away from us, we knew he would carry on efficiently and with determination. Of course he would miss his family, but we were going to send him letters daily and an occasional package containing needed articles. We often sent him fruit and books and occasionally flowers received from Livadia. I can still hear Mother say, as she examined the flowers while placing them in the box, “When one sees these heavenly blossoms, how can one be reconciled to this terrible war?” Whatever went into each package was lovingly and tenderly packed; and Father knew it. Mother often packed everything with her own hands and made a list of what she included. A jaeger (messenger), an aide-de-camp, or a relative waited until it was ready. Mother sometimes handed the package to him personally and he departed to the undisclosed destination where Father was. There was always a letter in the package, describing our activities, sometimes only a note from Mother, containing a language just the two of them could understand, words that made her love sing in Father’s heart. In going to General Headquarters, Father discarded all conventionality. He went behind the lines to fight with his men in arms. He took it as a matter of faith that it was his duty to sacrifice everything in order to save Russia. He promised to do so the day he took the Crown. He said, “I shall not allow my people to be insulted and to be trampled upon by the enemy.” His cheerful disposition gave great inspiration and happiness to the Army whom he loved more than his family; here he found happiness among his men in arms. We heard of victories. Surely the war would soon end especially since reports from the front showed that prisoners were captured by tens of thousands at a time. “A supreme success,” Father wrote home. No wonder a few months later the Kaiser wanted to sign a peace.