One awful night when we had been horribly shelled and the evacuation of the town was hourly imminent there were nine frozen bodies laid side by side in the wood-shed behind the hospital. We should have to leave them there just as we had left others at Shenkursk and Shagavari. I had known all these boys—five Americans, two Englishmen and two Russians—and as I stood out there in the cold, dark, snowy night, I knew war. But there were other nights as bad. Nights when we sat by them as they were dying and waiting for the operating table. God! what nights! And we had to pack them off in the cold at once to a safer town to the north. Then there came a night that nearly made me forget all the others. Our forward position and only protection was demolished utterly. We were forced to abandon it, and our men and guns all crawled into Kitsa and across the river back of Kitsa to Ignatofskaya. We were done. We had put up such a fight however that the enemy was done too, but we did not know this. And the wounded came in that awful night, and the dead. We did not sleep a wink. When the sun rose on Kitsa, Kitsa too was dead. The order was for everybody to "stand to," and the streetful stood to all day long, waiting, and nothing happened. After the continuous thunder of the days before not a gun was fired. But Kitsa was dead. And the engineers were going about setting every house and building with kerosene inside and out for burning. Every kit was packed. Not a thing but cinders was to be left. Kitsa was a thing of the past. And although nothing did happen—and weary men could not stand to forever—and everybody crawled inside and slept—Kitsa was dead. For weeks afterward we lived and worked most of the time in Kitsa. The Bolsheviki had come back, at first feebly, then with real guns. He had put up a show at fighting. His shells had burned some of our buildings. He had killed and wounded some of our men. But we had new men now. And they had the new point of view. But the piles of straw in the corners of buildings were kept soaked with kerosene. We were now holding Kitsa to keep the enemy on the east side of the river until after the ice should break up. And as I stood on the bluff and looked down on the snow-covered roofs of the town I imagined what the fire would look like—and wanted to see it.