The commander is there, all soul, defying the darkness with his eyes. What if at that moment the enemy should sight us? "The _Invitto_ leads." His clear orders through a series of manoeuvres draw away the flotilla from the shallow waters and on to the safe course. Beyond, on the shore, the enemy's searchlights are seen crossing each other like white blades. Under the light the shore seems so near as to give one the illusion of being about to drop anchor. We are all tensely waiting. In a few seconds we shall be in the prearranged spot. Minutes seem hours. The rubber stoppers have been removed from the tubes. The mines are ready, on their supports, to be lowered into the sea. The sailors await the order standing. IV--"WE BREATHE DANGER AND DEATH" The minutes are eternal. We may be detected every second. The shore is only a mile from us. The funnels are our despair. They still emit too much smoke and sparks. At last a warning is heard from the bridge. "Ready." The Lieutenant looks at his watch, lighting the dial with the lamp hidden in his hand. The enormous mines, whose heads are charged with destruction, are there silent, like gigantic, gray, petrified sea Medusas, fixed on their support, whose double tooth projects over the waters. "Ready! Let go!" The first mine rolls over with the sound of a shattering barrel, falls in the foaming sea, disappears. "Ready! Let go!" Eighteen seconds elapse. The second falls, followed by the third, fourth, and all the others, on every ship which maintains a diagonal course nearing the coast. In three minutes the operation is over; the mines are planted in the exact spot. The teeth of the crew gleam in a wild smile. Each sailor sees in his heart the enemy's battleships rent and sinking. "Four--Three--Three--Zero." We assume our position at the head of the line, returning on our course with the initial speed. The ships seem now to me to be quivering with warlike joy. In the distance over the mainland the white beams of the searchlights still cross each other. Ever and anon a rocket explodes. Our wake now is so beautiful as to resemble a whirling milky way. A sailor mounts the bridge and gives us a cup of steaming coffee, whose aroma titillates our nostrils and our heart. We light our cigarette. But here is a Marconigram. "Look out, two submarines are lying in wait for you on the safe route." And in the first quiver of dawn, with expanded lungs, we again breathe danger and death. THE BLOOD OF THE RUSSIANS IN FIGHT FOR LIBERTY "_The Deserted Battlefields I Have Seen_" _Told by Count Ilya Tolstoy, Son of the late Count Leo Tolstoy, Famous Russian Novelist_ Count Tolstoy has been serving with the Red Cross branch of the Russian Army. During these tragic experiences, he kept a war diary on the battlefields. This is the first English translation of excerpts from this diary, translated from the Russian by Miss I. Rojansky for _Current History_--Copyright 1916 by Otis F. Wood.