There were about a score of barracks in Molodechno. Almost half of these were filled with deserters from the front, former police and gendarmes who had been impressed into the army at the outbreak of the Revolution, and had soon escaped from the ranks. There were also some criminals and a number of Bolshevist agitators. In a word, they were the riff-raff of that sector of the front. They soon got word of the arrival of the Battalion, and while I was being driven to dinner they crowded round my women and began to curse and molest them. The officer in charge perceived with alarm the growing insolence of these ruffians, and hurried to the Commandant of the station to beg protection. “But what can I do?” answered the Commandant helplessly. “I am powerless. There are fifteen hundred of them, and there is nothing to be done but to submit patiently to their derision and win their goodwill by kindness.” The death penalty had already been abolished in the army. The officer in charge returned with empty hands. She found a few of the rioters in the barracks, behaving offensively towards the women. Having tried vainly to get rid of them by persuasion she telephoned to me. I had barely seated myself at the dinner table when her summons reached me. I hastened into a motor and drove to the barracks. “What are you doing here?” I asked sharply, as I jumped from the car and ran inside. “What do you want? Go out of here! I will talk to you outside if you want anything.” “Ha, ha, ha!” the men jeered. “Who are you? What sort of a _baba_ is this?” “I am the Commander.” “The Commander, eh? Ha, ha, ha! Look at this Commander!” they scoffed. “Now,” I spoke slowly and firmly, “you have no business here whatever. You have got to go away. I will be at your service outside. If you want anything you can tell me there. But you must get out of here!” The men, there were only a score of them, went towards the door, still jeering and muttering curses. I followed them. Immediately outside a large crowd had collected, attracted by the noise. As I faced these depraved men in soldiers’ uniforms my heart was pained at the sight of them. A more ragged, tattered, demoralized lot of soldiers I had never seen. Most of them had the faces of murderers. Others were mere boys, corrupted by the Bolshevist propaganda.