Meanwhile, my girls heard what had happened and hurried to my aid. The mob dispersed to look for me and some of the men came to the dugout in which I was concealed. “Where is Botchkareva? Let us in to see if she is there!” they shouted. The girl sentry said she had orders to shoot if they approached near her. They did. She-fired, wounding one in the side. The poor girl was bayoneted by the brutes. The committee and my friends, numbering about one hundred, insisted that I should be given a trial and not lynched. My girls were ready to die for me to the last one. I was taken out from the dugout by my defenders, who made an effort to lead me to safety for an open trial. The mob, which had now increased, pressed closer and closer. The two sides were fighting for me. It was agreed that no weapons were to be used in the scramble. The mass of humanity swayed back and forth, my girls fighting with the strength of infuriated wild beasts to stave off the mob. Now and then a man would get close enough to strike a blow at me. As the struggle developed these blows increased in number till I was knocked senseless. In that state my friends dragged me away from the scene of the struggle. My life was saved, although I was badly knocked about. It cost the lives of a loyal girl and an innocent friend. I was sent to Molodechno, a couple of my girls going with me to look after me. The Battalion was taken from the front to the reserve billets. But even there their lives were not safe. They were insulted, annoyed, and dubbed Kornilovki. There were daily tumults. The windows of their dugouts were broken. The officers were powerless and seldom showed their faces. My instructors did their best to defend me and the Battalion, explaining that we were non-party. One morning a car came for me from Headquarters at Molodechno. There I met the Commanding General of my Corps, who described the unbearable conditions in which my girls were placed. They were waiting for me, refusing to go home, unless I disbanded them. He had sent them to dig reserve trenches in order to keep them away from the men. They did splendid work, he said, but as soon as they returned the men began to molest them. Only the previous night a gang of soldiers made an assault on the dugouts in which my girls were billeted. They beat the sentry and broke in with the intention of attacking the women. There was a panic. Some of the girls seized their rifles and fired in the air. The noise attracted the attention of my instructors and several other soldiers, among whom there were numerous decent men. The situation was saved by the latter. But what was to be done? Life for the Battalion was becoming absolutely unbearable, at least at this part of the front. It was difficult to understand the change which had come over the men in a few months. How long ago was it that they almost worshipped me, and I loved them? Now they seemed to have lost their senses.