Yashka : $b My life as peasant, exile and soldierBochkareva, Mariia
History
Yashka : $b My life as peasant, exile and soldier
Bochkareva, Mariia
Soviet Union -- History -- Revolution, 1917-1921; World War, 1914-1918 -- Personal narratives, Russian
“Why?” they asked. “We seek only what is good and right. The people are
with us. You saw for yourself that the army is behind us.”
“I will tell you why,” I replied. “I have no objection to your
beautiful plans for the future of Russia. But as for the immediate
situation, if you take the soldiers away from the front, you are
destroying the country.”
“But we do not want any more war. We are going to conclude peace,” the
two leaders replied.
“How can you conclude peace without soldiers at the front? You are
demobilizing the army already. You have got to make peace first and
then let the men go home. I myself want peace, but if I were in the
trenches I would never leave before peace had been signed. What you are
doing will ruin Russia.”
“We are sending the soldiers away because the Germans will not advance
against us, anyhow. They do not want to fight either,” was the reply.
It irritated me, this view of the Germans held by the men who now
controlled the Government of my country.
“You don’t know the Germans!” I cried out. “We have lost so many lives
in this war, and now you would give everything away without a struggle!
You don’t know war! Take the soldiers away from the front and the
Germans will come and seize upon everything they can lay hands on. This
is war. I am a soldier and I know. But you don’t. Why did you take it
upon yourselves to rule the country? You will ruin it!” I exclaimed in
anguish.
Lenin and Trotzky laughed. I could see the irony in their eyes.
They were learned and worldly. They had written books and travelled
in foreign lands. And who was I? An illiterate Russian peasant
woman. My lecture undoubtedly afforded them amusement. They smiled
condescendingly at my suggestion that they did not know what war was in
reality.
I rejected their proposal to co-operate with them and asked if I were
free to leave. One of them rang a bell and a Red Guard entered. He
was requested to accompany me out of the room and to provide me with
a passport and a free ticket to Tomsk. Before leaving I asked for my
arms, but was refused. I explained that they were partly of gold and
given to me on an occasion that rendered them almost priceless to me.
They answered that I would receive them back as soon as order was
restored. Of course, I never got them back.
I left the room without saying good-bye. In the next room I was given
a passport, and proceeded by tramcar to the station. I decided not
to linger in Petrograd and to depart without even seeing any of my
friends. On the way I was recognized everywhere, but was allowed
to proceed unmolested. The same evening I boarded one of the three
cars attached to a train that went to Irkutsk by way of Vologda and
Tcheliabinsk. I was going home. With me I had some two thousand roubles
(about £211 2_s._ 3_d._), saved during my command of the Battalion,
when I had received a salary of four hundred roubles (about £42 4_s._
5_d._) a month.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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