The entrance of the dugout was of course now facing the enemy. He knew its exact position and concentrated his fire on it. Although bomb-proof, it soon began to collapse under the rain of shells. Some of these blocked the entrance almost completely with débris. Finally, a shell penetrated the roof, putting out the light, killing five and wounding several. I lay in a corner, buried under wreckage, soldiers and officers, some of whom were wounded and others dead. The groans were indescribable. As the screech of a new shell was heard overhead I believed death to be close at hand. There was no question of making an immediate effort to extricate myself and escape while the bombs were still crashing into the hole. When with the dawn the bombardment finally ceased, and I was saved, I could hardly believe the evidence of my own senses that I was unhurt. The following day I discovered the body of Lieutenant Bobrov. His presentiment was right, after all. He was an intrepid fighter, and a man of noble impulses. I fulfilled his wish, and had his ring and letter sent through the physician to his wife. Our own Regiment had two thousand wounded. And when the dead were gathered from the field and carried out of the trenches, there were long, long, rows of them stretched out in the sun awaiting eternal rest in the immense common grave that was being dug for them in the rear. With bowed heads and bleeding hearts we paid last homage to our comrades. They had laid down their lives like true heroes, without suspecting that they were being sacrificed to no purpose by a vile traitor. On March 10th, still suffering from the effects of my dreadful night among the corpses, I was sent to the Divisional Hospital for a three days’ rest. I was back in the trenches on the 14th, when another advance was ordered. The German positions were not yet strongly fortified, and we captured their first line without serious losses. Then there was another few days’ respite, during which our ranks were reformed. Early in the morning of March 16th, after an ineffectual bombardment of the enemy’s position by our artillery, the signal to go over the top was given. We advanced in the face of a stubborn German fire, dashing through No Man’s Land only to find the enemy’s wire defences intact. There was nothing to do but retreat. It was while running back that a bullet struck me in the right leg, shattering the bone. I fell. Within a hundred feet of me ran the enemy’s first line. Bullets whizzed over my head, pursuing my fleeing comrades. I was not alone. Others were groaning not far from me. Some prayed for death.... I grew thirsty. I had lost a great deal of blood. But I knew it was useless to move. The sun rose in the east, only to be obscured by grey clouds. “Shall I be rescued?” I wondered. “Perhaps the enemy’s stretcher-bearer will pick me up soon. But no, he just fired at that soldier yonder who raised himself in an effort to move.”