other troops, but I was anxious to
keep well ahead for an important reason. The Bolsheviks had ravaged and
tortured both young and old, rich and poor, male and female throughout
the country till their very name stank in the nostrils of the common
people. Their blood lust had been so great that when they had no
Russian peasant to torture they fell back on the poor unfortunate Czech
soldiers who had fallen into their hands as prisoners of war. Many
authentic cases of this kind are so revolting in character that it is
better to keep them in the dark rather than advertise how fiendishly
cruel men can be to one another. I knew that the Czechs had threatened
to retaliate. The incident of the white flag previously recorded may
have had something to do with the same sentiment, though I can scarcely
think it had. I decided, however, that the more humane rules of war
should apply so far as I was concerned, and I soon had a chance of
making a demonstration of my views before the whole army. A fugitive
Bolshevik soldier had escaped from the Japanese cavalry, and started to
make his way across our left front in an attempt to join the retreating
Bolshevik trains. Exhausted by the heavy going of the marsh, he had
dropped for cover and rest. The Japanese line was fast approaching the
spot where he had taken shelter, so he raised himself from the grass and
began to run. I levelled my servant's rifle, but misjudged the distance,
and he took no notice. I took aim at a point over his head, and he
dropped in the grass so suddenly that Colonel Frank thought I had killed
him. As we approached the spot his black hair showed up above the green,
and I took aim again, but did not fire. I informed Colonel Frank I
wanted the man, if he would surrender, to be an example of how a
prisoner of war should be treated. Colonel Frank shouted to the man to
surrender. The man shouted back that the Japanese killed all prisoners.
He was then informed that I was an English officer, and if he would
surrender I guaranteed his life unless he had committed some greater
crime than merely fighting as a Bolshevik soldier. He made no further
parley, but almost ran to me as for protection. I was standing on the
embankment, in full view for miles, and it was easy for the whole
incident to be seen. I took his rifle, with fixed bayonet, and bandolier
and fifty rounds from him. His papers showed him to be a demobilised
Russian soldier. I placed him under a guard of two men wi