ey had driven into the wilderness to save them from the plundering
Bolo, greased up their funny looking little droskies, or carts, and
began hauling supplies for the Allied command and begging tobacco from
the American soldiers.

Captain Donoghue with two platoons of "K" Company, the other two having
been dropped temporarily at Issaka Gorka to guard that railroad repair
shop and wireless station, now moved right out by order of Colonel
Guard, on September seventh, on a trail leading off toward Tiogra and
Seletskoe. Somewhere in the wilds he would find traces of or might
succor the handful of American sailors and Scots who, under Col.
Hazelden, a British officer, had been cornered by the Red Guards.

"Reece, reece," said the excited drosky driver as he greedily accepted
his handful of driver's rations. He had not seen rice for three years.
Thankfully he took the food. His family left at home would also learn
how to barter with the generous doughboy for his tobacco and bully beef
and crackers, which at times, very rarely of course, in the advanced
sectors, he was lucky enough to exchange for handfuls of vegetables that
the old women plucked out of their caches in the rich black mould of the
small garden, or from a cellar-like hole under a loose board in the log
house.

"Guard duty at Archangel" was aiming now to be a real war, on a small
scale but intensive. Obozerskaya, about one hundred miles south of
Archangel, in a few days took on the appearance of an active field base
for aggressive advance on the enemy. Here were the rapid assembling of
fighting units; of transport and supply units; of railroad repairing
crews, Russian, under British officers; of signals; of armored
automobile, our nearest approach to a tank, which stuck in the mud and
broke through the frail Russki bridges and was useless; of the feverish
clearing and smoothing of a landing field near the station for our
supply of spavined air-planes that had already done their bit on the
Western Front; of the improvement of our ferocious-looking armored
train, with its coal-car mounted naval guns, buttressed with sand bags
and preceded by a similar car bristling with machine guns and Lewis
automatics in the hands of a motley crew of Polish gunners and Russki
gunners and a British sergeant or two. This armored train was under the
command of the blue-coated, one-armed old commander Young, hero of the
Zeebrugge Raid, who parked his train every night on the switch