As I came within fifty yards of the barbed wire which the Russians had strung across the tracks, Red soldiers shouted up at me from their trenches and motioned for me to come down into the adjoining field where there was a gap in the wire. A few moments later I was in the first-line trench of the Red army.
I was hot and exhausted and still resentful of that shot. I spoke first: “Why did you shoot at me?” They did not understand, but one of them evidently knew I was speaking English. He called down the trench to another soldier who ran up. He was a tall young Slav, and showed white teeth in a broad smile as he greeted me in good English.
“Why did you shoot at me?” I repeated indignantly.
“One of the comrades made a mistake,” he said. “He shot at you without orders. But you also made a mistake.”
“You carried a white flag,” he said, grinning. “It should have been red.”
I asked to be taken to the commanding officer and two soldiers were detailed to escort me. One of the “comrades” laid down his rifle and picking up my suitcase led the way down the trenches; the other shouldered his rifle and followed close behind me. I kept my eye on the suitcase and trudged along.
They were both very friendly, and with a great show of their English began talking to me at once.
“Do you know,” said one of them, “that the dock workers are on strike in New York?” And while I was still wondering to myself how Russia, shut off from all the rest of the world, could have heard this piece of news, the other “comrade” burst out:
“Who is going to win the pennant in the National League?”
“Where do you learn these things?” I asked.
“From the bulletins,” he replied briefly. I learned later that the wireless at Moscow works twenty-four hours a day, and that it grabs from the air practically all the news that is wirelessed from America to European countries. Each morning in Moscow bulletins carrying this information are printed and distributed in the industries, in the peasant villages and among soldiers.
For three versts we walked along the railroad track, and at last reached the headquarters at Levenhoff. I was taken to the commanding officer, who spoke English fairly well.
“What do you want here?” he asked looking me over keenly.