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All his life he would cherish the memory of an endless caravan of camels alongside the railway line, the laden beasts plodding patiently through the snow, ignoring the twentieth century as it hurtled past them in a clash of iron and a shriek of steam. I'm a bloody long way from Aberowen, he thought at that moment.
But the most memorable incident was a visit to a high school in Chita. The train stopped there for two days while Colonel Fitzherbert parlayed with the local leader, a Cossack chieftain called Semenov. Billy attached himself to a party of American visitors on a tour. The principal of the school, who spoke English, explained that until a year ago he had taught only the children of the prosperous middle class, and that Jews had been banned even if they could afford the fees. Now, by order of the Bolsheviks, education was free to all. The effect was obvious. His classrooms were crammed to bursting with children in rags, learning to read and write and count, and even studying science and art. Whatever else Lenin might have done-and it was difficult to separate the truth from the conservative propaganda-at least, Billy thought, he was serious about educating Russian children.
On the train with him was Lev Peshkov. He had greeted Billy warmly, showing no sense of shame, as if he had forgotten being chased out of Aberowen as a cheat and a thief. Lev had made it to America and married a rich girl, and now he was a lieutenant, attached to the Pals as an interpreter.
The population of Omsk cheered the battalion as they marched from the railway station to their barracks. Billy saw numerous Russian officers on the streets, wearing fancy old-fashioned uniforms but apparently doing nothing military. There were also a lot of Canadian troops.
When the battalion was dismissed, Billy and Tommy strolled around town. There was not much to look at: a cathedral, a mosque, a brick fortress, and a river busy with freight and passenger traffic. They were surprised to see many locals wearing bits and pieces of British army uniform. A woman selling hot fried fish from a stall had on a khaki tunic; a deliveryman with a handcart wore thick army-issue serge trousers; a tall schoolboy with a satchel of books walked along the street in bright new British boots. "Where did they get them?" said Billy.
"We supply uniforms to the Russian army here, but Peshkov told me the officers sell them on the black market," Tommy said.
"Serves us bloody well right for supporting the wrong side," said Billy.
The Canadian YMCA had set up a canteen. Several of the Pals were already there: it seemed to be the only place to go. Billy and Tommy got hot tea and big wedges of apple tart, which North Americans called pie. "This town is the headquarters of the anti-Bolshevik reactionary government," Billy said. "I read it in The New York Times. " The American papers, which had been available in Vladivostok, were more honest than the British.
Lev Peshkov came in. With him was a beautiful young Russian girl in a cheap coat. They all stared at him. How did he do it so fast?
Lev looked excited. "Hey, have you guys heard the rumor?"
Lev probably always heard rumors first, Billy thought.
Tommy said: "Yeah, we heard you're a homo. "
They all laughed.
Billy said: "What rumor?"
"They've signed an armistice. " Lev paused. "Don't you get it? The war is over!"
"Not for us," said Billy.
{III}
Captain Dewar's platoon was attacking a small village called Aux Deux Eglises, east of the river Meuse. Gus had heard a rumor there would be a cease-fire at eleven A. M. , but his commanding officer had ordered the assault so he was carrying it out. He had moved his heavy machine guns forward to the edge of a spinney, and they were firing across a broad meadow at the outlying buildings, and giving the enemy plenty of time to retreat.
Unfortunately, the Germans were not taking the opportunity. They had set up mortars and light machine guns in the farmyards and orchards, and were shooting back energetically. One gun in particular, firing from the roof of a barn, was effectively keeping half of Gus's platoon pinned down.
Gus spoke to Corporal Kerry, the best shot in the unit. "Could you put a grenade into that barn roof?"
Kerry, a freckled youth of nineteen, said: "If I could get a bit closer. "
"That's the problem. "
Kerry surveyed the terrain. "There's a bit of a rise a third of the way across the meadow," he said. "From there I could do it. "
"It's risky," Gus said. "Do you want to be a hero?" He looked at his watch. "The war could be over in five minutes, if the rumors are true. "
&
nbsp; Kerry grinned. "I'll give it a try, Captain. "
Gus hesitated, reluctant to let Kerry risk his life. But this was the army, and they were still fighting, and orders were orders. "All right," Gus said. "In your own time. "
He half-hoped Kerry would delay, but the boy immediately shouldered his rifle and picked up a case of grenades.
Gus shouted: "All fire! Give Kerry as much cover as you can. "
All the machine guns rattled, and Kerry began to run.
