The Daily Worker Newspaper, December 5, 1925, Page 10

(C Rooyriant, 1925, by Jaiernaitonal Publishers Co.) NE evening in May, having arranged for our wounded at the depot, selves on a meadow, waiting for kasha, when suddenly, from the direction of the forest, he ap- pepred: ty lying Osip! srothers, it’s Osip! “lying Osip!” “Where? Where?” The newcomers among the guerilla-fighters turned their heads eagerly. “What Osip?” “Open your eyes, not your mouths! There!” “And really, it’s him!” cried one of the old-tim- ers; he jumped up, stuck his spoon in back of his boot-leg and yelled: “It’s him! Osip! The flying devil! ..” “T tell you, it’s him.” “Still alive! True chip of the Urals!” Well, brothers, if Osip’s turned up there’l! be End doing !” m9 rolled over the meadow— ‘You, dap’t catch Osip coming for nothing!” iT tell: you, if he’s turned up!.. .” ‘A tall man, clad in a muzhik’s coat, was ap- proaching along the embankment, swerving aside from the piles of torn-up ties and rails of the de- molished road. The skirts of his coat were stuck like wedges behind his belt, and his dingy, rust- colored cap with the visor was thrust forward on his head. One could see by his worn-out, bast shoes that the man had walked many a mile. Coming up close to us, he slowly took off his cap, bowed to either side, and a weary smile flitted across his pock-marked face. He asked hoarsely: “Ours?” “Whose then? You rum guy!” “Osip, don’t you know us?” “We spotted you way, way off!” ¢ The man again’smiled wearily, with a simple- hearted smile. He passed his dark palm over his face as if brushing off cobwebs, and unexpectedty asked in a firm voice, in military fashion: “What detachment? Whose?” Eagerly, interrupting one another, we named our detachment, explained our posiiton and. thes disposition ‘of the enemy forces. And the fellow with the spoon in his boot- leg, pressing forward until his nose almost touched the other’s, yelled as if across a field: “Osip, lad!- Have you forgotten? Didn’t io lead us in the flanking movement at Sabanov And we struck the enemy in the rear so that . Gee! .. .” “Smashed ’em to smithereens!” Leaning wearily against a wagon, and twisting his matted beard around his finger, Osip shook his head, as if wishing to say: “I don’t remem- ber, somehow.” “At Sabanov.... Wait... .” He began to rub his nose on the outside, where the nostril was torn away. “Isn’t Sokolov in your detachment? Kirsan’s his given name?” “There, you know us all right!” eagerly cried the one with the spoon in his boot-leg. “Where else should Kirsan be! Sure he’s with us!” “Sokolov’s with us!” the men shouted from all sides, surrounding Osip. “Sokolov’s here! Only, as it happens, he’s wounded. Last night. Badly! He’ sat the depot, is Sokoloy !” put then the wagons with the large caldrons kasha came up. Pans began to rattle. The rushed to the caldrons, and the. cooks, swinging their ladles, shouted: “Get in line, get in line! Look sharp, or you'll get scalded!” _Osip twisted his beard around his finger and started toward the depot. He refused even the hot kasha. '“He’s off to wake up old wounds,” said one of the old-timers, carefully holding his palm un- der the spoon that was on its way to his mouth. “Sokolov, boys, was an eye-witness when Osip’s family was completely wiped out. The Whites did the job. That’s why he remembers. kolov. ‘No°wonder! They were neighbors. . .” '“Sokolov will die,” said a callow youth, blow- “ing on the steaming kasha, his eyes bulging out. e. stuffed the kasha from the spoon into his mouth, burning his tongue, and added, “A bullet hit his lung, khlear thru his back.” “Look out; you’ll choke, you ‘khlear thru’,” mimicked a neighbor. “Swallow it first. .'. .” 'Osip soon came out of the depot. Sokolov was unconscious. The ride in the wagon had shaken him up. The nurse who was there on duty asked them not to disturb him. ‘Osip sat down on a tie and lowered his head as if meaning to doze off. They gave him a,pan of LYING OSIP we established our- | | kasha. <A few of them tried to address questions to him. But pushing the kasha aside, he sud- denly arose, as if he had all at once recollected something. “I have to go to headquarters. quarters?” “Kat some kasha first! What a fellow! .. .” “T can’t! Matter of business,’ Osip grumbled in his beard. : And one could see that he was hundry. While we were putting the hand-car on the track to bring him to headquarters, he greedily swallowed a few handfuls of kasha, scooping 2 - with his fingers. On the platform of the hand-c -car——we. .had barely started—Osip fell asleep, his head lowered between his knees. Where's head- II Meanwhile it grew dark. Stars -appeared. June-beetles buzzed like bullets over our camp, The men stretched themselves out on the meadow. Here and-there little, golden gleams of cigarettes flared up. In the forest a bittern was penne: as if into a barrel. “Yes, there are all kinds of men... ” sighed a Uralian, Babushkin, who. came from Sokolov’s district. “It’s a year and a half now that Osip’s been. looking for death. . .. But she won’t take him! He dashes from front to front, throws him- self forward, straight into the fire . . . she won’t take him! Did you notice the mark—the torn nostril? That was when the Whites caught him once, right in their headquarters nearly. They buried him ‘up to his neck in the ground for a whole day. .. And they stuck a rusty nail in his nostril, and just like that... ripped it out with the flesh.” “You: say he’s looking for death,” interrupted one of the youngsters, “and what the devil does he want death for? You’ve got things twisted, uncle.” Babushkin kept silence for a while, gazing at the crescent that was entangled in the tree-tops. “Sometimes even death is sweet,” he said after hg pause. “Only, it’s hard for some men to find beater for s spite th’ won t | ‘take one who eter ite MORE d he WA6'trles!¥6 hide #6m it; hare ttn ‘ound, and ‘there ‘He is, lying under a bush, his eyes staring upward, poor soul . “Say, uncle, just tell us straight. . .~ About Osip! Why is he called ‘Flying’?” “Well, that’s what I’m telling you; he flies from front to front, looking for death, and she runs from him.... Understand? That’s the kind of a man he is: he goes plump in the midst of the enemy, finds out everything, sniffs out all their plans. .And when it comes to battle, he’s the first everywhere, in front.of all, like a wild beast. . . . And. when resting—you see how it is —we laugh and make merry, but he, Osip, is blue. ... He sits somewhere in a corner alone, and you can see that he’s sad. And when he’s sad, then he likes most of all to play the guitar. Of course, he don’t know how to play—he picks at the strings. He lowers his head all the ‘way down and just keeps strummin’ quietly. Then you’d better not bother him. Once I sat next to him—I look—tears are rolling from his eyes . . . Hey, seems to me you’re snoring!” “N-n-no...only ... those who are tired. . .” “You just keep on telling the story.. Semakov, Mitka, give me a pines, of *backie. Ah, ‘he’s asleep —the devil!” “And it’s really time to sleep,” Babushkin yawned lazily. “And Osip, I tell you, is a man of gold. A smart one. He’s a teacher; one of, the village teachers. When the Whites showed. up around hére; he, you must know,—he raised the whole Ural district against them. And when ours retreated, the others went wild—uh!,And.,they started to slash, you may say,—even the: babes. ec Workmen. perished by thousands. ‘They used to put out their eyes, drive nails into their brains. When they caught any of ’em in the woods they would hang ’em right there on the trees. That was when they found out what kind of a bird Baev was . . « Osip’s name is Baev. . so right off they wiped out his whole family, that is, the wife and the little ones. When Sokolov starts to tell about it. your hair stands on ona.) Babushkin pressed down the tobacco in his pipe with-his finger-nail, and struck a match. The feeble light. flared up and for a moment il- lumined the darkness around. The boys were sleeping in every possible position. Only Vas- yaga Grach, the youngest, resting his face on his palms, looked with wide-open eyes straight at Babushkin’s beard. By Ivan Kasatkin|: “Say, uncle,” Vasyaga said in a low and pen- “ sive voice, “that Osip is sort of strange... He’s terrible... He twitches his torn nostril and his eyebrow ... and he seems to grin... I’ve noticed it. He’s like a demon. He’s ferocious!” “What ?—he !—ferocious! .. . He’s like a babe, Osip is. He’s got the soul-of a saint, lad. . You couldn’t find a kindlier man. Of cour§e, he’s pin- ing ... that’s about his family. He would like to die, but even death respects the brave. But you’re right. He is like a demon. Or a wild cat that lives in the woods. And just wateh—he'll spill a lot of blood yet ...of those...” And Babushkin .. fell. to snoring. ‘Vasyaga h stretched out at full length, put his hands under his head, and gazed and gazed at the crescent that had already risen high. In the forest a bittern boomed intermittently. Over. the meadow, « over ‘the sleeping ‘ men, mosqui- toes; droned piteously 5, Juned beetles hummed git : ETE rhealw odt welt The housewives ‘of the yillage abort we slant had not slept, it seemed, all night; in the morn-. ing they brot us a mound. of stuff cooked, fried, and what not... : For us this isa holiday after the wilderness of marches and fighting. We walk like heroes thru the village. Girls and women peep out of the windows and gates, and invite us with smiles and waving hands for a treat. “Come in; try some of our eats!” “Ah, it’s hunger and tired limbs you’ye had!” “The samovar is on the table... Step in!” And toward noon neighboring muehiks arrived with carloads of all kinds of supplies. Hundreds of people gathered—old and young, women and children. They surrounded us in crowds. “Some lads, those Uralians!” We can see at once that their hearts are with us and not with the» emy. We look at them, and then, smiling from ear to ear, husky lads come over to us and ask: “‘Where can we step in here?” Sal Volunteers, you understand, sons of ——. I don’t know where they come from, but each <ar-. ries a new rifle on his shoulder; they’re oiled, in fact, and just shinee, aracndtioe, ahousmaet ribbon on the bayonet. 4; ..:, + Ah, blast their hides! — laughter. ey “Look, boys, look at the old fellow!” “Hey, * pop—you going to the war?” “Well .. . I’ve sharp eyes, mother !”- “Hey, girls, stand aside, we'll tear your sara- fans!” We look up and we see our brave lads rolling out a machine-gun. A pug-nosed fellow wipes the sweat off his face with his hat and says: “Show us where to stick in this sponte! Y “Come on, right. here!” “Oho-ho-000 !”” “Some brute!” “Never mind, he’ll sneeze it out on our hills.” “He'll cackle, all right!” “He’s had a long rest under the straw in a barn!” “Het hel ic « Now look. out, kondra-revolu- tion !” And in the evening Osip came from staff-head- quarters. with the news: “Get ready for the of- fensive quietly; we start. in a day or two.” Well, that’s all right—a scrimmage is nothing. new to us. : And Osip, you know, movated ona, 008i wold ing, in a leather coat’ and, boots;.and.at his side ‘a long, long revolver... But the: dingy, rust-col-. ored cap remained unchanged, its crown com- pletely flattened in, The repair-brigade, on -hand-cars loaded with implements, rushed off somewhere. Our Osip is a real hero, turns up here and there like an ace, gives orders and all that... Quite a wiewens | man from yesterday’s Osip! ‘Night fell, but few of us cared to turn in- sleep. The young folks scattered among nooks here and there. In the houses—lights, feasting, chatter, this and that... The crescent-moon was already high, and the bittern boomed again in the forest; the nightin- gales, too, were not letting their chance go by. And we—some behind the hedge, some at the gate, and some just in the corner—cooing with the girls, in pairs. Ah, what great girls they are! And there, on the meadow, a three-decker ac- cordion was going strong, and our boys stamping away, now the komarinski, now the barynya. IV And all that time, at the depot, leaning over the fatally wounded who were lying on the floor, Flying Osip implored, hissing like a goose: fr vi t] 03 thitow Ft ie: ~ Noise, . comunetion, Besos ° See res a e ~ some Bf 08 | = S