consulates, so as to be safe from requisition.) From the interior of this was dislodged a fat citizen in an expensive fur coat, and the party continued on its way.
Arrived at Narvskaya Zastava, about ten miles out, Antonov called for the commandant of the Red Guard. He was led to the edge of the town, where some few hundred workmen had dug trenches and were waiting for the Cossacks.
“Everything all right here, comrade?” asked Antonov.
“Everything perfect, comrade,” answered the commandant. “The troops are in excellent spirits… Only one thing—we have no ammunition…”
“In Smolny there are two billion rounds,” Antonov told him. “I will give you an order.” He felt in his pockets. “Has any one a piece of paper?”
Dybenko had none—nor the couriers. Trusishka had to offer his note-book…
“Devil! I have no pencil!” cried Antonov. “Who’s got a pencil?” Needless to say, Trusishka had the only pencil in the crowd…
We who were left behind made for the Tsarskoye Selo station. Up the Nevsky, as we passed, Red Guards were marching, all armed, some with bayonets and some without. The early twilight of winter was falling. Heads up they tramped in the chill mud, irregular lines of four, without music, without drums. A red flag crudely lettered in gold, “Peace! Land!” floated over them. They were very young. The expression on their faces was that of men who know they are going to die… Half-fearful, half-contemptuous, the crowds on the sidewalk watched them pass, in hateful silence…
At the railroad station nobody knew just where Kerensky was, or where the front lay. Trains went no further, however, than Tsarskoye…
