Online Book Reader

Home Category

The White Guard - Mikhail Bulgakov [56]

By Root 395 0
from St Petersburg; uniformed cadets were still walking around the City, yet out in the suburbs people could already hear the whistling sound of Petlyura's motley cavalry troops cracking their whips as his lancers crossed from the left to the right flank at an easy gallop. If the cavalry is only three miles out of town, people asked, what hope can there be for the Hetman? And it's his blood they're out for... Perhaps the Germans will back him up? But in that case why were the tin-hatted Germans grinning and doing nothing as they stood on Fastov station and watched trainload after trainload of Petlyura's troops being brought up to the assault? Perhaps an agreement has been made with Petlyura to let his troops occupy the City peacefully? But if so, why the hell are the White officers' guns still shooting at Petlyura?

The fact was that no one in the City knew what was happening on that fourteenth of December.

The field-telephones still rang in the headquarters, but less and less often . . .

Rrring . . .

'What's happening? . . .'

Rrring . . .

'Send more ammunition to Colonel Stepanov . . .'

'Colonel Ivanov . . .'

'. . . Antonov . . .'

'. . . Stratonov! . . .'

'We should pull out and join Denikin on the Don . . . things don't seem to be working out here . . .'

'To hell with those swine at headquarters . . .'

'... to the Don . . .'

By noon the telephones had almost stopped ringing altogether.

There would be occasional bursts of firing in the City's outskirts, then they would die down. . . . But even at noon, despite the sound of gunfire, life in the City still kept up a semblance of normality. The shops were open and still doing business. Crowds of people were streaming along the sidewalks, doors slammed, and the streetcars still rumbled through the streets.

It was at midday that the sudden cheerful stutter of a machine-gun was heard coming from Pechorsk. The Pechorsk hills echoed to the staccato rattle and carried the sound to the center of the City. Hey, that was pretty near! . . . What's going on? Passers-by stopped and began to sniff the air, and suddenly the crowds on the sidewalks thinned out.

What was that? Who is it?

Drrrrrrrrrrrrrat-tat-ta-ta. Drrrrrrrat-ta-ta. Ta. Ta.

'Who is it?'

'Who? Don't you know? It's Colonel Bolbotun.'

So much for the story that Bolbotun had turned his coat and deserted Petlyura.

#

Bored with trying to execute the complex manoeuvers devised by Colonel Toropets' general-staff mind, Bolbotun had decided that events needed a little speeding up. His mounted troops were freezing as they waited beyond the cemetery due south of the City, a stone's throw away from the majestic snowbound Dnieper. Bolbotun was frozen too. He suddenly raised his cane in the air and his regiment of horse began moving off in threes, swung on to the road and advanced towards the flat ground bordering the outskirts of the City. Here Bolbotun encountered no resistance. The noise of six of his machine-guns echoed around the garden suburb of Nizhnyaya Telichka. In a trice Bolbotun had cut across the line of the railroad and stopped a passenger train which had passed the switches across the railroad bridge, carrying a fresh load of Muscovites and Petersburgers with their elegant women

and fluffy lap-dogs. The passengers were terrified, but Bolbotun had no time to waste on lap-dogs. The frightened crews of some empty freight trains were switched from the Freight Depot on to the Passenger Station, with much hooting of switching engines, while Bolbotun brought down an unexpected hail of bullets on the roofs of the houses in Svyatotroitzkaya Street. On and on went Bolbotun, on into the City, unhindered as far as the Military Academy, sending out mounted reconnaissance patrols down every side street as he went. He was only checked at the colonnaded building of the Nicholas I Military Academy, where he was met by a machine-gun and a ragged burst of rifle-fire from a handful of troops. A cossack, Butsenko, was killed in the leading troop of Bolbotun's forward squadron, five others were wounded and two horses were

Return Main Page Previous Page Next Page

®Online Book Reader