The river gleams dully through the early morning haze1; softly its waters gurgle against the smooth pebbles2 of the banks. In the shallows by the banks the river is calm, its silvery surface almost unruffled; but out in midstream it is dark and restless, hurrying swiftly onward3. The majestic4 Dnieper, the river immortalised by Gogol. The tall right bank drops steeply down to the water, like a mountain halted in its advance by the broad sweep of the waters. The flat left bank below is covered with sandy spots left when the water receded5 after the spring floods.
Five men lay beside a snub-nosed Maxim6 gun in a tiny trench7 dug into the river bank. This was a forward outpost of the Seventh Rifle Division. Nearest the gun and facing the river lay Sergei Bruzzhak.
The day before, worn out by the endless battles and swept back by a hurricane of Polish artillery8 fire, they had given up Kiev, withdrawn9 to the left bank of the river, and dug in there.
The retreat, the heavy losses and finally the surrender of Kiev to the enemy had been a bitter blow to the men. The Seventh Division had heroically fought its way through enemy encirclement and, advancing through the forests, had emerged on the railway line at Malin Station, and with one furious blow had hurled11 back the Polish forces and cleared the road to Kiev.
But the lovely city had been given up and the Red Army men were downcast.
The Poles, having driven the Red units out of Darnitsa, now occupied a small bridgehead on the left bank of the river beside the railway bridge. But furious counterattacks had frustrated12 all their efforts to advance beyond that point.
As he watched the river flowing past, Sergei thought of what had happened the previous day.
Yesterday, at noon, his unit had given battle to the Poles; yesterday he had had his first hand-tohand engagement with the enemy. A young Polish legionary had come swooping14 down upon him, his rifle with its long, sabre-like French bayonet thrust forward; he bounded towards Sergei like a hare, shouting something unintelligible15. For a fraction of a second Sergei saw his eyes dilated16 with frenzy17. The next instant Sergei's bayonet clashed with the Pole's, and the shining French blade was thrust aside. The Pole fell. . . .
Sergei's hand did not falter19. He knew that he would have to go on killing20, he, Sergei, who was capable of such tender love, such steadfast21 friendship. He was not vicious or cruel by nature, but he knew that he must fight these misguided soldiers whom the world's parasites23 had whipped up into a frenzy of bestial24 hatred25 and sent against his native land. And he, Sergei, would kill in order to hasten the day when men would kill one another no longer.
Paramonov tapped him on the shoulder. "We'd better be moving on, Sergei, or they'll spot us."
For a year now Pavel Korchagin had travelled up and down his native land, riding on machine-gun carriages and gun caissons or astride a small grey mare28 with a nick in her ear. He was a grown man now, matured and hardened by suffering and privation. The tender skin chafed29 to the raw by the heavy cartridge30 belt had long since healed and a hard callus had formed under the rifle strap31 on his shoulder.
Pavel had seen much that was terrible in that year. Together with thousands of other fighting men as ragged32 and ill-clad as himself but afire with the indomitable determination to fight for the power of their class, he had marched over the length and breadth of his native land and only twice had the storm swept on without him:
the first time when he was wounded in the hip22, and the second, when in the bitterly cold February of 1920 he sweltered in the sticky heat of typhus.
The typhus took a more fearful toll33 of the regiments35 and divisions of the Twelfth Army than Polish machine guns. By that time the Twelfth Army was operating over a vast territory stretching across nearly the whole of the Northern Ukraine blocking the advance of the Poles.
Pavel had barely recovered from his illness when he returned to his unit which was now holding the station of Frontovka, on the Kazatin-Uman branch line. Frontovka stood in the forest and consisted of a small station building with a few wrecked36 and abandoned cottages around it. Three years of intermittent37 battles had made civilian38 life in these parts impossible. Frontovka had changed hands times without number.
Big events were brewing39 again. At the time when the Twelfth Army, its ranks fearfully depleted40 and partly disorganised, was falling back to Kiev under the pressure of the Polish armies, the proletarian republic was mustering41 its forces to strike a crushing blow at the victory-drunk Polish Whites.
The battle-seasoned divisions of the First Cavalry42 Army were being transferred to the Ukraine all the way from the North Caucasus in a campaign unparalleled in military history. The Fourth, Sixth, Eleventh and Fourteenth Cavalry divisions moved up one after another to the Uman area, concentrating in the rear of the front and sweeping43 away the Makhno bandits on their way to the scene of decisive battles.
Sixteen and a half thousand sabres, sixteen and a half thousand fighting men scorched44 by the blazing steppe sun.
To prevent this decisive blow from being thwarted45 by the enemy was the primary concern of the Supreme46 Command of the Red Army and the Command of the Southwestern Front at this juncture47. Everything was done to ensure the successful concentration of this huge mounted force.
Active operations were suspended on the Uman sector48. The direct telegraph lines from Moscow to the front headquarters in Kharkov and thence to the headquarters of the Fourteenth and Twelfth armies hummed incessantly49. Telegraph operators tapped out coded orders: "Divert attention Poles from concentration cavalry army." The enemy was actively50 engaged only when the Polish advance threatened to involve the Budyonny cavalry divisions.
The campfire shot up red tongues of flame. Dark spirals of smoke curled up from the fire, driving off the swarms51 of restless buzzing midges. The men lay in a semicircle around the fire whose reflection cast a coppery glow on their faces. The water bubbled in messtins set in the bluish-grey ashes.
A stray tongue of flame leaped out suddenly from beneath a burning log and licked at someone's tousled head. The head was jerked away with a growl52: "Damnation!" And a gust53 of laughter rose from the men grouped around the fire.
"The lad's so full of book-learning he don't feel the heat of the fire," boomed a middle-aged54 soldier with a clipped moustache, who had just been examining the barrel of his rifle against the firelight.
"You might tell the rest of us what you're reading there, Korchagin?" someone suggested.
The young Red Army man fingered his singed55 locks and smiled.
"A real good book, Comrade Androshchuk. Just can't tear myself away from it."
"What's it about?" inquired a snub-nosed lad sitting next to Korchagin, laboriously56 repairing the strap of his pouch57. He bit off the coarse thread, wound the remainder round the needle and stuck it inside his helmet. "If it's about love I'm your man."
A loud guffaw58 greeted this remark. Matveichuk raised his close-cropped head and winked59 slyly at the snub-nosed lad: "Love's a fine thing, Sereda," he said. "And you're such a handsome lad, a regular picture. Wherever we go the girls fairly wear their shoes out running after you. Too bad a handsome phiz like yours should be spoiled by one little defect: you've got a five-kopek piece instead of a nose. But that's easily remedied. Just hang a Novitsky 10-pounder ( The Novitsky grenade weighing about four kilograms and used to demolish60 barbed-wire entanglements61.) on the end of it overnight and in the morning it'll be all right."
The roar of laughter that followed this sally caused the horses tethered to the machine-gun carriers to whinny in fright.
Sereda glanced nonchalantly over his shoulder. "It's not your face but what you've got in here that counts." He tapped himself on the forehead expressively62. "Take you, you've got a tongue like a stinging nettle63 but you're no better than a donkey, and your ears are cold."
"Now then, lads, what's the sense in getting riled?" Tatarinov, the Section Commander,admonished the two who were about to fly at each other. "Better let Korchagin read to us if he's got something worth listening to."
"That's right. Go to it, Pavlushka!" the men urged from all sides.
Pavel moved a saddle closer to the fire, settled himself on it and opened the small thick volume resting on his knees.
"It's called The Gadfly, Comrades. The Battalion64 Commissar gave it to me. Wonderful book,Comrades. If you'll sit quietly I'll read it to you."
"Fire away! We're all listening."
When some time later Comrade Puzyrevsky, the Regimental Commander, rode up unnoticed to the campfire with his Commissar he saw eleven pairs of eyes glued to the reader.
He turned to the Commissar:
"There you have half of the regiment34's scouts," he said, pointing to the group of men. "Four of them are raw young Komsomols, but they're good soldiers all of them. The one who's reading is Korchagin, and that one there with eyes like a wolfcub is Zharky. They're friends, but they're always competing with each other on the quiet.
Korchagin used to be my best scout65. Now he has a very serious rival. What they're doing just now is political work, and very effective it is too. I hear these youngsters are called 'the young guard'. Most appropriate, in my opinion."
"Is that the political instructor66 reading?" the Commissar asked.
"No. Kramer is the political instructor." Puzyrevsky spurred his horse forward.
"Greetings, Comrades!" he called.
All heads turned toward the commander as he sprang lightly from the saddle and went up to the group.
"Warming yourselves, friends?" he said with a broad smile and his strong face with the narrow,slightly Mongolian eyes lost its severity. The men greeted their commander warmly as they would a good comrade and friend. The Commissar did not dismount.
Pushing aside his pistol in its holster, Puzyrevsky sat down next to Korchagin.
"Shall we have a smoke?" he suggested. "I have some first-rate tobacco here."
He rolled a cigarette, lit it and turned to the Commissar: "You go ahead, Doronin. I'll stay here for a while. If I'm needed at headquarters you can let me know."
"Go on reading, I'll listen too," Puzyrevsky said to Korchagin when Doronin had gone.
Pavel read to the end, laid the book down on his knees and gazed pensively67 at the fire. For a few moments no one spoke68. All brooded on the tragic69 fate of the Gadfly.
Puzyrevsky puffed70 on his cigarette, waiting for the discussion to begin.
"A grim story that," said Sereda, breaking the silence. "I suppose there are people like that in the world. It's not many who could stand what he did. But when a man has an idea to fight for he can stand anything," Sereda was-visibly moved. The book had made a deep impression on him.
"If I could lay my hands on that priest who tried to shove a cross down his throat I'd finish the swine off on the spot!" Andryusha Fomichev, a shoemaker's apprentice71 from Belaya Tserkov, cried wrathfully.
"A man doesn't mind dying if he has something to die for," Androshchuk, pushing one of the messtins closer to the, fire with a stick, said in a tone of conviction.
"That's what gives a man strength. You can die without regrets if you know you're in the right. That's how heroes are made.
I knew a lad once, Poraika was his name. When the Whites cornered him in Odessa, he tackled a whole platoon singlehanded and before they could get at him with their bayonets he blew himself and the whole lot of them up with a grenade. And he wasn't anything much to look at. Not the kind of a fellow you read about in books, though he'd be well worth writing about. There's plenty of fine lads to be found among our kind."
He stirred the contents of the messtin with a spoon, tasted it with pursed-up lips and continued:
"There are some who die a dog's death, a mean, dishonourable death. I'll tell you something that happened during the fighting at Izyaslav. That's an old town on the Goryn River built back in the time of the princes. There was a Polish church there, built like a fortress72. Well, we entered that town and advanced single file along the crooked73 alleys74. A company of Letts were holding our right flank. When we get to the highway what do we see but three saddled horses tied to the fence of one of the houses. Aha, we think, here's where we bag some Poles! About ten of us rushed into the yard. In front of us ran the commander of that Lettish company, waving his Mauser.
"The front door was open and we ran in. But instead of Poles we found our own men in there. A mounted patrol it was. They'd got in ahead of us. It wasn't a pretty sight we laid eyes on there.
They were abusing a woman, the wife of the Polish officer who lived there. When the Lett saw what was going on he shouted something in his own language. His men grabbed the three and dragged them outside. There were only two of us Russians, the rest were Letts. Their commander was a man by the name of Bredis. I don't understand their language but I could see he'd given orders to finish those fellows off. They're a tough lot those Letts, unflinching. They dragged those three out to the stables. I could see their goose was cooked. One of them, a great hulking fellow with a mug that just asked for a brick, was kicking and struggling for all he was worth. They couldn't put him up against the wall just because of a wench, he yelped75. The others were begging for mercy too.
"I broke out into a cold sweat. I ran over to Bredis and said: 'Comrade Company Commander,' I said, 'let the tribunal try them. What do you want to dirty your hands with their blood for? The fighting isn't over in the town and here we are wasting time with this here scum.' He turned on me with eyes blazing like a tiger's. Believe me, I was sorry I spoke. He points his gun at me. I've been fighting for seven years but I admit I was properly scared that minute. I see he's ready to shoot first and ask questions afterwards. He yells at me in bad Russian so I could hardly understand what he was saying: 'Our banner is dyed with our blood,' he says. 'These men are a disgrace to the whole army. The penalty for banditry is death.'
"I couldn't stand it any more and I ran out of that yard into the street as fast as I could and behind me I heard them shooting. I knew those three were done for. By the time we got back to the others the town was already ours.
"That's what I mean by a dog's death, the way those fellows died. The patrol was one of those that'd joined us at Melitopol. They'd been with Makhno at one time.
Riffraff, that's what they were."
Androshchuk drew his messtin toward him and proceeded to untie77 his bread bag.
"Yes, you find scum like that on our side too sometimes. You can't account for everyone. On the face of it they're all for the revolution. And through them we all get a bad name. But that was a nasty business, I tell you. I shan't forget it so soon," he wound up, sipping78 his tea.
Night was well advanced by the time the camp was asleep. Sereda's whistling snores could be heard in the silence. Puzyrevsky slept with his head resting on the saddle.
Kramer, the political instructor, sat scribbling79 in his notebook.
Returning the next day from a scouting80 detail, Pavel tethered his horse to a tree and called over Kramer, who had just finished drinking tea.
"Look, Kramer, what would you say if I switched over to the First Cavalry Army? There's going to be big doings there by the looks of it. They're not being massed in such numbers just for fun,are they? And we here won't be seeing much of it."
Kramer looked at him in surprise.
"Switch over? Do you think you can change units in the army the way you change seats in a cinema?"
"But what difference does it make where a man fights?" Pavel interposed. "I'm not deserting to the rear, am I?"
But Kramer was categorically opposed to the idea.
"What about discipline? You're not a bad youngster, Pavel, on the whole, but in some things you're a bit of an anarchist81. You think you can do as you please? You forget, my lad, that the Party and the Komsomol are founded on iron discipline. The Party must come first. And each one of us must be where he is most needed and not where he wants to be. Puzyrevsky turned down your application for a transfer, didn't he? Well, there's your answer."
Kramer spoke with such agitation82 that he was seized with a fit of coughing. This tall, gaunt man was a printer by profession and the lead dust had lodged83 itself firmly in his lungs and often a hectic84 flush would appear on his waxen cheeks.
When he had calmed down, Pavel said in a low but firm voice:
"All that is quite correct but I'm going over to the Budyonny army just the same."
The next evening Pavel was missing at the campfire.
In the neighbouring village a group of Budyonny cavalrymen had formed a wide circle on a hill outside the schoolhouse. One giant of a fellow, seated on the back of a machine-gun carrier, his cap pushed to the back of his head, was playing an accordion85. The instrument wailed86 and blared under his inept87 fingers like a thing in torment88, confusing the dashing cavalryman89 in unbelievably wide red riding breeches who was dancing a mad hopak in the centre of the ring.
Eager-eyed village lads and lasses clambered onto the gun carrier and fences to watch the antics of these troopers whose brigade had just entered their village.
"Go it, Toptalo! Kick up the earth! Ekh, that's the stuff, brother! Come on there, you with the accordion, make it hot!"
But the player's huge fingers that could bend an iron horseshoe with the utmost ease sprawled90 clumsily over the keys.
"Too bad Makhno got Afanasi Kulyabko," remarked one bronzed cavalryman regretfully. "That lad was a first-class hand at the accordion. He rode on the right flank of our squadron. Too bad he was killed. A good soldier, and the best accordion player we ever had!"
Pavel, who was standing91 in the circle, overheard this last remark. He pushed his way over to the machine-gun carrier and laid his hand on the accordion bellows92. The music subsided93.
"What d'you want?" the accordionist94 demanded with a scowl95.
Toptalo stopped short and an angry murmur96 rose from the crowd: "What's the trouble there?"
Pavel reached out for the instrument. "Let's have a try," he said.
The Budyonny cavalryman looked at the Red infantryman with some mistrust and reluctantly slipped the accordion strap off his shoulder.
With an accustomed gesture Pavel laid the instrument on his knee, spread the sinuous97 bellows out fanwise and let go with a rollicking melody that poured forth98 with all the lusty vigour99 of which the accordion is capable:
Ekh, little apple,
Whither away?
Get copped by the Cheka
And that's where you stay!
Toptalo caught up the familiar tune100 and swinging his arms like some great bird he swept into thering, executing the most incredible twists and turns, and slapping himself smartly on the thighs,knees, head, forehead, the shoe soles, and finally on the mouth in time with the music.
Faster and faster played the accordion in a mad intoxicating101 rhythm, and Toptalo, kicking his legs out wildly, spun102 around the circle like a top until he was quite out of breath.
On June 5, 1920, after a few brief but furious encounters Budyonny's First Cavalry Army broke through the Polish front between the Third and Fourth Polish armies, smashed a cavalry brigade under General Sawicki en route and swept on toward Ruzhiny.
The Polish command hastily formed a striking force and threw it into the breach103. Five tanks were rushed from Pogrebishche Station to the scene of the fighting. But the Cavalry Army bypassed Zarudnitsy from where the Poles planned to strike and came out in the Polish rear.
General Kornicki's Cavalry Division was dispatched in pursuit of the First Cavalry Army with orders to strike at the rear of the force, which the Polish command believed to be headed for Kazatin, one of the most important strategic points in the Polish rear. This move, however, did not improve the position of the Poles.
Although they succeeded in closing the breach and cutting off the Cavalry Army, the presence of a strong mounted force behind their lines which threatened to destroy their rear bases and swoop13 down on their army group at Kiev, was far from reassuring105. As they advanced, the Red cavalry divisions destroyed small railway bridges and tore up railway track to hamper106 the Polish retreat. On learning from prisoners that the Poles had an army headquarters in Zhitomir (actually the headquarters of the whole front was located there), the commander of the First Cavalry Army decided107 to take Zhitomir and Berdichev, both important railway junctions108 and administrative109 centres. At dawn on June 7 the Fourth Cavalry Division was already on its way at full speed to Zhitomir.
Korchagin now rode on the right flank of one of the squadrons in place of Kulyabko, the lamented110 accordionist. He had been enrolled111 in the squadron on the collective request of the men, who had refused to part with such an excellent accordion player.
Without checking their foam112-flecked horses they fanned out at Zhitomir and bore down on the city with naked steel flashing in the sun.
The earth groaned113 under the pounding hoofs114, the mounts breathed hoarsely115, and the men rose in their stirrups.
Underfoot the ground sped past and ahead the large city with its gardens and parks hurried to meet the division. The mounted avalanche116 flashed by the gardens and poured into the centre of the city,and the air was rent by a fear-inspiring battle-cry as inexorable as death itself.
The Poles were so stunned117 that they offered little resistance. The local garrison118 was crushed.
Bending low over the neck of his mount, Pavel Korchagin sped along side by side with Toptalo astride his thin-shanked black. Pavel saw the dashing cavalryman cut down with an unerring blow a Polish legionary before the man had time to raise his rifle to his shoulder.
The iron-shod hoofs grated on the paving stones as they careered down the street. Then at an intersection119 they found themselves face to face with a machine gun planted in the very middle of the road and three men in blue uniforms and rectangular Polish caps bending over it. There was also a fourth, with coils of gold braid on his collar, who levelled a Mauser at the mounted men.
Neither Toptalo nor Pavel could check their horses and they galloped120 toward the machine gun,straight into the jaws121 of death. The officer fired at Korchagin, but missed.
The bullet whanged past Pavel's cheek, and the next moment the Lieutenant122 had struck his head against the paving stones and was lying limp on his back, thrown off his feet by the horse's onrush.
That very moment the machine gun spat104 out in savage123 frenzy, and stung by a dozen bullets,Toptalo and his black crumpled124 to the ground.
Pavel's mount reared up on its hind76 legs, snorting with terror, and leapt with its rider over the prone125 bodies to the men at the machine gun. His sabre described a flashing arc in the air and sank into the blue rectangle of one of the army caps.
Again the sabre flashed upwards126 ready to descend127 upon a second head, but the frantic128 horse leapt aside.
Like a mountain torrent129 the squadron poured into the streets and scores of sabres flashed in the air.
The long narrow corridors of the prison echoed with cries.
The cells packed with gaunt, hollow-eyed men and women were in a turmoil130. They could hear the battle raging in the town—could this mean liberation? Could it be that this force that had swept suddenly into the town had come to set them free?
The shooting reached the prison yard. Men came running down the corridors. And then the cherished, long-awaited words: "You are free, Comrades!"
Pavel ran to a locked door with a tiny window, from which stared dozens of pairs of eyes, and brought his rifle butt131 down fiercely against the lock again and again.
"Wait, let me crack it with a bomb," cried Mironov. He pushed Pavel aside and produced a hand grenade from a pocket.
Platoon commander Tsygarchenko tore the grenade from his hands.
"Stop, you fool, are you mad! They'll bring the keys in a jiffy. What we can't break down we'll open with keys."
The prison guards were already being led down the corridor, prodded132 along with revolvers, when the ragged and unwashed prisoners, wild with joy, poured out of their cells.
Throwing a cell door wide open, Pavel ran inside.
"Comrades, you're free! We're Budyonny's men—our division's taken the town!"
A woman ran weeping to Pavel and throwing her arms around him broke into sobs133.
The liberation of five thousand and seventy-one Bolsheviks and of two thousand Red Army political workers, whom the Polish Whites had driven into these stone dungeons134 to await shooting or the gallows135, was more important to the division's fighting men than all the trophies136 they had captured, a greater reward than victory itself. For seven thousand revolutionaries the impenetrable gloom of night had been supplanted137 by the bright sun of a hot June day.
One of the prisoners, with skin as yellow as a lemon, rushed at Pavel in a transport of joy. It was Samuel Lekher, one of the compositors from the Shepetovka printshop.
Pavel's face turned grey as he listened to Samuel's account of the bloody138 tragedy enacted139 in his native town and the words seared his heart like drops of molten metal.
"They took us at night, all of us at once. Some scoundrel had betrayed us to the military gendarmes140. And once they had us in their clutches they showed no mercy. They beat us terribly,Pavel. I suffered less than the others because after the first blows I lost consciousness. But the others were stronger than me.
"We had nothing to hide. The gendarmes knew everything better than we did. They knew every step we had taken, and no wonder, for there had been a traitor141 among us. I can't talk about those days, Pavel. You know many of those who were taken. Valya Bruzzhak, and Rosa Gritsman, a fine girl just turned seventeen—such trusting eyes she had, Pavel! Then there was Sasha Bunshaft,you know him, one of our typesetters, a merry lad, always drawing caricatures of the boss. They took him and two Gymnasium students, Novoselsky and Tuzhits—you remember them too most likely. The others too were local people or from the district centre. Altogether twenty-nine were arrested, six of them women. They were all brutally142 tortured. Valya and Rosa were raped143 the first day. Those swine outraged144 the poor things in every possible way, then dragged them back to the cell more dead than alive. Soon after that Rosa began to rave26 and a few days later she was completely out of her mind.
"They didn't believe that she was insane, they said she was shamming145 and beat her unmercifully every time they questioned her. She was a terrible sight when they finally shot her. Her face was black with bruises146, her eyes were wild, she looked like an old woman.
"Valya Bruzzhak was splendid to the very end. They all died like real fighters. I don't know how they had the strength to endure it all. Ah, Pavel, how can I describe their death to you? It was too horrible.
"Valya had been doing the most dangerous kind of work: she was the one who had contact with the wireless147 operators at the Polish headquarters and with our people in the district centre, besides which they found two grenades and a pistol when they searched her place. The grenades had been given to her by the provocateur. Everything had been framed so as to charge them with intending to blow up the headquarters.
"Ah, Pavel, it is painful for me to speak of those last days, but since you insist I shall tell you. The military court sentenced Valya and two others to be hanged, the rest to be shot. The Polish soldiers who had worked with us were tried two days earlier. Corporal Snegurko, a young wireless operator who had worked in Lodz as an electrician before the war, was charged with treason and with conducting Communist propaganda among the soldiers and sentenced to be shot. He did not appeal, and was shot twenty-four hours after the sentence.
"Valya was called in to give evidence at his trial. She told us afterwards that Snegurko pleaded guilty to the charge of conducting Communist propaganda but vigorously denied that he had betrayed his country. 'My fatherland,' he said, 'is the Polish Soviet148 Socialist149 Republic. Yes, I am a member of the Communist Party of Poland. I was drafted into the army against my will, and once there I did my best to open the eyes of other men like myself who had been driven off to the front.
You may hang me for that, but not for being a traitor to my fatherland, for that I never was and never will be. Your fatherland is not my fatherland. Yours is the fatherland of the gentry150, mine is the workers' and peasants' fatherland. And in my fatherland, which will come—of that I am deeply convinced—no one will ever call me a traitor.'
"After the trial we were all kept together. Just before the execution we were transferred to the jail.
During the night they set up the gallows opposite the prison beside the hospital. For the shooting they chose a place near a big ditch over by the forest not far from the road. A common grave was dug for us.
"The sentence was posted up all over town so that everyone should know of it. The Poles decided to hold a public execution to frighten the population. From early morning they began driving the townsfolk to the place of execution. Some went out of curiosity, terrible though it was. Before long they had a big crowd collected outside the prison wall. From our cell we could hear the hum of voices. They had stationed machine guns on the street behind the crowd, and brought up mounted and foot gendarmes from all parts of the area. A whole battalion of them surrounded the streets and vegetable fields beyond. A pit had been dug beside the gallows for those who were to be hanged.
"We waited silently for the end, now and then exchanging a few words. We had talked everything over the night before and said our good-byes. Only Rosa kept whispering to herself over in one corner of the cell. Valya, after all the beatings and outrages151 she had endured, was too weak to move and lay still most of the time. Two local Communist girls, sisters they were, could not keep back the tears as they clung to one another in their last farewell. Stepanov, a young man from the country, a strapping152 lad who had knocked out two gendarmes when they came to arrest him, told them to stop. 'No tears, Comrades! You may weep here, but not out there. We don't want to give those bloody swine a chance to gloat. There won't be any mercy anyway. We've got to die, so we might as well die decently. We won't crawl on our knees.
Remember, Comrades, we must meet death bravely.'
"Then they came for us. In the lead was Szwarkowski, the Intelligence Chief, a mad dog of a sadist if there ever was one. When he didn't do the raping153 himself he enjoyed watching his gendarmes do it. We were marched to the gallows across the road between two rows of gendarmes, 'canaries' we called them on account of their yellow shoulder-knots. They stood there with their sabres bared.
"They hurried us through the prison yard with their rifle butts154 and made us form fours. Then they opened the gates and led us out into the street and stood us up facing the gallows so that we should see our comrades die as we waited for our turn to come. It was a tall gallows made of thick logs.
Three nooses155 of heavy rope hung down from the crosspiece and under each noose156 was a platform with steps supported by a block of wood that could be kicked aside. A faint murmur rose from the sea of people which rocked and swayed. All eyes were fixed157 on us. We recognised some of our people in the crowd.
"On a porch some distance away stood a group of Polish gentry and officers with binoculars158. They had come to see the Bolsheviks hanged.
"The snow was soft underfoot. The forest was white with it, and it lay thick on the trees like cotton fluff. The whirling snowflakes fell slowly, melting on our burning faces, and the steps of the gallows were carpeted with snow. We were scantily159 dressed but none of us felt the cold. Stepanov did not even notice that he was walking in his stockinged feet.
"Beside the gallows stood the military prosecutor160 and senior officers. At last Valya and the two other comrades who were to be hanged were led out of the jail. They walked all three arm-in-arm, Valya was in the middle supported by the other two for she had no strength to walk alone. But she did her best to hold herself erect161, remembering Stepanov's words: 'We must meet death bravely, Comrades!' She wore a woollen jacket but no coat.
"Szwarkowski evidently didn't like the idea of them walking arm-in-arm for he pushed them from behind. Valya said something and one of the mounted gendarmes slashed162 her full force across the face with his whip. A woman in the crowd let out a frightful163 shriek164 and began struggling madly in an effort to break through the cordon165 and reach the prisoners, but she was seized and dragged away. It must have been Valya's mother. When they were close to the gallows Valya began to sing. Never have I heard a voice like that—only a person going to his death could sing with such feeling. She sang the Warszawianka, and the other two joined in. The mounted guards lashed18 out in a blind fury with their whips, but the three did not seem to feel the blows. They were knocked down and dragged to the gallows like sacks. The sentence was quickly read and the nooses were slipped over their heads. At that point we began to sing:
Arise, ye prisoners of starvation. . . .
"Guards rushed at us from all sides and I just had time to see the blocks knocked out from under the platforms with rifle butts and the three bodies jerking in the nooses. .. .
"The rest of us had already been put to the wall when it was announced that ten of us had had our sentences commuted166 to 20 years' imprisonment167. The other sixteen were shot."
Samuel clutched convulsively at the collar of his shirt as if he were choking.
"For three days the bodies hung there in the nooses. The gallows were guarded day and night.
After that a new batch168 of prisoners was brought to jail and they told us that on the fourth day the rope that held the corpse170 of Comrade Toboldin, the heaviest of the three, had given way. After that they removed the other two and buried them all.
"But the gallows was not taken down. It was still standing when we were brought to this place. It stood there with the nooses waiting for fresh victims."
Samuel fell silent staring with unseeing eyes before him, but Pavel was unaware171 that the story had ended. The three bodies with the heads twisted horribly to one side swayed silently before his eyes.
The bugle172 sounding the assembly outside brought Pavel to himself with a start.
"Let's go, Samuel," he said in a barely audible voice.
A column of Polish prisoners was being marched down the street lined with cavalry. At the prison gates stood the Regimental Commissar writing an order on his notepad.
"Comrade Antipov," he said, handing the slip of paper to a stalwart squadron commander, "take this, and have all the prisoners taken under cavalry escort to Novograd-Volynsky. See that the wounded are given medical attention. Then put them on carts, drive them about twenty versts from the town and let them go. We have no time to bother with them. But there must be no maltreatment of prisoners."
Mounting his horse, Pavel turned to Samuel. "Hear that?" he said. "They hang our people, but we have to escort them back to their own side and treat them nicely besides. How can we do it?"
The Regimental Commissar turned and looked sternly at the speaker. "Cruelty to unarmed prisoners," Pavel heard him say as if speaking to himself, "will be punished by death. We are not Whites!"
As he rode off, Pavel recalled the final words of the order of the Revolutionary Military Council which had been read out to the regiment:
"The land of the workers and peasants loves its Red Army. It is proud of it. And on that Army's banners there shall not be a single stain."
"Not a single stain," Pavel whispered.
At the time the Fourth Cavalry Division took Zhitomir, the 20th Brigade of the Seventh Rifle Division forming part of a shock corps169 under Comrade Golikov was crossing the Dnieper River in the area of Okuninovo village.
Another corps, which consisted of the 25th Rifle Division and a Bashkir Cavalry brigade, had orders to cross the Dnieper and straddle the Kiev-Korosten railway at Irsha Station. This manoeuvre173 would cut off the Poles' last avenue of retreat from Kiev.
It was during the crossing of the river that Misha Levchukov of the Shepetovka Komsomol organisation174 perished. They were running over the shaky pontoon bridge when a shell fired from somewhere beyond the steep bank opposite whined175 viciously overhead and plunged176 into the water,ripping it to shreds177. The same instant Misha disappeared under one of the pontoons. The river swallowed him up and did not give him back. Yakimenko, a fair-haired soldier in a battered178 cap, cried out: "Mishka! Hell, that was Mishka! Went down like a stone, poor lad!" For a moment he stared horrified179 into the dark water, but the men running up from behind pushed him on: "What're you gaping180 there for, you fool. Get on with you!" There was no time to stop for anyone. The brigade had fallen behind the others who had already occupied the right bank of the river.
It was not until four days later that Sergei learned of Misha's death. By that time the brigade had captured Bucha Station, and turning in the direction of Kiev, was repulsing181 furious attacks by the Poles who were attempting to break through to Korosten.
Yakimenko threw himself down beside Sergei in the firing line. He had been firing steadily182 for some time and now he had difficulty forcing back the bolt of his overheated rifle. Keeping his head carefully lowered he turned to Sergei and said: "Got to give her a rest. She's red hot!"
Sergei barely heard him above the din27 of the shooting.
When the noise subsided somewhat, Yakimenko remarked as if casually183: "Your comrade got drowned in the Dnieper. He was gone before I could do anything." That was all he said. He tried the bolt of his rifle, took out another clip and applied184 himself to the task of reloading.
The Eleventh Division sent to take Berdichev encountered fierce resistance from the Poles. A bloody battle was fought in the streets of the town. The Red Cavalry advanced through a squall of machine-gun fire. The town was captured and the remnants of the routed Polish forces fled. Trains were seized intact in the railway yards.
But the most terrible disaster for the Poles was the exploding of an ammunition185 dump which served the whole front. A million shells went up in the air. The explosion shattered window panes186 into tiny fragments and caused the houses to tremble as if they were made of cardboard.
The capture of Zhitomir and Berdichev took the Poles in the rear and they came pouring out of Kiev in two streams, fighting desperately187 to make their way out of the steel ring encircling them.
Swept along by the maelstrom188 of battle, Pavel lost all sense of self these days. His individuality merged10 with the mass and for him, as for every fighting man, the word "I" was forgotten; only the word "we" remained: our regiment, our squadron, our brigade.
Events developed with the speed of a hurricane. Each day brought something new.
Budyonny's Cavalry Army swept forward like an avalanche, striking blow after blow until the entire Polish rear was smashed to pieces. Drunk with the excitement of their victories, the mounted divisions hurled themselves with passionate189 fury at Novograd-Volynsky, the heart of the Polish rear. As the ocean wave dashes itself against the
rockbound shore, recedes190 and rushes on again, so they fell back only to press on again and again with awesome191 shouts of "Forward!Forward!"
Nothing could save the Poles—neither the barbed-wire entanglements, nor the desperate resistance put up by the garrison entrenched192 in the city. And on the morning of June 27 Budyonny's cavalry forded the Sluch River without dismounting, entered Novograd-Volynsky and drove the Poles out of the city in the direction of Korets. At the same time the Forty-Fifth Division crossed the Sluch at Novy Miropol, and the Kotovsky Cavalry Brigade swooped193 down upon the settlement of Lyubar.
The radio station of the First Cavalry Army received an order from the commander-in-chief of the front to concentrate the entire cavalry force for the capture of Rovno.
The irresistible194 onslaught of the Red divisions sent the Poles scattering195 in demoralised panic-stricken groups.
It was in these hectic days that Pavel Korchagin had a most unexpected encounter. He had been sent by the Brigade Commander to the station where an armoured train was standing. Pavel took the steep railway embankment at a canter and reined197 in at the steel-grey head carriage. With the black muzzles198 of guns protruding199 from the turrets200, the armoured train looked grim and formidable.Several men in oil-stained clothes were at work beside it raising the heavy steel armour196 plating that protected the wheels.
"Where can I find the commander of the train?" Pavel inquired of a leather-jacketed Red Army man carrying a pail of water.
"Over there," the man replied pointing to the engine.
Pavel rode up to the engine. "I want to see the commander!" he said. A man with a pockmarked face, clad in leather from head to foot, turned. "I'm the commander."
Pavel pulled an envelope from his pocket.
"Here is an order from the Brigade Commander. Sign on the envelope."
The commander rested the envelope on his knee and scribbled201 his signature on it. Down on the tracks a man with an oil can was working on the middle wheel of the engine.
Pavel could only see his broad back and the pistol-butt sticking out of the pocket of his leather trousers.
The commander handed the envelope back to Pavel who picked up the reins202 and was about to set off when the man with the oil can straightened up and turned round. The next moment Pavel had leapt off his horse as though swept down by a violent gust of wind.
"Artem!"
The man dropped his oil can and caught the young Red Army man in a bear's embrace.
"Pavka! You rascal203! It's you!" he cried unable to believe his eyes.
The commander of the armoured train looked puzzled, and several gunners standing by smiled broadly at the joy of the two brothers in this chance meeting.
It happened on August 19 during a battle in the Lvov area. Pavel had lost his cap in the fighting and had reined in his horse. The squadrons ahead had already cut into the Polish positions. At that moment Demidov came galloping204 through the bushes on his way down to the river. As he flew past Pavel he shouted:
"The Division Commander's been killed!"
Pavel started. Letunov, his heroic commander, that man of sterling205 courage, dead! A savage fury seized Pavel.
With the blunt edge of his sabre he urged on his exhausted206 Gnedko, whose bit dripped with a bloody foam, and tore into the thick of the battle.
"Kill the vermin, kill 'em! Cut down the Polish szlachtal They've killed Letunov!" And blindly he slashed at a figure in a green uniform. Enraged207 at the death of their Division Commander, the cavalrymen wiped out a whole platoon of Polish legionaries.
They galloped headlong over the battlefield in pursuit of the enemy, but now a Polish battery went into action. Shrapnel rent the air spattering death on all sides.
Suddenly there was a blinding green flash before Pavel's eyes, thunder smote208 his ears and red-hot iron seared into his skull209. The earth spun strangely and horribly about him and began to turn slowly upside down.
Pavel was thrown from the saddle like a straw. He flew right over Gnedko's head and fell heavily to the ground.
Instantly black night descended210.
在黎明前的薄雾里，第聂伯河模糊地闪着光；河水冲刷着岸边的石子，发出轻微的哗哗声。两岸附近的河水是宁静的，平滑的水面泛出一片银灰色，好像凝滞不动似的。河中央，却翻滚着黑沉沉的水流，肉眼就可以看出，它正向下游奔腾而去。这是一条美丽的、庄严的河。正是为了赞美它，果戈理写下了千古绝唱的抒情散文“第聂伯河是神奇美妙的……”河的右岸，峭壁耸立，俯视着水面，宛如一座行进中的高山，骤然在宽阔的河水面前停住了。左岸的下方，全是光秃秃的沙地，这是第聂伯河在春汛退走时淤积起来的。
在河边的一条狭小的战壕里，隐蔽着五个战士。他们按照分工趴在一挺秃鼻子马克沁机枪旁边。这是第七步兵师的前沿潜伏哨。谢廖沙脸朝第聂伯河，侧身卧在机枪紧跟前。
红军部队由于频繁的战斗，已经十分疲乏，接着又遭到波兰军队疯狂的炮击，昨天放弃了基辅，转移到第聂伯河左岸，构筑工事固守。
但是，这次的撤退、重大的伤亡以及最后弃守基辅，严重地影响了战士们的情绪。第七师曾经英勇地突破重围，穿过森林，挺进到马林车站一带的铁路线，经过猛打猛冲，赶走了据守车站的波兰部队，把他们赶进森林，扫清了通向基辅的道路。
现在，这座美丽的城市却失陷了，红军战士个个都怏怏不乐。
波兰白军迫使红军撤出达尔尼察之后，就在左岸靠近铁路桥的地方占领了一个不大的立足点。
但是，不论他们费多大力气，也不能再向前推进一步，他们遇到了红军的猛烈反击。
谢廖沙看着奔流的河水，不禁想起了昨天的情景。
昨天中午，他和大家一起，怀着对敌人的深仇大恨，向波兰白军发起了反冲锋。就在昨天的这场战斗中，他第一次跟一个没有胡子的波兰兵拼刺刀。那个家伙端着步枪，枪上插着像马刀一样长的法国刺刀，一边莫名其妙地喊着什么，一边像兔子那样跳着，向谢廖沙直扑过来。一刹那间，谢廖沙看到了对手那双睁圆了的、杀气腾腾的眼睛，说时迟，那时快，他一摆步枪，用刺刀尖把波兰兵那把明晃晃的法国刺刀拨到了一边。
波兰兵倒下去了……
谢廖沙并没有手软。他知道自己以后还要杀人。就是他，谢廖沙，这个能够那样温柔地爱，能够那样珍惜友谊的人，今后还要杀人。他不是一个狠毒、残忍的人，但是他知道，那些被世界上的寄生阶级欺骗、毒害和驱使的士兵，都是怀着野兽般的仇恨来进攻他亲爱的祖国——苏维埃共和国的。
因此他，谢廖沙，是为了使人类不再互相残杀的日子尽快到来而杀人的。
谢廖沙正想着，帕拉莫诺夫拍了一下他的肩膀，说：“咱们走吧，谢廖沙。敌人很快会发现咱们的。”
保尔·柯察金转战在祖国大地上已经一年了。他乘着机枪车和炮车飞奔，骑着那匹缺了一只耳朵的灰马驰骋。他已经长大成人，比以前更加强壮了。他在艰难困苦的环境中锻炼成长。
他的皮肤曾被沉甸甸的子弹带磨得鲜血直流，现在已经长出了新皮；可是步枪皮带磨出来的硬茧却蜕不掉了。
这一年里，保尔经历了许多可怕的事情。他同成千上万个战士一样，虽然衣不蔽体，胸中却燃烧着永不熄灭的烈火。
为了保卫本阶级的政权，他们南征北战，走遍了祖国大地。保尔只有两次不得不暂时离开革命的风暴。
第一次是因为大腿受了伤。第二次是在严寒的一九二○年二月，得了伤寒，发高烧，大病了一场。
斑疹伤寒造成第十二集团军各师、团的大量减员，简直比波兰军队的机枪还要厉害。这个集团军战线很长，几乎守卫着乌克兰整个北部广大地区，阻挡着波兰白军的进一步推进。保尔刚刚痊愈，就归队了。
现在，他们那个团正在卡扎京——乌曼支线上，据守着弗龙托夫卡车站附近的阵地。
车站在树林子里。站房不大，旁边是一些被遗弃的、破坏得很厉害的小房。这一带根本没法住下去。两年多来，隔不多长时间，就要打一仗。这个小车站真是什么样的队伍都见识过了。
现在，一场新的大风暴又快要酝酿成熟。虽然第十二集团军损失了大量兵员，一部分部队已经失散，在波兰军队的压迫下，全军正在向基辅方向撤退，但是，正是在这个时候，无产阶级的共和国却在部署一项重大的军事行动，准备给被胜利冲昏头脑的波兰白军毁灭性的一击。
久经战斗考验的骑兵第一集团军各师，从遥远的北高加索向乌克兰调动，这是军事史上空前的大进军。第四、第六、第十一和第十四这四个骑兵师，相继向乌曼地区运动，在离我军前线不远的后方集结；他们在走向决战的进军中，顺便清除了沿途的马赫诺匪帮。
这是一万六千五百把战刀，这是一万六千五百名在酷热的草原上经过风吹日晒的战士！
红军最高统帅部和西南战线指挥部尽最大努力，使这个正在准备中的决定性打击事先不被毕苏斯基分子察觉。共和国和各战线的司令部都小心翼翼地掩蔽着这支庞大的骑兵部队的集结。
乌曼前线停止了一切积极的军事行动。从莫斯科直达哈尔科夫前线司令部的专线不停地发出电报，再从那里传到第十四和第十二集团军司令部。狭长的纸条上打出了用密码写成的各种命令，其基本内容都是：“骑兵第一集团军之集结万勿引起波军注意。”只有在波兰白军的推进可能把布琼尼的骑兵部队卷入战斗的情况下，才采取了一些积极的军事行动。司令部总的部署，反映在下面这道简要的命令中：
第３５８号令（密件第８９号）
革命军事委员会委员拉科夫斯基，革命军事委员会主席托洛茨基，第十二、十四和骑兵各集团军总指挥兼集群司令亚基尔同志：
乌克兰境内波兰军队有两个集群：基辅集群和敖德萨集群。其部分兵力部署在第聂伯河左岸，主要兵力，其中包括科尔尼茨基将军（原外阿穆尔骑兵团团长）的由十个骑兵团组成的突击混成骑兵师和陆续开到的波兹南师的部队，则集结在白采尔科维、沃罗达尔卡、塔拉夏、拉基特诺地区。敖德萨集群的主力在日美林卡—敖德萨铁路和布格河之间我第十四集团军战线附近活动。上述两集群之间，大体在拉沙、捷季耶夫、布拉茨拉夫一线，分散部署着第一波兹南师的部队。
罗马尼亚人继续持观望态度。我西方战线各集团军突破敌方防线后，继续顺利地向莫洛杰奇诺、明斯克方向推进。西南战线各集团军的主要任务是击溃并消灭乌克兰境内的波兰军队。
敌上述集群兵力分散，可资利用，考虑到其主办移向基辅地区，且在政治上具有极重要影响，兹决定以敌基辅集群为主要攻击对象。
命令：
１．第十二集团军的基本任务是占领铁路枢纽站科罗斯坚，主力在基辅以北地段强渡第聂伯河，其近期目标是切断博罗江卡站、捷捷列夫站一带的铁路线，阻止敌军向北撤退。
在战线的其余地段要坚决牵制住敌人，在敌军退却时尾追不舍，伺机一举攻占基辅。战斗于五月二十六日开始。
２．亚基尔同志的集群应于五月二十六日凌晨向白采尔科维、法斯托夫方向全线发动强有力的进攻，其目的是尽量吸引更多的敌基辅集群兵力投入战斗，与左翼的骑兵集团军相互配合。
３．骑兵集团军的基本任务是击溃并消灭敌基辅集群的有生力量，夺取其技术装备。五月二十七日凌晨向卡扎京方向发动强有力的进攻，割断敌基辅集群和敖德萨集群之间的联系。以果断猛烈的战斗扫清沿途遇到的一切敌人，于六月一日前占领卡扎京、别尔季切夫地区，并依靠旧康斯坦丁诺夫卡和舍佩托夫卡方面的屏障，向敌人后方挺进。
４．第十四集团军要保证主力突击部队战斗的胜利，为此应将本集团军主力集结在右翼，发动强大突击，于六月一日前占领温尼察—日美林卡地区。战斗于五月二十六日开始。
５．各部队活动分界线见第３４８号令（密件）。
６．收到命令后望回报。
西南战线司令 叶戈洛夫
革命军事委员会委员 别尔津
西南战线参谋长 佩京
１９２０年５月２０日于克列缅丘格
篝火的红色火舌抖动着，褐色的烟柱盘旋着升到空中。一群群蠓虫，躲开浓烟，慌慌忙忙地飞来飞去。战士们稍稍离开火堆，围成了一个半圆形。篝火在他们脸上抹上了一层紫铜色。
篝火旁边，有几只军用饭盒埋在淡蓝色的炭灰里。
饭盒里的水正在冒泡。突然，一条火舌从燃烧着的木头下面贼溜溜地蹿了出来，在一个低着头的人的乱头发上舔了一下。那人慌忙把头一闪，不满意地咕哝了一句：“呸，真见鬼！”
周围的人都笑了起来。
一个年纪比较大的红军战士，穿着呢上衣，留着一撮小胡子，刚刚对着火光检查完步枪的枪筒，用他那粗嗓子说：“这个小伙子看书入了迷，火烧头发都不知道。”
“喂，柯察金，把你读的东西也给我们讲讲吧！”
那个青年战士摸了摸那绺烧焦了的头发，微笑着说：“啊，安德罗休克同志，这可真是本好书，一拿起来就怎么也放不下。”
保尔身旁坐着一个翘鼻子的青年战士，他正在专心地修理弹药盒上的皮带，想用牙把一根粗线咬断。听保尔这样说，他好奇地问：“书里写的是什么人哪？”他把针插在军帽上，又把多下来的线缠在针上，然后补充了一句：“要是讲的是恋爱故事，我倒挺想听听。”
周围又响起了一阵哄笑。马特韦丘克抬起他那剪了平头的脑袋，狡黠地眯起一只眼睛，做了个鬼脸，对他说：“是啊，谢列达，谈情说爱，可真是件好事。你又挺漂亮，简直是画上的美男子！你走到哪儿，哪儿的姑娘就成天围着你转。你只有一个地方美中不足，就是鼻子太翘了，活像猪拱嘴。不过，还有办法补救：鼻尖上挂个十磅重的诺维茨基手榴弹［诺维茨基手榴弹，重约四公斤，用来爆破铁丝网。——原注］，保险只消一宿，鼻子就翘不起来了。”
又爆发了一阵笑声，吓得拴在机枪车上的马匹打了一个响鼻。
谢列达慢腾腾地转过身来。
“长得漂亮不漂亮倒没什么，脑袋瓜好使才行。”他富有表情地拍了一下自己的前额。“就说你吧，别看舌头上长着刺，挺能挖苦人，只不过是个地地道道的蠢货。你这个木头人连耳朵都是凉的！”
两个人你来我往，眼看就要翻脸，班长塔塔里诺夫赶忙把他们劝开。
“得了，得了，同志们！吵什么呀？还是让保尔挑几段精彩的给大伙念念吧。”
“念吧，保夫鲁沙，念吧！”周围都喊起来。
保尔把马鞍搬到火堆跟前，坐在上面，然后打开那本厚厚的小书，放在膝盖上。
“同志们，这本书叫《牛虻》［英国女作家伏尼契（１８６４—１９６０）描写十九世纪意大利民族民主革命斗争的长篇小说，牛虻是小说的主人公。——译者］。我是从营政委那儿借来的。我读了很受感动。要是大伙好好坐着听，我就念。”
“快念吧！没说的！谁也不会跟你打岔。”
当团长普济列夫斯基同志同政委一道骑马悄悄走近篝火时，他看见十一对眼睛正一动不动地盯着那个念书的人。
普济列夫斯基回过头来，指着这群战士，对政委说：“团里的侦察兵有一半在这儿，里面有四个共青团员，年纪还很轻，个个都是好战士。你看那个念书的，叫柯察金。那边还有一个，看见没有？眼睛像小狼一样，他叫扎尔基。他俩是好朋友，不过暗地里却在较劲。以前柯察金是团里最好的侦察兵，现在他可碰上了厉害的对手。你看，他们现在正在做政治思想工作，不露声色，影响却很大。有人送给他们一个称号，叫‘青年近卫军’，非常合适。”
“念书的那个是侦察队的政治指导员吗？”政委问。
“不是，指导员是克拉梅尔。”
普济列夫斯基催着马向火堆走去。
“同志们，你们好！”他大声喊道。
战士们一齐转过头来。团长轻捷地跳下马，走到坐着的战士们跟前。
“在烤火吗，朋友们？”他笑着问。他的两只小眼睛有点像蒙古人。现在他满面笑容，刚毅的面孔也不像平时那样严峻了。
战士们像对待自己的知心朋友和好同志一样，热烈地欢迎团长。政委没有下马，他还要到别的地方去。
普济列夫斯基把带套的毛瑟枪推到背后，在保尔的马鞍旁边坐了下来，对大家说：“一起抽口烟，怎么样？我这儿有点好烟叶。”
他卷了一支烟抽起来，转脸对政委说：“你走吧，多罗宁，我就留在这儿了。司令部有什么事找我，通知我一声。”
多罗宁走了。普济列夫斯基对保尔说：“接着念吧，我也听听。”
保尔念完了最后几页，把书放在膝盖上，望着篝火，沉思起来。
有好几分钟，谁都没有说话，牛虻的死使所有的人都受到了震动。
普济列夫斯基默默地抽着烟，等着听战士们谈感想。
“这个故事真悲壮。”谢列达打破了沉默。“这就是说，世界上真有这样的人。本来这是一个人没法忍受的，但是，当他是为理想而奋斗的时候，他就什么都忍受得住。”
他说这些话的时候，显然很激动。这本书给他的印象太强烈了。
原先在白采尔科维给鞋匠打下手的安德留沙·福米乔夫激愤地喊道：“那个神甫硬把十字架往牛虻嘴边送，真该死，要是叫我碰上，马上送他上西天！”
安德罗休克用小棍子把饭盒朝火里推了推，坚定不移地说：“知道为什么而死，问题就不同了。到了那个时候，人就会有力量。要是你觉得真理在你一边，你就应当死得从容。英雄行为正是这样产生的。我认识一个小伙子，叫波莱卡。白匪在敖德萨把他包围了，他一冒火，向一个排的匪军冲了过去。没等敌人的刺刀够着他，他就拉响了手榴弹。手榴弹就在他脚下爆炸了。他自己当然是连整尸首都没留下，周围的白匪也给炸倒了一大片。从外表上看，这个人普普通通，也没有什么人给他写书。可是他的事迹真值得写！在咱们同志中间，这样了不起的人物有的是！”
他用匙子在饭盒里搅动了几下，舀出一点茶水，用嘴尝了尝，又接着说：“可也有人死得像只癞皮狗。死得不三不四，很不光彩。
我们在伊贾斯拉夫尔打仗的时候，就发生过这样一桩事。伊贾斯拉夫尔是一座古城，在戈伦河上，基辅大公统治时期就建立了。那儿有座波兰天主教堂，像个堡垒，很难攻。那天我们朝那边冲了过去。大家列成散兵线，顺着小巷朝前摸。我们的右翼是拉脱维亚人。我们跑到大路上，一看，有一家院子的围墙上拴着三匹马，全都备着鞍子。
“好哇，我们想，这回准能抓几个波兰俘虏了。我们十来个人朝那个院子冲过去。他们拉脱维亚人的连长拿着毛瑟枪跑在最前面。
“我们跑到房子跟前，一看门敞开着，就冲了进去。原以为里面一定是波兰兵，哪知道完全不是那么回事。原来是我们自己的三个侦察兵，他们早来了一步，正在干坏事。事实就摆在眼前：他们正在欺负一个妇女。这儿是一个波兰军官的家。他们已经把那个军官的老婆按在地上了。拉脱维亚连长一见这情景，用拉脱维亚话喊了一声。三个家伙全给抓了起来，拖到了院子里。在场的只有两个俄罗斯人，其余的全是拉脱维亚人。连长姓布列季斯。尽管我不懂他们的话，一看也就明白了，他们是要把那三个家伙干掉。这些拉脱维亚人全是铁汉子，性格很刚强。他们把那三个家伙拖到石头马厩跟前。我想，这回完蛋了，准会把他们崩掉！三个人里边，有一个棒小伙子，长相难看极了，拼命挣扎，不让绑，还破口大骂，说不该为了一个娘们就把他枪毙。另外两个家伙都在求饶。
“我一看这情景，浑身都凉了。我跑到布列季斯跟前说：‘连长同志，把他们送军事法庭算了，干吗让他们的血弄脏了你的手呢？城里战斗还没完。哪儿有工夫跟他们算帐。’他转过身来，朝我一瞪眼，我马上就后悔不该多嘴了。他的两只眼睛简直像老虎。毛瑟枪对着我的鼻子。我打了七年仗，这回可真有点害怕了。看来他会不容分说就把我打死。他用俄语向我喊，我勉强才听明白：‘军旗是烈士的鲜血染红的，可是这几个家伙却给全军丢脸。当土匪就得枪毙。’“我吓得赶忙跑到街上去了。背后响起了枪声。我知道，那三个家伙完蛋了。等我们再向前进的时候，城市已经是咱们的了。事情就是这样。那三个人像狗一样死掉了。他们是在梅利托波利附近加入咱们队伍的，早先跟着马赫诺匪帮干过，都是些坏蛋。”
安德罗休克把饭盒拿到脚边，打开装面包的背囊，接着说：“咱们队伍里混进了一些败类，你不能一下把所有的人都看透。从表面上看，他们好像也在干革命。可这些家伙是害群之马。我看到这种事，心里总不痛快，直到现在都忘不了。”
他说完，就喝起茶来。
骑兵侦察员们睡觉的时候，已经是深夜了。谢列达大声打着呼噜。普济列夫斯基也枕着马鞍子睡着了。只有政治指导员克拉梅尔还在笔记本上写着什么。
第二天，保尔侦察回来，把马拴在树上。他把刚喝完茶的克拉梅尔叫到跟前，对他说：“指导员，我问你，我想跳槽，到骑兵第一集团军去，你看怎么样？他们往后准有许多轰轰烈烈的事要干。他们这么多人聚在一起，总不是为了好玩吧。可咱们呢，却老得在这儿闲呆着。”
克拉梅尔惊讶地看了他一眼。
“怎么跳槽？你把红军当成什么了？难道是电影院吗？这像什么话？要是大伙都这么随随便便，从这个部队跑到那个部队，那可就热闹了！”
“这儿也罢，那儿也罢，反正是打仗，哪儿还不一样？”保尔打断了克拉梅尔的话。“我又不是开小差往后方跑。”
克拉梅尔一口拒绝了他的要求。
“那你说，还要不要纪律了？你呀，保尔，什么都好，就是有点无政府主义，想干什么，就干什么。党和共青团都是建立在铁的纪律上面的。党高于一切。谁都不能想到哪儿就到哪儿，而应该是哪儿需要，就到哪儿去。你要调动，普济列夫斯基已经拒绝了吧？那不就得了，到此为止吧。”
又高又瘦的克拉梅尔脸色有些发黄，他因为激动，咳嗽了起来。印刷厂的铅尘已经牢牢地附在他的肺叶上，他的两颊时常现出病态的红晕。
等他平静下来以后，保尔小声但却十分坚决地对他说：“你说的全对。可我还是要到布琼尼的骑兵部队去，我是走定了。”
第二天傍晚，篝火旁边已经看不到保尔了。
在邻近的小村庄里有一所学校，学校旁边的土丘上聚集着一群骑兵，围成了一个大圆圈。布琼尼部队的一个健壮的战士，帽子推到后脑勺上，坐在机枪车后尾，拉着手风琴。一个剽悍的骑兵穿着肥大的红色马裤，正在圈子里跳狂热的果拍克舞。手风琴拉得很蹩脚，既不和谐，又不合拍，害得那个跳舞的老是跳错步子。
村里的小伙子和姑娘们都来看热闹，他们有的爬上机枪车，有的攀着篱笆，看这些刚开来的兴致勃勃的骑兵战士跳舞。
“托普塔洛，使劲跳哇！把地踩平吧！喂，加油啊，老兄！拉手风琴的，加点劲啊！”
但是这位手风琴手的粗大手指，扳弯马蹄铁倒不费劲，按起琴键来却很笨拙。
“可惜阿法纳西·库利亚布卡叫马赫诺匪帮砍死了，”一个晒得黝黑的战士惋惜地说。“他才是第一流的手风琴手呢。
他是我们骑兵连的排头，死得真可惜。是个好战士，又是个呱呱叫的手风琴手。”
保尔也站在人群里。他听到最后这句话，就挤到机枪车跟前，把手放在手风琴风箱上。手风琴马上不响了。
“你要干什么？”拉手风琴的战士斜了保尔一眼。
托普塔洛也站住不跳了。周围发出了一阵不满的喊声：“怎么回事？干吗不让拉？”
保尔伸手握住手风琴的皮带，说：“来，我来试试。”
手风琴手用不信任的眼光打量了一下这位不相识的红军战士，迟疑地把皮带从肩上褪了下来。
保尔照他的老习惯把手风琴放在膝盖上，然后，猛然一拉，风箱像扇子似的拉开了，手指在琴键上飞速一滑，立刻奏出了欢快的舞曲：
喂，小苹果，
你往什么地方滚哪？
落到省肃反委员会手里，
你就别想回来啦。
托普塔洛立即随着那熟悉的旋律，跳了起来。他像雄鹰展翅似的扬起双手，飞快地绕着圈子，做着各种令人眼花缭乱的动作，豪放地用手拍打着皮靴筒、膝盖、后脑勺、前额，接着又用手掌把靴底拍得震天价响，最后是拍打大张着的嘴巴。
手风琴不断用琴声鞭策着他，用急骤奔放的旋律驱赶着他。他顺着圆圈，像陀螺一样飞快地旋转起来，一面交替地伸出两条腿，一面气喘吁吁地喊着：“哈，嗨，哈，嗨！”
一九二○年六月五日，布琼尼骑兵第一集团军经过几次短促而激烈的战斗，突破了波兰第三和第四集团军结合部的防线，把堵截红军的萨维茨基将军的骑兵旅打得落花流水，开始向鲁任方向挺进。
波军司令部为了堵住这个缺口，急急忙忙拼凑了一支突击部队。五辆坦克在波格列比谢车站刚卸下火车，马上就开赴作战地点。
但是骑兵第一集团军已经绕过敌军准备反攻的据点扎鲁德尼齐，出其不意地出现在波军后方。
波军急忙派出科尔尼茨基将军的骑兵师，跟踪追击布琼尼骑兵第一集团军。波军司令部判断，骑兵第一集团军突进的目标是波军后方战略重镇卡扎京，这个师便受命从背后对骑兵第一集团军进行袭击。但是这个作战行动并没有改善波兰白军的处境。虽然他们第二天就堵住了战线上的缺口，在骑兵第一集团军后面重新把战线连接了起来，但是强大的骑兵第一集团军已经插进敌人的后方，摧毁了他们的许多后方基地，正准备向波军的基辅集群发起猛攻。各骑兵师在运动过程中，破坏了沿途许多铁道和桥梁，以便截断波军退路。
骑兵第一集团军司令从俘虏的口供里了解到，波军有一个集团军的司令部设在日托米尔——实际上，战线的司令部也设在这里——于是决定拿下日托米尔和别尔季切夫这两个重要的铁路枢纽和行政中心。六月七日拂晓，骑兵第四师就向日托米尔进发了。
保尔代替已经牺牲的库利亚布卡，在这个骑兵连的排头骑着马前进。战士们不愿意放走这样一个出色的手风琴手，集体提出了要求，保尔就被编入了这个连队。
快到日托米尔的时候，骑兵摆开了扇面似的队形，快马加鞭，冲了过去。银色的马刀在阳光下闪闪发光。
大地在呻吟，战马喘着粗气，战士们屹立在马镫上。
马蹄下的大地飞快地向后奔驰，一座到处是花园的大城市，向他们迎面扑来。骑兵穿过郊区的花园，冲到了城中心。
“杀呀！”——像死神一样令人毛骨悚然的喊声在空中震荡。
惊慌失措的波军几乎没有进行什么抵抗。城里的卫戍部队一下子就土崩瓦解了。
保尔伏在马背上向前飞驰。在他旁边骑着一匹细腿黑马的，就是那个跳舞的托普塔洛。
保尔亲眼看见这个剽悍的骑兵战士挥起马刀，毫不手软地劈下去，砍倒了一个还没有来得及举枪瞄准的波兰兵。
马蹄有力地踏在石头马路上，发出一片得得的响声。突然，在十字路口出现了一挺机枪，架在路中央，三个穿蓝军装、戴四角帽的波兰兵，弯着腰守在机枪旁边。还有一个波兰军官，领子上镶着蛇形金绦，一见红军骑兵冲过来，就举起了手里的毛瑟枪。
这时，托普塔洛和保尔都已经勒不住战马了，他们迎着死神的魔爪，径直向机枪冲过去。军官朝保尔开了一枪，但是没有打中，子弹像一只麻雀，嗖的一声从他的脸旁飞了过去。那个军官被战马的胸脯撞出去老远，脑袋磕在石头上，仰面朝天倒下去了。
就在这一刹那间，机枪迫不及待地发出了疯狂而粗野的狞笑声。托普塔洛就像被几十只大黄蜂蜇着似的，连人带马摔倒了。
保尔的战马竖起前蹄，吃惊地嘶叫着。它带着保尔，猛地一蹿，越过死者的尸体，一直冲到机枪旁边的波兰兵跟前。
马刀在空中画了一个闪光的弧形，砍进了一顶蓝色的四角军帽里。
马刀又高高地举了起来，准备向另一个脑袋砍去，但是，那匹跑得性起的战马却蹦到一边去了。
这时候，骑兵连的大队人马像一股奔腾的山洪，涌向十字路口，几十把战刀在空中不停地挥舞着，左右砍杀。
监狱的狭长走廊上，喊叫声连成了一片。
挤得满满的牢房里，那些受尽折磨、面容憔悴的犯人骚动起来了。城里在进行巷战——难道真是自己的队伍从什么地方打回来了吗？真的就要得到自由了吗？
枪声已经在监狱的院子里响起来。走廊里传来了奔跑的脚步声。突然，一个亲切的、无比亲切的声音喊道：“同志们，快出来吧！”
保尔跑到紧锁着的牢门跟前。几十只眼睛从小窗里向外张望。他用枪托猛砸牢门上的铁锁，一下接着一下。
“等一等，我来炸开它。”米罗诺夫拦住保尔，从衣袋里掏出一颗手榴弹。
排长齐加尔琴科一把夺过手榴弹，说：“快住手，疯子！你怎么啦，傻了吗？钥匙马上就拿来。
砸不开，就用钥匙开嘛！”
这时人们用手枪把狱卒押到走廊上来了。
一群衣衫褴褛、蓬头垢面的人，欢乐得发狂，一下子挤满了走廊。
保尔打开又高又大的牢门，跑进了牢房。
“同志们，你们都自由了！我们是布琼尼的队伍，我们师把这个城市占领了。”
一个妇女眼泪汪汪地扑到保尔身上，抱着他嚎啕大哭起来，就像保尔是她的亲儿子似的。
波兰白军在这座石头牢房里囚禁着五千零七十一名布尔什维克，随时准备把他们拉出去枪毙或绞死，另外还关押着二千名红军政治工作人员。现在他们都得救了。对于骑兵师的战士们来说，这些人比任何战利品，比任何胜仗都要宝贵。
而对于这七千多名革命者来说，漆黑的夜转眼变成了阳光灿烂的暖洋洋的六月天。
有一个脸色黄得像柠檬的政治犯，欢天喜地地跑到保尔跟前。他是舍佩托夫卡一家印刷厂的排字工人，叫萨穆伊尔·列赫尔。
保尔听着萨穆伊尔的叙述，脸上蒙上了一层灰暗的阴影。
萨穆伊尔讲到故乡舍佩托夫卡发生的悲壮的流血事件。他的话像熔化了的铁水，一滴一滴地落在保尔的心上。
“一天夜里，我们大伙一下子全给抓了起来，有个无耻的内奸出卖了我们。我们全部落到了宪兵队的魔爪里。保尔，他们打人打得可真狠哪！我比别人少吃点苦头，因为刚打了几下，我就昏死过去了，可别的同志身体比我结实。我们没什么再要隐瞒的。宪兵队什么都知道，比我们自己还清楚。我们干的每一件事，他们都掌握了。
“我们中间混进了奸细，他们还有什么不知道的呢！那些日子的事真是一言难尽哪。保尔，有好些人你是认识的：瓦莉亚·勃鲁扎克，县城里的罗莎·格丽茨曼，她还是个孩子呢，才十七岁，是个多好的姑娘啊，一对眼睛总是那么信赖别人。还有萨沙·本沙夫特，你大概还记得，他也是我们厂的排字工，小伙子成天乐呵呵的，常拿老板画漫画。另外还有两个中学生：诺沃谢利斯基和图日茨。这几个人你都认识。其余的人是县城和镇上抓来的。一共二十九个，当中有六个女的。大伙都受尽了极其野蛮的折磨。瓦莉亚和罗莎第一天就被强奸了。那帮畜生，谁乐意怎么干，就怎么干，把她们折磨得半死，才拖回牢房。从这以后，罗莎就说起胡话来，过了几天，就完全疯了。
“那帮野兽不相信她真疯，说她是假装的，每次提审都打她一顿。后来拉出去枪毙的时候，她都没人样了。脸给打成了紫黑色，两只眼直瞪瞪地发呆，完全像个老太婆。
“瓦莉亚·勃鲁扎克直到最后一分钟表现都很好。他们死得都像真正的战士。我不知道，他们打哪儿来的那股力量。保尔，要把他们死难的情况全说出来，难道可能吗？不可能。他们死得真惨！没法用言语形容……瓦莉亚的案情最重，她负责跟波军司令部的报务员联系，还经常到县里做联络工作。抓她的时候，又搜出了两颗手榴弹和一支勃朗宁手枪。手榴弹就是那个奸细给她的。都是事先做好的圈套，好给她安上蓄谋炸毁波军司令部的罪名。
“唉，保尔，临刑那几天的情景我真不愿意讲。既然你一定要知道，我就只好说说。军事法庭判处瓦莉亚和另外两个同志绞刑，其他同志全部枪决。
“我们原先在波兰士兵当中做过策反工作，这些士兵也受到了审判，比我们早两天。
“一个年轻的班长，叫斯涅古尔科，是个报务员，战前在洛济当过电工。他被判处枪决，罪名是背叛祖国和在士兵中进行共产主义宣传。他没有要求赦免，判决后二十四小时，就给他们杀害了。
“他们传瓦莉亚到法庭上去作证。她回来跟我们说，斯涅古尔科承认他进行过共产主义宣传，但是断然否认他背叛祖国。他说：‘我的祖国是波兰苏维埃社会主义共和国。是的，我是波兰共产党党员。我当兵是被迫的。我一向所做的工作，不过是帮助那些跟我一样被你们赶到前线的士兵睁开眼睛。你们可以为了这个绞死我，但是我从来没有背叛自己的祖国，而且永远都不会背叛。只是我的祖国跟你们的不同。你们的祖国是地主贵族的，我的祖国是工人农民的！我深信，我的祖国一定会成为一个工农大众的国家，而在我的这个祖国里，决不会有人说我是叛徒。’“判决以后，我们就都关在一起了。临刑前，把我们转到了监狱里。夜里，他们在监狱对面靠近医院的地方竖起了绞架。隔不远，靠近树林，就在大道旁边的陡坡上，又选定了一个地方作为执行枪决的刑场，还在那儿给我们挖了一个大坑。
“判决书张贴出去了，全城都知道了这件事。他们决定在大白天当众处决我们，好让每个人看了都害怕。第二天，从早晨起就把老百姓从城里赶到绞架跟前。有的人是因为好奇，虽然心里害怕，也还是来了。绞架旁边是密密麻麻的人群。一眼看去，人头攒动。监狱四面围着木栅栏，这你是知道的。绞架就离监狱不远，我们都能听到外面嘈杂的人声。在后面的街道上，架起了机枪，整个地区的宪兵队，包括骑兵和步兵，都调来了。一个营的军队封锁了大街小巷。还特地为判处绞刑的人挖了一个坑，就在绞架旁边。我们默不作声地等待最后一刻的到来，只是偶尔有人说一两句话。该说的前一天都说了，就连诀别的话也说了。只有罗莎还在牢房角落里喃喃自语，不知道说些什么。瓦莉亚因为遭到强奸，又挨了毒打，已经不能走了，大部分时间都是躺着。有两个从镇上抓来的共产党员，是一对亲姐妹。她们互相拥抱着诀别，控制不住自己，放声大哭起来。一个叫斯捷潘诺夫的小伙子，是从县里抓来的，很有力气，像个摔跤运动员，被捕的时候同敌人格斗，打伤了两个宪兵。他一再对这姐妹俩说：‘同志们，别掉眼泪了。要哭就在这儿哭吧，到外边就别再哭了。决不能让那帮吃人的豺狼高兴。他们反正是不会放过咱们的，咱们反正是要死的，那么，就让我们从容地死吧！咱们谁也不能下跪。同志们，死要死得有骨气！’“这时候，提我们的人来了。走在前面的是侦缉处长什瓦尔科夫斯基，这家伙是个残暴的色情狂，简直是只疯狗。他要是自己不强奸，就让宪兵动手，他在旁边看着取乐。从监狱穿过马路直到绞架，宪兵排成了两道人墙，都是大刀出鞘。他们肩上挂着黄色的穗带，大家都管他们叫‘黄脖狗’。
“他们用枪托把我们赶到监狱的院子里，四个人一排站好队，然后打开大门，把我们押到街上。他们让我们站在绞架跟前，亲眼看着自己的同志被绞死，然后再枪毙我们。绞架很高，是用几根原木搭成的。绞架上吊着三根粗绳子，头上系成圈套。下面是带小梯子的平台，用一根活动的木桩子支撑着。人群像海一样，不住地蠕动着，发出勉强可以听到的嗡嗡声。他们的眼睛全盯在我们身上。我们能够辨认出自己的亲友。
“在稍远一点的台阶上，聚集着一帮波兰小贵族，手里拿着望远镜，跟他们在一起的还有几个军官。他们都是来欣赏怎样绞死布尔什维克的。
“脚下的雪是松软的，树林一片白茫茫，树枝像落上了一层棉絮。雪花在空中飞舞，慢慢落下来，飘到我们灼热的脸上，就融化了。绞架下面的平台上也铺了一层雪。我们的衣服差不多全给剥光了，但是谁也没有感到冷。斯捷潘诺夫甚至没有注意到他脚上只穿着一双袜子。
“军事检察官和高级军官们都站在绞架旁边。最后，终于把瓦莉亚和另外两个判绞刑的同志押出了监狱。他们三个人互相挽着胳膊，瓦莉亚夹在中间。她已经没有力气走路了，那两个同志搀扶着她。不过，她记住了斯捷潘诺夫的话：‘死要死得有骨气’，还是竭力想自己走。她没有穿大衣，只穿着一件绒衣。
“侦缉处长什瓦尔科夫斯基看来很不满意他们挽着胳膊走，推了他们一下。瓦莉亚不知道说了句什么，一个骑马的宪兵立即扬起马鞭，朝她脸上狠狠地抽了一鞭子。
“就在这个时候，人群中有一个女人惨叫了一声，呼天抢地地挣扎着，拼命想挤过警戒线，冲到这三个人跟前去。但是她让宪兵抓住，不知道给拖到什么地方去了。大概这是瓦莉亚的母亲。快走到绞架的时候，瓦莉亚唱了起来。我还从来没有听见过这样的歌声——只有视死如归的人才会这样满怀激情地歌唱。她唱的是《华沙之歌》，那两个同志也随着她一起唱。宪兵用马鞭抽他们，这帮没人性的畜生就像发了疯似的，鞭子不断落到咱们同志的身上，他们都好像没有什么感觉。宪兵把他们打倒在地上，像拖口袋一样拖到绞架跟前，草草念完了判决书，就把绞索套在他们脖子上。这时候，我们大伙就高唱起《国际歌》来：起来！饥寒交迫的奴隶……
“他们从四面八方向我们扑过来。我只看见一个匪兵用枪托把支着平台的木桩推倒，咱们的三个同志就全让绞索给吊了起来……
“当我们在刑场上准备受刑的时候，他们向我们宣读了判决书，说将军大人开恩，把我们当中九个人的死刑改判为二十年苦役。其余十七个同志还是全给枪毙了。”
说到这里，萨穆伊尔扯开了衬衣领子，好像领子勒得他喘不过气来似的。
“三位同志的尸体整整吊了三天，日夜都有匪兵在绞架旁边看守。后来我们监狱里又送进来几个犯人，据他们说，第四天托博利金同志的绞索断了，因为他身体最重，他们这才把另外两具尸体也解下来，就地掩埋了。
“但是绞架一直没有拆掉，我们往这儿押解的时候，还看到了。绞索还吊在半空，等待着新的牺牲者。”
萨穆伊尔沉默起来，呆滞的目光凝视着远方。保尔都没有觉察到他已经讲完了。
那三具尸体清晰地呈现在保尔眼前，他们的面目很可怕，脑袋歪在一边，在绞架上默默地摆动着。
突然，街上吹起了集合号，号声惊醒了保尔，他用低得几乎听不见的声音说：“咱们到外边去吧，萨穆伊尔！”
骑兵押着波兰俘虏，从大街上走过。团政委站在监狱大门旁边，在军用记事本上写了一道命令。
“给你，安季波夫同志。”他把命令交给矮壮结实的骑兵连长。“派一个班，把俘虏全部押解到诺沃格勒—沃伦斯基方向去。受伤的要给包扎好，用大车运，也往那个方向去。送到离这儿二十俄里的地方，就让他们滚蛋吧。咱们没时间管他们。你得注意，绝对不许有虐待俘虏的行为。”
保尔跨上战马，回头对萨穆伊尔说：“你听见没有？他们绞死咱们的同志，咱们倒要送他们回自己人那儿去，还不许虐待。这怎么办得到？”
团长回过头来盯着他。保尔听见团长好像在自言自语，但是语气却坚定而严厉：“虐待解除了武装的俘虏是要枪毙的。我们可不是白军。”
保尔策马离开监狱大门的时候，想起了在全团宣读的革命军事委员会的命令，命令最后是这样说的：
……故此命令：
１．以口头的和书面印发的形式不断地、反复地向红军部队，特别是向新组建的部队宣传解释：波兰士兵是波兰和英法资产阶级的牺牲品，他们本人也是身不由己。因此，我们的责任是，把被俘的波兰士兵当作误入歧途的、受蒙骗的兄弟一样来对待，以后要把他们作为醒悟了的兄弟遣返回解放后的波兰祖国。
２．凡有有关虐待波兰战俘以及欺凌当地居民的传闻、消息、报告，要一查到底，严查严办，不论这些传闻、消息来自何种渠道。
３．各部队指挥人员和政工人员要充分意识到，他们对严格执行本命令负有责任。工农国家热爱自己的红军。红军是它的骄傲。它要求红军不要在自己的旗帜上染上一个污点。
“不要染上一个污点。”保尔小声对自己说。
正当骑兵第四师攻下日托米尔的时候，戈利科夫同志统率的突击部队的一部——第七步兵师第二十旅也在奥库尼诺沃村一带强渡了第聂伯河。
由第二十五步兵师和巴什基尔骑兵旅组成的一支部队奉命渡过第聂伯河，并在伊尔沙车站附近切断基辅到科罗斯坚的铁路线。这次军事行动的目的是截断波军逃离基辅的唯一通路。舍佩托夫卡共青团组织的一个团员米什卡·列夫丘科夫在这次渡河时牺牲了。
当部队在晃荡的浮桥上跑步前进的时候，从山背后飞来一颗炮弹。它在战士们头顶上呼啸而过，落在水里爆炸了。就在这一瞬间，米什卡栽到搭浮桥的小船底下，让河水吞没了，再也没有浮上来。只有淡黄色头发的战士亚基缅科看见了，这个戴着一顶掉了檐的破军帽的战士，一见这情景，惊叫起来：“哎哟，不好了，米什卡掉到水里去了！连影都没有，这下完了！”他停住脚步，吃惊地盯着黑沉沉的流水。后面的人撞在他身上，推着他说：“你这傻瓜，张着嘴巴看什么？还不快走！”
当时根本没有工夫去考虑个别人的吉凶，他们这个旅本来就落后了，兄弟部队已经占领了对岸。
米什卡的死讯，谢廖沙是四天以后才知道的。他们旅经过激战攻下布恰车站后，随即向基辅方面展开攻势，当时他们正在阻击企图以猛烈的冲锋向科罗斯坚突围的波军。
亚基缅科在谢廖沙身边趴下来。他停止了猛烈的射击，好不容易才拉开灼热的枪机，然后把脑袋贴着地面，转过来对谢廖沙说：“步枪要缓口气，烫得像火一样。”
枪炮在轰鸣，谢廖沙勉强才听到他说的话。后来枪炮声小了一点，亚基缅科像是顺便提起似的说：“你的那位老乡在第聂伯河里淹死了。我没看清他是怎么掉到水里去的。”他说完，用手摸了摸枪机，从子弹带里拿出一排子弹，一丝不苟地压进了弹仓。
攻打别尔季切夫的第十一师，在城里遇到了波军的顽强抵抗。
大街上正在浴血苦战。敌人用密集的机枪子弹阻挡红骑兵的前进。但是这个城市还是被红军占领了。波军已经溃不成军，残兵狼狈逃窜。车站上截获了敌人的许多列火车。但是对波军来说，最可怕的打击还是军火库爆炸，供全军用的一百万发炮弹一下子全毁了。全城的玻璃震得粉碎，房屋好像是纸糊的，在爆炸声中直摇晃。
红军攻克日托米尔和别尔季切夫以后，波军腹背受敌，只好分作两股，撤出基辅，仓皇逃遁。他们拼命想为自己杀出一条路，冲出钢铁包围圈。
保尔已经完全忘却了他自己。这些日子，每天都有激烈的战斗。他，保尔，已经溶化在集体里了。他和每个战士一样，已经忘记了“我”字，脑子里只有“我们”：我们团、我们骑兵连、我们旅。
战局的发展犹如狂飙，异常迅猛，天天都有新的消息传来。
布琼尼的骑兵以排山倒海之势，不停顿地向前挺进，给敌人一个又一个沉重的打击，摧毁了波军的整个后方。满怀胜利喜悦的各骑兵师，接二连三地向波军后方的心脏诺沃格勒—沃伦斯基发起猛烈的冲锋。
他们像冲击峭壁的巨浪，冲上去，退回来，接着又杀声震天地冲上去。
无论是密布的铁丝网，还是守城部队的拼命顽抗，都没能挽救波军的溃败。六月二十七日早晨，布琼尼的骑兵队伍渡过斯卢奇河，冲进诺沃格勒—沃伦斯基城，并继续向科列茨镇方向追击溃逃的波军。与此同时，亚基尔的第四十五师在新米罗波利附近渡过斯卢奇河，科托夫斯基骑兵旅则向柳巴尔镇发起了攻击。
不久，骑兵第一集团军的无线电台接到战线司令的命令，要他们全军出动，夺取罗夫诺。红军各师发起强大攻势，把波军打得七零八落，他们只能化成小股部队，四散逃命。
有一天，旅长派保尔到停在车站的铁甲列车上去送公文。
在那里他竟遇见了一个根本没想到会碰见的人。马跑上了路基。到了前面一辆灰色车厢跟前，保尔勒住了马。铁甲列车威风凛凛地停在那里，藏在炮塔里的大炮露出黑洞洞的炮口。
列车旁边有几个满身油垢的人，正在揭开一块保护车轮的沉重的钢甲。
“请问铁甲列车的指挥员在哪儿？”保尔问一个穿着皮上衣、提着一桶水的红军战士。
“就在那儿。”红军战士把手朝火车头那边一指说。
保尔跑到火车头跟前，又问：“哪一位是指挥员？”
一个脸上长着麻子、浑身穿戴都是皮制品的人转过身来，说：“我就是。”
保尔从口袋里掏出公文，交给了他。
“这是旅长的命令，请您在公文袋上签个字。”
指挥员把公文袋放在膝盖上，开始签字。火车头的中间车轮旁边，有一个人提着油壶在干活。保尔只能看到他宽阔的后背和露在皮裤口袋外面的手枪柄。
“签好了，拿去吧。”指挥员把公文袋还给了保尔。
保尔抖抖缰绳，正要走，在火车头旁边干活的那个人突然站直身子，转过脸来。就在这一瞬间，保尔好像被一阵风刮倒似的，跳下马来，喊道：“阿尔焦姆，哥哥！”
满身油垢的火车司机立即放下油壶，像大熊一样，抱住年轻的红军战士。
“保尔！小鬼！原来是你呀！”阿尔焦姆这样喊着，简直不敢相信自己的眼睛。
铁甲列车指挥员用惊奇的目光看着这个场面。车上的炮兵战士都笑了起来。
“看见没有，兄弟俩喜相逢了。”
八月十九日，在利沃夫地区的一次战斗中，保尔丢掉了军帽。他勒住马，但是前面的几个骑兵连已经冲进了波军的散兵线。杰米多夫从洼地的灌木丛中飞驰出来，向河岸冲去，一路上高喊：“师长牺牲了！”
保尔哆嗦了一下。列图诺夫，他的英勇的师长，一个具有大无畏精神的好同志，竟牺牲了。一种疯狂的愤怒攫住了保尔的心。
他使劲用马刀背拍了一下已经十分疲惫、满嘴是血的战马格涅多克，向正在厮杀的、人群最密的地方冲了过去。
“砍死这帮畜生！砍死他们！砍死这帮波兰贵族！他们杀死了列图诺夫。”盛怒之下，他扬起马刀，连看也不看，向一个穿绿军服的人劈下去。全连战士个个怒火中烧，誓为师长复仇，把一个排的波军全砍死了。
他们追击逃敌，到了一片开阔地，这时候波军的大炮向他们开火了。
一团绿火像镁光一样，在保尔眼前闪了一下，耳边响起了一声巨雷，烧红的铁片灼伤了他的头。大地可怕地、不可思议地旋转起来，向一边翻过去。
保尔像一根稻草似的，被甩出了马鞍，翻过马头，沉重地摔在地上。
黑夜立刻降临了。
收听单词发音 |
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haze
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| n.霾，烟雾；懵懂，迷糊；vi.(over)变模糊 | |
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pebbles
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| [复数]鹅卵石； 沙砾； 卵石，小圆石( pebble的名词复数 ) | |
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onward
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| adj.向前的，前进的；adv.向前，前进，在先 | |
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majestic
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| adj.雄伟的，壮丽的，庄严的，威严的，崇高的 | |
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receded
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| v.逐渐远离( recede的过去式和过去分词 )；向后倾斜；自原处后退或避开别人的注视；尤指问题 | |
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maxim
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| n.格言，箴言 | |
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trench
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| n./v.(挖)沟，(挖)战壕 | |
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artillery
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| n.(军)火炮，大炮；炮兵(部队) | |
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withdrawn
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| vt.收回；使退出；vi.撤退，退出 | |
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merged
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| （使）混合( merge的过去式和过去分词 )； 相融； 融入； 渐渐消失在某物中 | |
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hurled
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| v.猛投，用力掷( hurl的过去式和过去分词 )；大声叫骂 | |
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frustrated
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| adj.挫败的，失意的，泄气的v.使不成功( frustrate的过去式和过去分词 )；挫败；使受挫折；令人沮丧 | |
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swoop
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| n.俯冲，攫取；v.抓取，突然袭击 | |
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swooping
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| 俯冲，猛冲( swoop的现在分词 ) | |
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unintelligible
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| adj.无法了解的，难解的，莫明其妙的 | |
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dilated
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| adj.加宽的，扩大的v.（使某物）扩大，膨胀，张大( dilate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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frenzy
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| n.疯狂，狂热，极度的激动 | |
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lashed
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| adj.具睫毛的v.鞭打( lash的过去式和过去分词 )；煽动；紧系；怒斥 | |
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falter
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| vi.(嗓音)颤抖，结巴地说；犹豫；蹒跚 | |
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killing
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| n.巨额利润；突然赚大钱，发大财 | |
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steadfast
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| adj.固定的，不变的，不动摇的；忠实的；坚贞不移的 | |
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hip
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| n.臀部，髋；屋脊 | |
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parasites
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| 寄生物( parasite的名词复数 )； 靠他人为生的人； 诸虫 | |
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bestial
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| adj.残忍的；野蛮的 | |
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hatred
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| n.憎恶，憎恨，仇恨 | |
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rave
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| vi.胡言乱语；热衷谈论；n.热情赞扬 | |
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din
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| n.喧闹声，嘈杂声 | |
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mare
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| n.母马，母驴 | |
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chafed
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| v.擦热（尤指皮肤）( chafe的过去式 )；擦痛；发怒；惹怒 | |
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cartridge
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| n.弹壳，弹药筒；(装磁带等的)盒子 | |
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31
strap
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| n.皮带，带子；v.用带扣住，束牢；用绷带包扎 | |
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ragged
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| adj.衣衫褴褛的，粗糙的，刺耳的 | |
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toll
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| n.过路(桥)费；损失，伤亡人数；v.敲(钟) | |
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regiment
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| n.团，多数，管理；v.组织，编成团，统制 | |
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regiments
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| （军队的）团( regiment的名词复数 )； 大量的人或物 | |
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wrecked
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| adj.失事的，遇难的 | |
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intermittent
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| adj.间歇的，断断续续的 | |
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civilian
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| adj.平民的，民用的，民众的 | |
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brewing
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| n. 酿造, 一次酿造的量 动词brew的现在分词形式 | |
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depleted
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| adj. 枯竭的, 废弃的 动词deplete的过去式和过去分词 | |
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41
mustering
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| v.集合，召集，集结（尤指部队）( muster的现在分词 )；（自他人处）搜集某事物；聚集；激发 | |
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42
cavalry
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| n.骑兵；轻装甲部队 | |
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43
sweeping
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| adj.范围广大的，一扫无遗的 | |
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44
scorched
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| 烧焦，烤焦( scorch的过去式和过去分词 )； 使（植物）枯萎，把…晒枯； 高速行驶； 枯焦 | |
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45
thwarted
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| 阻挠( thwart的过去式和过去分词 )； 使受挫折； 挫败； 横过 | |
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46
supreme
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| adj.极度的，最重要的；至高的，最高的 | |
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47
juncture
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| n.时刻，关键时刻，紧要关头 | |
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48
sector
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| n.部门，部分；防御地段，防区；扇形 | |
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49
incessantly
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| ad.不停地 | |
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50
actively
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| adv.积极地，勤奋地 | |
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51
swarms
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| 蜂群，一大群( swarm的名词复数 ) | |
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52
growl
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| v.（狗等）嗥叫，（炮等）轰鸣；n.嗥叫，轰鸣 | |
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53
gust
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| n.阵风，突然一阵（雨、烟等），（感情的）迸发 | |
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54
middle-aged
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| adj.中年的 | |
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55
singed
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| v.浅表烧焦( singe的过去式和过去分词 )；（毛发）燎，烧焦尖端[边儿] | |
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56
laboriously
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| adv.艰苦地；费力地；辛勤地；（文体等）佶屈聱牙地 | |
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57
pouch
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| n.小袋，小包，囊状袋；vt.装...入袋中，用袋运输；vi.用袋送信件 | |
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58
guffaw
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| n.哄笑；突然的大笑 | |
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59
winked
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| v.使眼色( wink的过去式和过去分词 )；递眼色（表示友好或高兴等）；（指光）闪烁；闪亮 | |
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60
demolish
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| v.拆毁(建筑物等)，推翻(计划、制度等) | |
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61
entanglements
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| n.瓜葛( entanglement的名词复数 )；牵连；纠缠；缠住 | |
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62
expressively
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| ad.表示(某事物)地；表达地 | |
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63
nettle
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| n.荨麻；v.烦忧，激恼 | |
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64
battalion
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| n.营；部队；大队(的人) | |
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65
scout
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| n.童子军，侦察员；v.侦察，搜索 | |
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66
instructor
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| n.指导者，教员，教练 | |
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pensively
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| adv.沉思地，焦虑地 | |
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68
spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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tragic
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| adj.悲剧的，悲剧性的，悲惨的 | |
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70
puffed
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| adj.疏松的v.使喷出( puff的过去式和过去分词 )；喷着汽（或烟）移动；吹嘘；吹捧 | |
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71
apprentice
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| n.学徒，徒弟 | |
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72
fortress
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| n.堡垒，防御工事 | |
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73
crooked
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| adj.弯曲的；不诚实的，狡猾的，不正当的 | |
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74
alleys
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| 胡同，小巷( alley的名词复数 )； 小径 | |
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75
yelped
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| v.发出短而尖的叫声( yelp的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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76
hind
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| adj.后面的，后部的 | |
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untie
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| vt.解开，松开；解放 | |
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78
sipping
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| v.小口喝，呷，抿( sip的现在分词 ) | |
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79
scribbling
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| n.乱涂[写]胡[乱]写的文章[作品]v.潦草的书写( scribble的现在分词 )；乱画；草草地写；匆匆记下 | |
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80
scouting
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| 守候活动，童子军的活动 | |
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81
anarchist
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| n.无政府主义者 | |
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82
agitation
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| n.搅动；搅拌；鼓动，煽动 | |
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83
lodged
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| v.存放( lodge的过去式和过去分词 )；暂住；埋入；（权利、权威等）归属 | |
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84
hectic
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| adj.肺病的；消耗热的；发热的；闹哄哄的 | |
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85
accordion
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| n.手风琴；adj.可折叠的 | |
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86
wailed
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| v.哭叫，哀号( wail的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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87
inept
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| adj.不恰当的，荒谬的，拙劣的 | |
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88
torment
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| n.折磨；令人痛苦的东西(人)；vt.折磨；纠缠 | |
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89
cavalryman
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| 骑兵 | |
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90
sprawled
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| v.伸开四肢坐[躺]( sprawl的过去式和过去分词)；蔓延；杂乱无序地拓展；四肢伸展坐着（或躺着） | |
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91
standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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92
bellows
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| n.风箱；发出吼叫声，咆哮（尤指因痛苦）( bellow的名词复数 )；（愤怒地）说出（某事），大叫v.发出吼叫声，咆哮（尤指因痛苦）( bellow的第三人称单数 )；（愤怒地）说出（某事），大叫 | |
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93
subsided
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| v.（土地）下陷（因在地下采矿）( subside的过去式和过去分词 )；减弱；下降至较低或正常水平；一下子坐在椅子等上 | |
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94
accordionist
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| n.手风琴师 | |
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95
scowl
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| vi.(at)生气地皱眉，沉下脸，怒视；n.怒容 | |
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96
murmur
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| n.低语，低声的怨言；v.低语，低声而言 | |
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97
sinuous
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| adj.蜿蜒的，迂回的 | |
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98
forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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99
vigour
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| （=vigor）n.智力，体力，精力 | |
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100
tune
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| n.调子；和谐，协调；v.调音，调节，调整 | |
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101
intoxicating
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| a. 醉人的,使人兴奋的 | |
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102
spun
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| v.纺，杜撰，急转身 | |
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103
breach
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| n.违反，不履行；破裂；vt.冲破，攻破 | |
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104
spat
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| n.口角，掌击；v.发出呼噜呼噜声 | |
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105
reassuring
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| a.使人消除恐惧和疑虑的，使人放心的 | |
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106
hamper
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| vt.妨碍，束缚，限制；n.(有盖的)大篮子 | |
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107
decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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108
junctions
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| 联结点( junction的名词复数 )； 会合点； （公路或铁路的）交叉路口； （电缆等的）主结点 | |
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109
administrative
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| adj.行政的，管理的 | |
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110
lamented
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| adj.被哀悼的，令人遗憾的v.（为…）哀悼，痛哭，悲伤( lament的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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111
enrolled
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| adj.入学登记了的v.[亦作enrol]( enroll的过去式和过去分词 )；登记，招收，使入伍（或入会、入学等），参加，成为成员；记入名册；卷起，包起 | |
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112
foam
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| v./n.泡沫，起泡沫 | |
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113
groaned
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| v.呻吟( groan的过去式和过去分词 )；发牢骚；抱怨；受苦 | |
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114
hoofs
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| n.（兽的）蹄，马蹄( hoof的名词复数 )v.（兽的）蹄，马蹄( hoof的第三人称单数 ) | |
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115
hoarsely
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| adv.嘶哑地 | |
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116
avalanche
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| n.雪崩，大量涌来 | |
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117
stunned
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| adj. 震惊的，惊讶的 动词stun的过去式和过去分词 | |
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118
garrison
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| n.卫戍部队；驻地，卫戍区；vt.派(兵)驻防 | |
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119
intersection
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| n.交集，十字路口，交叉点；[计算机] 交集 | |
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120
galloped
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| （使马）飞奔，奔驰( gallop的过去式和过去分词 )； 快速做[说]某事 | |
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121
jaws
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| n.口部；嘴 | |
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122
lieutenant
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| n.陆军中尉，海军上尉；代理官员，副职官员 | |
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123
savage
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| adj.野蛮的；凶恶的，残暴的；n.未开化的人 | |
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124
crumpled
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| adj. 弯扭的, 变皱的 动词crumple的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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125
prone
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| adj.(to)易于…的，很可能…的；俯卧的 | |
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126
upwards
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| adv.向上，在更高处...以上 | |
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127
descend
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| vt./vi.传下来，下来，下降 | |
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128
frantic
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| adj.狂乱的，错乱的，激昂的 | |
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129
torrent
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| n.激流，洪流；爆发，(话语等的)连发 | |
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130
turmoil
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| n.骚乱，混乱，动乱 | |
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131
butt
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| n.笑柄；烟蒂；枪托；臀部；v.用头撞或顶 | |
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132
prodded
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| v.刺，戳( prod的过去式和过去分词 )；刺激；促使；（用手指或尖物）戳 | |
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133
sobs
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| 啜泣（声），呜咽（声）( sob的名词复数 ) | |
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134
dungeons
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| n.地牢( dungeon的名词复数 ) | |
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135
gallows
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| n.绞刑架，绞台 | |
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136
trophies
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| n.（为竞赛获胜者颁发的）奖品( trophy的名词复数 )；奖杯；（尤指狩猎或战争中获得的）纪念品；（用于比赛或赛跑名称）奖 | |
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137
supplanted
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| 把…排挤掉，取代( supplant的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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138
bloody
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| adj.非常的的；流血的；残忍的；adv.很；vt.血染 | |
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139
enacted
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| 制定（法律），通过（法案）( enact的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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140
gendarmes
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| n.宪兵，警官( gendarme的名词复数 ) | |
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141
traitor
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| n.叛徒，卖国贼 | |
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142
brutally
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| adv.残忍地，野蛮地，冷酷无情地 | |
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143
raped
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| v.以暴力夺取，强夺( rape的过去式和过去分词 )；强奸 | |
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144
outraged
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| a.震惊的，义愤填膺的 | |
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145
shamming
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| 假装，冒充( sham的现在分词 ) | |
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146
bruises
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| n.瘀伤，伤痕，擦伤( bruise的名词复数 ) | |
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147
wireless
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| adj.无线的；n.无线电 | |
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148
Soviet
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| adj.苏联的，苏维埃的；n.苏维埃 | |
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149
socialist
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| n.社会主义者；adj.社会主义的 | |
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150
gentry
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| n.绅士阶级，上层阶级 | |
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151
outrages
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| 引起…的义愤，激怒( outrage的第三人称单数 ) | |
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152
strapping
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| adj. 魁伟的, 身材高大健壮的 n. 皮绳或皮带的材料, 裹伤胶带, 皮鞭 动词strap的现在分词形式 | |
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153
raping
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| v.以暴力夺取，强夺( rape的现在分词 )；强奸 | |
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154
butts
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| 笑柄( butt的名词复数 )； （武器或工具的）粗大的一端； 屁股； 烟蒂 | |
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155
nooses
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| n.绞索，套索( noose的名词复数 ) | |
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156
noose
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| n.绳套，绞索（刑）；v.用套索捉；使落入圈套；处以绞刑 | |
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157
fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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158
binoculars
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| n.双筒望远镜 | |
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159
scantily
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| adv.缺乏地；不充足地；吝啬地；狭窄地 | |
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160
prosecutor
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| n.起诉人；检察官，公诉人 | |
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161
erect
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| n./v.树立，建立，使竖立；adj.直立的，垂直的 | |
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162
slashed
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| v.挥砍( slash的过去式和过去分词 )；鞭打；割破；削减 | |
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163
frightful
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| adj.可怕的；讨厌的 | |
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164
shriek
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| v./n.尖叫，叫喊 | |
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165
cordon
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| n.警戒线，哨兵线 | |
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166
commuted
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| 通勤( commute的过去式和过去分词 )； 减（刑）； 代偿 | |
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167
imprisonment
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| n.关押，监禁，坐牢 | |
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168
batch
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| n.一批(组，群)；一批生产量 | |
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169
corps
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| n.(通信等兵种的)部队；(同类作的)一组 | |
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170
corpse
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| n.尸体，死尸 | |
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171
unaware
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| a.不知道的，未意识到的 | |
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172
bugle
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| n.军号，号角，喇叭；v.吹号，吹号召集 | |
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173
manoeuvre
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| n.策略，调动；v.用策略，调动 | |
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174
organisation
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| n.组织，安排，团体，有机休 | |
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175
whined
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| v.哀号( whine的过去式和过去分词 )；哀诉，诉怨 | |
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176
plunged
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| v.颠簸( plunge的过去式和过去分词 )；暴跌；骤降；突降 | |
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177
shreds
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| v.撕碎，切碎( shred的第三人称单数 )；用撕毁机撕毁（文件） | |
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178
battered
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| adj.磨损的；v.连续猛击；磨损 | |
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179
horrified
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| a.(表现出)恐惧的 | |
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180
gaping
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| adj.口的；张口的；敞口的；多洞穴的v.目瞪口呆地凝视( gape的现在分词 )；张开，张大 | |
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181
repulsing
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| v.击退( repulse的现在分词 )；驳斥；拒绝 | |
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182
steadily
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| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
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183
casually
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| adv.漠不关心地，无动于衷地，不负责任地 | |
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184
applied
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| adj.应用的；v.应用，适用 | |
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185
ammunition
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| n.军火，弹药 | |
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186
panes
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| 窗玻璃( pane的名词复数 ) | |
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187
desperately
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| adv.极度渴望地，绝望地，孤注一掷地 | |
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188
maelstrom
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| n.大乱动；大漩涡 | |
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189
passionate
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| adj.热情的，热烈的，激昂的，易动情的，易怒的，性情暴躁的 | |
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190
recedes
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| v.逐渐远离( recede的第三人称单数 )；向后倾斜；自原处后退或避开别人的注视；尤指问题 | |
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191
awesome
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| adj.令人惊叹的，难得吓人的，很好的 | |
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192
entrenched
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| adj.确立的，不容易改的(风俗习惯) | |
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193
swooped
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| 俯冲，猛冲( swoop的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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194
irresistible
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| adj.非常诱人的，无法拒绝的，无法抗拒的 | |
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195
scattering
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| n.[物]散射；散乱，分散；在媒介质中的散播adj.散乱的；分散在不同范围的；广泛扩散的；（选票）数量分散的v.散射(scatter的ing形式)；散布；驱散 | |
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196
armour
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| （=armor）n.盔甲；装甲部队 | |
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197
reined
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| 勒缰绳使（马）停步( rein的过去式和过去分词 )； 驾驭； 严格控制； 加强管理 | |
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198
muzzles
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| 枪口( muzzle的名词复数 )； （防止动物咬人的）口套； （四足动物的）鼻口部； （狗）等凸出的鼻子和口 | |
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199
protruding
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| v.（使某物）伸出，（使某物）突出( protrude的现在分词 )；凸 | |
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200
turrets
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| （六角）转台( turret的名词复数 )； （战舰和坦克等上的）转动炮塔； （摄影机等上的）镜头转台； （旧时攻城用的）塔车 | |
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201
scribbled
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| v.潦草的书写( scribble的过去式和过去分词 )；乱画；草草地写；匆匆记下 | |
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202
reins
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| 感情，激情； 缰( rein的名词复数 )； 控制手段； 掌管； （成人带着幼儿走路以防其走失时用的）保护带 | |
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203
rascal
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| n.流氓；不诚实的人 | |
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204
galloping
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| adj. 飞驰的, 急性的 动词gallop的现在分词形式 | |
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205
sterling
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| adj.英币的(纯粹的，货真价实的)；n.英国货币(英镑) | |
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206
exhausted
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| adj.极其疲惫的，精疲力尽的 | |
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207
enraged
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| 使暴怒( enrage的过去式和过去分词 )； 歜； 激愤 | |
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208
smote
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| v.猛打，重击，打击( smite的过去式 ) | |
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209
skull
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| n.头骨；颅骨 | |
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210
descended
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| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
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