My surmise was at once confirmed. Captain Kraft asked for vodka, calling it a “warmer,” croaked horribly, and, throwing back his head, emptied the glass.
“Well, gentlemen, we have scoured the plains of Chechnya today, have we not?” he began, but, seeing the officer on duty, stopped at once to allow the Major to give his orders.
“Have you been round the lines?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Have the ambuscades been placed?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Then give the company commanders orders to be as cautious as possible.”
“Yes, sir.”
The Major screwed up his eyes in profound contemplation.
“Yes, and tell the men they may now boil their buckwheat.”
“They are already boiling it, sir.”
“All right! you may go, sir.”
“Well, we were just reckoning up how much an officer needs,” continued the Major, turning to us with a condescending smile. “Let us count. You want a uniform and a pair of trousers, don’t you?”