as soon as our enemies heard that the Czechoslovaks were near, they ran away, because there were among them many whom we had licked at Troick. All they did was to try to block the road by having two locomotives collide together on the bridge; but we had the bridge repaired the second day.
The next fight we had with the Red Guards was near Ekaterinburg. I saw a spectacular fight there of two armed locomotives. Theirs came on with a white flag, until it was only one thousand paces away, and then it opened fire, and put out the red flag. Our boys were surprised, but jumped quickly to the gun. There they were shooting at each other with field guns at a distance of only 300 paces. Their locomotive was protected by iron plates, while our boys were shooting from an open platform. In a few seconds both our officers were wounded, as well as four boys, and one of the boys had his head neatly shot off. Only three boys were able to serve the gun, but they had luck with them, for they managed to hit the mouth of the Bolsheviki gun, and their shell burst the bolshevik shell just loaded in the gun, so that the whole barrel blew away. The red guard locomotive then turned back but we heard later from railroad workmen that the bolsheviki threw out from the armored car twenty bodies and that they had many wounded. We heard also that these Reds were sailors from Petrograd.
From there we marched toward Ufa to meet our trains coming from the direction of Penza. Here we met with no great opposition, except that there was a brush at a large factory; we found there many rifles and machine guns in a river, where the Bolsheviki threw them. The people in all the towns welcomed us and gave us everything they had—milk and eggs, bread and meat, and they called us their liberators. At one of the stations on this expedition toward Ufa we were told that there was great confusion among our enemies and that they were ordered to scatter because the Czechoslovaks were coming from all sides. And in fact an hour later we got our Penza comrades on the wire. We pushed forward with great energy and saw a number of Bolshevik trains burning on the tracks. Armored cars went ahead and in a little while our two groups met the one from the Urals and the other from the Volga. We jumped from the cars and ran to meet each other, there was a lot of embracing and some of the boys actually cried. Everybody was asking: “How was the fighting,” and both sides said: “Fine.” We were all jolly, the bands played and the boys were singing.
The next day our group was sent to Ekaterinburg front, while the other group went back to Samara; only their artillery went with us, because we had so few guns. I am sure that not even Hindenburg threw his armies from one front to another as fast as the Czechoslovaks did in Siberia. As soon as we licked them in one spot, we rushed over in another direction to eat them up.
The last fight that I was in took place at Knazopavlosk, where the Bolsheviki threw up lines in defense of Ekaterinburg. The country was all hills and they had the high spots occupied. We got around them and caught them in the rear. There we tore up the tracks, so that their trains could not get away. The Bolsheviki set them afire; and in these trains was a car jammed with arrested people, mostly peasants and railroad employees. We found them all burned to cinders after the Bolsheviki ran away. Among other things we captured 70 machine guns here.
This battle settled the fate of Ekaterinburg and there we liberated an officer of our regiment, Major Šípek, who was kept there in jail by the Bolsheviki and expected to be hanged any day. Our regiment was awfully pleased when we found him alive. For he was a most popular officer and if he had not been selected by Masaryk to follow him to America he would have surely become commander of the Third Regiment, where he joined originally as a private. In the Austrian army he had been a lieutenant.
The first Sunday after capturing Ekaterinburg was Czechoslovak Day in the city. The whole town was decorated with Czech colors and a White-and-Red flag was flying from every house. The town hall was decorated with the Czecho-slovak coat-of-arms. The boys had free admission to everything, and in the restaurants they would not take any money from us. The Russians looked upon us as saviours and would do anything for us. After this holiday I left the army to accompany Major Šípek to America.
Before I close, I want to say a few things about our life in the army. The Czechoslovaks were like one big family, all called themselves brothers: discipline is very thorough, for without perfect discipline we would have all been killed there, but obedience is all voluntary, and there is no difference socially between officers and privates. It is a pleasure to serve in this army. We were jolly most of the time, singing when we marched and when we fought, and everybody talks about the day, when they get back to Bohemia. We love little father Masaryk and stand back of him like a wall. We talk about him when we go into battle and when we take things easy in camp. Everytime we lick those Bolsheviki, the boys say: “If our little father saw us, he would be surely pleased with us.”
Of course all the boys are anxious to get home, as soon as possible, and when they get there they will do what Masaryk says. Every one among the boys realizes what disorder in the state means, and when they get back they won’t stand for any nonsense. The army is determined to go back to Prague as an army, and however much everybody is anxious to get home to his parents or his wife, they are going to stand together under arms, until Masaryk says that they are no longer needed.
Now I have to tell you something about our “Uncles from America.” That is how we call the Y. M. C. A. workers from the United States. We will never forget what these men did for us. They
