Summary

Portrait of John Cudahy John Cudahy Archangel: The American War with Russia

The soldier felt he was abandoned by his country, that he was forgotten and left to his fate in the grisly plain of pitiless, white Russia.
Then there was no diversion, no break in the gloomy, monotonous, despairing hours; no relaxation from the ceaseless vigilance in the guard against surprise attack; no respite from the constant threat of annihilation. The drear, sorrow freighted clouds menaced death. There was the message of Death across the bleak, endless, desolate snows. Death haunted the shrouded, hopeless days, and in the shadow of the encircling forests, Death waited.
Source: Gutenberg

Portrait of John Cudahy John Cudahy Archangel: The American War with Russia

Many Russians had been killed as enemies; so like these simple peasants in soldier uniform that came to relieve the contested lines in May; so like the bearded host under whose foul-smelling roof the American dwelt. They did not seem soldiers; so spiritless, so immobile, so unmoved by firing emotions in this civil war wherein foreign defenders had died for Russia. If they felt any gratitude, it was covered beneath an exterior of impenetrable, Slavic lethargy, that defied all effort to disrobe.
Source: Gutenberg

Portrait of John Cudahy John Cudahy Archangel: The American War with Russia

It was a holy war, and men were fired with the high, selfless devotion of the Crusaders. An arrogant, brutal power swaggered abroad, menacing liberty, and the home and all things of the spirit. If German Imperialism engulfed civilization, there would be nothing left to live for anyway.
But there were no such reflections to sustain the soldier in Russia. The Armistice came, and he remembers the day as one of sanguinary battle, when his dwindling numbers suffered further grievous losses, and he was sniped at, stormed with shrapnel and shaken by high explosive shells.
Source: Gutenberg

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