Innumerable people with gold artillery badges milled around the colonel. To one side stood a large deal box full of wire and field-telephones, beside it cardboard cases of hand-grenades looking like cans of jam with wooden handles; nearby were heaps of coiled machine-gun belts.
On the colonel's left was a treadle sewing-machine, while the snout of a machine-gun protruded beside his right leg.
In the half-darkness at the back of the shop, behind a curtain on a gleaming rail came the sound of a strained voice, obviously speaking on the telephone:
'Yes, yes, speaking . . .
Yes, speaking . . .
Yes, this is me speaking!'
Brrring-drring went the bell . . .
'Pee-eep' squeaked a bird-like field-telephone somewhere in the pit, followed by the boom of a young bass voice:
'Mortar regiment . . . yes, sir . . . yes . . .'
'Yes?' said the colonel to Karas.
'Allow me to introduce, sir, Lieutenant Viktor Myshlaevsky and Doctor Turbin.
Lieutenant Myshlaevsky is at present in an infantry detachment serving in the ranks and would like to be transferred to your regiment as he is an artillery officer.
Doctor Turbin requests enrolment as the regimental medical officer.'
Having said his piece Karas dropped his hand from the peak of his cap and Myshlaevsky saluted in turn.
'Hell, I should have come in uniform', thought Turbin with irritation, feeling awkward without a cap and dressed up like some dummy in his black civilian overcoat and Persian lamb collar.
The colonel briefly looked the doctor up and down, then glanced at Myshlaevsky's face and army greatcoat.
'I see', he said. 'Good.
Where have you served, lieutenant?'
'In the Nth Heavy Artillery Regiment, sir', replied Myshlaevsky, referring to his service in the war against Germany.
'Heavy artillery?
Excellent.
God knows why they put gunnery officers into the infantry.
Obviously a mistake.'
'No, sir', replied Myshlaevsky, clearing his throat to control his wayward voice. 'I volunteered because there was an urgent need for troops to man the line at Post-Volynsk.
But now that the infantry detachment is up to strength . . .'
'Yes; I quite understand, and I thoroughly approve . . . good', said the colonel, giving Myshlaevsky a look of thorough approval. 'Glad to know you ...
So now - ah yes, you, doctor.
You want to join us too.
Hmm . . .'
Turbin nodded in silence, to avoid saying 'Yes, sir' and saluting in his civilian clothes.
'H'mmm ...' the colonel glanced out of the window. 'It's a good idea, of course, especially since in a few days' time we may be . . .
Ye-es . . .' He suddenly stopped short, narrowed his eyes a fraction and said, lowering his voice: 'Only . . . how shall I put it?
There is just one problem, doctor . . .
Social theories and . . . h'mm . . . Are you a socialist?
Like most educated men, I expect you are?' The colonel's glance swivelled uncomfortably, while his face, lips and cajoling voice expressed the liveliest desire that Doctor Turbin should prove to be a socialist rather than anything else. 'Our regiment, you see, is called a "Students' Regiment",' the colonel gave a winning smile without looking up. 'Rather sentimental, I know, but I'm a university man myself.'
Alexei Turbin felt extremely disappointed and surprised.
'The devil. . . why didn't Karas tell me?'
At that moment he was aware of Karas at his right shoulder and without looking at him he could sense that his friend was straining to convey him some unspoken message, but he had no idea what it was.
'Unfortunately,' Turbin suddenly blurted out, his cheek twitching, 'I am not a socialist but... a monarchist.
In fact I can't even bear the very word "socialist".
And of all socialists I most detest Alexander Kerensky.'
The colonel's little eyes flicked up for a moment, sparkling.
He gestured as if politely to stop Turbin's mouth and said:
'That's a pity.
H'mm ... a great pity . . .
The achievements of the revolution, and so on ...
I have orders from above to avoid recruiting monarchist elements in view of the mood of the people ... we shall be required, you see, to exercise restraint.
Besides, the Hetman, with whom we are closely and directly linked, as you know is . . . regrettable, regrettable . . .'
As he said this the colonel's voice not only expressed no regret at all but on the contrary sounded delighted and the look in his eyes totally contradicted what he was saying.
'Aha, so that's how the land lies', Turbin thought to himself. 'Stupid of me . . . and this colonel's no fool.