BEHIND THE LINES

Bugulma and Other Stories

Jaroslav Hašek

Published by Charles University in Prague

Karolinum Press, 2014

www.karolinum.cz

ebooks@karolinum.cz

English translation by Mark Corner

Afterword by Robert B. Pynsent

Illustrations by Jiří Grus

Edited by Martin Janeček

First English edition

© Charles University in Prague, 2012

Epilogue © Robert B. Pynsent, 2012

Illustrations © Jiří Grus, 2012

Translation © Mark Corner, 2012

ISBN 978-80-246-2013-8

ISBN 978-80-246-2580-5 (pdf)

ISBN 978-80-246-2910-0 (epub)

ISBN 978-80-246-2911-7 (mobi)

COMMANDING OFFICER, TOWN OF BUGULMA

It was the beginning of October, 1918. That was when the Revolutionary Military Council on the left bank of the Volga in Simbirsk gave me the news. I had been made Commanding Officer of the Town of Bugulma. I spoke with the Chairman, one Kayurov: ‘Are you quite sure that Bugulma is already in our hands?’

‘No specific information has been received,’ was the response I got. ‘I’d be surprised if it was in our hands right now, but by the time you get there I have no doubt it will be.’

‘I take it that I’ll have an escort?’ I asked in a quiet voice. ‘One other thing – how do I get to this Bugulma? I mean to say, where is it?’

‘You’ll have an escort, twelve men strong. As for your other question, look at a map. Do you think I’ve got nothing better to do than worry about where some wretched Bugulma is?’

‘Just one further question, Comrade Kayurov. When will I get some money to cover my travelling and living expenses?’

My words evoked a bout of exasperated hand-waving. ‘You must be out of your mind. The journey will certainly take you through several villages where you’ll be given food and drink, and when you get to Bugulma you can impose a levy.’

My escort was waiting for me below in the guardhouse. Twelve stout Chuvash fellows with hardly a word of Russian, which meant that they were unable to put me in the picture as to whether they were conscripts or volunteers. From the way they looked, at once jovial and terrifying, it was a safe guess that they were volunteers, men who would stop at nothing.

When I had received my papers and a power of attorney making it crystal clear that every citizen between Simbirsk and Bugulma must cater to all my needs, I set off with my expeditionary force and we boarded a steamer which took us by way of the Volga and its tributary the Kama as far as Chistopol.

There were no incidents in the course of our journey, save for the fact that one of my Chuvash escorts fell overboard in a drunken stupor and drowned. That left me with eleven. When we clambered off the steamer at Chistopol one of the remaining Chuvashes offered to round up some horse-drawn carts and then failed to return. So now they were down to ten. They managed to let me know that the disappearing Chuvash, who was about forty versts* from his home in a place called Montazmo, must have gone to see how things were with his parents.

*) A verst is an old-fashioned Russian unit of length, equivalent to 3,500 feet or just over one kilometre. The disappearing Chuvash was therefore about twenty-five miles from home.

When at last, after lengthy inquiries concerning the whereabouts of Bugulma and how to get there, I’d made a note of everything the local citizenry had to tell me, the rest of the Chuvashes secured some carts and we set off along the abysmal mud-soaked by-ways of that region towards Krachalga, Jelanovo, Moskovo, Gulokovo and Abashevo. The composition of these villages was pure Tartar, with the exception of Gulokovo, which is shared between Tartars and Cheremisses.

Seeing that there was a terrible enmity between the Chuvashes, who had adopted Christianity some fifty years earlier, and the Cheremisses, who have remained devoutly pagan to this day, Gulukovo was the scene of a minor mishap. Armed to the teeth as they inspected the village, the Chuvashes proceeded to drag before me the mayor, one Davledbai Shakir, who had in his hand a cage with three white squirrels in it. One of the Chuvashes, the one with the largest smattering of Russian, turned to me and put me in the picture:

‘Chuvashes Orthodox one year, Orthodox ten years, thirty years, fifty years – Cheremisses pagan swine.’

Snatching the cage with the white squirrels out of Davledbai Shakir’s hands, he went on:

‘White squirrel their god – one two three gods. This man priest, this man go leap with squirrels, go leap and pray to them. You now baptise him...’

So menacing was the look on the Chuvash faces that I ordered water to be brought and sprinkled it over Davledbai Shakir, quietly spouting some mumbo jumbo as I did so. Then I let him go.

My fine fellows then proceeded to skin the gods of the Cheremisses. I can assure one and all that you can make a fine soup out of a Cheremiss deity.

After that it was the turn of the local mullah, Abdullah by name, to visit me. He expressed delight at the fact that we’d eaten those squirrels. ‘Everyone must have something to believe in,’ he said, ‘but to believe in squirrels, such a thing is sheer beastliness. The way they scurry from one tree to another and make their messes when they’re in a cage – is that any way for a god to carry on?’ He brought us lavish helpings of roast mutton and three geese, assuring us that if there were to be a Cheremiss uprising during the night the Tartars would be with us to a man.

In the event nothing happened because, as Davledbai Shakir pointed out when he turned up to see us off in the morning, there are plenty of other squirrels in the forest. In the end we moved on through Abashevo and in the evening, without further mishap, we arrived in Little Pisetsnitse, a Russian village some twenty versts from Bugulma. The local inhabitants were very well informed about what was going on in Bugulma. The Whites† had abandoned the town without a fight three days earlier. The Soviet army had come to a halt on the other side of the town, afraid to enter in case it was ambushed.

†) The terminology for this Russian ‘Wars of the Roses’ refers to those who supported the Revolution of 1917 (the Red or Soviet forces) and those who tried to undermine it (the White or counter-revolutionary forces). Both sides received help from outside Russia.

Inside the town no one was in control. Meanwhile the mayor and his entire council had been waiting for two days with bread and salt to welcome whoever deigned to enter.

I sent on ahead the Chuvash who was the least worst Russian speaker, and by morning we had all moved forward to Bugulma.

On the outskirts of the town we encountered a disorderly crowd of people coming to meet us. The mayor was there with a loaf of bread on a platter and a saucerful of salt.

He made a speech expressing the hope that I would have mercy on his town. It made me think of myself as Jan Žižka at the gates of Prague, especially when I noticed the schoolchildren in the procession.

I made a long speech in return thanking him, cutting a slice of bread and dosing it in salt. I made a point of saying that I had not come to mouth platitudes but with one aim in mind: Peace, Quiet and Order. I concluded proceedings with a kiss for the mayor and a handshake for the representative of the Orthodox clergy, before setting off for the town hall, where a headquarters had been assigned to me as Commanding Officer of Bugulma.

The next item of business was to have Order No. 1 posted up. It read as follows:

Citizens!

I should like to thank each and every one of you for the heartfelt and sincere welcome you gave me and for your hospitality with the bread and salt. Preserve at all times these ancient Slavic customs. I have no wish to denigrate them in any way, but please bear in mind at the same time that I have been appointed Commanding Officer of this town, a position which means that I too have my obligations.

In the light of this fact I hereby request you, dear friends, to relinquish all your weapons at the town hall, where your Commanding Officer has his headquarters, at around noon tomorrow. It is not my wish to threaten anyone, but you will be aware of the fact that this is a town under siege.

I might add that I was to have imposed a levy upon this town. However, I hereby announce that no dues will have to be paid.

Gašek

At noon the next day the square was overflowing with armed men. Well over a thousand of them armed with rifles. Some were even dragging a machine gun along.

The eleven of us might easily have been overwhelmed by this armed tide, but they had come only in order to hand over their weapons. They went on doing so until long into the evening, while I shook each one of them by the hand and said a few friendly words.

In the morning I had Order No. 2 printed and posted up:

Citizens!

I would like to thank all the inhabitants of Bugulma for the punctilious manner in which they carried out Order No. I.

Gašek

I went to my bed peacefully that day, unaware that there was a Sword of Damocles hanging over my head in the shape of the Tver Revolutionary Regiment.

As I have already pointed out, the Soviet army was positioned on the other side of Bugulma some fifty versts to the south and didn’t dare to enter the town itself, fearing an ambush. In the end, however, they received an order from the Revolutionary Military Council in Simbirsk to occupy the town come what may and secure it as a base for the Soviet forces operating to the east of the town.

And so it came about that Comrade Yerokhimov, commander of the Tver Revolutionary Regiment, arrived that very night to occupy and subdue Bugulma, when I had already been their godfearing Commanding Officer for three days and had been carrying out my duties to the general satisfaction of all sections of the populace.

Once the Tver Revolutionary Regiment had ‘penetrated’ the town they fired salvos into the air as they passed through the streets, encountering no resistance except for my bodyguard of two Chuvashes. These were woken up while on guard duty at the door of the Commanding Officer’s HQ and refused Comrade Yerokhimov entry to the town hall when he arrived, revolver in hand, to take possession of it at the head of his regiment.

The Chuvashes were taken prisoner and Yerokhimov stormed into my office-cum-bedroom.

‘Hands up,’ he called out, flush with victory and with his revolver pointing right at me. I calmly did as he said.

‘Who might you be, then?’ the commander of the Tver Regiment asked.

‘I am the Commanding Officer of Bugulma.’

‘Would that be White or Soviet?’

‘Soviet. May I put my hands down now?’

‘You may. However, I would ask you in accordance with the rules of war to hand over your command to me without further ado. I am the one who has conquered Bugulma.’

‘But I am the one who was appointed Commanding Officer,’ I protested.

‘To hell with your appointment. You first have to conquer the place.’

‘I’ll tell you what,’ he added, having taken a moment to bring out his magnanimous side, ‘I am prepared to make you my second-in-command. If you don’t agree I’ll have you shot within five minutes.’

‘I’ve no objection to becoming your second-in-command,’ I replied, and summoned my orderly. ‘Vasily, put on the samovar. We will take tea with the new Commanding Officer of this town. He has just conquered Bugulma....’

Sic transit gloria mundi.

SECOND-IN-COMMAND TO THE COMMANDING OFFICER, TOWN OF BUGULMA

My first task was to free my two captured Chuvashes and then make up for sleep lost due to the coup in the town. At some time getting on for noon I woke up to discover that all my Chuvashes had mysteriously disappeared, leaving a note stuffed into one of my boots. I could barely make it out:

Comrade Gašek. Going seek much help here there all around. Comrade Yerkokhimov bashka-khawa (off with head).

The second thing I discovered was that Comrade Yerokhimov had been in a sweat from early morning over the wording of his first official pronouncement to the inhabitants of Bugulma.

‘Comrade Second-in-Command’, he said to me, ‘Do you think this will hit the mark?’ He produced a piece of paper from a pile of draft orders covered in scrawl. Lines had been crossed out and new words inserted. It now read:

To all citizens of Bugulma! This very day, following the fall of Bugulma, I have taken over as your Commanding Officer. I am hereby dismissing your former Commanding Officer from his post on grounds of incompetence and cowardice and am appointing him my second-in-command.

Yerokhimov, Commanding Officer of Bugulma

‘That seems to take care of everything,’ I said approvingly. ‘What are your plans now?’

‘First of all,’ he intoned solemnly, ‘I shall order the mobilisation of horses. Then I shall have the mayor of the town shot. I shall take ten hostages from the bourgeoisie and hold them in prison for the duration of the Civil War. After that I shall carry out a house-to-house search of the town and prohibit any independent traders. That’s enough for one day. I’ll think up something else for tomorrow.’

‘Please permit me to point out,’ I said, ‘that while I have nothing whatever against rounding up horses, I must protest in the strongest possible terms against shooting the town’s mayor. The man made me welcome with bread and salt.’

Yerokhimov leapt to his feet. ‘He might have welcomed you, but he hasn’t yet been to see me.’

‘That can be fixed,’ I said. ‘We’ll send for him.’ I sat down at the desk and wrote:

Commanding Officer’s HQ Town of Bugulma

No. 2891

Centre of Army Operations

To the Mayor of Bugulma

I order you to present yourself immediately to the new commanding officer of the town. You will bring bread and salt in accordance with ancient Slavic tradition.

Commanding Officer of the Town: Yerokhimov

Second-in-command: Gašek

When Yerokhimov had signed it he added:

Otherwise you will be shot and your house burned to the ground.

‘You can’t add something like that to official documents,’ I told Yerokhimov. ‘You’ll make them invalid.’

I copied it out once more with the original wording, before having it signed and sending it off via an orderly.

‘Furthermore,’ I said to Yerokhimov, I am completely opposed to the idea of keeping ten members of the bourgeoisie in prison until the Civil War is over. That’s a matter for the Revolutionary Tribunal alone to decide.’

‘We are the Revolutionary Tribunal,’ said Yerokhimov solemnly, ‘the town is in our hands.’

‘There you’re mistaken, Comrade Yerokhimov. What are we but a couple of old sweats living down among the dregs? Nothing but the Commanding Officer of a town and his aide-de-camp. The Revolutionary Tribunal is appointed by the Revolutionary Military Council of the Eastern Front. Do you want them to put you up against a wall?’

‘Have it your own way,’ replied Yerokhimov with a sigh. ‘Even so, surely no one can keep us from a rummage through the town.’

‘As to that there’s a Decree of 18th June of this year,’ I replied, ‘stating that a general house-search can be carried out only with the agreement of the local Revolutionary Committee or Council. Since such a body does not yet exist, we had better put your rummage on a back burner.’

‘What an angel you are,’ said Yerokhimov tenderly, ‘without you I would have been sunk. But surely we can go ahead with putting an end to this free marketeering.’

‘Those who engage in trade and frequent the bazaars,’ I explained, ‘are mostly country people. They are muzhiks who don’t know how to read or write. First they’ll have to learn to be literate. Only then will they be able to read our official notices and know what they’re on about. Our first task is to teach an illiterate population the arts of reading and writing. That’s the way to make them understand what we want from them. Then we’ll be able to issue orders, perhaps for your mobilisation of horses. Tell me, Comrade Yerokhimov, why are you so set upon rounding up all those horses? Perhaps you want to convert the Tver Revolutionary Infantry Regiment into a cavalry division. Are you aware that such a development would have to go through the Military Arrangements Directorate of the Left-bank Formation?’

‘Right again, Comrade Gašek,’ said Yerokhimov with another sigh. ‘What do I do, then?’

‘Teach the people of the Bugulma region to read and write,’ I replied. ‘As for me, I’ll check what your fellows have been up to and whether they’ve managed to sort anything out in the way of billeting.’

I left him and took a turn around the town. The Tver Revolutionary Regiment was behaving decently. No one was being pushed around. In fact the regiment had made friends with the local inhabitants to the point of drinking their tea and having borscht, fish soup and dumplings cooked for them. They in turn shared sugar and baccy with their hosts. In short, all was as it should be. I moved on to take a look at Little Bugulma, where the first battalion of the regiment had been quartered. There too I found everything hunky dory. The men were drinking tea, eating borscht and minding their manners. I came back late in the evening and spotted a freshly posted official notice at the corner of the square. It read:

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CONTENTS

1. Commanding Officer, Town of Bugulma

2. Second-in-Command to the Commanding Officer, Town of Bugulma

3. The Via Dolorosa

4. A Strategic Hitch

5. Bugulma’s Glory Days

6. New Dangers

7. Potemkin’s Villages

8. There is a Hitch with the Prisoners

9. Before the Revolutionary Tribunal of the Eastern Front

10. The Supreme Truth which is Chên-shih

11. Cross Purposes

12. Shake the Dust from your Shoes

13. How I Came to Meet the Author of my Obituary

14. Afterword

15. Translator’s Note and Acknowledgement

1. Cover

2. Title Page

3. Table of Contents

4. Start Reading

1. 7

2. 8

3. 9

4. 10

5. 11

6. 12

7. 14

8. 15

9. 16

10. 17

11. 18

12. 19

13. 21

14. 22

15. 23

16. 26

17. 27

18. 28

19. 29

20. 30

21. 31

22. 32

23. 33

24. 34

25. 35

26. 38

27. 39

28. 40

29. 41

30. 42

31. 43

32. 44

33. 45

34. 46

35. 47

36. 48

37. 49

38. 50

39. 51

40. 52

41. 53

42. 54

43. 55

44. 56

45. 57

46. 58

47. 59

48. 60

49. 61

50. 63

51. 64

52. 65

53. 66

54. 67

55. 68

56. 69

57. 70

58. 71

59. 72

60. 73

61. 74

62. 75

63. 76

64. 77

65. 78

66. 79

67. 80

68. 81

69. 82

70. 83

71. 84

72. 85

73. 86

74. 87

75. 88

76. 89

77. 90

78. 91

79. 92

80. 93

81. 94

82. 95

83. 97

84. 98

85. 99

86. 100

87. 101

88. 103

89. 104

90. 105

91. 106

92. 107

93. 108

94. 109

95. 110

96. 111

97. 112

98. 113

99. 114

100. 115

101. 116

102. 117

103. 118

104. 119

105. 120

106. 121

107. 122

108. 123

109. 124

110. 125

111. 126

112. 127

113. 128

114. 129

115. 130

116. 131

117. 132

118. 133

119. 134

120. 135

121. 136

122. 137

123. 138

124. 139

125. 140

126. 141

127. 142

128. 143

129. 144

130. 145

131. 146

132. 147

133. 148

134. 149

135. 150

136. 151

137. 152

138. 153

139. 154

140. 155

141. 156

142. 157

143. 158

144. 159

145. 160

146. 161

147. 162

148. 163

149. 164

150. 165

151. 166

152. 167

153. 168

154. 169

155. 170

156. 171

157. 172

158. 173

159. 174

160. 175

161. 176

162. 177

163. 178

164. 179

165. 180

166. 181

167. 182

168. 183

169. 184

170. 185

171. 186

172. 187

173. 188

174. 189

175. 190

176. 191

177. 192

178. 193

179. 194

180. 196

181. 197

182. 198

183. 200

184. 201

185. 202

186. 203

187. 204

188. 205

189. 206

190. 207

191. 208

192. 209

193. 210

194. 211

195. 212

196. 213

197. 214

198. 215

199. 216

200. 217

201. 218

202. 220

203. 221