began to deploy behind the
new Allied line at Dukoveskoie.

About 3 P.M. on August 23 I asked my liaison officer, Colonel R.
Antonivitch Frank, of the Russian Army, to accompany me towards the
front line, as I had heard rumours of large concentrations of the enemy,
who, elated with this small initial success, seemed determined to
dispute our possession of the village of Dukoveskoie. I arrived in time
to witness a duel between one of our armoured trains and a rather
spirited fellow of the same sort on the other side. The Bolshevik shells
would persist in dropping to the right of our train on a road on which
Colonel Frank and I were sitting our horses, so we decided to dismount
and send the animals out of range, while we boarded the train and
enjoyed the contest. One of our 12-pounders went groggy and obliged us
to retire slightly, but we dared not go back far, as the Terrorist train
had all the appearance of following, and would soon have made short work
of our infantry, which were occupying very indifferent trenches near the
railway, Captain Bath saw the danger and steamed forward, firing
rapidly; shells burst all round his target, and so bewildered his
opponent that he soon turned tail and retired to safety. I applied to
the Japanese commander, General Oie, through Major Pichon that our
trains, directly it was dark, might be allowed to return to Svagena to
shunt the injured gun to the rear train. About 7 P.M., while preparing
to return for this purpose, a few sharp rifle-cracks were heard near the
centre of the line. These reports grew rapidly in volume, and now became
mixed up with the bass "pop-pop" of machine guns. The rolling sound of
conflict spread from the centre along the whole right front. Till now it
had been exclusively a small-arm fight. At this point the Bolshevik
artillery began to chime in, followed by the Japanese and Czech
batteries. The lovely Siberian summer night became one huge booming,
flashing inferno, terrible but intensely attractive. The silent
tree-clad mountains to right and left vibrated with the music of battle,
while shell and shrapnel screeched like frightened ghouls over the
valley below, where white and yellow men were proving that there is no
colour bar to bravery. This din lasted about two hours, and then died
away almost as rapidly as it began.

Our trains which had remained to take a hand in the business if
necessary steamed slowly back to Svagena, and I turned into my wagon for