red,
exhausted and half-starved, we plodded along the frozen trails of the
pitch black forest. The following morning we halted for the day at
Shelosha, but late that day we received word to again withdraw to
Spasskoe, a village about six versts from Shenkursk. Again we marched
all night long, floundering through the snow and cold, reaching Spasskoe
early that morning. On our march that night it was only by means of a
bold and dangerous stroke that we succeeded in reaching Spasskoe. The
enemy had already gotten between us and our objective and in fact was
occupying villages on both sides of the Vaga River, through one or the
other of which we were compelled to pass. We finally decided that under
the cover of darkness and in the confusion and many movements then on
foot, we could possibly march straight up the river right between the
villages, and those on one side would mistake us for others on the
opposite bank. Our plan worked to perfection and we got through safely
with only one shot being fired by some suspicious enemy sentry, but
which did us no harm, and we continued silently on our way.

For days now we had been fighting and marching, scarcely pausing for
food and then only to force down a ration of frozen bully beef or piece
of hard tack, and we expected here at least to gain a short breathing
spell, but such was not fate's decree. About 4:00 a.m. we finally
"turned in," but within a couple of hours we were again busily occupied
in surveying our positions and making our plans. About 7:30 a. m. Lieut.
Mead and Capt. Ollie Mowatt, in command of the artillery, climbed into a
church tower for observation, when to our surprise we could plainly see
a long line of artillery moving along the Shenkursk road, and the
surrounding villages alive with troops forming for the attack. Scarcely
had we gotten our outposts into position when a shell crashed squarely
over the village, and again the battle was on. All that day the battle
raged, the artillery was now shelling Shenkursk as well as our own
position. The plains in front of us were swarming with artillery and
cavalry, while overhead hummed a lone airplane which had travelled about
a hundred and twenty-five miles to aid us in our hopeless encounter, but
all in vain.

At 1:30 p. m. an enemy shell burst squarely on our single piece of
artillery, putting it completely out of action, killing several men,
seriously wounding Capt. Otto Odjard, as well as Capt. Mowatt, who later