change her mind. In the spring arrangements were made for a special train to take us to headquarters, a journey of twenty-six hours. Several cars of the train were hastily decorated. Rugs were laid down, and comfortable chairs were arranged around delicate tables. Besides the Grand Duchesses, Mama, and me, accompanying us were footmen, cooks, the Empress’spersonal maid carrying her jewels, Pierre, and the Empress’s personal physician. Although the stay would be a short one, we took trunks stuffed with clothes and baskets heaped with delicacies for the officers.
As we boarded the train, I saw hundreds of soldiers herded into empty railway cars with no furniture—just a layer of hay strewn over the floor. Like us, they were going to army headquarters, but unlike us, they would go on to the front. I was embarrassed at our show of luxury. I wondered what the soldiers thought of us as they watched us climb into our comfortable quarters, trailed by servants and piles of luggage.
I soon had my answer, for as news spread among the soldiers that the Empress would be traveling on their train, they looked toward us. When the Empress saw them and paused to raise her hand in greeting as she boarded, for once there was no return cheer. Though it was not talked of in the palace, only days before, I had read in one of the newspapers that therewere no shells for the soldiers’ rifles and no food for their stomachs. One Russian brigade had mutinied and killed their officer. I thought much had changed since the days when the crowds had cheered the imperial family in Palace Square. I wondered how we could win a war when our soldiers were so miserable.
At headquarters we lived in a world of men. Still, the men were sensible that the Empress and the Grand Duchesses were among them and that something must be done for them. Dinners were arranged. Trunks were opened and formal gowns, silk slippers, jewels, and furs were brought out. Slipping into dressy clothes in that busy military world made me feel like I was attending a masquerade.
I was fifteen now, and Stana was fourteen, so we were allowed to attend the dinners. The Tsar and his generals had brought silver serving pieces, fine china, and rare wines with them to headquarters. Soldiers had been sent out to hunt in the forest, and we dined well on grouse and venison. We might have been at apalace dinner, except for one thing. Several times during our dinner, officers appeared at the doorway of the dining salon looking anxious and embarrassed. They caught the eye of one general or another, and the general excused himself to read an urgent dispatch or give an order. Misha was out there somewhere, I thought. I could hardly force myself to choke down the elegant dinner, knowing soldiers might be dying as we banqueted.
As often as I could during our stay, I mentioned Misha’s name in the hope that one of the officers might have heard of him. They smiled politely, but no one could tell me where he might be, or even recognized his name. Whenever I glimpsed an officer in the distance, I held my breath until he came close enough for me to see that it was not Misha. I tried to tell myself that Misha was safe, but nothing I heard at headquarters made me believe there was a safe place for a soldier. Even the Tsar appeared disheartened. When he was with his son, the Tsar beamed, but atother moments his shoulders sagged. He ran his hand over his beard and looked about him like a man who cannot escape a bloodthirsty beast.
However worried his father was, Alexei was in his glory. He was clearly the favorite of all the officers. He tugged at the Empress and his sisters, wanting to show them around headquarters and introduce them to his new friends. The men put their caps on his head and pretended to ask him for orders for this battle or that one. “He is our little general,” they said, and patted him fondly. Each morning, while his father was having breakfast, Alexei stood guard outside the
As we boarded the train, I saw hundreds of soldiers herded into empty railway cars with no furniture—just a layer of hay strewn over the floor. Like us, they were going to army headquarters, but unlike us, they would go on to the front. I was embarrassed at our show of luxury. I wondered what the soldiers thought of us as they watched us climb into our comfortable quarters, trailed by servants and piles of luggage.
I soon had my answer, for as news spread among the soldiers that the Empress would be traveling on their train, they looked toward us. When the Empress saw them and paused to raise her hand in greeting as she boarded, for once there was no return cheer. Though it was not talked of in the palace, only days before, I had read in one of the newspapers that therewere no shells for the soldiers’ rifles and no food for their stomachs. One Russian brigade had mutinied and killed their officer. I thought much had changed since the days when the crowds had cheered the imperial family in Palace Square. I wondered how we could win a war when our soldiers were so miserable.
At headquarters we lived in a world of men. Still, the men were sensible that the Empress and the Grand Duchesses were among them and that something must be done for them. Dinners were arranged. Trunks were opened and formal gowns, silk slippers, jewels, and furs were brought out. Slipping into dressy clothes in that busy military world made me feel like I was attending a masquerade.
I was fifteen now, and Stana was fourteen, so we were allowed to attend the dinners. The Tsar and his generals had brought silver serving pieces, fine china, and rare wines with them to headquarters. Soldiers had been sent out to hunt in the forest, and we dined well on grouse and venison. We might have been at apalace dinner, except for one thing. Several times during our dinner, officers appeared at the doorway of the dining salon looking anxious and embarrassed. They caught the eye of one general or another, and the general excused himself to read an urgent dispatch or give an order. Misha was out there somewhere, I thought. I could hardly force myself to choke down the elegant dinner, knowing soldiers might be dying as we banqueted.
As often as I could during our stay, I mentioned Misha’s name in the hope that one of the officers might have heard of him. They smiled politely, but no one could tell me where he might be, or even recognized his name. Whenever I glimpsed an officer in the distance, I held my breath until he came close enough for me to see that it was not Misha. I tried to tell myself that Misha was safe, but nothing I heard at headquarters made me believe there was a safe place for a soldier. Even the Tsar appeared disheartened. When he was with his son, the Tsar beamed, but atother moments his shoulders sagged. He ran his hand over his beard and looked about him like a man who cannot escape a bloodthirsty beast.
However worried his father was, Alexei was in his glory. He was clearly the favorite of all the officers. He tugged at the Empress and his sisters, wanting to show them around headquarters and introduce them to his new friends. The men put their caps on his head and pretended to ask him for orders for this battle or that one. “He is our little general,” they said, and patted him fondly. Each morning, while his father was having breakfast, Alexei stood guard outside the
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