When all the night is horrible with clamor Of voiceless curses darker than the night, When light of sun there is not, neither star-shine Nor any beacon on the hill of right Shine, O thou light of life, upon our pathway, Freedom, be thou our light! Since all life's ways are difficult and dreary And false steps echo through eternity, And there is naught to lean on as we journey By paths not smooth ac downward ways would be We have no other help, we need no other Freedom, we lean on thee. The slaves' base murmur and the threats of tyrants, The voice of cowards who cringe and cry "Retreat!" The whisper of the world, "Come where power calls thee!" The whisper of the flesh, "Let life be sweet!" Silence all these with thy divine commanding Guide t... (From : AnarchyArchives.)
Part I. Kronstadt Chapter 1. Geographical Notes Kronstadt is a fortress, or rather, a fortified city, built two centuries ago on the Island of Kotlin, 30 kilometers west of St. Petersburg (now Leningrad) at the lower end of the Gulf of Finland. It defends the approaches from the Baltic Sea to the former capital, and is also the principal base of the Russian Baltic Fleet. The Gulf of Finland is frozen in winter, and communication between Kronstadt and Leningrad is carried on, for five months of the year (from November to April), over a snow road on top of the thick ice of the Gulf. Kotlin Island — a narrow, elongated piece of land with very irregular contours — is 12 kilometers long. Its greatest width is from 2 to 3 kilometers. Its coasts are inaccessible and well fortified. The eastern part of the island, which faces Leningrad, contains the city of Kronstadt, the port and the docks, and occupies about a third of the total area. T...
Going along the corridor, the assistant led Rostóv to the officers’ wards, consisting of three rooms, the doors of which stood open. There were beds in these rooms and the sick and wounded officers were lying or sitting on them. Some were walking about the rooms in hospital dressing gowns. The first person Rostóv met in the officers’ ward was a thin little man with one arm, who was walking about the first room in a nightcap and hospital dressing gown, with a pipe between his teeth. Rostóv looked at him, trying to remember where he had seen him before. “See where we’ve met again!” said the little man. “Túshin, Túshin, don’t you remember, who gave you a lift at Schön Grabern? And I’ve had a bit cut off, you see...” he went on with a smile, pointing to the empty sleeve of his dressing gown. “Looking for Vasíli Dmítrich Denísov? My neighb...