I forget how long we stayed at this temple, whether it was three days or four days; possibly it was not so long, but it seemed like many months, or rather it seemed at the same time very long and very short, like a pleasant dream.  The weather was so soft and so fine, the sunshine so bright, the air so still, that had not the nights been chilly we should never have dreamt that it was autumn.  It seemed rather as though the spring had been unburied and had returned to the earth by mistake.  And all this time fighting was going on to the east of us.  The battle of Sha-Ho had begun, but we were in the reserve, in what they called the deepest reserve, and we heard no sound of firing, neither did we receive any news of it.  We seemed to be sheltered from the world in an island of dreamy lotus-eating; and the only noise that reached us was the sound of the tinkling gongs of the temple.  We lived a life of absolute indolence, getting up with the sun, eating, playing cards, strolling about on the plains where the millet had now been reaped, eating again and going to bed about nine o’clock in the evening.  Our chief amusement was to talk with Chun Wa and to watch the way in which he treated the Cossacks, who had become his humble slaves.  I am sure there was not one of the men who would not have died gladly for Chun Wa.

One afternoon, just as we were finishing our midday meal, we received orders to start.  We were no longer in the reserve; we were needed further on.  Everything was packed up in a hurry, and by half-past two the whole battery was on the march, and we left the lovely calm temple, the cypress trees, the chiming gongs, and Chun Wa.  The idyll was over, the reality was about to begin.  As we left the place Chun Wa stood by the gate, dignified, and grave as usual.  In one hand he held his kite, and in the other a paper flower, and he gave this flower to Lieskov.

Next day we arrived at another village, and from there we were sent still further on, to a place whence, from the hills, all the fighting that was going on in the centre of that big battle was visible.  From half-past six in the morning until sunset the noise of the artillery never ceased, and all night long there was a rattle of rifle firing.  The troops which were in front drew each day nearer to us.  Another two days passed; the battery took part in the action, some of the men were killed, and some of the men and the officers were wounded, and we retreated to the River Sha-Ho.  Then just as we thought a final retreat was about to take place, a retreat right back to Mukden, we recrossed the river, took part in another action, and then a great stillness came.  The battle was practically over.  The advance of the enemy had ceased, and we were ordered to go to a certain place.

We started, and on our way we passed through the village where we had lived before the battle began.  The place was scarcely recognisable.  It was quite deserted; some of the houses looked like empty shells or husks, as though the place had suffered from earthquake.  A dead horse lay across the road just outside the farmyard.