English translation by Liubov Afonina
March 28 (April 10), 1904 (Pascha). On Pascha [Orthodox Easter]
day a Japanese attack was being expected. It was already the first evening of
the greatest feast, but the Japanese didn't show up.
***
Everybody were preparing to meet the great feast of Christ's
Resurrection in fear that at any moment ominous shot can happen, followed by
the imminent hellish cannonade of the explosions of mines, with terrible howling
of Japanese shells arriving in the city and destroying everything around, with possible
bombing for the whole night, together with the new fire raft or any other
hellish design.
The weather was overcast and feeble wind was blowing. The
night was dark, but still somewhere light but good curtained windows could be
seen. There was some motion on the deserted streets, whispering was heard.
When the quiet chime of small bells of our temporary churches-barracks
started ringing, our whole town came to life. But specific noise, light, and joy,
as it's in the distant Russia with peaceful life, were missing.
From all sides the shadows were silently moving toward the
churches. Everybody who could was hurrying to pray to God to rescue them from danger,
but leaving homes they bided farewell to those who remained there, as they
could not come back nor find them alive after coming back.
As you come out of the lighted room, it seemed so dark, that
can't see a yard in front of you. You hear steps and rustle of clothes, so you
know that not far from you there are people hurrying toward the church. But you
can scarcely make them out in the gloom. Gradually, the eyes get used to the
darkness, and soon you can trace the road and people.
As we reached the Otryadnaya church, it started to appear that
it was not already as dark as it had been before. The Church was already full
of people; they were even standing outside, trying to get their places near the
windows and doors, as they didn't manage to get in.
Otryadnaya church
All the church windows from the sea-side were curtained with
dark curtains. Inside it was the usual festive lights. There were many soldiers
and officers among the worshipers. Nobody knew, if it was the last Pascha night
for most of them or not…
Admiral Makarov was not in the church, he was meeting the
great feast on one of the patrol vessels, providing the example of vigilance
and fearlessness.
Commandant and other great officers were in the church. At
last General Stessel arrived and then the paschal service started.
It was hard to imagine a more solemn service, more sincere
prayer and more fascinating singing! Everybody turned to God with the entreaty,
and with hope. Often, tears were glittering on exhausted faces of praying people.
Men had never thought of youthful years, of motherland, and
of distant relatives so much as here —
on this outskirts under the constant threat of enemy
attacks, and at this night of great, bright holiday, in this sinister suspense of
the future, in this surrounding darkness, that is about to light up a sudden
gleam of a deadly fire, in this silence, that is about to boom with roar of guns.
O Lord, have mercy on us and save us!
People were absorbed in prayer, in their sore thoughts,
concerns and forebodings. From time to time they lifted up heads, straining
ears in fear that there, in the sea a new frightful tragedy could start.
The harmonious sounds of the Pascha songs flowed freely, with
the exclamations by every Christian: "Christ is risen from the dead, trampling
down death by death!"
Everybody felt that death was hovering over the heads of
every inhabitant of the single fortress, thousands of miles distant from the
native land, and of the deserted town - its death may be closer to him than
ever.
The service ended, and everyone joyfully rushed home. The
enemy left us alone for this night — hadn't violated our holiday.