Читать книгу The Red Reign. The True Story of an Adventurous Year in Russia онлайн

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Riot, destruction of property, bloodshed, murder, were all a part of each day’s work in Baku. The vast oil wells which are the mainstay of the city, were burned, the great tanks wrecked, and on every hand mountains of wreckage and debris were patrolled by Cossacks. Near to the station as we alighted from the train a murdered Armenian was lying in the gutter. Blood still oozed from his head. What immediately struck me was that no one gave him the slightest heed. Passers-by stepped over the corpse as if it were the carcass of a dog. My Armenian courier alone seemed troubled. He remarked: “The trouble, sir, here in the Caucasus, is all due to the Russian government. The Russian government first stirs up the fights and then it does not allow us to finish them as we would.” “How would you manage it?” I asked. “Manage it, sir?” he replied, “Give the Armenians guns, leave them alone and in ten days there would not be a Tartar left north of the Persian frontier.” Although naturally peaceful, the Armenians are good soldiers and strong fighters; they shoot well and are by no means cowards, although by nature they prefer the peaceful walks of life. In this respect they are different from the Georgians, their near neighbors, who are natural warriors, proud of their prowess and of the distinguished officers that from time to time their race has produced.