Endless talking in the train. Why all the shouts and squabbling?

And shouted curses and laughter and shots in the air lingered long after the trains had passed.

The mountain ranges parted and there like a wall was the sea. On both sides workers’ little houses flashed by, and the train flew into a station in a cloud of steam.

‘Where's the commandant?’ Maxim jumped from the train and accosted a young soldier running past with a bunch of spring onions in his hand.

‘Oh, brother,’ the soldier stopped and wiped his sweaty face with the hem of his coat, ‘Things are looking serious. But the front-line men won't let us down. They’ll see to everything in no time.’

‘Did I ask you about that?’

‘Hold on tight, Your Excellencies! You’ve got it coming!’ The soldier waved his spring onions and ran off.

Maxim watched him go, and guessed he must have come from a mass rally. ‘Must have had the full treatment. No brains left at all.’

A noisy throng was heaving and milling … Maxim made towards the station building.

‘Where's the bloody commandant?’

‘I’m the commandant.’

‘You’re the one I want.’

‘Who might you be and where from?’ the commandant came to life and raised a puffy face from the desk at which he’d been asleep. ‘Travel warrant?’

Maxim turned away to unbutton his trousers and pull out a document from a concealed pocket.

The commandant read it aloud: ‘This com-(yawn) -rade is de-le-gat-ed (yawn) to ob-tain wea-pons (yawn).