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Updated: May 24, 2025
I left my home with this decision and had already reached a corner of his yurta, when I heard a trembling, weak but pleasant voice singing. I sat down on the bench in front of the yurta, and I could distinctly hear every word of a sentimental, gently melancholy little ditty which had once been very popular in Poland: 'When the fields are fresh and green. And the spring revives the world.
There in front of the yurta stood six Red soldiers surrounded by the Cossacks. The Baron stopped and glared sharply at them for several minutes. In his face one could see the strong play of his thoughts. Afterwards he turned away from them, sat down on the doorstep of the Chinese house and for a long time was buried in thought.
After we returned to the yurta I tried to sleep but in vain. Too many different questions were troubling me. "Where am I? In what epoch am I living?" I knew not but I dimly felt the unseen touch of some great idea, some enormous plan, some indescribable human woe. After our noon meal the General said he wanted to introduce me to the Living Buddha.
The name of this Hutuktu is highly esteemed not only in all Mongolia but in Tibet and in the Lamaite world of China. We spent the night in his splendid yurta and on the following morning visited the shrines where they were conducting very solemn services with the music of gongs, tom-toms and whistling.
There was Baron Ungern in the yellow silk Mongolian coat with a blue girdle. He was going very fast but recognized me at once, stopping and getting out to invite me to go with him to his yurta. The Baron lived in a small, simply arranged yurta, set up in the courtyard of a Chinese hong. He had his headquarters in two other yurtas nearby, while his servants occupied one of the Chinese fang-tzu.
His eyes sparkled and his face contracted with spasms. "Bring them in front of my yurta!" he ordered. All was forgotten the inspired speech, the penetrating voice all were sunk in the austere order of the severe commander. The Baron put on his cap, caught up the bamboo tashur which he always carried with him and rushed from the yurta. I followed him out.
Some of the Mongols had retreated to the mountains to join detachments under the command of Kaigordoff, an Altai Tartar officer who was supplying them with weapons. We rested soundly in the yurta after the two days of travel which had brought us one hundred seventy miles through the snow and sharp cold.
We had stopped in the yurta for guests by the side of a small monastery. My Mongols invited the Lama doctor to visit me, who gave me two very bitter powders and assured me I should be able to continue in the morning. I soon felt a stimulated palpitation of the heart, after which the pain became even sharper.
Soon we were out on the plain with the car going like an arrow, with the wind whistling and tossing the folds of our coats and caps. But Baron Ungern, sitting with closed eyes, repeated: "Faster! Faster!" For a long time we were both silent. "And yesterday I beat my adjutant for rushing into my yurta and interrupting my story," he said. "You can finish it now," I answered.
From out of the yurta rushed two Russian soldiers, one of whom shot at me with his pistol but missed me and wounded my horse in the back through the saddle. I brought him to earth with my Mauser and the other was killed by the butt end of my friend's rifle. We examined the bodies and found in their pockets the papers of soldiers of the Second Squadron of the Communist Interior Defence.
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