Ali Paşa began his surprise assault on Russian positions near
Ruschuk early in the morning after İzzet Fuat and his cohort
Hacı had arrived at the forward Russian outpost.//
Ottoman artillery at Ruschuk.
I was cross with poor Hacı but lay down once again on my bed of grass,
and fell asleep. In an instant, though, this second sleep was interrupted
by cannon balls falling all around us and mayhem ensued. Our artillery
batteries around Ruschuk were firing toward Osmanpazarı. Shortly
thereafter, infantry firing began as both armies nearly came close
enough for bayonet to bayonet fighting.
Like all other Albanians, Hacı was a very brave fellow but, nevertheless,
he was losing his nerve, as the sweat poured down his face and he kept
on muttering "this can't be happening! How could our commander
have sent us on such an ambassadorial mission, with his fatherly
treatment of us fresh in our minds. Now, in their frenzy, the Russians
had forgotten all about us. Perhaps my fellow Albanians in Hanya Salih
Sarım Paşa's division will come and bayonet my intestines! Could I die
by mistake at the hands of my fellow Albanians!?"
In fact, the battle had begun with such violence that the Russians had
indeed forgotten about us. Nevertheless, we couldn't leave our tent
because there were four guards at each corner. Gradually, I began to
feel the intensity of the bombardment increasing. Since the Russians
were quite exposed there was no doubt they would have to abandon
this site, as a tactical measure, and our Turkish heroes would sweep in
to fiercely mop up the remnants, including us! At least, that was what
Hacı and I were thinking.
The effects of the battle began to be seen: a few shells pierced the tent
and one of our Russian tent guards was hit by a bullet. Then the tent
collapsed on poor Hacı. At this point, my patience ran out. With a
pencil, I wrote a note on one of my business cards and gave it to one
of the guards. Half an hour later, we heard the sound of a carriage
approaching us. In short order, I was taken from the tent, blindfolded,
and without having an opportunity to ask about the fates of
Hacı and my beloved horse, bundled into the carriage.
The three horses pulling the carriage galloped on at high speed. The
person accompanying me was the personal aide to General Prohorov
and the markings on the carriage indicated that this was the General's
carriage. The aide was quite erudite and knew a number of languages,
including a familiarity with Turkish. He was a Moslem from Dağistan
and a well-bred fellow named Haşim Bey.
But although Haşim Bey knew all those languages, in none of them
would he respond to my questions about the fate of Hacı and my horse.
He would only tell me that he had been ordered to put me in the carriage
and take me to Kovaçya village, where the Russian 16th Division was
located. Upon arrival, two soldiers took me by my arms and out of the
carriage. A couple of minutes later, my blindfold was taken off. It felt
like I was in a dream or at a play, greeted by a large group of high-
ranking Russian officers.
//END of PART IV//
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