...
As we descended the hill we were surprised by the silence--not a soul
to be seen. We had expected to find the place filled with the soldiers
of the Sixty-Fifth Division. Our driver on this day was the man
Nikolai whom I have mentioned before as attaching himself from the
very beginning to Trenchard's service. He had been Trenchard's
unofficial servant now for a long time, saying very little, always
succeeding, in some quiet fashion of his own, in accompanying
Trenchard on his expeditions. Nikolai was one of the quietest human
beings I have ever known. His charming ugly face was in repose a
little gloomy, not thoughtful so much as expectant, dreamy perhaps but
also very practical and unidealistic. His smile changed all that; in a
moment his face was merry, even good-humouredly malicious, suspicious,
and a little ironical. He had the thick stolid body of the Russian
peasant who is trained to any endurance, any misfortune that God might
choose to send it. His attachment to Trenchard had been so
unobtrusive that Molozov had officially permitted it without
realising that he had permitted anything.
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