"How shall we drive? Would you come to the door, enemy machine-guns permitting?"
Count Keller left fully determined to extricate the Brigade from the trap. The Brigade was melting away. In the rear there was only one ramshackle bridge across the San. We were in the hands of fate. Will the torrent swell? If it does, the bridge will be swept away, and our retreat will be cut off. At this difficult moment the Colonel in command of the 13th Rifle Regiment was severely wounded by a sniper as he was coming out of the house where the H.Q. were stationed. All officers of his rank having been killed, there was nobody to replace him. I was pacing up and down the small hut, in a gloomy mood. Markov rose.
"Give me the 13th Regiment, sir," said Markov.
I had already thought of doing so. But I hesitated to offer it to Markov lest he should think it was my intention to remove him from the Staff. Markov afterwards went with his regiment from one victory to another. He had already earned the Cross of St. George and the sword of St. George, but for nine months the Stavka would not confirm his appointment, because he had not reached the dead line of seniority.
I recall the days of the heavy Galician retreat, when a tidal wave of maddened peasants, with women, children, cattle and carts, was following the Army, burning their villages and houses.... Markov was in the rear, and was ordered promptly to blow up the bridge at which this human tide had stopped. He was, however, moved by the sufferings of the people, and for six hours he fought for the bridge at the risk of being cut off, until the last cart of the refugees had crossed the bridge.
His life was a perpetual fiery impulse. On one occasion I had lost all hope of ever seeing him again. In the beginning of September, 1915, in the course of the Lutsk operation, in which our Division so distinguished itself, between Olyka and Klevan, the left column commanded by Markov broke the Austrian line and disappeared. The Austrians closed the line. During the day we heard no news, and the night came. I was anxious for the fate of the 13th Regiment, and rode to a high slope, observing the enemy's firing line in the silent distance. Suddenly, from afar, from the dense forest, in the far rear of the Austrians, I heard the joyous strains of the Regimental March of the 13th. What a relief it was!