In those years, I lived in Mogilev, observing people and the external side of events. What I write represents small strokes and fleeting silhouettes, but since this pertains to an exceptional time and events where every detail matters, I decided to publish my memories. I believe that the everyday side of events, as it manifested and was perceived in the daily life of an ordinary person, may hold some interest.

Before the Headquarters moved to Orel, foreign military representatives lived in Mogilev. I knew some of them and often saw them. Each was unique, reflecting the traits of their nation and their attitude towards Russia and Russians.

The military representative of England, General Bartels, was a heavyset old man, always dissatisfied and gloomy. He constantly grumbled and disliked everything: the hotel, even though it was the best in the city, the table, despite the chef invited from Petersburg, the city, and the people. The only bright spot for him was a little postal clerk who, for some reason, captivated the general. He enjoyed going out of town with her, giving her candies, and became a bit more lively in her presence. From the first day of their acquaintance until his departure, he intended to study the Russian language, but never started. His aides were more cheerful. They photographed everything all day long: people, dogs, the city, and villages. One of them also found his bright spot, a young Jewish woman who, despite her family's protests, went with him to England and, according to rumors, married him. Overall, the English looked down on everyone, considering themselves a chosen people.

The Serbs, on the contrary, were delighted with everything Russian: culture, expanses, customs, and divided their love between Russia and Serbia. Russia's failures saddened them just as much as Serbia's. They were staunch monarchists and could not believe that the great monarchy had finally fallen. Until the last moment, they hoped that everything would change and the monarchy would be restored. Rumor had it that one of them, Zharko Mitic, tried to save the royal family from Yekaterinburg but was allegedly shot by the Bolsheviks. Later, the Serbs met revolutionary figures, but apart from Savinkov, whom they highly valued, they had a negative attitude towards everyone else. They said, 'Your Savinkov will lead Russia out of chaos!'

I did not know the French. They lived quietly in their hotel, and there were no rumors about them. Sometimes their representative, General Janen, could be seen at the station. A small blonde man resembling a peasant, he lived modestly at the Headquarters.

The Italians loved to show off. They went out into the streets to make an impression. Their sky-blue capes, beautiful southern faces, and important posture delighted the bourgeoisie. They visited theaters and clubs, and many women remember General Count Romeo.

The Japanese Obata stood out among them all. The Japanese were regarded with curiosity, as their small nation, which had not been defeated in the Russo-Japanese War of 1905, always sparked interest. Obata was a typical representative of his people, living for the interests of Japan. At the Headquarters, he was only interested in how events could affect his homeland. He did not mourn our failures or rejoice in our successes; he simply observed. When Kovno fell, and everyone was saddened, Obata and another Japanese officer walked the streets laughing loudly. This outraged me, and I expressed my discontent to him. He began to apologize, explaining that they had received packages from Japan and were happy about it. He tried to follow local customs, tipping the staff and giving gifts to the hostess at lunch. He studied the Russian language and asked me to recommend books. I gave him 'Staff-Captain Rybnikov' by Kuprin. When he realized that Rybnikov was a Japanese spy, he became very agitated. The only one among all I spoke to after the revolution, Obata predicted the severity and duration of Russia's ruin but believed that Russia would rise again.

Foreigners liked the Mogilev climate with its mild winters and clear summers. They thought Mogilev could become a wonderful resort. They were surprised by the poverty of the peasants living in small huts next to luxurious estates. They took with them memories of the contradictions of Russian life: wealth and poverty, expanses and wretched huts, high culture and cruelty.

Russia remained a mystery to them, despite the years spent here.