They could not see eye to eye, and there was no way to drag his fellow townsman aboard. Roavsky could only give up.
In the end, he said, "Since that's how it is, take care of yourself. For the sake of our shared hometown, let me give you a warning: if anything changes recently, find a safe corner and stay out of it."
Karltichev said flatly, "Thank you."
With that, Roavsky could only rise from the crate and walk away in another direction, leaving Karltichev with nothing but a cold, desolate back.
Night.
Inside a trench, Roavsky was plotting with an unfamiliar man.
"How was it, Roavsky? How many like-minded people did you win over today?"
Roavsky shook his head. "Mr. Ilya, progress has been very poor. Quite a few people stand with us, but they are unwilling to take part in our operation."
Ilya asked, "That is understandable. After all, most people lack the courage to fight against an unjust fate, so there is no need for you to blame yourself."
"Alas!" Roavsky sighed. "Just as you said, many people are not dissatisfied with the present situation, but most of them choose to muddle through."
"My fellow townsman, for example. He understands perfectly well how rotten the Imperial Army is, yet he chose to compromise with himself."
Ilya comforted him. "This is unavoidable. Those who walk different paths cannot make plans together. Since that is so, we can only struggle on our own. Our demands are not high: withdraw from the war, especially a war where victory cannot be seen."
In truth, victory or defeat did not matter much to Russian soldiers. When many of those gray beasts of burden were drafted, they had joined the army with the same muddle-through mentality. Or rather, they had no extra