By David MacKenzie
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Extra info for Apis: The Congenial Conspirator, The Life of Colonel Dragutin T. Dimitrijevic
Kolya never heard the whistle. Every morning I had to pound his shoulder for several seconds to arouse him. We pushed our coarse brown army blankets over the beds and dressed as quickly as we could — I had good American long woolen underwear, fortunately; Kolya wore only cotton shorts and a jersey. We both donned army shirts, padded and quilted cotton pants, similar jackets, heavy scarves, and then ragged sheepskin coats. We thrust our feet into good Russian 'valinkis' — felt boots coming up to the knee.
Both Shabkov and Popov were comparatively well-dressed. Their leather gloves, while they had some holes burned in them, were still sound. They wore valinkis coming up to their knees, long sheepskin coats with the wool inside, leather fur-trimmed hats, and woolen scarves. The two riggers who had been working on the ground, however, were not so well off. One wore ragged leather shoes instead of felt boots, and anyone who has been in a cold climate knows of the torture of leather shoes, The other wore felt boots, the soles of which were coming off.
Several scurrying figures could be seen — bricklayers, laborers, mechanics, electricians — getting things lined up for the day's work. I caught up with them and the three of us climbed up to the top of No. 3. We found a little group of riveters standing silently around a shapeless form lying on the wooden scaffold. We discovered that it was the frozen riveter, and having ascertained that a stretcher had already been sent for to take the body down, we went on to the very top to look over the coming day's work.
Apis: The Congenial Conspirator, The Life of Colonel Dragutin T. Dimitrijevic by David MacKenzie