January. Train. Night. Ukraina. Krasnoarmeisk, or thereabouts.
Only after I'd decided to spend the night reading a book, rather than try sleeping on a slippery bunk in the four-bed compartment, did I realise that the only refreshment available was a trickle of rusty and putrid-smelling water from the lavatory washbasin.
The train left Kiev at 19:30. The buffet shut (I didn't expect this) at around 22:00. The staff closed down and went to sleep on the benches. Arrival 07:00 the next morning.
At around 05:00 the guard, a very large brunette in an immaculate uniform, including peaked cap, starched collar and tie, came round with coffee: a glass with a spoonful of coarse-ground coffee, hot water, and sugar added to saturation point. Lifesaver.