Map of the Russian Front in June and July, 1917
In Chapter VII. I spoke of my meeting with Kornilov, then Commander-in-Chief of the Petrograd district. The whole meaning of his occupation of this post lay in the chance of bringingthe Petrograd garrison to a sense of duty and subordination. This Kornilov failed to accomplish. A fighting General who carried fighting men with him by his courage, coolness, and contempt of death, had nothing in common with that mob of idlers and hucksters into which the Petrograd garrison had been transformed. His sombre figure, his dry speech, only at times softened by sincere feeling, and above all, its tenour so far removed from the bewildering slogans of the Revolution, so simple in its profession of a soldier’s faith—could neither fire nor inspire the Petrograd soldiery. Inexperienced in political chicanery, by profession alien to those methods of political warfare which had been developed by the joint efforts of the bureaucracy, party sectarianism, and the revolutionary underworld, Kornilov, as Commander-in-Chief of the Petrograd district, could neither influence the Government nor impress the Soviet, which, without any cause, distrusted him from the very beginning. Kornilov would have managed to suppress the Petrograd praetorians, even if he had perished in doing so, but he could not attract them to himself.
He felt that the Petrograd atmosphere did not suit him, and when on April 21st, the Executive Committee of the Soviet, after the first Bolshevist attacks, passed a resolution that no military unit could leave barracks in arms without the permission of the Committee, it was totally impossible for Kornilov to remain at a post which gave no rights and imposed enormous responsibilities.
There was yet another reason: the Commander-in-Chief of the Petrograd district was subordinated, not to the Stavka, but to the Minister of War. Gutchkov had left that post on April 30th, and Kornilov did not wish to remain under Kerensky, the vice-president of the Petrograd Soviet.
Map of the Russian Front till August 19th and after
The position of the Petrograd garrison and command was soincongruous that this painful problem had to be solved by artificial measures. On Kornilov’s initiative, and with General Alexeiev’s full approval, the Stavka, in conjunction with the Headquarters of the Petrograd District, drew up a scheme for the organisation of the Petrograd Front, covering the approaches to the capital through Finland and the Finnish Gulf. This Front was to include the troops in Finland and Kronstadt, on the coast, of the Reval fortified region and the Petrograd garrison, the depôt battalions of which it was proposed to expand into active regiments and form into brigades; the inclusion of the Baltic Fleet was likewise probable. Such an organisation—logical from a strategical point of view, especially in connection with the information received of the reinforcement of the German Front on the line of advance on Petrograd—gave the Commander-in-Chief the legal right to alter the dispositions to relieve the troops at the front and behind, etc. I do not know whether this would have really made it possible to free Petrograd from the garrison which had become a veritable scourge to the Capital, the Provisional Government, and even (in September) to the non-Bolshevist sections of the Soviet. The Government most thoughtlessly bound itself by a promise, given in its first declaration, that “the troops which had taken part in the revolutionary movement should not be either disarmed or moved from Petrograd.”
This plan, however, naturally failed on Kornilov’s departure, as his successors, appointed one after another by Kerensky, were of such an indefinite political character, and so deficient in military experience, that it was impossible to place them at the head of so large a military force.
At the end of April, just before his retirement, Gutchkov wished to make Kornilov Commander-in-Chief of the Northern Front, a post which had become vacant after General Ruzsky’s dismissal. General Alexeiev and I were at the Conference with Thomas and the French military representatives, when I was called up to the telegraph instrument to talk with the Minister of War. As General Alexeiev remained at the meeting, and Gutchkov was ill in bed, the negotiations, in which I acted as an intermediary, were exceedingly difficult to carry on, both technically and because, in view of the indirect transmission, it was necessary to speak somewhat guardedly. Gutchkov insisted, Alexeiev refused. No less than six times did I transmit their replies, which were at first reserved and then more heated.
Gutchkov spoke of the difficulty of managing the Northern Front, which was the most unruly, and of the need of a firm hand there. He said that it was desirable to retain Kornilov in theimmediate vicinity of Petrograd, in view of future political possibilities. Alexeiev refused flatly. He said nothing about “political possibilities,” basing his refusal on the grounds of Kornilov’s inadequate service qualifications for command, and the awkwardness of passing over Senior Commanders more experienced and acquainted with the Front, such as General Abram Dragomirov, for instance. Nevertheless, when the next day an official telegram arrived from the Ministry in connection with Kornilov’s appointment, Alexeiev replied that he was uncompromisingly against it, and that if the appointment were made in spite of this, he would immediately send in his resignation.
Never had the Supreme Commander-in-Chief been so inflexible in his communications with Petrograd. Some persons, including Kornilov himself (as he confessed to me afterwards), involuntarily gained the impression that the question was a somewhat wider basis one than that of the appointment of the Commander-in-Chief ... that the fear of a future dictator played a certain part. However, this supposition is flatly contradicted by placing this episode in conjunction with the fact that the Petrograd Front was created for Kornilov—a fact that was of no less importance and fraught with possibilities.
In the beginning of May Kornilov took over the 8th Army on the South-Western Front. General Dragomirov was appointed Commander-in-Chief of the Northern Front.
This is the second event which gives the key to the understanding of the subsequent relations between Alexeiev and Kornilov.
According to Kornilov, the 8th Army was in a state of complete disintegration when he assumed command. “For two months,” says he, “I had to visit the units nearly every day and personally explain to the soldiers the necessity for discipline, encourage the officers, and urge upon the troops the necessity of an advance.... Here I became convinced that firm language from the Commander and definite action were necessary in order to arrest the disintegration of our Army. I understood that such language was expected both by the officers and the men, the more reasonable of whom were already tired of the complete anarchy....”
Under what conditions Kornilov made his rounds we have already shown inChapter XXIII. I hardly think that he managed to arouse the mass of soldiers to consciousness. The Kalush of June 28th and the Kalush of July 8th show the 8th Army equally as heroes and as beasts. The officers and a small part of the real soldiers, however, were more than ever under the spell of Kornilov’s personality. Its power increased among the non-Socialistic sections of the Russian public likewise. When, after the rout of July 6th, General Gutor—who had been appointed to the highly responsible post of Commander-in-Chief of the South-Western Front, merely not to resist the democratisation of the Army—yielded to despair and collapsed, there was no one to replace him except Kornilov (on the night of July 8th).... The spectre of the “General on a White Horse” was already looming in sight and disturbing the spiritual peace of many.
Brussilov was strongly opposed to this appointment. Kerensky hesitated for a moment. The position, however, was catastrophical. Kornilov was bold, courageous, stern, resolute and independent, and would never hesitate to show initiative or to undertake any responsibility if circumstances required it. Kerensky was of the opinion[52]that Kornilov’s downright qualities, though dangerous in case of success, would be only too useful in case of a panic-stricken retreat. And “when the Moor has done his work, let the Moor go....” So Kerensky insisted on Kornilov’s appointment as Commander-in-Chief of the South-Western Front.
On the third day after taking over his duties, Kornilov wired to the Provisional Government: “I declare that if the Government does not confirm the measures proposed by me, and deprives me of the only means of saving the Army and of using it for its real purpose of defending the Motherland and liberty, then I, General Kornilov, will of my own accord lay down my authority as Commander-in-Chief....”
A series of political telegrams from Kornilov produced a profound impression on the country, and inspired some with fear, some with hate, and others with hope. Kerensky hesitated, but what about the support of the Commissars and Committees? The tranquilisation and reduction to order of the South-Western Front attained, among other means, by Kornilov’s bold, resolute struggle against the Army Bolsheviks? The oppressive isolation felt by the Minister of War after the conference of July 16th? The uselessness of retaining Brussilov as Supreme Commander-in-Chief and the hopelessness of placing at the head of the Army Generals of the new type, as shown by the experiment of appointing Brussilov and Gutor? Savinkov’s persistent advice? Such were the reasons which forced Kerensky—who fully recognised the inevitability of the coming collision with the man who repudiated his military policy with every fibre of his soul—to decide on the appointment of Kornilov to the post of Supreme Commander-in-Chief. There is not the slightest doubt that Kerensky did this in a fit of despair. Probably it was the same feeling of fatality that induced him to appoint Savinkov acting Minister of War.
The collisions occurred sooner than might have been expected. On receiving the order for his appointment, Kornilov at once sent the Provisional Government a telegram “reporting” that he could accept command and “lead the nation to victory and to the prospect of a just and honourable peace only on the following conditions:
“(1) Responsibility to his own conscience and to the whole nation.“(2) Complete non-interference with his orders relating to military operations and, therefore, with the appointment of the Higher Command.“(3) The application of the measures recently introduced at the Front to all places in the rear where drafts for the Army were quartered.“(4) Acceptance of his proposals telegraphed to the Conference at the Stavka on July 16th.”
“(1) Responsibility to his own conscience and to the whole nation.
“(2) Complete non-interference with his orders relating to military operations and, therefore, with the appointment of the Higher Command.
“(3) The application of the measures recently introduced at the Front to all places in the rear where drafts for the Army were quartered.
“(4) Acceptance of his proposals telegraphed to the Conference at the Stavka on July 16th.”
When in due course I read this telegram in the newspapers, I was not a little surprised at the first condition, which established a highly original form of suzerainty on the part of the Supreme Command until the convocation of the Constituent Assembly. I waited impatiently for the official reply. There was none. As it turned out, on receiving Kornilov’s ultimatum, the Council of the Government hotly debated the matter, and Kerensky demanded that the prestige of the High Command should be upheld by the immediate removal of the new Supreme Commander-in-Chief. The Government did not agree to this, and Kerensky, ignoring the other points mentioned in the telegram, replied only to the second, by recognising the right of the Supreme Commander-in-Chief to select his own direct assistants.
Diverging from the established procedure of appointments, the Government, simultaneously with Kornilov’s appointment and without his knowledge, issued an order appointing General Cheremissov Commander-in-Chief of the South-Western Front. Kornilov regarded this as a complete violation of his rights, and sent another ultimatum, declaring that he could continue to hold Supreme Command only on condition of Cheremissov’s immediate removal. He declined to go to Moghilev before this question was settled. Cheremissov, on his part, was very “nervy,” and threatened to “bomb his way” into Front Headquarters and to establish his rights as Commander-in-Chief.
This complicated matters still further, and Kornilov reported by wire[53]to Petrograd that, in his opinion, it would be more regular to dismiss Cheremissov. “For the purpose of strengthening discipline in the Army, we decided to take severe measures with the soldiers; the same measures must likewise apply to the higher military commanders.”
The Revolution had upset all mutual relations and the very essence of discipline. As a soldier, I was bound to see in all this the undermining of the authority of the Provisional Government (if such existed), and I could not but recognise that it was both the right and the duty of the Government to make everyone respect its authority.
As a chronicler, however, I must add that the military leaders had no other means of stopping this disintegration of the Army, proceeding from above. And had the Government actually possessed the power, and in full panoply of right and might had been able to assert itself, there would have been no ultimatums either from the Soviet or from the military leaders. Furthermore, there would have been no need for the events of the 27th of August, and those of the 25th of October would have been impossible.
The matter finally resolved itself into the arrival of Commissar Filonenko at Front Headquarters. He informed Kornilov that all his recommendations had been accepted by the Government, in principle, while Cheremissov was placed at the disposal of the Provisional Government. General Balnev was hastily, at random, selected to command the South-Western Front, and Kornilov assumed the Supreme Command on the 27th of July.
The spectre of the “General on the White Horse” became more and more clearly visible. And the eyes of many, suffering at the sight of the madness and the shame now engulfing Russia, were again and again turned to this spectre. Honest and dishonest, sincere and insincere, politicians, soldiers and adventurers, all turned to it. And all with one voice cried out, “Save Us!”
He, the stern and straightforward soldier, deeply patriotic, untried in politics, knowing little of men, hypnotised both by truth and flattery, and by the general longing expectation of someone’s coming, moved by a fervent desire for deeds of sacrifice—he truly believed in the predestined nature of his appointment. He lived and fought with this belief, and died for it on the banks of the Kuban.
Kornilov became a sign and rallying point. To some, of counter-Revolution; to others, of the salvation of their native land.
Around this point a struggle for influence and power was commenced by people who, unaided, without him could not have attained to such power.
A characteristic episode had already taken place on the 8th of July, at Kamenetz-Podolsk. Here, in Kornilov’s entourage, there occurred the first conflict between Savinkov and Zavoiko, the former being the most prominent Russian Revolutionary, leader of the Terrorist fighting group of the Social-Revolutionary Party, organiser of the most notorious political assassinations—those of Plehve, Minister of the Interior, of the Grand Duke Serge, etc. Strong-willed and cruel by nature, completely lacking in the controlling influences of “conventional morality,” despising both the Provisional Government and Kerensky, supporting the Provisional Government from motives of expediency, as he understood it, ready at any moment to sweep them aside—he saw in Kornilov merely a weapon in the fight for Revolutionary power, in whichhemust have a dominant interest. Zavoiko was one of those peculiar personages who afterwards clustered closely round Kornilov and played such a prominent part in the August days. He was not very well known even to Kornilov. The latter stated, in his evidence before the Supreme Commission of Inquiry, that he became acquainted with Zavoiko in April, 1917; that Zavoiko had been “marechal de noblesse” of the Haisin district of Podolia, had been employed on the Nobel oilfields in Baku, and, by his own statements, had been employed in prospecting for minerals in Turkestan and Western Siberia. He arrived in Czernowitz, enrolled as a volunteer in the Daghestan Mounted Regiment, and was retained at Army Headquarters as personal aide to Kornilov. That is all that is known of Zavoiko’s past.
Kornilov’s first telegram to the Provisional Government was edited by Zavoiko, who “gave it the form of an ultimatum with a concealed threat, in case of non-compliance with the demands presented to the Provisional Government, to proclaim a military dictatorship on the South-Western Front.”[54]
I discovered all this subsequently. During all these events I continued working at Minsk, completely engrossed now, not by the offensive, but by the organisation of any sort of skeleton defence of the half-collapsed Front. There was no information,no rumours even, of what was going on at the head of affairs. Only an increased tension was noticeable in all official relations.
Quite unexpectedly, in the end of July the Stavka offered me the post of Commander-in-Chief of the South-Western Front. I communicated by wire with General Lukomsky, the Chief-of-Staff of the Supreme Commander-in-Chief, and told him that I should obey orders and go wherever I was sent, but would like to know the reason for this exchange. If the reasons were political I should ask to be left at my old post. Lukomsky assured me that what Kornilov had in view was only the military importance of the South-Western Front and the proposed strategical operations in that quarter. I accepted the post.
I parted from my assistants with regret, and, having transferred my friend, General Markov, to the new front, left for my new place of service together with him. On my way I stopped at Moghilev. The Stavka was in a very optimistic mood; everyone was animated and hopeful, but there were no signs of any “underground” conspiratory working. It should be mentioned that in this respect the military were so naïvely inexperienced, that when they really began to “conspire” their work took suchobviousforms that the deaf could not help hearing, nor the blind seeing, what was going on.
On the day of our arrival Kornilov held a Council of the Chiefs of Departments of the Stavka, at which the so-called “Kornilov programme” for the restoration of the Army was discussed. I was invited to attend. I shall not repeat all the fundamental propositions, which have already been mentioned both by me and in Kornilov’s telegrams—such demands, for instance, as the introduction of Revolutionary courts-martial and capital punishment in the rear, the restoration of disciplinary authority to Commanders and raising their prestige, the limitation of the activity of the Committees and their responsibility, etc. I remember that side by side with clear and irrefutable propositions—the draft memorandum drawn up by the Departments of the Stavka—there were bureaucratic lucubrations hardly applicable in actual life. For instance, with the object of making disciplinary authority more palatable to Revolutionary Democracy, the authors of the memorandum had drawn up a curiously detailed list of disciplinary misdemeanour with a corresponding scale of penalties. And this was meant for the seething whirlpool of life, where all relations were trampled underfoot, all standards violated, where every fresh day brought forward an endless variety of departures from the regulations!
At any rate, the Supreme Command was finding the proper path, and apparently Kornilov’s personality was a guarantee that the Government would be obliged to follow that path. Undoubtedly a long struggle with the Soviets, Committees, and soldiery was still to be waged, but, at least, the definiteness of the policy gave moral support and a tangible basis for this heavy task in the future. On the other hand, the support given to Kornilov’s measures by Savinkov’s War Ministry gave reason to hope that Kerensky’s vacillations and indecision would finally be overcome. The attitude to this question of the Provisional Government as a whole was of no practical importance, and could not even be officially expressed. At that time it seemed as if Kerensky had, in some degree, freed himself from the yoke of the Soviet, but, just as formerly all the most important questions of State had been settled by him apart from the Government, in conjunction with the leading Soviet circles, now, in August, the direction of State affairs passed into the hands of a triumvirate composed of Kerensky, Nekrassov, and Tereschenko, leaving both the Socialist and Liberal groups of the Government out of the running.
After the meeting was over Kornilov asked me to stay, and, when all had left, said to me, almost in a whisper: “It is necessary to struggle, otherwise the country will perish. N. came to see me at the Front. He is nursing his scheme of acoup d’étatand of placing the Grand-Duke Dmitri on the throne. He is organising something or other, and has suggested collaboration. I told him flatly that I would take no part in any Romanov adventures. The Government itself understands that it can do nothing. They have offered my joining in the Government.... No, thank you! These gentlemen are far too much entangled with the Soviets, and cannot decide on anything. I have told them that if authority is given me I shall carry on a decisive struggle. We must lead Russia to a Constituent Assembly, and then let them do what they like. I shall stand aside and not interfere in any way. Now, General, may I rely on your support?”
“To the fullest extent.”
This was my second meeting and my second conversation with Kornilov. We embraced heartily and parted ... only to meet again in the Bykhov Prison.
My Service as Commander-in-Chief of the South-Western Front—The Moscow Conference—The Fall of Riga.
I was touched by General Alexeiev’s letter:
“My thoughts are with you in your new appointment. I consider that you have been sent to perform a superhuman task. Much has been said, but apparently little has been done there. Nothing has been done even after the 16th July by Russia’s chief babbler.... The authority of the Commanders is being steadily curtailed. Should you want my help in anything I am ready to go to Berdichev, to go to the Front, to one Command or another.... God preserve you!”
Here was a man, indeed, whom neither an exalted position nor misfortunes could change. He was full of his modest, disinterested work for the good of his native land.
A new front, new men. The South-Western Front, shaken by the events in July, was gradually recovering. Not, however, in the sense of real convalescence, as the optimists thought, but of a return approximately to its condition prior to the offensive. There were the same strained relations between officers and men, the same slip-shod service, the desertion, and open unwillingness to fight, which was only less actively expressed owing to the lull in operations; finally there was the same Bolshevist propaganda, only more active, and not infrequently disguised under the form of Committee “fractions” and preparations for the Constituent Assembly. I have a document referring to the 2nd Army of the Western Front. It is highly characteristic as an indication of the unparalleled toleration and, indeed, encouragement of the disintegration of the Army on the part of the representatives of the Government and Commanders, under the guise of liberty and conscious voting at the elections. Here is a copy of the telegram sent to all the senior officers of the 2nd Army:
The Army Commander, in agreement with the Commissar, and at the request of the Army fraction of the Bolshevist Social-Democrats, has permittedthe organisation, from the 15th to 18th October, of preparatory courses for instructors of the aforesaid fraction for the elections to the Constituent Assembly, one representative of the Bolshevist organisation of each separate unit being sent to the said courses. No. 1644.Suvorov.[55]
The Army Commander, in agreement with the Commissar, and at the request of the Army fraction of the Bolshevist Social-Democrats, has permittedthe organisation, from the 15th to 18th October, of preparatory courses for instructors of the aforesaid fraction for the elections to the Constituent Assembly, one representative of the Bolshevist organisation of each separate unit being sent to the said courses. No. 1644.
Suvorov.[55]
The same toleration had been exercised in many cases previously, and was founded on the exact meaning of the regulations for Army Committees and of the “Declaration of Soldiers’ Rights.”
Carried away by the struggle against counter-revolution, the Revolutionary institutions had paid no attention to such facts as public meetings with extreme Bolshevist watchwords being held at the very place where the Front Headquarters were situated, or that the local paper,Svobodnaia Mysl,[56]most undisguisedly threatened the officers with a St. Bartholomew’s Eve.
The front washolding out. That is all that could be said of the situation. At times there would be disturbances ending tragically, such as the brutal murder of Generals Girshfeld, Hirschfeld, and Stefanovich, Commissar Linde. The preliminary arrangements and the concentration of the troops for the coming partial offensive were made, but there was no possibility of launching the actual attack until the “Kornilov programme” had been put into practice and the results known.
I waited very impatiently.
The Revolutionary organisations (the Commissariat and Committee) of the South-Western Front were in a position; they had not yet seized power, but some of it had already been yielded to them voluntarily by a series of Commanders-in-Chief—Brussilov, Gutor, Baluev. Therefore, my coming at once roused their antagonism. The Committee of the Western Front lost no time in sending a scathing report on me to Berdichev on the basis of which the next issue of the Committee’s organ published an impressive warning to the “enemies of democracy.” As usual, I totally omitted to invoke the aid of the Commissariat, and sent a message to the Committee saying that I could have nothing to do with it unless it kept rigidly within the limits of the law.
The Commissar of the Front was a certain Gobechio. I saw him once only, on my arrival. In a few days he got transferred to the Caucasus, and his post was taken by Iordansky.[57]As soon ashe arrived he issued an “order to the troops at the Front.” Afterwards he was unable to understand that two persons could not command the Front at one and the same time. Iordansky and his assistants, Kostitsin and Grigorier—a literary man, zoologist, and doctor respectively—were probably rather prominent men in their own profession, but utterly ignorant of military life.
The Committee of the Front was no better and no worse than others.[58]It took the “Defencist” point of view, and even supported the repressive measures taken by Kornilov in July, but at that time the Committee was not in the least degree amilitaryinstitution organically connected—for good or evil—with the true Army life. It was merely a mixed party organ. Divided into “fractions” of all the Socialist parties, the Committee positively revelled in politics, and introduced them at the Front likewise. The Committee carried on propaganda on a large scale, convened congresses of representatives in order to have them converted by Socialist fractions, including such as were openly antagonistic to the policy of the Government. I made an attempt to stop this work in view of the impending strategical operations and the difficult period of transition, but met with determined opposition on the part of Commissar Iordansky. At the same time, the Committee was perpetually interfering in all questions of military authority, spreading sedition and distrust to the commanders.
Meanwhile, both in Petrograd and Moghilev, events were taking their course, and we could grasp their meaning only in so far as they were reflected by newspaper reports, rumours and gossip.
There was still no “programme.” The Moscow State Conference[59]raised great hopes, but it met without making any changes in either State or military policy. On the contrary, it even outwardly emphasises the irreconcilable enmity between the Revolutionary Democracy and the Liberal Bourgeoisie, between the Commanders and the soldiers’ representatives.
If the Moscow Conference yielded no positive results, nevertheless, it fully exposed the mood of the opponents, the leaders and the rulers. All unanimously recognised that the country was in deadly peril. Everyone understood that the social relations had suffered an upheaval, that all branches of the nation’s economy had been uprooted. Each party reproached the other with supporting the selfish interests of their class. This, however, was not the mostimportant matter, for, strange as it may seem, the primary causes of social class war, even the agrarian and labour questions, merely led to disagreement, without rousing any irreconcilable dissentions. Even when Plekhanov, the old leader of the Social-Democrats, amid universal approval, turned to the Right demanding sacrifice, and to the Left demanding moderation, it seemed as if the chasm between the two opposing social camps was not so very great.
All the attention of the Conference was taken up by other questions, those ofauthority and of the Army.
Miliukov enumerated all the sins of the Government, vanquished by the Soviets, its “capitulation” to the ideology of the Socialist parties and Zimmerwaldists, capitulation in the Army, in foreign policy, to the Utopian demands of the working classes, to the extreme demands of nationalities.
“The usurpation of the authority of the State by Central and Local Committees and Soviets,” said General Kaledin distinctly, “must be stopped at once and decisively.”
Maklakov smoothed the way for his attack: “I demand nothing, but I cannot help drawing attention to the alarm felt by the social conscience when it sees that the ‘Defeatists’ of yesterday have been invited to join the Government.” Shulgin (Right) is agitated. He says: “I want your (the Provisional Government’s) authority to be really strong, really unlimited. I want this, though I know that a strong Government easily turns to despotism, which is more likely to crush me than you, the friends of that Government.”
On the Left, Jehkheidze sings the praises of the Soviets: “It is only owing to the Revolutionary organisations that the creative spirit of the Revolution has been preserved, for the salvation of the country from the disintegration of authority and from anarchy....” “There is no power higher than that of the Provisional Governments,” says Tzeretelli, “because the source of this power the sovereign people has, through all the organs at its disposal, directly delegated this power to the Provisional Government.” Of course, in so far as that Government submits to the will of the Soviets?... And over all one hears the dominating voice of the President of the Congress, who is seeking for “heavenly words” in order to “express his shuddering horror” at coming events, “and at the same time brandishing a wooden sword and threatening his hidden enemies thus: ‘Be it known to everyone who has once tried to offer armed resistance to the authority of the people that the attempt will be smothered in blood and iron. Let those beware who think that the time hascome for them to overthrow the Revolutionary Government with the help of bayonets.’”
The contradiction was still more striking in military matters. In a dry but powerful speech, the Supreme Commander-in-Chief drew a picture of the destruction of the Army, involving the whole country in its ruin, and with great reserve explained the gist of his programme. General Alexeiev related, with genuine bitterness, the sad story of the sins, sufferings and gallantry of the former Army.
“Weak in technical resources and morally strong in spirit and discipline,” he related how the Army had lived to see the bright days of the Revolution, and how later on, “when it was thought to be a danger to the conquests of the Revolution, it was inoculated with deadly poison.” Kaledin, the Don Cossack Attaman, representing thirteen Cossack Armies and unhampered by any official position, spoke sharply and distinctly: “The Army must keep out of politics. There must be no political meetings with their party struggles and disputes. All the (Army) Soviets and Committees must be abolished. The Declaration of Soldiers’ Rights must be revised. Discipline must be raised both at the Front and in the rear. The disciplinary authority of the Commanders must be restored. All power to the leaders of the Army!”
Kuchin, the representative of the Army and Front Committees, rose to reply to these trite military axioms. “The Committees were a manifestation of the instinct of self-defence.... They had to be formed as organs for the protection of the privates, as hitherto there had been nothing but oppression ... the Committees had brought light and knowledge to the soldiers.... Then came the second period—one of decay and disorganisation ... ‘rearguard consciousness’ made its appearance, but failed to digest all the mass of questions which the Revolutions had raised in the minds of the soldiery....” Now the speaker did not deny the necessity for repressive measures, but they “must be compatible with the definite work of Army organisations....” How this was to be done had been shown by the united front of Revolutionary Democracy, namely, the Army must be animated, not by the desire of victory over the enemy, but by “a repudiation of Imperialistic aims, and a desire for the speedy attainment of universal peace on Democratic principles.... The commanders should possess complete independence in the conduct of military operations, and have a decisive voice in questions of discipline and service training.” The object of the organisations, on the other hand, was to introduce their policywholesale among troops, and “the Commissars must be the introducers of (this) single Revolutionary policy of the Provisional Government, the Army Committees must direct the social and political life of the soldiers. The restoration of the disciplinary authority of the commanders is not to be thought of,” etc.
What is the Government going to do? Will it find enough strength and boldness to burst the fetters placed on it by the Bolshevistic Soviet?[60]
Kornilov said firmly, repeating his words twice: “I do not doubt for a moment that the (my) measures will be carried out without delay.”
And if not—was it to be War?
He also said: “It is impossible to admit that the determination to carry out these measures should in every case be aroused merely by the pressure of defeats and loss of territory. If the rout at Tarnopol and the loss of Galicia and Bukovina did indeed result in restoration of discipline at the Front, it cannot be admitted that order in the rear should be restored at the cost of the loss of Riga, and that order on the railways should be restored by the cession of Moldavia and Bessarabia to the enemy.”
On the 20th Riga fell.
Both strategically and tactically the Front of the lower Dvina was in complete preparedness. Taking into consideration the strength of the defensive positions, the forces were also sufficient. The officers in command were General Parsky, Army Commander, and General Boldyrev, Corps Commander; both experienced Generals, and certainly not inclined to counter-Revolution in the opinion of the Democrats.[61]
Finally, from deserters’ reports, our Headquarters knew not only the direction but even the day and the hour of the contemplated attack.
Nevertheless, on the 19th August the Germans (Von Hutier’s 8th Army), after heavy artillery preparation, occupied the Uxküll bridgehead in the face of feeble opposition on our part, and crossed the Dvina. On 20th August the Germans assumed the offensive also along the Mitau road; towards evening of the same day the enemy’s Uxküll group, having pierced our lines on the Egel, began deploying in a northerly direction, threatening theretreat of the Russian troops towards Wenden. The 12th Army, abandoning Riga, retired some 60-70 versts, losing touch with the enemy, and on the 25th occupied the so-called Wenden position. The Army lost in prisoners alone some 9,000 men, besides 81 guns, 200 machine-guns, etc. A further advance did not enter into the German plans, and they commenced to establish themselves on the extensive terrain of the right bank of the Dvina, immediately sending off two divisions to the Western Front.
We lost the rich industrial town of Riga, with all its military structures and supplies; more important still, we lost a safe defensive line, the abandonment of which placed both the Dvina Front and the way to Petrograd under a constant threat.
The fall of Riga made a great impression in the country. Quite unexpectedly, however, it called forth from the Revolutionary Democracy, not repentance, not patriotic fervour, but, instead, a still greater bitterness towards the leaders and officers. The Stavka in onecommuniqué[62]inserted the following sentence: “The disorganised masses of the soldiery are flocking in uncontrollable masses along the Pskov high road and the road to Bieder-Limburg.” This statement, undoubtedly true, and neither mentioning nor relating to the causes of the above, raised a storm amongst the Revolutionary Democracy. The Commissars and Committees of the Northern Front sent a series of telegrams refuting the “provocative attacks of the Stavka” and assuring that “there was no shame in this reverse”; that “the troops honestly obey all demands of their leaders ... there have been no cases of flight or treachery on the part of the troops.”
The Commissar for the Front, Stankevitch, while demurring against there being no shame in such a causeless and inglorious retreat, pointed out, amongst other things, a series of errors and delinquencies on the part of the Commanders. It is extremely possible that there were errors, both personal and of leadership, as well as purely objective deficiencies, caused by mutual mistrust, slackening of obedience, and thedébâcleof the technical services. At the same time, it is undoubtedly a fact that the troops of the Northern Front, and especially the 12th Army, were the most disorganised of all, and, logically, could not offer the necessary resistance. Even the apologist of the 12th Army, Commissar Voitinsky, who always considerably exaggerated the fighting value of these troops, telegraphed on the 22nd to the Petrograd Soviet: “The troops show want of confidence in their powers, absence of training for battle, and, consequently,insufficient steadiness in open warfare.... Many units fight bravely, as in the early days; others show signs of weariness and panic.”
Actually, the debauched Northern Front had lost all power of resistance. The troops rolled back to the limit of pursuit by the German advanced detachments, and only moved forward subsequently on losing touch with Hutier’s main body, which had no intention of passing, beyond a definite line.
Meanwhile, all the papers of the Left commenced a fierce campaign against the Stavka and the Commands. The word “treachery” was heard.... Tchernov’sDelo Naroda, a Defeatist paper, complained: “A torturing fear creeps into the mind: are not the mistakes of the commanders, the deficiencies in artillery, and the incapacity of the leaders being unloaded on to the soldiers—courageous, heroic, perishing in thousands.” TheIzvestiaannounced also the motives for the “provocation”: “The Stavka, by putting forth the bogy of menacing events, is trying to terrorise the Provisional Government and make it adopt a series of measures, directly and indirectly aimed at the Revolutionary Democracy and their organisations....”
In conjunction with all these events, the feeling against the Supreme Commander-in-Chief, General Kornilov, was increasing in the Soviets, and rumours of his approaching dismissal appeared in the Press. In answer to these, a series of angry resolutions addressed to the Government, and supporting Kornilov, made their appearance.[63]The resolution of the Council of the Union of Cossack Troops contained even the following passage: “The supersession of Kornilov will inevitably imbue the Cossacks with the fatal impression of the futility of further Cossack sacrifices”; and, further, that the Council “declines all responsibility for the Cossack troops at and behind the Front should Kornilov be removed.”
Such was, then, the situation. Instead of pacification, passions burned fiercer, contradictions increased, the atmosphere of mutual mistrust and morbid suspicion was thickened.
I still postponed my tour of the troops, not abandoning hope of a satisfactory issue to the struggle and of the publication of the “Kornilov programme.”[64]
What could I bring the men? A deep, painful feeling, words appealing to “common-sense and conscience,” concealing my helplessness, and like the voice of one crying in the wilderness? All had been and gone, leaving bitter memories behind. It will always be so: thoughts, ideas, words, moral persuasion will never cease to rouse men to deeds of merit; but what if overgrown, virgin soil must be torn up with an iron plough?... What should I say to the officers, sorrowfully and patiently awaiting the end of the regular and merciless lingering death of the Army? For I could only say to them: If the Government does not radically alter its policy the end of the Army has come.
On the 7th August orders were received to move the Caucasian Native (“Wild”) Division from under my command northwards; on the 12th the same order was received for the 3rd Cavalry Corps, then in Reserve, and later for the Kornilov “shock” Regiment. As always, their destination was not indicated. The direction prescribed, on the other hand, equally pointed to the Northern Front, at that time greatly threatened, and to ... Petrograd. I recommended General Krymov, commanding the 3rd Cavalry Corps, for the command of the 11th Army. The Stavka agreed, but demanded his immediate departure for Moghilev on a special mission. On his way there Krymov reported to me. Apparently he had not yet received definite instructions—at any rate, he spoke of none; however, neither he nor I doubted that the mission was in connection with the expected change in military policy. Krymov was at this time cheerful and confident, and had faith in the future; as formerly, he considered that only a crushing blow to the Soviets could save the situation.
Following on this, official information was received of the formation of the Detached Petrograd Army, and the appointment of an officer of the General Staff to be Quartermaster-General of this Army was desired.
Finally, about the 20th, the situation became somewhat clearer. An officer reported to me at Berdichev, and handed me a personal letter from Kornilov, wherein the latter suggested I should hear this officer’s verbal report. He stated as follows:
“According to reliable information, a rising of the Bolsheviks will take place at the end of August. By this time the 3rd Cavalry Corps,[65]commanded by Krymov, would reach Petrograd,would crush the rising, and simultaneously put an end to the Soviets.”[66]
Simultaneously, Petrograd would be proclaimed in a state of war, and the laws resulting from the “Kornilov programme” would be published. The Supreme Commander-in-Chief requested me to despatch to the Stavka a score or more of reliable officers—officially “for trench mortar instruction”; actually they would be sent to Petrograd, and incorporated in the Officers’ Detachment.
In the course of the conversation he communicated the news from the Stavka, painting all in glowing colours. He told me, among other things, of rumours concerning new appointments to the Kiev, Odessa and Moscow commands, and of the proposed new Government, mentioning some existing ministers, and some names entirely unknown to me. The part played in this matter by the Provisional Government, in particular by Kerensky, was not clear. Had he decided on an abrupt change of military policy, would he resign, or would he be swept away by developments impossible of prediction by pure logic, or the most prophetic common sense?
In this volume I described the entire course of events during August in that sequence and in that light, in which these tragic days were experienced on the South-Western Front, not giving them the perspective of the stage and the actors acquired subsequently.
The seconding of the officers—with all precautions to prevent either them or their superiors being placed in a false position—was commenced, but it is hardly likely that it could have been accomplished by the 27th. Not one Army Commander was supplied by me with the information I had received; in fact, not one of the senior officers at the front knew anything of the events brewing.
It was clear that the history of the Russian Revolution had entered on a new phase. What would the future bring? General Markov and I spent many hours discussing this subject. He—nervous, hot-headed and impetuous—constantly wavered between the extremes of hope and fear. I also felt much the same; and both of us quite clearly saw and felt thefatal inevitabilityof a crisis. The Soviets—Bolshevists or semi-Bolshevists, no matter which—would unfailingly bring Russia to her doom. A conflict was unavoidable. Butover there, was there an actual chance, or was everything being done in heroic desperation?