It was at Manchulli that an incident happened which was much talked about at the time and was given many strange versions. It is quite easily explained when all the facts are known. It was impossible to secure proper travelling accommodation for my officers, either at Spascoe or Nikolsk, but I was informed that such would be provided at Harbin. In company with the British Consul (Mr. Sly) I called upon the manager of the railway at Harbin to secure such accommodation. He was very polite and promised to do all he could to help, but next morning informed me that no carriage was available, but if I could find one empty I could take it. I failed, and reported the fact to him. He could do nothing, but said there were plenty at Manchulli held up by Colonel Semianoff and the Japanese, who laid hold of every carriage that tried to get through this station, and that Colonel Semianoff collected a great revenue by refusing to part with these carriages unless the user was prepared to pay very high prices for the same. If I was prepared to take the risk, and would use force if necessary to secure carriages, I should be able to get them there, and so far as the railway authorities at Harbin were concerned, I could take any two empty carriages I might find.
The weather was beginning to get very cold, and each mile added to our discomfort, and the only accommodation for officers on two of the three trains were cattle trucks. After my official visit I made request for two carriages. The station commandant pretended to consult the Russian and Japanese officials, and then informed me that there was not one available. I told him it was untrue. He agreed that if I could point out any carriages unoccupied I could have them. He went with his register to the carriages I indicated, and he admitted they were idle and empty and I would be allowed to take them. I put a guard on the carriages and thought the incident settled, but nothing is settled for long in the Far East. I made request for these carriages to be shunted on to my trains, and after a two hours' wait went to the station about the shunting and was calmly informed that they knew nothing about the carriages. The commandant, with whom I arranged the matter, had gone home (an old dodge!), and would not be on duty till to-morrow, and that nothing else could be done.
It was reported to me that the reason the carriages could not be secured was that the railway officials of a certain Power had given instructions that no "class" carriages were to be provided for British officers, as it was necessary that the population along the route should understand that we were not considered representatives of a first-class Power. Englishmen who have not travelled much in the Far East will scarcely understand the working of the Oriental mind in these matters. An officer of any Power who travels in a cattle truck will not only lose the respect of the Oriental for his own person, but will lower the standard of the country he represents, irrespective of its position in the comity of nations. The representative of the Isle of Man, if he travelled in the best style, would stand before the representative of His Majesty the King if his means of transit were that of a coolie. It is doubtless very stupid, but it is true. Your means of locomotion fixes your place in the estimation of the East, because it is visible to them, while your credentials are not.
I there and then made up my mind to act, and if necessary go "the whole hog." I informed the authorities that nothing should be shunted in that station until those two carriages were joined to my trains, and proceeded to occupy the whole station. Up to this point I had neither seen nor heard anything of the Japanese in relation to this matter, but they now came on the scene, and I soon discovered that it was they who had engineered the whole opposition to the British officers getting suitable accommodation, and had spirited away the old commandant who had registered the carriages to me. At first they did not know the correct line to adopt, but made a request that the guard should be taken off the station. My answer was, "Yes, instantly, if it is understood that these carriages are to be shunted to my trains." They agreed to this, and my guards were taken off, having held the station for twenty-three minutes. I had my evening meal, and was expecting to start when I was informed that the Japanese had now placed guards upon my carriages and refused to allow them to be shunted on to my train. I thought this was just about the limit, and before taking action decided I had better discover the reason, if any, for what seemed a definite breach of faith. I visited the Japanese station officer, and he said that they had just discovered that these two carriages were set aside to convey General Fugi to Harbin a few days hence. I refused to believe that such a discovery could have only just been made, and I would take the carriages by force if necessary.
It looked very awkward, and a Japanese Staff officer was sent for. I sent my liaison officer (Colonel Frank) to find the absent station commandant who had allocated the cars to me. The Japanese Staff officer was expressing his sorrow for my not being able to get any carriages for my officers and pointing out how impossible it would be for the train of General Fugi to be broken up by the loss of the two carriages I had claimed, when in stalked the old Russian commandant and blew these apologies sky high by declaring that these carriages had nothing to do with General Fugi's train; that they were unemployed, and they were mine. I decided to strengthen the guard to eighteen men on each carriage, and offered protection to the railwaymen who shunted them to my train. The Japanese soldiers followed the carriages on to my train, so that we had the strange sight of a row of Tommies with fixed bayonets on the cars, and a row of Japanese soldiers on the ground guarding the same carriages. No officer came to give them open instructions, but the Jap soldiers disappeared one at a time until the Tommies were left in undisputed possession.
We returned to my car to find it guarded by Chinese soldiers. I asked the reason, and was informed that at an earlier stage of this incident a Chinese officer had been to my car with a note to inform me that the great friendship which the Chinese always bore to the great English nation made it impossible for them to stand by and allow their friends to be attacked while passing through Chinese territory. I thanked them for their friendship, and suggested that Englishmen were always capable of protecting themselves in any part of the world, wherever their duty took them; but they would listen to nothing, and remained on guard until my train moved out of the station.
I do not suppose there was at any time real danger of a collision between the different forces at Manchulli, but it had the appearance of a very ugly episode that might have developed into one of international importance. I took my stand for the sole purpose of maintaining the dignity of the British Army. Other incidents connected with this small dispute about officer accommodation, yet having nothing to do with it, made me determined to carry my point.
During these proceedings I noticed my liaison officer in angry dispute with two Japanese officers against a truck carrying the Union Jack as an indication of the nationality of the train. They were pointing to the flag in such a manner that I saw at once the dispute was about this offending emblem. When the Japanese officers had moved away I called Colonel Frank to me and inquired the cause of dispute. He said: "I can understand the contempt of the Japanese for our Russia; she is down and is sick, but why they should wish to insult their Ally, England, I cannot understand. The Japanese officers who have just left me inquired where the English commander got his authority to carry an English flag on his train. I answered it was an English train carrying an English battalion to Omsk, and no authority was necessary. The Japanese officers replied that they considered the flying of any other flag than theirs in Manchuria or Siberia an insult to Japan. I told them they were fools, that if the English commander had heard their conversation (they both spoke in Russian) he would demand an apology. At which they grinned and departed." We tried every means to find the two officers, but were unable to do so. This was the atmosphere in which we discussed the smaller subject, and may explain the obstinacy of both sides; at any rate, it had something to do with my determination.
We arrived at Chita without further incident of importance. Bread and horse exercise delayed us one whole day, and inability to secure engines part of another, until in desperation I went with a squad of men to the sheds and forced an engine-driver to take out his engine, I myself riding on the tender, where I nearly lost my sight with hot debris from the funnel, while Major Browne, who stood sentinel beside the driver, had holes scorched in his uniform. This act of violence secured not only an engine for my train, but for the others also.
I had broken my glasses, and it was necessary to secure others. I walked to the town and called at the shop of a jeweller and optician, with whom we conversed. Other customers joined in the talk, and we were here informed of the murder of the present owner's mother during the Bolshevik occupation of the town. The Soviet Commisar, with Red soldiers, visited the shop one day to loot the stock. The mother, an old lady over sixty years of age who was then looking after the business, protested against the robbery of her property. The commisar ordered one of the Red Guard to bayonet her, which he did. They then proceeded to remove everything of value, locked up the premises with the dead woman still lying on the shop floor, and for several days refused permission to her neighbours to give her decent burial on the plea that she was a counter-revolutionist. It was evident from the appearance of the place that the Red soldiers were pretty expert at this sort of business; but stories like this are so numerous that it is nauseating to repeat them.
The next point of interest was Lake Baikal, or as it is more correctly described by the Russians, the "Baikal Sea." We approached this famous lake on a very cold Sunday evening, and long before we reached its shores the clear cold depths of the water gave evidence of its presence in the changed atmosphere. A furious gale was blowing across the lake from the west, which lashed huge waves into fury and foam as they beat in endless confusion on the rockbound shore. Blinding snow mixed with the spray gave the inky blackness of the night a weird and sombre appearance. Our Cossack attendant, Marca, droned a folk-song about the wonders of the Baikal, which, when interpreted by my liaison officer, fitted the scene to a fraction. We put up the double windows, listed the doors and turned in for the night. I was fearful that we should leave the lake before morning and so fail to get a daylight view of this most interesting part of our journey. We all awoke early to find the scene so changed as to appear almost miraculous.
The strange light of these northern zones was gently stealing over an immense sea of clear, perfectly calm, glassy water, which enabled us to locate the whiter coloured rocks at enormous depths. A fleecy line of cloud hung lazily over the snow-capped mountains. The Great Bear nearly stood on his head, and the Pole Star seemed to be almost over us. The other stars shone with icy cold brilliance and refused to vanish, though the sun had begun to rise. And such a rising! We could not see that welcome giver of warmth and life, but the beautiful orange and purple halo embraced half the world. From its centre shot upwards huge, long yellow streamers which penetrated the darkness surrounding the stars and passed beyond into never-ending space. Gradually these streamers took a more slanting angle until they touched the highest peaks and drove the cloud lower and lower down the side of the mountains. I have been on the Rigi under similar conditions, but there is nothing in the world like an autumn sunrise on Lake Baikal. I stopped the train ostensibly to allow water to be obtained for breakfast, but really to allow the men to enjoy what was in my opinion the greatest sight in the world. Some of the men were as entranced as myself, while others (including officers) saw nothing but plenty of clean fresh water for the morning ablutions. We all have our several tastes even in His Majesty's Army.
Rumour says there are exactly the same fish to be found in Lake Baikal as in the sea, with other varieties which represent ordinary fresh-water types. I do not believe there is any authority for these statements. Sea gulls of every known category are certainly to be found there, and wild duck in variety and numbers to satisfy the most exacting sportsman.
Passing along this wonderful panorama for some hours we arrived at Baikal. The maps supplied to me show the railway as making a bee line from the south of the lake to Irkutsk. This is not so; the line does not deviate an inch from the western shores of the lake until it touches the station. Baikal is reached nearly opposite the point at which the railway strikes the lake on the eastern side. The lake is fed by the River Selengha, which drains the northern mountains and plains of Mongolia. No river of importance enters it on the north except the short, high Anghara; in fact, the rivers Armur and Lenha start from quite near its northern and eastern extremities. It is drained on the west by the famous River Anghara, which rises near Baikal, and enters the Polar Sea at a spot so far north as to be uninhabitable, except for the white bears who fight for the possession of icebergs.
Baikal had been the scene of a titanic struggle between the Czecho-Slovak forces and the Bolsheviks, who had in case of defeat planned the complete and effective destruction of the line by blowing up the numerous tunnels alongside the lake, which it must have taken at least two years to repair. The Czechs moved so rapidly, however, that the enemy were obliged to concentrate at Baikal for the defence of their own line of communication. Before they had made up their minds that they were already defeated a lucky Czech shot struck their store of dynamite and blew the station, their trains, and about three hundred of their men to smithereens. The remainder retreated off the line in a southerly direction, and after many days' pursuit were lost in the forests which form the chief barrier between Siberia and Mongolia, to emerge later on an important point on the railway near Omsk.
We stopped at Baikal for water and fuel, and examined the damage done by the explosion. The great iron steamer which used to be employed to convey the train from one side of the lake to the other was almost destroyed, its funnels and upper works being wrenched and twisted beyond repair. But out from every crevice of her hull and from every broken carriage came German and Austrian prisoners of war dressed in every conceivable style of uniform. There was no guard of any description, but they all appeared to be under the direction of a young German officer, who saluted very stiffly as we passed. No doubt existed amongst these Germans (so I heard from our men later) that we were tramping towards Germany and certain death. Not one would believe but that Germany would win the war, and destroy not only England, but also America. They had no feelings about France, nor would they consider her as other than an already half-digested morsel. Quartermaster-Captain Boulton put it to one prisoner: "But suppose Germany were defeated?" "Then," said the prisoner, "I would never return to Germany again." We fell in with thousands of German prisoners who all held a most perplexing view of ourselves. They described us as the only real and bitter enemy of their country. But the same men would volunteer to work for us rather than for any other Ally, because they said we treated them fairly and behaved to them like men, and listened to their grievances. That is something at any rate.
From Baikal to Irkutsk is a short run down the left bank of the Anghara. We arrived at Irkutsk about the same time as a small detachment of Japanese troops, who were acting as a guard to their traders and their stores, who usually travel with the army. The Japs have very pretty bugle calls for different military purposes, mostly in the same key, with a sort of Morse code for the different orders, but a Japanese bugle band is the most terrible thing in the world of sound. It makes one either swear or laugh, according to one's taste. They gave us an exhibition in moving off from the station, which everyone who heard will never forget. I was rather surprised to find that the Jap traders had established themselves at Irkutsk, as their headquarters were at Chita, which was also the centre of their agent, Semianoff. Why they came to Irkutsk at all is a problem. It was generally understood that some of the Allies were prepared to concede them only the fairest part of Siberia up to Lake Baikal. Perhaps they had heard whispers of the mineral wealth of the Urals.
Irkutsk, situated on the right bank of the Anghara, is a rather fine old town for Siberia. Its Greek cathedral has a commanding position, and contests successfully with the Cadet School for supremacy as the outstanding architectural feature first to catch the eye. The town is approached by a quaint, low wooden bridge which spans the swiftly running river. When we saw it the battered remnants of human society were grimly collecting themselves together after some months of Bolshevik anarchy and murder. Whole streets were merely blackened ruins, and trade, which had been at a complete standstill, was just beginning to show a return to life. Putting out its feelers, it had taken upon itself a precarious life not yet free from danger. The 25th Battalion Middlesex Regiment was the only British unit in the country; it had spread itself out in a remarkable manner, and shown the flag on a front of 5,000 miles. In spite of its category it had brought confidence and hope to a helpless people out of all proportion to its strength or ability.
A public banquet (the first since the Revolution) was held ostensibly to welcome Volagodsky, the Social Revolutionary President of the Siberian Council, but really to welcome the first British regiment that had ever entered and fought in Siberia. It was a great occasion, and the first real evidence I had seen of possible national regeneration. Even here it was decidedly Separatist, and therefore Japanese in character; a glorification of Siberia and Siberian efforts, completely ignoring the efforts of other Russians in the different parts of their Empire. Evanoff Renoff, the Cossack Ataman, led the panegyric of Siberia, and the President and the Secretary for Foreign Affairs, a long, watery-eyed young man, joined in the chorus. They were doubtless all well pleased with themselves, and thoroughly enjoying a partial return to the old conditions. Colonel Frank translated in a whisper all that was said, so that I got a good hang to the mental atmosphere of this unique gathering. The toast of their Ally, Great Britain, was the occasion which brought me to my feet. The band played "Rule Britannia" as a substitute for "God Save the King," for the simple reason that though mostly Social Revolutionaries they dared not play a Royalist hymn until they had tested the feelings of their audience. This gave me my cue. I laughed at their fears, and informed them that whatever happened, our anthem, which for the time represented the unity of our race, would be played by my band at the ceremonial to-morrow, and all the Bolsheviks in Russia would not be powerful enough to prevent it. From this I led to the flag, another great emblem of racial unity. I called attention to the entire absence of a Russian flag from Vladivostok to Irkutsk, and asked, "Is this the country of the once great and mighty Russia that a stranger travels over without knowing what country it is?" I suggested that though we had twenty revolutions I could never imagine Englishmen being ashamed of the English flag or afraid to call themselves Englishmen. The translation of my remarks ended in a wonderful ovation, and I thought the band would never play anything else but the National Anthem, which it repeated again and again.
My list of telegrams and messages of every kind and character from every part of Russia and the outside world, together with constant repetition of the speech in the Press, indicates plainly that from this day began the resurrection of the Russian soul. Another sign of renewed vigour and life was the fact that from that day the Russian flag (minus the Crown) flew from the flagpost over every big station we passed, and on all public buildings. The Russians are extremely emotional, and I had managed to strike the right chord the first time.
The day following we marched to the square space surrounding the cathedral, and I inspected the newly-formed units of the army. Splendid men with good physique, but slow and stilted in movement. The remnant of the cadets who had escaped the general massacre was there, a wonderfully smart set of beautiful boys, who at a distance, looking at their faces only, I took for girls, much to the disgust of the colonel in charge. It was altogether a fine and impressive sight, with big crowds and the fine cathedral as a background. With the "Present" and "The King" at the end, every man present uncovered, and an old Russian lady knelt and kissed my adjutant's hand and blessed us as "saviours," while the commandant asked for cheers for "the only country which came to our help without conditions." I wonder how that will pan out?
We were entertained at the British Consul's, followed by a concert at night. It was terribly cold, and no droshkies were to be had. We had to walk to the theatre in a blinding snowstorm. At 2 A.M. we started on our last lap.
The sentiments of the people changed completely every few hundred miles. After leaving Irkutsk we soon discovered that we were in enemy territory, and the few weeks, and in some cases days, that had elapsed since the retirement of the Bolshevik Commissars had left the country the prey of the desperado. Let there be no mistake, Bolshevism lived by the grace of the old régime. The peasant had his land, but the Russian workman had nothing. Not one in a thousand could tell one letter of the alphabet from another. He was entirely neglected by the State; there was not a single effective State law dealing with the labour conditions or the life of the worker in the whole Russian code. His condition was, and will remain, in spite of the Revolution, utterly neglected and hopeless. He has not the power to think or act for himself, and is consequently the prey of every faddist scamp who can string a dozen words together intelligently. There are no trade unions, because there is no one amongst them sufficiently intelligent either to organise or manage them. All the alleged representatives of Labour who have from time to time visited England pretending to represent the Russian workmen are so many deputational frauds. There cannot be such a delegate from the very nature of things, as will be seen if the facts are studied on the spot. The lower middle classes, especially the professional teacher class, have invented the figment of organised Russian labour for their own purpose.
The condition of the Russian workman is such that he can only formulate his grievances by employing others to do it for him. Hence there has come into existence numerous professional councils, who for a consideration visit the workers in their homes and wherever they congregate, and compile their complaints and grievances. But these professionals always point out that the rectification of small points like rates of wages and working hours are a waste of time and energy; that the real work is to leave the conditions so bad that, in sheer despair, the worker will rise and destroy capitalism in a night, and have a perfect millennium made ready for the next morning.
The poor, ignorant, uneducated, neglected Russian workman is perfect and well-prepared soil for such propaganda. He found himself bound hand and foot in the meshes of this professional element, who did not belong to his class and, except in theory, knew nothing of his difficulties. When this professional element had misled, bamboozled and deserted him, in a frenzy of despair he determined to destroy this thing called education, and made the ability to read and write one of the proofs of enmity to his class on the same principle that our uneducated workmen of the first half of the nineteenth century destroyed machinery and other progressive innovations, whose purpose they did not understand. There would be less chatter about revolution if our people could only understand what it means to go through the horrors that have destroyed Russia and her people more effectively than the most ruthless invasion.
We stopped at a station near a mining village largely peopled with emigrant Chinese workmen. We removed the Bolshevik flag from the flag-post, and insisted upon the Russian flag being run up in its stead. A Russian woman told us to go back, and when we asked her why, she said, "Well, it does not matter; our men will soon find enough earth to bury you." But another Russian woman thanked us for coming, and hoped we were not too late to save a country that was sick unto death.
That night we ran into Zema station, where we came to a sudden stop. I sent my liaison officer to find the cause, and he informed me that a body of men were beside the engine and threatening to shoot the driver if he moved another foot. I ordered the "Alarm" to be sounded, and instantly 400 British soldiers tumbled out of the trucks. Taking their prearranged positions, they fixed bayonets and awaited orders. My carriage was the last vehicle of the train. I walked forward to find the cause of our enforced stoppage, and was just in time to see in the darkness a squad of armed men leaving the station. I took possession of the station and telegraphs, and then heard from the officials that Bolshevik agents had come to the town and had persuaded the workmen to leave work, to take arms and cut the line to prevent the Allies moving forward, and await the arrival of the Bolshevik force which had retired from Baikal. This force had worked its way along the Mongolian frontier, and was now feeling its way towards the line to destroy the bridge which carries the railway over the River Ocka at a point about three versts from Zema. I placed guards around and in the railway works, engine sheds, and approaches, and discovering telegrams still passing between the Bolsheviks and the inhabitants, I occupied by force the post and telegraph office in the town. Orders were issued that all men must pledge themselves not to interfere with the trains, and return to work by 6 A.M., or they would be dealt with under martial law. Two hours elapsed, during which time my other trains arrived, with machine-gun
The troops surrounded the house of the leader of the movement, but the bird had flown. I found some Bolshevik literature advocating the wholesale destruction of thebourgeoisieandintelligenzia(I forget which they put first), also 3,600 roubles, which I gave back to the wife, saying, "That is a gift from me to you." This act disgusted the local chief of the gendarmerie, who assured me that it was German money and ought to be confiscated. I had no doubt it was, but then I was English, and a Hampshire man at that. Then the usual teacher arrived and asked if he would be allowed to speak to the "Anglisky Polkovnika." Receiving an affirmative, he entered and began the conversation. He naïvely confessed that if he had known it was an "Anglisky" train he would have allowed it to pass. They had read my order as to their pledge to return to work, and wanted to know what I proposed to do if they did not do so. I answered that after having taken up arms against us they could expect no mercy, and that if they did not obey my orders every leader I could find I would shoot. The teacher inquired if I would allow the men to be called together for consultation by their prearranged signal at the works. I agreed, if they came without arms. Soon after, the most awful sound came from a huge buzzer. It was now midnight, and the air was rent by a wailing sound that grew in volume, to die away into a world sob. Every Britisher there was affected in some peculiar fashion; to myself it was like nothing so much as a mighty groan from a nation in distress. Colonel Frank, my Russian guide, philosopher and friend, ran from the table when the sound began, and paced the car in evident anguish, and as it died away exclaimed, "Poor Russia!" and I had felt the same thought running through my mind. All my men expressed themselves in similar sentiments and as never wanting to hear it again.
My business was to get out of the place as quickly as possible, but to leave the line safe. The small militia force was quite inadequate to deal with a population fully armed. Hence I ordered the surrender of all arms by the inhabitants, and allowed twelve hours in which this was to be done.
Six A.M. arrived, and my officers reported all men at work except eight, and these reported later and asked forgiveness, which was readily granted. I then informed the management that I intended to call a meeting of the men and hear their grievances. The management tried to dissuade me from my purpose, but I at once ordered their attendance in the headquarters of the works at 10 A.M., when I would hear the men's complaints. Promptly to time the work finished, and the men crowded to the spot selected. A British sentry with fixed bayonet and loaded rifle stood on either side as I sat at the table, while others were placed in selected positions about the building. I called the managers and heads of all the departments first, and warned them that I had been forced to take this trouble into my own hands, that I intended to settle it, and that if they interfered with the men in any way, either by harsh measures or victimisation, I would place them under court-martial just the same as I would any workman who prevented the smooth working of the railway; in fact, they being presumably more intelligent, would find no mercy. This information caused quite a commotion amongst all concerned. I asked the men to state their grievances. The first workman said he had no economic grievance; his was political. He had been told the Allies were counter-revolutionists, and as such should be destroyed. Two or three protested against this, and said they came out on economic grounds. They said their objection was to piece-work. I tried to get a statement from them that their wages were low, but they would not consent to this, admitting that their pay for the same work was five times what it was in 1917.
I came to the conclusion that it was more of a military movement on the part of the Bolshevik leaders than a strike such as we understand it in England. I gave my decision that the men's leaders were to be tried by General Field Court-Martial. The men's committee then said that they had never had the chance to meet anyone in authority before, that they were anxious not to appear as enemies to the great English people, that if I would carry out no further repressive action against them, they would continue to work until the end of the war. They heard that Bolsheviks were approaching their town, and knew the tortures in store for them if they were found continuing to help the Allies in their advance to the Urals. If I would secure protection for them they would sign an agreement never to strike until the war in Russia had ended. I believed them, and the agreement was signed, but I insisted upon disarmament.
That evening the time limit in which the arms were to be handed in expired. We were informed by the local militia that some arms were handed in voluntarily, but many more remained.
The following morning a train with General Knox and his Staff pulled into the station. I reported the whole occurrence to the general, and how I had received and sent forward notice of his coming and the object of his journey. It was here that he informed me of the outrage which the Japanese officers had perpetrated upon him, in spite of the fact that a big Union Jack was painted on the side of each carriage of his train.
The inhabitants of Zema were just congratulating themselves on having got rid of the "Anglisky" when they suddenly found machine guns in position ready to spray all their main thoroughfares with lead should the occasion arise. Sections of the town were searched, house by house, until the piles of arms necessitated transport to remove them. Real sporting guns which could be used for no other purpose, and the owner of which was guaranteed by the local police, were returned. In some houses dumps of looted fabrics from other towns were taken possession of, and altogether work for the courts was found for the next two months.
The echo of Zema travelled far and wide, and gave the authorities an object-lesson how to tackle a cancer as deadly as it was devilish. When Kerensky destroyed the old Russian army sixteen million ignorant and uneducated soldiers took their rifles and ammunition home. This was the insoluble problem of every attempt to re-establish order in the Russian dominions. The Middlesex Regiment made the first plunge at Zema, and others soon followed along the path indicated. We re-armed the local militia, and we took the remainder of the confiscated arms to Omsk, where they were taken over by the Russian authorities for the new Russian army. I wired to Irkutsk for reinforcements for the local militia, as I did not think them strong enough to deal with the possibilities of the situation. The commandant at Irkutsk wired that he had information which proved there was no truth in the rumoured approach of Bolshevik forces, which reply I knew from the experience I had gained in Russian ways merely indicated his determination not to weaken his own guard.
At midnight I started on my further journey. About a fortnight later I received a despairing message from the local militia chief at Zema for help; he said he was nearly surrounded by the Baikal Bolshevik contingent, which had suddenly appeared. I took the message to Russian Headquarters at Omsk, and called attention to my wire to Irkutsk and the refusal to protect this part of the line. Later I received a report from the commander of the Russian force sent to deal with the situation. He said that the Bolshevik leader had come into Zema expecting to receive material and military help from the people. He found them disarmed and unfriendly, and determined to take no part in further outrages against established order. He wreaked vengeance upon some of his false friends, and was then surprised by Government troops, who dispersed his forces, killing 180 and capturing 800, together with ten machine guns and 150 horses.
As a rule, Bolshevik contingents were easily disposed of in a town. They usually looted everything and everybody. Officers were elected from day to day, with the result that such a thing as discipline did not exist. Still, had that party arrived when I was in Zema we should have had a pitched battle worth a lifetime, for as it turned out they had many machine guns, while we had only four; but there would never have been any doubt about the result, for though we were only a "garrison battalion," the steadiness of my men under fire had hitherto been excellent.
We had been passing through hundreds of miles of wonderful virgin forests for the last two weeks, with only an occasional opening for village cultivation and an occasional log town of more or less importance. The hills and valleys as we approached Krasnoyarsk, covered with pine trees and frozen rivers, looked like a huge never-ending Christmas card. At last we arrived at Krasnoyarsk, a large, straggling town of great importance on the River Yenisei. As we approached we passed miles of derelict war material—tractors, wagons, guns of every kind and calibre all cast aside as useless, there being no place where minor defects could be repaired. Some had no apparent defects, but there they lay, useful and useless, a monument to the entire absence of organisation in everything Russian.
I had suffered a slight indisposition, so Major Browne deputised for me, and inspected the Russian and Czech guards of honour drawn up to welcome the troops on their arrival. I found the town in a very disturbed condition, and as it was necessary to guard the great bridge, I accepted the suggestion to quarter a company under the command of Captain Eastman, O.B.E., in the excellent barracks which had been prepared for my unit. This place had been originally fixed upon as the station for the whole battalion, but important events were happening in Omsk. Our High Commissioner, Sir Charles Eliot, and the Chief of the British Military Mission, General Knox, had already arrived there, and required a guard, hence I was ordered to proceed with the remainder of my battalion. We remained in Krasnoyarsk for two days, and marched through the town and saluted the British Consulate. On the last evening the usual banquet was held in our honour, and is worth a few words because of an incident which created great interest at the time. The guests were made up of many officers and others in uniform, and also civilian representatives of the Town Council, the district Zemstvo, and other public organisations. The usual fraternal speeches and toasts were given, and not more than the usual six speakers attempted to deliver an address at one time. A number of dark-featured, glowering civilians sat at a table almost opposite to myself, men who by their attire and sombre looks appeared to be unsuited to the banquet atmosphere, and out of place amongst the gorgeous uniforms of Cossack Atamans and Russian generals. They seemed to take not the slightest interest in the proceedings except for a few moments when certain of my words were being translated. All seemed bent on the business of the evening and a good dinner, indicating a return to normal conditions. A Social Revolutionary representative of the town delivered a furious tirade, which I could get my officer to translate only in part, but even that part showed me the world-wide division of opinion amongst my Russian hosts.
The orchestra, composed of German and Austrian prisoners, discoursed sweet music during the evening, alternately listening to the fiery eloquence of Cossack and Tartar. A Cossack officer, who had drunk a little vodka, rose and gave an order to the band, but the prisoners only got out about three notes. What was in those notes, Heaven only knows! Instantly the whole banqueting hall was a scene of indescribable confusion. Tartar and Cossack shouted with glee; older Russian officers ordered the band to stop, and vainly tried to silence the disorder. The dark-visaged and apparently unemotional civilians threw off their armour of unconcern, and hurled epithets and shook clenched fists and defiance at their military fellow-countrymen. Then they all rushed out of the building in a body, hissing and spluttering like a badly constructed fuse in a powder trail. It was like the explosion of a small magazine. I had no idea what had happened, but took in the full significance of the scene I had witnessed when told that the notes which had acted like a bomb formed the first bar of "God Save the Tsar." A few miles farther on the Autocrat of All the Russias had already met an ignominious death by being thrown down a disused pit near the line dividing Asia and Europe. In death, as in life, he remained the divider of his people.
The trains started off during the night, and on the evening of the next day we arrived at Hachinsk, where a Russian guard did the usual military honours, and a sad-faced, deep-eyed priest presented me with bread and salt, as becomes a Tartar who welcomes a friend. It was lucky for me that I had some little training in public speaking, and that "Polkovnika Franka" could make such excellent translations, or we might not have made such a good impression as I flatter myself we did on some occasions.
At last we arrived at Omsk, the end of our journey, having passed in a zigzag direction almost round the world. A few miles to the Urals and Europe again—so near and yet so far!
As Omsk, unlike so many other towns of Siberia, did not care to pay the usual toll demanded by the railway prospectors, it is situated several versts from the main trunk line. To overcome this inconvenience a branch line was afterwards run up to the town itself. The date of our arrival was October 18, and a right royal welcome awaited us. The station was decorated with the flags of all nations, the Russian for the first time predominating. We were met by General Matkofsky, the commander of the district, and his Staff, who welcomed us on behalf of the new Russian army, by M. Golovaehoff, Assistant Minister for Foreign Affairs, and the representatives of the municipal authorities and the co-operative societies. The women of Russia presented us with bread and salt, and, generally speaking, the people of Omsk gave us a real Russian welcome. The ceremonial over, the men were taken to the Cadet School for tea and entertainment, while the Russian officers regaled the Middlesex officers at a feast in the Officers' Club. We were introduced to all and sundry, and began to mix wonderfully well. If we had laid ourselves out for it, we might have visited every decent Russian home in Omsk. As it was, we soon became so much in demand that most of us had in a short time formed lasting friendships with a very charming set of people. Their welcome was doubtless tinged with relief at the security afforded by the presence of well-disciplined troops. The wife of a Russian general told me that she felt as though for the first time she could sleep peacefully in her bed. The little cadet son of another officer gave permission for his loaded rifle to be taken from the side of his bed, where it had rested every night since the Bolshevik Revolution and the cadet massacres had commenced. If I understand the Russian character denials of this may be expected, but it is a fact that the presence of those 800 English soldiers gave a sense of confidence and security to the people of Omsk that was pathetic in its simplicity and warmth. However suspicious of each other as a rule the Russians may be, there is no question that when their confidence is given, it is given generously and without reservation. As to its lasting qualities, that has to be proved, but at the time it is something real and tangible, and no amount of trouble taken for one's comfort is too great.
On the date of arrival I had only a few moments for conversation with Sir Charles Eliot, our High Commissioner, on the political situation. I gathered from him and his Staff that a desperate effort was being made to join the forces of the Directorate of Five, which stood as the All-Russian Government and received its authority from the Constituent Assembly at Ufa—largely Social Revolutionary in character—and the Siberian Government, the outcome of the Siberian Districts Duma, which met at Tomsk and was largely reactionary, with a small mixture of Socialist opinion. The English and French representatives were genuinely anxious that a workable compromise should be made between these two groups and a Cabinet formed that would give confidence to moderate Russian opinion, and so command Allied recognition with reasonable prospects of success. This very desirable ambition of the Allied "politicals" had the sympathy of every friend of Russia, but advice is one thing, accomplishment another. It was impossible to expect that the effects of hundreds of years of tyranny and bad government could be swept away by the waving of a diplomatic wand. The Siberian Government was largely composed of the "old gang," Revolutionary and Royalist, and derived its support almost exclusively from the desire of the people to escape further bloodshed; it was guarded by the Royalist Cossack clans, as lawless as they are brave. The Ufa Directorate derived its authority from the moderate Social Revolutionary party composed of the "Intelligenzia"—republican, visionary, and impractical. Kerensky was, from all accounts, a perfect representative of this class, verbose and useless so far as practical reconstructive work was concerned. This class blamed the unswerving loyalty of the Cossacks and the old army officers for all the crimes of which the Tsars were guilty, and had hunted them like rats in cellars and streets during the worst days of the Second Revolution. The officer and Cossack class cursed Kerensky and the Social Revolutionaries for destroying the old army and letting free the forces of anarchy and Bolshevism, which had destroyed the State and had massacred the manhood of Russia in an orgy of violence and hate.
There should be no mistake made as to the apportionment of blame. Kerensky is considered by all classes of Russian society as the cause of all their calamities. They think, rightly or wrongly, that at the supreme moment when the destiny of his race and country was placed in his hands he proved traitor to the trust; that had he possessed one-tenth of the courage of either Lenin or Trotsky millions of Russians would have been saved from worse than death.
To combine these hostile and divergent elements into a united party for the resurrection of Russia seemed impossible to me, as it did to one other Britisher, Mr. David Frazer, theTimesPekin correspondent; but the "politicals" thought otherwise. That they were guided by the highest motives and that they gave of their very best in the interest of the Russian people no one who has the slightest knowledge of the high personal character of our representatives could doubt for a moment, but they tried to accomplish the unattainable. The most that could be said of their policy is that it was worth attempting. Try they did, and under the influence of the Bolshevik guns booming along the Urals and of Royalist conspiracies at Chita a piece of paper was produced with a number of names upon it which seemed to bear the resemblance of a working arrangement between these two opposites.
I am writing this within three weeks of the occurrence, and may modify my views later, but for the life of me I cannot understand the satisfaction of our "politicals" with their work. They "downed tools" at once and disappeared from the scene of their triumph as though the few names on a piece of paper had solved the whole problem of the future of Russia. It would be mighty interesting to know the nature of their communications to their respective Governments. One thing, however, had been done which was fated to have important after-effects. Vice-Admiral Koltchak had been brought into the new Council of Ministers with the title of Minister for War. I had never met the officer, and knew nothing about him or his reputation, and merely lumped him in with the rest as an additional unit in an overcrowded menagerie. Frazer and I had many talks about these events, but we could fasten on to nothing real in the situation except danger.
On November 6, 1918, we were all invited to a banquet in honour of this new All-Russian Government. It was to be the climax of all our efforts and a tangible evidence of the successful accomplishment of a great diplomatic task. I was rather late, and the ante-rooms were already filled with soldiers and diplomats in grand uniforms with glittering swords and decorations.
I watched this peculiar and intensely highly-strung crowd with the greatest interest, and except for one figure—a sort of cross between a Methodist parson and a Plymouth Brother—was struck by the complete absence of personality amongst the people present. The parsonified person referred to turned out to be the Social Revolutionary, Volagodsky, President of the Siberian Council, who had now transferred his love from Siberia to the whole of Russia. But as my liaison officer was repeating the names of those present a smart little energetic figure entered the room. With eagle eyes he took in the whole scene at a glance. The other officers had bowed gracefully to all their friends and gallantly kissed the ladies' hands, while around them buzzed the conversation. For an instant the buzz ceased, during which the brown figure with the dark, clear-cut face shook hands with an officer friend and departed. The impression on my mind was that I had seen a small, vagrant, lonely, troubled soul without a friend enter unbidden to a feast.
The new President of the Council of Ministers, Avkzentieff, presided at the banquet, and as we sat down I found myself at the end of the head table, which gave me a good view of the stranger I had seen in the vestibule sitting second round the corner. The dinner was good, the vodka gave warmth to the blood and made a very pleasant contrast to the "60 below" outside. Avkzentieff led the speeches. Immediately my mind flew to Hyde Park Corner, and then to the Lyceum stage with Irving in "The Bells." He spoke with assumed sincerity, cutting the air with his hands in the manner that a Cossack sweeps off a head with his blade. He sank his voice and hissed his words in a hoarse stage whisper, while pointing to the ceiling with a dramatic forefinger. In other words, he was the best actor it had been my pleasure to see for a long time—a second edition of his more famous colleague, the futile Kerensky. Little did I dream that within a few days I would beg for this man's life and that the Middlesex Regiment would shield him from eternity.
Then followed a speech by General Knox (Chief of the British Military Mission), who implored all classes of Russian thought to pull together to establish an Army and a Government capable of supporting law and public order, a speech full of patriotism and very much to the point. Then came General Bolderoff, Commander-in-Chief of the new Russian army and military member of the Ufa Directorate. He had the appearance of a big, brave, blundering Russian officer. Not too much brain, cunning, but not clever. I should, however, give him credit for more than ordinary honesty. Later Admiral Koltchak spoke—just a few short definite sentences. Very few cheers or shouts greeted this orator. He seemed more lonely than ever, but presented a personality that dominated the whole gathering. There was the usual passing round and signing of menus. I sent mine direct to the admiral for his signature, and when he automatically passed it to General Bolderoff I said "Neat," and it was returned with the solitary name of this solitary man. I was now absolutely satisfied that the new Government was a combination that refused to mix, and took the most stringent precautions to see that my unit did not become involved in its impending overthrow. I, however, made an important discovery at this congratulatory banquet, namely, that Russia still had one man who was able to rescue her from anarchy.
The business of Omsk went on much as usual, but Omsk society became more subdued in its whisperings. Clique countered clique, and conspirators undermined conspirators, while a peculiar tension hung over all.
During the negotiations connected with the formation of this Government a very serious hitch occurred which at one time threatened the whole project with disaster. General Bolderoff was known as a Social Revolutionary in politics. Through him the Social Revolutionaries had practically supreme control of the new army. Avkzentieff and Co., aiming at Social Revolutionary control of all the forces of the new Government, demanded that a Social Revolutionary should also control the newly-organised militia, which were to act as a sort of military police under the new régime. This was resented by the more moderate members of both groups, as it would have practically placed all power in the hands of one group, and that not distinguished for administrative ability or caution. In addition to which, the very claim made the moderates suspicious as to the use for which such power was to be employed. The presence of the Allies and the determination to form some sort of administration overcame these suspicions, and the moderates gave way and left both forces under the command of the Social Revolutionary group.
The Allies were pushing forward supplies intended for the new armies facing the Terrorists along the Ural front, but it was soon discovered that such arms were being deflected from their proper destination. The front line was kept denuded of arms and equipment of which it was in greatest need, while the militia in the rear, and under the Social Revolutionary control, were being regimented and fitted out with everything they required. The appeals of the front-line generals to Bolderoff, the Social Revolutionary Commander-in-Chief, fell on deaf ears, and things were getting into a serious condition. Admiral Koltchak, as Minister for War, presented the appeals to General Bolderoff, and backed them in a very determined manner. Bolderoff was equally outspoken, declaring that the appeals from the front were fictitious, and concluded one of these wrangles by informing the admiral that it was not his business; that the Social Revolutionary group had been forced by one of the Allies to accept the admiral as a member of the Government; that they had done so merely to secure Allied support and recognition, but he would remain a member of the Government only so long as he did not interfere in business from which, by a resolution of the Directorate, he was expressly excluded. Admiral Koltchak thereupon tendered his resignation, but was later prevailed upon to withdraw it so as to keep up a resemblance of harmony before the Allied Powers. He, however, insisted upon making a personal inspection of the front, for which permission was granted, as much to get him out of Omsk as for the proper performance of his ministerial duties.