REASONS FOR OUR REVERSES (_conclusion_)
Particular difficulties of the strategic situation—Defects in
organization and _personnel_—Absence of a military spirit in
the army, and lack of determination in carrying operations to a
finish—Breakdown of our organization under the strain of active
service.
It is the duty of every Headquarter Staff to work out all
possibilities, and, regardless of existing international relations, to
provide for war in every probable quarter. Accordingly, our general
line of operation in case of war with Japan had been duly drawn up in
conjunction with the staffs of the Pri-Amur and Kuan-tung districts,
and had been approved. The following is an extract from the paper
dealing with the subject:
“Taking advantage of her military position—for she will be more
ready for war than we are, and will therefore possess in the
first period of the campaign a great numerical superiority both
by sea and land—Japan can afford to define her objectives only
generally. She may (1) confine her attention to the occupation
of Korea, and not take the offensive against us (which will most
probably be the case); or (2) occupy Korea and also assume the
offensive—
(_a_) In Manchuria.
(_b_) Against Port Arthur.
(_c_) In the Southern Ussuri district (Vladivostok).
“Should Japan decide on the first alternative, then, taking
into consideration the number of reinforcements we shall need,
and the adverse conditions under which they will have to be
conveyed to the front, we shall be forced at first to allow her
to seize Korea—without retaliative action on our part, if only
she will confine herself to occupying that country, and not
develop plans against Manchuria and our territory. Should she
choose the second alternative, we should be obliged to fight,
and ought at once to make up our minds not to end the war until
we have utterly destroyed her army and fleet. In view, however,
of her numerical superiority and greater readiness during
the first period of the struggle, we shall have to assume a
generally defensive rôle. Any troops we may have within the
theatre of operations should as far as possible keep clear of
decisive actions, in order to avoid being defeated in detail
before we can concentrate in force.
“The numerical superiority of the Japanese fleet will probably
prevent our squadron from any major active operations, and it
will have to confine its action to the comparatively modest
task of delaying the enemy’s landing as much as possible. The
defence of our own possessions should be carried out by the
forces in the Southern Ussuri and the Kuan-tung districts,
which are formed for that particular object, and based on the
fortresses of Vladivostok and Port Arthur. All the remaining
troops, except those allotted to the line of communications and
to maintain order in Manchuria, should be concentrated in the
area Mukden-Liao-yang-Hsiu-yen. As the Japanese advance, these
troops, while delaying them as much as possible, will gradually
be compelled to retire on Harbin. If it becomes evident in the
first period of the campaign that the whole Japanese effort is
being directed against us in Manchuria, then the force which
would be concentrated first of all in the Southern Ussuri
district (1st Siberian Corps) would be transferred there.”
[Illustration: Sketch Map of MANCHURIA showing main places
along railway south of Harbin]
The two years succeeding the date on which this paper was written saw
great alterations in the strength, dispositions, and readiness of our
military and naval forces in the Far East. There was also considerable
change in the political conditions in Manchuria and in Northern Korea
in consequence of the active policy which we had begun to assume. It
was therefore found necessary in 1903 to consider a revision of the
above scheme in accordance with these altered conditions. During those
two years our strength in the Far East had grown by the increase in our
land forces and fleet, and the improved efficiency of the railways.
We have already seen what was done to improve the latter. It will
suffice to say here that, instead of the twenty waggons available over
the whole Chinese line in 1901, the War Department in 1903 received
seventy-five in the twenty-four hours, and hoped, on the strength of
promises made, to have five through military trains by the beginning of
1904. The fleet, which in 1901 was considered inferior to the Japanese,
was, at the end of 1903, stated, on the authority of the Viceroy,
Admiral Alexeieff, to be so strong that any possibility of its defeat
by the Japanese was inadmissible. But in those same two years Japan
had not been idle, and had been unceasingly increasing her naval and
military forces. In consequence of this the relative local strengths
of the two nations were still much the same in 1903 as they had been
in 1901, and it was thought prudent to adhere to the same general plan
of operations as had been drawn up and approved two years previously.
To give an official opinion of that time, I quote an extract from a
memorandum I submitted to the Tsar on August 6, 1903:
“In the report which will be sent in from the Headquarter
Staff, the conclusion arrived at after a careful appreciation
of the resources of both nations is the same as that reached
two years ago—namely, that in the event of war with Japan,
we should act on the defensive; that the concentration
and general distribution of our troops should remain the
same; that although we may move troops on to the line
Mukden-Liao-yang-Hsiu-yen, we cannot hold our ground in
Southern Manchuria in the first period of the war if that
region be invaded by the whole Japanese army. We should
therefore still count upon Port Arthur being cut off for a
considerable period, and in order to avoid defeat in detail,
should withdraw towards Harbin until reinforcements from
Russia enable us to assume the offensive. But I may add that,
while accepting the same plan of operations as we did two
years ago, we can now have far greater confidence in the
issue of a struggle. Our fleet is stronger than the Japanese,
and as reinforcements will arrive now more quickly than they
could have formerly, it will take less time for us to be in a
position to advance.”
In a memorandum by the Chief of the Headquarter Staff, submitted to me
on February 12, 1904—_i.e._, a few days after the enemy had attacked
our fleet at Port Arthur—General Sakharoff described the Japanese
intentions as follows:
“The Japanese plan appears to be—
“1. To inflict a crushing blow upon our fleet so as to paralyze
its activity once and for all, and thus guarantee freedom of
movement to their transports. To attain this end they have not
hesitated to attack us before the declaration of war (_vide_
the night operations of February 8 and 9). The transfer to
them by the British of Wei-hai-wei also has given them an
advantageous naval base right on the flank of any operations
undertaken by our squadron.
“2. To capture Port Arthur in order to attain the same
object—the destruction of our fleet.
“3. To advance on and capture Harbin, so as to isolate the
Pri-Amur district from the rest of Russia, and to destroy the
railway.”
Our hopes as to the promised improvement of the railway were
unfortunately not realized, while our fleet, damaged by the enemy’s
onslaught before the declaration of war, was not only weaker than the
enemy’s, but failed even to perform the modest task expected of it in
1901. Consequently the concentration of our troops was a far slower
business than we thought it would be, while the Japanese, having
gained command of the sea, threw the whole of their army on to the
continent. Thus, gaining the initiative on land as well as on the sea,
and fired as they were with immense patriotism, the enemy commenced
the war superior to us morally as well as materially. However, though
the task before us was one of extreme difficulty, our resources were
immensely superior to the enemy’s, and the moment when we should become
completely ready for the struggle was only postponed. Notwithstanding
the unfavourable conditions under which we started, after fifteen
months’ fighting we were holding the Hsi-ping-kai positions, and,
although we had not actually assumed the offensive, we had by no means
retired as far as Harbin, which had been accepted as a possibility
in the original scheme. If we had only possessed the determination
necessary to carry this scheme right through, we ought not to have
ended the war until we had utterly defeated the enemy. Therefore,
whatever we did accomplish can only be looked upon as preparatory to
the decisive struggle. One of the assumptions of our original scheme
of operations was that, if a strong Japanese force invaded Southern
Manchuria, we should not be able, in the first period of the war, to
hold it. In the event the whole Japanese army invaded that area, but
the opposition shown by our troops at Liao-yang, on the Sha Ho, and
at Mukden, was so effectual that, though the enemy gained possession
of the greater portion of Southern Manchuria, they did not reassume
the offensive against us for six months. The difficulties which the
Japanese surmounted in advancing from Ta-shih-chiao to Tieh-ling
cannot be compared to those which would have faced them, in the three
defensive lines which we had constructed on the way to Harbin,[9] had
they attempted to drive us to that place. I reiterate what I have so
often said in the preceding chapters: though the war was brought to an
end, the army was not beaten. Of the great force which lay ready on the
Hsi-ping-kai position in August, 1905, one-half had never been under
fire. Further on I will explain how it was that we never acquired the
material and moral superiority necessary to defeat the enemy during the
fifteen months that the war did last.
In the diary I kept when in Japan[10] I drew a diagram, with
explanatory notes, to illustrate the Japanese question and show the
possibility of our being able to defend our interests in Manchuria and
Korea by force. I reproduce the diagram[11] and the notes _in extenso_:
“This diagram shows Japan’s comparatively favourable situation
with regard to the theatre of operations. Her base—indeed, her
whole country—is only about 600 miles by sea from our shores,
and 135 from Korea.
“Our territory in Asia is so vast and so thinly populated that
we shall be compelled to make European Russia, which is 3,400
to 6,000 miles distant, our base. For a protracted war with
Japan it is evident that the single-line Siberian Railway will
not suffice; we shall be obliged to lay a second track, and
to increase the number of trains in the twenty-four hours.
Also, as it runs for a considerable distance along the Chinese
frontier and through Chinese territory, it cannot be relied on
in the event of war with both China and Japan together.”
We were glued to the railway, and could not move away without risk of
being left without supplies. Our field artillery and heavy four-wheeled
transport carts were unable to travel over most of the hill roads. The
summer rains made the movements of the army, with its heavy baggage
trains and parks, extremely difficult; teams of twenty horses were
harnessed to guns, and even empty carts had to be man-handled.
[Illustration: DIAGRAM SHOWING THE POSITION OF THE THEATRE OF WAR
RELATIVELY TO RUSSIA AND JAPAN.]
But of all our difficulties, the complete command of the sea obtained
by the Japanese right at the beginning of the war caused the greatest.
With their three armies they cut off Port Arthur, and began an advance
from an enveloping base against our army, which was still tied to a
railway-line. Our southward advance for the relief of Port Arthur
was threatened by Kuroki’s army based on Korea. Any movement against
him was out of the question, especially for those corps which had
arrived from Russia, as they were quite unused to hilly country. Our
communications through Manchuria were only weakly defended, and might
be cut at any moment by the Chinese, while those further west were
liable to interruption (bridges destroyed, strikes, frost, etc.).
The feeding of the army depended on local resources, which a hostile
population could easily conceal, carry away, or even destroy; and as
the amount of supplies obtained from Russia was extremely small and
uncertain, the army might very easily have been starved. The chance
actions at the Ya-lu and Te-li-ssu, in which our most reliable troops
were worsted, still further improved the enemy’s _moral_, and lowered
ours.
With the absence of a proper military spirit among our troops, and
the evil influence of the many seditious manifestoes against the
war circulating amongst them; with the unsteadiness shown by many
units in the first fights, and with all the other defects above
mentioned, a great numerical superiority was necessary—I must speak
perfectly plainly—in order to defeat an enemy worked up to a pitch of
fanatical excitement. But we did not obtain this superiority until
it was too late—when we were waiting on the Hsi-ping-kai position,
and negotiations for peace were being carried on at Portsmouth. Up
to December we were fighting with what seemed a fairly large force,
according to a tally of battalions; but these were greatly under
strength, for in the most important early period of the war—from May
to October inclusive—we lost very many men, and received but few
drafts. In many cases the Japanese battalions were twice as strong as
ours. While all our actions were hampered by insufficient information
regarding the enemy, the intelligence we received as to what was
happening in our rear—in Mongolia and in the Manchurian provinces—was
so alarming as to compel us to detach a large force to protect our
communications. Again, when the enemy became complete masters of the
sea, we had to detail sufficient troops to guard against a landing in
the Vladivostok and the Ussuri districts. All these things combined
to complicate our position and give the enemy the initiative at the
start, and right manfully did their whole nation strive to seize
their advantage. Their land communications were safe; their sea
communication with their base was quick and sure. We, on the contrary,
could only put in the field a fraction of our land forces, and, till we
could concentrate sufficient men for an offensive, were tied down to a
definite course of action. We had—
1. To make certain of and protect the concentration of the
reinforcements which were arriving, so as not to allow them to be
destroyed as they came up.
2. To take steps to relieve Port Arthur.
3. To maintain order in our rear, and to guard the railway.
4. To feed the army—mainly on local supplies.
5. To guard the Ussuri district.
Had the Japanese got possession of our communications, a catastrophe
unprecedented in military history might have resulted. Without any
victory in the field, the mere destruction of the railway in our
rear, combined with the cutting off of local resources, would have
threatened us with starvation—and disaster. Such were the unfavourable
conditions under which we fought for fifteen months, and our army was
not only _not_ completely defeated, but grew in strength, while our
communication with Russia gradually became better secured and more
efficient. We had always recognized the possibility of being driven
back to Harbin and beyond; but this never happened, and we held on to
Hsi-ping-kai. The situation could only have been improved in one way—by
a rapid concentration of sufficient troops for, and an assumption of,
an offensive all along the line. While these troops were collecting,
each fight—quite independent of its actual result—would have really
helped us if it had at all weakened the enemy. But our departure from
our accepted plan of operations began at the commencement of the war,
when, instead of fighting a rearguard action, General Zasulitch got
seriously engaged against the whole of Kuroki’s army at the Ya-lu, and
was defeated.
In May, when the 3rd Siberian Division[12] had alone arrived at
Liao-yang (besides the troops of the Pri-Amur Military District), the
Viceroy, fearing for the fate of Port Arthur, instructed me to assume
the offensive towards the Ya-lu against Kuroki’s army, or southwards
for the relief of the fortress of Port Arthur. But the inadequate force
with which General Shtakelberg pushed forward, owing to ignorance
of the fact that the Japanese were in superior strength, got drawn
into a serious engagement at Te-li-ssu, and was defeated. With the
arrival of all the units of the 4th Siberian Corps and one division
of the 10th Army Corps, it seemed possible to contain Kuroki’s army,
to concentrate fifty to sixty battalions rapidly in the direction of
Ta-shih-chiao, and to attempt to hurl back Oku to the south. It seemed
as if our army had a splendid chance of operating on interior lines.
The enemy was strung along three lines of advance—Dalny, Kai-ping,
Ta-shih-chiao (Oku); Ta-ku-shan, Hsiu-yen, Ta-ling, Hai-cheng (Nodzu);
Ya-lu, Feng-huang-cheng, Fen-shui-ling, Liao-yang (Kuroki). We occupied
the central position—Liao-yang, Hai-cheng, Ta-shih-chiao—with advance
guards thrown forward on to the Fen-shui-ling heights. We might have
been able, by containing two armies and deceiving the enemy by a
demonstration, to strike the third army in force. A blow delivered at
Kuroki or Nodzu did not promise success, owing to our lack of training
in, and unpreparedness for, hill warfare [we had no mountain artillery,
our baggage was heavy, and we were uncertain of receiving supplies,
owing to the insufficiency of transport material]. The only other
course was to strike at Oku, who was based on the railway, but such an
operation was risky, because Kuroki and Nodzu might have driven back
our screens and fallen on our communications. On June 26 and 27, when
only one brigade of the 31st Division of the 10th Army Corps[13] had
arrived at Liao-yang, the Japanese on the eastern front (Kuroki and
Nodzu) themselves took the offensive and seized the passes (Fen-shui
Ling, Mo-du Ling, Da Ling) on the Fen-shui-ling heights. We opposed
them in insufficient strength, and did not even make them disclose
their numbers. The troops of the eastern force withdrew towards
Tkhavuop, and General Levestam’s force to Hsi-mu-cheng. Our screens
were thus situated as follows: on Kuroki’s line of advance, only two
marches from Hai-cheng; on Oku’s line of advance at Ta-shih-chiao, four
marches from Liao-yang.[14] Our position was critical, particularly
if the information we had received as to the Japanese collecting in
considerable force to operate against Hai-cheng was confirmed. Still,
if we were able to strike a rapid blow at Oku, we might rob the enemy
of the initiative, and after forcing back Oku’s army, have fallen on
Nodzu. After we had driven back these troops, Kuroki’s position would
have been so far forward and so far separated from the other groups
that the danger of his breaking through to Liao-yang would have been
minimized. But for such decisive operations the first requisite was the
concentration of sufficient troops for offensive operations against Oku.
[Illustration: GENERAL BARON KITEN NOGI.]
At the end of June we had altogether available against the three
Japanese armies 120 battalions, and were inferior to the enemy both
in the number of battalions and the number of men. Our position was
made worse by an epidemic of dysentery which broke out amongst the
troops at Ta-shih-chiao, and swept off a considerable number of men.
The Krasnoyarsk Regiment[15] was the greatest sufferer, having as many
as 1,500 men down with the disease at the end of the month. But the
main thing which delayed any advance on our part was the rain, which
made all moves difficult, and some places absolutely impassable for
transport. It was even difficult to convey supplies to our various
stationary forces over distances of less than a march. In spite of the
lack of pack-saddles, wheeled transport had to be given up for pack
transport, and not even pack-animals could do more than seven to eleven
miles in the twenty-four hours. On the Liao-yang–Lang-tzu-shan road
things were still worse, for the bridges over the mountain streams had
been carried away, and communication between the eastern force (3rd
Siberian Corps, under Count Keller) and Liao-yang was interrupted for
some time. Far, therefore, from being ready to advance, the officers
commanding the 1st and 4th Siberian Corps found the greatest difficulty
in rationing their troops, and on June 29 asked that they might be
withdrawn towards the positions near the railway at Ta-shih-chiao, and
that the country east of the line might be left to the cavalry, with a
few infantry units in support.[16]
General Count Keller was persistent in his demands that communication
should be maintained between his force and Liao-yang, but we had
neither the material, the means, nor the time to comply with his
wishes, which would have meant the laying of a light railway and the
strengthening of the road bridges. As I feared that the Japanese might
make a fresh forward movement on Hai-cheng, I ordered thirty-nine
battalions to concentrate near Hsi-mu-cheng on June 29. The short march
from Hai-cheng was accomplished on the 28th with great difficulty
through a sea of mud, and on the 29th Hsi-mu-cheng was temporarily
cut off by the mountain streams in flood. The feeding of the troops
collected there was found to be so difficult that as soon as it was
known that the enemy, instead of advancing, had retired towards the
Fen-shui Ling (Pass), certain units were ordered to return to the
railway. Taking advantage, on July 18, of the screen formed by a
portion of the 17th Army Corps, we attempted to advance against part
of Kuroki’s army in the hope of forcing our way forward and gaining
a partial success. For this Count Keller had under his command
forty-three battalions, but the attempt failed. He stopped the action
before any large number of our troops had become engaged. On the 29th
Oku’s army took the offensive; we had to evacuate Ta-shih-chiao and
Newchuang after a feeble resistance, and allowed Oku and Nodzu to
join hands. When on July 23 I inspected the units of the 10th Army
Corps, who were holding the position near Hu-chia-tzu, I found out
how absolutely incapable of operating in hilly country the troops
newly arrived from Russia were. Before sending them forward, it was
necessary to train them in hill fighting, and to provide them with
pack transport. On July 31 all three Japanese armies advanced, and we
concentrated after a series of battles round Liao-yang. Here, in spite
of our resistance, the three armies were able to join hands. Their
attacks on the left bank of the Tai-tzu Ho were repulsed, but owing
to the unfortunate nature of our operations on the right bank, the
conditions became so unfavourable to us that I was obliged to order a
retirement to Mukden. The withdrawal was conducted without the loss
of a single gun or transport cart, while the enemy lost in men more
heavily than we did. In the detailed accounts I have given in the first
three volumes of the operations at Liao-yang, on the Sha Ho and at
Mukden, our difficulties and the causes of our defeats are explained.
The course of events showed that our original scheme of operations was
quite a correct forecast, for in it the probable necessity of retiring
towards Harbin had been foreseen. Indeed, matters at Liao-yang, on the
Sha Ho, and especially at Mukden, might have been very much worse for
us than they were, and might have necessitated our retirement on Harbin
early in October, 1904, when, as a matter of fact, we remained in
Southern Manchuria.
Clausewitz has truly laid down that an army should be inseparably
connected with its base, but our base was Russia, more than 5,000 miles
away. The way that this one difficulty alone was overcome will perhaps
be eventually appreciated at its true worth. The very complicated
attendant circumstances demanded great and patient efforts on the
part of the whole nation in order to turn them to our advantage. Our
reverses were explicable, and even in our defeat we exhausted our
enemy, while ourselves increasing in strength. It was inevitable that a
different complexion would have been put on the face of things as soon
as circumstances became more favourable to us.
DIFFICULTIES IN ORGANIZATION.
The war showed that our army organization gave us too small a
percentage of actual combatants as compared with the total numbers
whom we rationed. By this I mean that, in spite of the immense numbers
that we maintained in the face of great difficulties, we were unable
to put enough men into action to win. Our establishments of all arms,
of parks, hospitals, transport corps, field bakeries, staffs, and all
offices and institutions, include a large percentage of non-combatants,
which was swollen in the last war by the absence of any organized line
of communication troops, the necessity of carrying out a large amount
of railway construction, and of appointing officers and men to newly
formed supply and transport units. Even so the number of non-combatants
laid down in the establishments for each unit was not sufficient
to perform the duties that fell to them, and it became necessary,
for reasons which will be mentioned later, to detail combatants for
domestic duties. As but few non-combatants were wounded in action,
the proportion of them to the combatant element became still greater
after every big fight. It was usual, when a battle was imminent, to
order back to their units all men who were on extra-regimental duties,
but in spite of all the steps taken, the fighting number was never
more than 75 per cent. of the number of men on the strength. In the
beginning of April, 1905, when we were preparing the theatre of war up
to the River Sungari, the combatant element of the 1st Manchurian Army
actually fell to 58 per cent. of the strength. As in previous wars, the
infantry, of course, did most of the fighting, and also carried out by
far the greater number of fatigues and extra duties. As they also lost
more men in action, their fighting strength was proportionately more
reduced than that of the other arms.[17] In April, 1905, the percentage
of rifles in the 1st Manchurian Army to the total number of men that
had to be rationed was 51·9 per cent. When the convalescents returned
to the ranks, its strength amounted by the beginning of December to
192,000 men, of whom 105,879 carried rifles; but we could only put a
much smaller number in action owing to various duties, fatigues, etc.
In August, 1905, the number of rifles was 58·9 per cent. of the total
of men rationed.
To obviate this state of affairs, and to insure that companies should
be as strong as possible in action, I gave orders on June 9, 1905
[when I was commanding the 1st Manchurian Army], that out of each of
the four battalion regiments, not more than 369 combatants should be
detailed for extra duties. This figure included 128 stretcher-bearers,
35 bandsmen, and 48 men for baggage guards. In addition to this, a
large number of men were required for road and bridge work on the
communications, for guards for the different stores, for working
parties to assist the supply and medical services, for policing
villages, for duty with the improvised transport units, etc. True, this
had its compensations, for we were able thus to get rid of the 2nd
Category reservists from the ranks; but we felt the loss in the number
of rifles we could place in the firing-line. Of course, there were, in
addition, the sick, the wounded, and the convalescents with units and
in hospital. In this way the total of all ranks classed as combatants
but absent from the firing-line, or not doing combatant work, amounted
on the average to 800 men out of every four-battalion regiment, or
about one-quarter of its strength. To carry on the campaign without
properly organized units on the communications, without sufficient camp
guards, without making roads and bridges, without allowing men for
transport and baggage duties, was impossible. Notwithstanding the good
payment we offered, the native population did not come forward to work
freely, especially when fighting was imminent. A certain number were
employed on transport, but they were very unreliable, and bolted at the
first alarm, often taking their horses and carts with them. During the
battle of Mukden, for instance, the whole of the hired transport of the
1st Army, consisting of 400 carts, entirely disappeared. Our attempts
to obtain Russian hired labour were a failure, though the rates of pay
offered were liberal enough.
The extent to which transport duties were responsible for weakening the
fighting strength of the army can be seen from the fact that, during
the fifteen months of war, 122 transport units were formed, and 8,656
carts, 51,000 horses, and 20,000 pack-animals purchased. For duty with
these, 328 officers, 22,000 men, 1,700 hired civilians (Russians), and
9,850 Chinamen were employed. These 122 units were improvised under
adverse conditions and from small cadres, and, as they had to be raised
in a hurry, there was nothing for it but to appoint to them men and
officers from the army.
The strength of units also decreased most marvellously in action.
This was partly due to losses, but often also due to the habit of
men leaving the firing-line to carry wounded to the rear. This was
sometimes done with permission, sometimes without. Very often the men
who retired did not have this excuse.
I have pointed out (in Chapter VII.) that the army did not receive
its drafts in time, and that we had to fight below strength; this
shortage was still further increased for the following reasons: The war
establishment of a company was 220 rifles; but from this number had to
be deducted the shortage with which units arrived at the front,[18]
the sick, and those detailed for camp and other duties—a procedure
which, though unprovided for by Regulations, was permitted by officers
in command. Accordingly companies often went into the very first
fight at a strength of only 160 to 170 rifles. For a long time the
personal supervision exercised by commanding officers to insure that
units took the field as strong as possible was very slack. It seemed,
on the contrary, as if their efforts tended all the other way, for
they left men behind whenever they possibly could, particularly those
who were most necessary—_i.e._, those on whom depended the payment
and regular rationing of the men. Thus, with the exception of the
regimental adjutant, the staff of a regiment rarely went into action;
while of the men who are classed as combatants, the company clerks,
armourer-sergeant, cooks, officers’ servants, the butcher, the cattle
guards and the officers’ grooms, were always left behind. The formation
of a force of mounted scouts took away a certain number of men, and
stretcher-bearers and bandsmen of course did not fight. Finally, owing
to the peculiar nature of the country, donkeys for carrying water were
provided for each company, and these required men to look after them,
and one or two entire companies from each regiment had to be detached
as baggage guard owing to the insecurity of our communications.
Commanding officers thought it necessary to leave behind so many men
for the above purposes that the orders given for them to accompany the
firing-line were either quite neglected, or only half carried out. It
was soon found that eight bearers per company were far too few for
carrying wounded, and men from the ranks were allowed to help their
wounded comrades to the rear. From this cause companies often literally
melted away during a fight. There were many instances where unwounded
men went to the rear under pretext of carrying away the wounded, at the
rate of six, eight, or ten sound soldiers to one wounded! The return
of these willing helpers to the front was not so prompt as it might
have been, and was difficult to control. The result was that a company
hotly engaged usually only had 100 or less rifles after a few hours’
fighting, although its losses might have been inconsiderable.
Meanwhile, as we only asked for drafts strong enough to bring companies
up to the established war strength, without taking into account the
above extraordinary leakage, the drafts we received did not bring
companies up to their proper strength in action.
The reason why the lines of communication in the field[19] took
so large a number away from our fighting-line was that we had no
proper communication units, and the large working parties necessary
for the light railway, road and bridge work had to be drawn from the
fighting troops. It was entirely owing to the care with which the
commanding officers on the line of communications—especially those
in the engineers—had been selected that we were able to fight, and
at the same time to make roads of some hundreds of miles’ length for
intercommunication between corps. For instance, at the end of 1904
and the beginning of 1905, when the 1st Army was south of the Hun Ho,
out of 180,000 men, 7,000 were on the line of communications. At the
beginning of July, 1905, when the strength of the 1st Army had gone up
to 250,000, and the communications stretched back a length of 150 miles
to the River Sungari, there were 10,000 men employed on them—_i.e._,
4 per cent. of the army’s strength. The length of the road made on the
Hsi-ping-kai positions by the 1st Army alone amounted to 1,000 miles,
with bridges of more than 20 feet breadth and 50 feet span, and nearly
40 miles of embankment. Though the greater part of this was done by
hired Chinese labour, even in this comparatively quiet period the
troops of the 1st Army were on “works” for a period of 30,000 working
“man days.”[20]
The supply service, also, as has been mentioned, absorbed a large
number of men. The field commissariat were unable, at the beginning of
the campaign, to work the bakeries owing to the lack of men. All the
bakeries, therefore, were taken over by the troops, who had to build
the ovens, buy flour, and bake the bread themselves. Thus the eight
field bakeries (of which four were in Liao-yang) which arrived in
Harbin and Liao-yang without transport or men had at first to be taken
over by the troops. But from May, 1904, onwards the Governor-General
insisted on most of the work being handed back to the Commissariat
Department. The energy of General Gubur, the Field Intendant of the
army, in obtaining supplies locally rescued it from the difficult
position in which it was beginning to find itself owing to the
constantly increasing number of mouths and to the inadequate number
of supply trains. Assisted by Generals Bachinski and Andro, General
Gubur took full advantage of all the resources of the country. For
this, again, officers and men were necessary to guard supply depôts and
collect and escort herds of cattle, and were taken from the combatant
troops. A large part of the forage and meat the troops obtained for
themselves, but this entailed the provision of strong foraging parties,
which went far afield and often remained away a considerable time, and
of permanent guards to tend the regimental cattle. When the troops of
the Pri-Amur district were concentrated in Manchuria, they left a
number of men behind as “base details” to look after their buildings
and property. Touch was maintained between these base details and the
units at the front during the whole war; from them the troops received
their warm clothing in winter, and to them it was sent back in the
summer of 1905. This all meant the employment of soldiers. Finally,
men had to be told off for topographical work, reconnaissance, and as
escorts for officers and other persons, etc.
The number for all the above duties taken together, with the wounded
and sick present with units, constituted on an average 400 to 500 men
per regiment. This, added to the 369 authorized “employed” men above
mentioned, brought the total up to 800. Obviously such a loss of
numbers must be taken into consideration in appreciating the fighting
work of the army.
Other things which contributed to the same result were the immense
development of the different staffs and administrations, the auxiliary
institutions, such as supply parks and hospitals, the congestion on
the roads caused by the masses of baggage which had collected, and
the fact that both our wheeled and pack transport carried less than
it was supposed to owing to the hilly country and the all-prevailing
mud. After heavy fighting our army corps, especially those consisting
of three-battalion regiments, amounted to less than 10,000 to 15,000
rifles, and yet the immense organization, military parks, baggage, and
transport, etc., for a full corps had still to be guarded. Even the
regimental standards, which should have been a source of strength and
encouragement in the fight, were in many cases prematurely taken to the
rear under a guard of a company or half a company, the troops at the
front being weakened by this number at the most important moment of an
action. I was obliged to make a ruling that in action the standards
should be kept with the regimental reserves, and that steps should be
taken that they should be a symbol of victory in the most critical
phases of a fight (as used to be the case in former wars), and a source
of strength instead of weakness to the units which possessed them.
In September and October, 1905, instead of one Manchurian army,
three were formed (the 1st, 2nd, and 3rd); they were all intended
for operations in the Mukden area, and were based on the one railway
which constituted their common line of communications. The powers
of the army commanders were as laid down by regulation. Officers in
command of armies were given (Field Service Regulations, 1890) almost
all the powers formerly vested in the Commander-in-Chief. As regards
fighting, it was laid down that “in conducting military operations the
officer commanding an army should be guided by the instructions of
the Commander-in-Chief, but should act independently.” This latitude
would be very convenient in operating in Europe, where each army
would have its own independent line of communications; but in the
conditions which existed at Mukden—one common position and one line of
communications for all—and with a difference of views existing between
the army commanders as regards the conduct of affairs, the arrangement
was, to say the least of it, extremely unsuitable. A difference of
opinion upon some vital matter might easily arise, when it might be
necessary either to order the army commander to carry out an operation
which he thought unnecessary, inopportune, or even dangerous, or
else to ask for him to be replaced. For instance, a fortnight before
we assumed the offensive on January 25, after everything had been
settled and all plans drawn up, General Grippenberg suddenly surprised
me by his opinion—that the campaign was lost; that we should retire
towards Harbin, hold that point and Vladivostok, and thence move with
two armies in other directions. In which directions, he was unable
to explain. The Commander-in-Chief’s instructions on many essential
points, such as the danger of holding non-continuous lines[21] and
the necessity for having strong army reserves, were not carried out
because the responsibility for holding the defensive positions occupied
by the armies rested on the army commanders. Thus my endeavours to
send at least twenty-four battalions—if not the whole of the 17th
Army Corps—from the 3rd Army into the reserve failed, as the officer
commanding that army thought that his position in the centre would not
be safe if the regiments of the 17th Corps, which was in advance, were
replaced by reserve regiments of the 6th Siberians. As mentioned in the
account of the operations of the 14th Infantry Division at Hei-kou-tai,
notwithstanding my instructions to conceal our intention of attacking
the enemy’s left flank as long as possible, General Grippenberg, for
no apparent reason, and without even asking permission, assumed the
offensive almost two weeks before the time that I had fixed by moving
the 14th Division towards Ssu-fang-tai (on the heights by San-de-pu)
on January 13, and by moving the 10th Army Corps into the advanced
lines between the right flank of the 3rd Army and the River Hun on the
16th. By this the enemy was informed of our intentions before we began
our forward movement, and the front of the 2nd Army was spread over
thirteen miles.
With the exception of General Linievitch, our army commanders were
unnecessarily sensitive to interference with their powers, and in
cases where orders would formerly have been issued to corps commanders
it now became necessary to reckon with the personal opinions of army
commanders, and to guard against offending their susceptibilities.
After the pomp and parade of General Grippenberg’s departure from
the army, the relationship between the army commanders and the
Commander-in-Chief became still more strained. How jealously they
looked after their rights, and how strangely they interpreted their
own powers, is illustrated by the following incident: On February 19
I sent for the three army commanders and their chief staff officers,
in order to ascertain their views as to the plan of operations which
should be undertaken under the unfavourable conditions brought about
by the fall of Port Arthur and General Grippenberg’s unsuccessful
operations at Hei-kou-tai. The following courses were open to Nogi’s
army, no longer required in the Kuan-tung Peninsula: it might join
the four armies already in the field against us; it might, together
with the divisions formed in Japan and the troops in Korea, form a
force of seventy to eighty strong battalions for operations against
Vladivostok, or, landing at Possiet Bay, it might march against Kirin
and Harbin, so as to outflank our position at Mukden. I had also been
continually receiving reports from General Chichagoff to the effect
that the enemy had invaded Mongolia, and, aided by numerous bands of
Hun-huses, had begun to attack the railway in our rear, which had forced
me to weaken the army by detailing an infantry brigade and four Cossack
regiments to reinforce the railway guard and safeguard our position. In
spite of these reports, Generals Linievitch and Kaulbars expressed the
opinion that we ought not to change our plans, and should carry out the
orders I had issued on January 25—namely, to fall on the enemy’s left
flank. But when my Chief of Staff asked the officer commanding the 2nd
Army—who was to commence the operation—how he proposed to employ his
cavalry, Kaulbars,[22] looking upon the question as an interference
with his authority, became annoyed, and said much that was unnecessary
and quite beside the point. As it turned out, the Chief of the Staff
had every reason to be anxious as to the employment of this Army, for
its work in the battle of Mukden was anything but satisfactory.
The very large powers vested in army commanders in the matter of
bestowing distinctions was both unnecessary and harmful. They were
authorized to award the fourth class Order of St. George on the
recommendations of committees convened by them; they could give the
Distinguished Service Cross to private soldiers, and award the Orders
of St. Anne, second, third, and fourth classes, and St. Stanislav,
second and third classes, with swords and ribbons. As the forces
were lying so close together, it was very soon noticed that the
distribution of decorations in the different armies varied very much,
being in accordance with the personal predispositions of the different
commanders. In one army they were so lavishly bestowed as to excite
general derision, and their value was much lowered in consequence. By
far the worst offender in this respect was one well-known general,
who for one and the same engagement [Hei-kou-tai] decorated divers
officers with two Orders apiece, while, contrary to regulations, he
bestowed the Distinguished Service Cross to fifteen and more men per
company and battery. I jotted down in my diary my impressions after
inspecting units of the 2nd Army. Amongst other things, I noted that he
had awarded thirty Distinguished Service Crosses to a battery, of which
only seventy men had been in action and even then scarcely under fire.
Indeed, to my astonishment, as they stood on parade almost the whole
of the front rank were wearing crosses. The officer in command told
me that he had been ashamed to announce these rewards to the men, and
to have to try and select certain specific acts for them. I told the
men I hoped that they would show themselves worthy of these marks of
distinction in the fights to come!
The large independent powers possessed by the army commanders in
matters of supply were also superfluous in a case where there was only
one railway and one tract of country in which to procure supplies. The
only result was that prices were raised all round by the fact that
the different armies were bidding against each other. In this respect
General Grippenberg’s behaviour was most incomprehensible. As meat was
very scarce in December, I advised him to cut down the meat ration from
1 pound to 1/2 pound. Instead of this, by an order issued on January 3,
he increased it to 1-1/2 pounds per man per day. With the conditions
that obtained generally on the Sha Ho, and if our army corps had been
organized on a broader basis, there would have been no necessity
whatever for three separate army commanders with their special powers;
but they were appointed. And yet, after the disaster of Mukden, it
was the Commander-in-Chief who was generally held responsible for
everything.
DEFECTS IN _PERSONNEL_.
As regards the _personnel_, I will give in full the impressions
recorded in my report on the 1st Manchurian Army at a time when the
experiences of the war were fresh in my mind; my opinion in the main
agrees with those of other senior commanders.
(_a_) _The Command._—No appreciation of the senior commanders—that is
to say, of the work done by individual corps, divisional, and brigade
commanders—can or, indeed, ought to be made at present. The personal
element is too prominent. We must wait till personal feelings have
died away, so as to be able to draw impartial conclusions based on
authenticated facts, and on facts alone, as to what happened and who
was to blame. All the same, it may be said that the most pronounced
weak points amongst our senior commanders, especially in the first
period of the campaign, were their lack of initiative, their ignorance
of the method in which an attack should be conducted, and their want
of determination. There was never any co-ordination in the operations
of large units, which were really quite remarkable for their absolute
disconnection. Indifference as to the position of neighbouring forces
was the rule, and a tendency to accept defeat before a fight was really
lost was painfully evident. Even our best commanders preferred their
neighbour to be told off for the attack, while they themselves remained
in support. If a column were retiring under difficulties, any other
forces close at hand would withdraw also, instead of coming to its
assistance; and there was practically no instance of a bold forward
movement. The work of the regimental commanders was certainly better
than that of those higher up, but it was impossible not to notice that
they did not possess the power of making the most of a situation and
finding their way about. A regimental commander detached on special
duty could rarely make his arrangements without the assistance of
an officer of the General Staff; he could not, as a rule, read a
map himself, much less teach those under him how to do so. This was
especially the case at the beginning of the war, and had considerable
influence on the conduct of operations, as regiments often either
arrived late at their rendezvous or went to points where they were
not wanted. The lack of eye for country is partly explained by the
fact that our officers were quite unused to hills. Though this defect
certainly became less marked as time went on, it was still perceptible
in the operations round Mukden, and even afterwards.
Though the officers lacked a proper military spirit, they were
generally good in other ways, particularly those of the regular army.
The best proof of their gallantry is furnished by the number of losses
sustained by the 1st Army from November, 1904, to September, 1905, from
which it will be seen that their proportion of killed and wounded was
considerably higher than that of the men.
+-------+-------------------+-------------------+
| | Officers. | Rank and File. |
+-------+--------+----------+--------+----------+
| | |Percentage| |Percentage|
| |Numbers.|to Average|Numbers.|to Average|
| | | Strength.| | Strength.|
+-------+--------+----------+--------+----------+
|Killed | 167 | 4·1 | 4,779 | 2·5 |
|Wounded| 905 | 23·8 | 27,425 | 14·6 |
|Missing| 89 | 2·1 | 5,684 | 2·9 |
| +--------+----------+--------+----------+
| | 1,151 | 30 | 37,888 | 20 |
+-------+--------+----------+--------+----------+
The losses in this army for the whole period of the war were somewhat
higher:
Officers. Rank and
File.
Killed 396 10,435
Wounded 1,773 56,350
With the exception of those who had volunteered for the front, the
officers of the reserve were not nearly so well qualified as those of
the regulars; they were much behind them in tactical training, and did
not always perform their duties with the zeal which should be shown on
active service. Many ensigns of the reserve turned out unsatisfactory,
having accepted this rank purely to escape becoming private soldiers
upon mobilization; they had no sympathy with the military profession,
and hated soldiering. They were absolutely without training, and some
of them had no authority whatever over the men. The ensigns and
acting ensigns[23] promoted from the ranks for distinguished service
were excellent in every respect. Having been selected from the rank
and file, they usually appreciated their rank, and had considerable
authority amongst the men; they got on well with the officers, and
proved efficient and hard-working assistants to the company commanders.
The extent to which the acting ensigns sacrificed themselves to duty
is evinced by the fact that of 680 in the 1st Army in February, 192
were killed and wounded in the Mukden battle—_i.e._, more than 28 per
cent. The moral tone of the officers was quite satisfactory; during the
whole period of the war only nineteen were dismissed for unbecoming
conduct. In reporting on the work done by the officers of the General
Staff, the majority of the senior officers in command of troops
expressed the opinion that their theoretical training and intelligence
stood very high, and that their work was unselfish, but that they were
not sufficiently in touch with the troops, and lacked the personal,
practical knowledge required to enable them to judge properly how much
might be expected of men, and in what way an order would be carried
out—a knowledge which is necessary if small errors are to be avoided in
the transmission of orders, etc. They recommended that, to give these
staff-officers the necessary practical training, they should do most
of their service with troops of all three Arms, and only a part of
their service on the staff; while, to prevent them being looked upon
by the troops as mere clerks, they should be relieved of the mass of
clerical work that now falls to the General Staff. As in other bodies
of men, so amongst these officers are to be found some specially fitted
for field-work, and others, again, who prefer purely staff duties, and
in my opinion the two classes should be separated. Generally speaking,
the General Staff officers in the 1st Army did everything that was
required of them. From November, 1904, to September, 1905, their losses
in killed and wounded amounted to 12 per cent. of their strength; if
the casualties which occurred before the formation of the 1st Army are
taken into account, the percentage works out as much as 25·7. During
the whole of the above time only four were sent back to Russia on
account of sickness, while the majority of the wounded returned to the
front.
As regards the senior commanders, many general officers who had
commanded independent units with great success in peace-time were
quite unfitted to take command of large units under the stress of war.
Few had even had sufficient peace practice in the actual command of
divisions and corps, and many were not up-to-date in their knowledge of
modern war requirements. The general characteristic displayed by most
was their lack of the power of forming a decision and a disinclination
to accept responsibility. Some arrived at the front actually holding
important commands for which they were—either through ill-health or
for other reasons—quite unfitted. From three army corps, composed of
veteran regiments which had arrived earlier than others in the theatre
of war, there retired, or were sent back, after the first fights, one
corps, four divisional, and several brigade commanders. Amongst the
reasons which contributed to complicate the conduct of operations were
the frequent changes in the Commander-in-Chief, of whom there were
three in nineteen months. From the beginning of the war till the end
of October, 1904—for eight and a half months—Admiral Alexeieff was
in supreme command; from the end of October to the middle of March,
1905—four and a half months—I was in command; from the middle of March
till the end of the operations—six months—General Linievitch was in
command.
The fact that I only commanded for four and a half months out of
nineteen, and that this period was in the middle of operations, was not
taken into account by those who last year flooded Russia with pamphlets
and newspaper articles, apparently written with the sole object of
proving that I, both as Commander-in-Chief and as War Minister, was
the person mainly responsible for our misfortunes. In a letter to the
Tsar, dated February 21, 1906, from the village of Shuan-chen-pu, I
wrote on this point as follows:
“I am aware of the serious accusations levelled against me
in the Press. Though there are among them many to which I
would scorn to reply, I should be happy to accept entire
responsibility for the disasters which have overtaken us, but
that such a course would be historically incorrect. It would
also be a mistake, because it would lessen the general desire
of the whole army for a thorough investigation of all the
causes of our partial defeats, so that we may be able to avoid
them in the future.
“I venture to say ‘partial’ defeats, because there could be no
possible suggestion that our land forces in Manchuria suffered
defeat similar to that sustained by the fleet. When peace was
concluded we had an army of almost one million men, still
holding positions occupied by us after the Mukden battle,
and ready, not only for the defensive, but for a most active
advance.
“Information that reached us from Japan showed that the sources
from which she had been drawing the men for her armies were
drained dry, that her finances had been completely exhausted,
that discontent at the long-drawn-out war was already making
itself felt among her people, and that for these reasons her
army could not reckon on further success against our superior
numbers. Therefore, the most searching and exhaustive study of
all our weak points cannot shake the belief prevalent in the
army that our troops in Manchuria would have been victorious if
only the war had been continued.
“It will be for the future historian to decide whether the
troops we put into the field before March, 1905, would have
sufficed for victory.
“Nowadays, with the complicated machinery of modern armies, the
personality of the supreme commander is less important than it
was. Without trusty, able, and energetic subordinates, without
a spirit of initiative amongst all ranks, without a superiority
in numbers, and, what is most important, without a military
spirit amongst the troops and patriotism in the whole nation,
the duty of a Commander-in-Chief is so difficult that it is
far too much for a merely talented leader. It may be said that
a military genius would have overcome the moral and physical
difficulties we had to encounter. Possibly; but an Alexeieff,
a Kuropatkin, a Linievitch, a Grippenberg, a Kaulbars, and a
Bilderling were unable to do so.
“I venture to remind Your Imperial Highness that, on receiving
the orders appointing me to be Commander-in-Chief, I did not
joyfully express my gratitude. I replied to the effect that
it was only a dearth of commanders which led Your Majesty to
select me. If I still firmly believed in victory after the
Mukden battle, I had, indeed, good grounds for so doing.”
The author of the cleverly written article entitled “All about
Commanders” writes as follows:
“The absence of initiative, the habit of always relying upon
superiors, and only acting when ordered to from above, are
characteristics of junior commanders which made the work of
those at the head of the army more difficult. The value of the
time element in war also was forgotten.”
The modern theorist in strategy, Blume, says: “Even the greatest genius
in a supreme commander cannot replace independent action by individual
leaders.”
Even during actual operations numerous newspaper articles appeared,
well calculated to discredit the officers. They were represented as
overbearing, rude, dishonourable drunkards. Indeed, one of the most
gifted of our writers—Menshikoff—went very far in this respect, for
he wrote of the “blunted sense of duty, intemperance, moral laxity,
and inveterate laziness” of a large body of men who never spared their
lives and performed their duty almost religiously. In a diatribe
against military life by M. Kuprin, called “The Duel,” private soldiers
were represented as being treated with the greatest cruelty, and it was
implied that it was the custom for our officers to slap and beat their
men on company parades. The writer concluded by saying that the time
would come when the officers would be caught and beaten in byways, when
women would deride them, and soldiers refuse to obey their orders. In
the great family of officers—as in other classes—there are, of course,
bad specimens, but no generalization can be made from this as to the
class as a whole. If some officers were seen drunk on the lines of
communications or at Harbin, it is not fair to jump to the conclusion
that all officers got drunk. They should be judged after they have been
seen in action, in the trenches, and on the line of march, not only, as
they often were, by what happened in the rear. But it is much easier
to sit in St. Petersburg or Harbin and hurl abuse than it is to watch
matters at the front. I have alluded to the large proportion of killed
and wounded amongst the officers, which shows that their gallantry has
not grown less than it used to be, and they certainly looked after the
welfare of the soldier in a way that was unprecedented. The men were
fed, clothed, cheered up, and kept in good fettle. The junior officers
were zealous, soon found their feet under new and strange conditions,
and as they grew accustomed to the local topography, became good
map-readers. The most severe critic must acknowledge that the standard
of our officers, both staff and regimental, has been much raised since
the Russo-Turkish War.
But, according to the opinion of these same observers, the private
soldier has, on the contrary, deteriorated during these twenty-seven
years, for, though a better man physically, he is morally a worse man
than he used to be. As I have remarked, the men with the colours were
quite reliable, but many of the reservists—especially the 2nd Category
men—required much supervision both in action and out of it, the most
difficult material to handle being that from the manufacturing centres
and large towns. Soldiers nowadays require more looking after than they
did formerly, when but few were literate. Up to the present, thank
God, our officers still have a good hold upon the men, based on mutual
respect; but great endeavours were made at the beginning of the war to
undermine this.
Kirilloff and others have made a dead set against the behaviour of the
officers of our General Staff in the late war, but the majority worked
most unselfishly, and did good service commanding units or on the
staff. A large number distinguished themselves by their professional
zeal and gallantry, while some found a glorious death in action. At
their head may be mentioned General Kondratenko, the hero of Port
Arthur. Among the killed also were the gallant General Count Keller,
Staff-Officers Zapolski, Naumenko, Jdanoff, Pekuti, Vasilieff, Mojeiko;
and of those who died from wounds were Andreeiff and Yagodkin. Among
the wounded were four divisional commanders—Lieutenant-Generals
Rennenkampf and Kondratovitch, Major-Generals Laiming and Orloff; also
Staff-Officers Markoff, Klembovski, Gutor, Rossiski, Gurko, Inevski,
etc. Altogether, about twenty officers of the General Staff were
killed and forty wounded. The hostile attitude of the Press towards the
officers, the endeavour of divers persons to undermine their authority,
the indifference of the intelligent classes in Russia to what was
happening in Manchuria, and especially the anti-Government campaign,
which was conducted with the object of creating a mutiny among the
troops, was hardly calculated to raise the soldiers’ _moral_, or to
encourage them to perform acts of heroism. There was no military spirit
in the army.
_The Rank and File._
The rank and file, like the officers, were of two classes: those
serving with the colours, and the reservists. The former were in every
respect good; they were steady in action, enduring and well trained;
but the reservists were on a much lower plane altogether. In the first
place, the older men were unable to stand the arduous conditions of
field service, coupled with the rigours of the Manchurian climate.
They suffered greatly from sunstroke and heart affections when
marching among the hills, and during the hot weather. At the battles
of Ta-shih-chiao, Hai-cheng, and Liao-yang, these men fell out in
such numbers that their units became quite immobile, and absolutely
useless for any offensive operations. Moreover, the 2nd Category
reservists did not know the rifle, and had forgotten everything they
had once learnt when with the colours, and it required real hard work
to instruct and train them up to the level of the serving soldiers. I
have mentioned their unsteadiness. Units which were almost entirely
composed of these men—that is to say, those units which had been formed
by expanding the reserve regiments—were very unsatisfactory: it was
almost impossible to get them into action. The regiments of the 4th
Siberian Corps, which did so splendidly at Ta-shih-chiao, Hai-cheng,
and Liao-yang, were an exception; they were composed entirely of
Siberian reservists, who, though surly fellows and poor marchers, were
men of character and very steady in action. The drafts composed of
young soldiers were magnificent. Most of them had only just done their
recruits’ course, were single men, and possessed both staying power and
activity, and, being regular soldiers, were accustomed to field-service
conditions. Unfortunately, it was only after the battle of Mukden that
these drafts began to arrive. But these young soldiers who did so well
in small actions would have done still better in a decisive engagement.
The general feeling of discontent which already prevailed in all
classes of our population made the war so hateful that it aroused
no patriotism whatever. Many good officers hastened to offer their
services—which was only natural—though all ranks of society remained
indifferent. A few hundreds of the common people volunteered,
but no eagerness to enter the army was shown by the sons of our
high dignitaries, of our merchants, or of our scientific men.
Out of the tens of thousands of students who were then living in
idleness,[24] many of them at the expense of the Empire, only a
handful volunteered,[25] while at that very time, in Japan, sons of
the most distinguished citizens—even boys fourteen and fifteen years
of age—were striving for places in the ranks. Japanese mothers, as I
have already said, killed themselves through shame when their sons were
found to be physically unfit for military service. The indifference
of Russia to the bloody struggle which her sons were carrying on—for
little-understood objects, and in a foreign land—could not fail to
discourage even the best soldiers. Men are not inspired to deeds of
heroism by such an attitude towards them on the part of their country.
But Russia was not merely indifferent. Leaders of the revolutionary
party strove, with extraordinary energy, to multiply our chances of
failure, hoping thus to facilitate the attainment of their own unworthy
ends. There appeared a whole literature of clandestine publications,
intended to lessen the confidence of officers in their superiors,
to shake the trust of soldiers in their officers, and to undermine
the faith of the whole army in the Government. In an “Address to the
Officers of the Russian Army,” published and widely circulated by the
Social Revolutionists, the main idea was expressed as follows:
“The worst and most dangerous enemy of the Russian people—in
fact, its only enemy—is the present Government. It is this
Government that is carrying on the war with Japan, and you are
fighting under its banners in an unjust cause. Every victory
that you win threatens Russia with the calamity involved in the
maintenance of what the Government calls ‘order,’ and every
defeat that you suffer brings nearer the hour of deliverance.
Is it surprising, therefore, that Russians rejoice when your
adversary is victorious?”
But persons who had nothing in common with the Social Revolutionary
party, and who sincerely loved their country, aided Russia’s enemies
by expressing the opinion, in the Press, that the war was irrational,
and by criticizing the mistakes of the Government that had failed
to prevent it. In a brochure entitled “Thoughts Suggested by Recent
Military Operations,” M. Gorbatoff referred to such persons as follows:
“But it is a still more grievous fact that while our heroic
soldiers are carrying on a life-and-death struggle, these
so-called friends of the people whisper to them: ‘Gentlemen,
you are heroes, but you are facing death without reason. You
will die to pay for Russia’s mistaken policy, and not to defend
Russia’s vital interests.’ What can be more terrible than the
part played by these so-called friends of the people when they
undermine in this way the intellectual faith of heroic men who
are going to their death? One can easily imagine the state
of mind of an officer or soldier who goes into battle after
reading, in newspapers or magazines, articles referring in this
way to the folly and uselessness of the war. It is from these
self-styled friends that the revolutionary party gets support
in its effort to break down the discipline of our troops.”
Reservists, when called out, were furnished by the anti-Government
party with proclamations intended to prejudice them against their
officers, and similar proclamations were sent to the army in Manchuria.
Troops in the field received letters apprising them of popular
disorders in Russia, and men sick in hospitals, as well as men on
duty in our advanced positions, read in the newspapers articles
that undermined their faith in their commanders and their leaders.
The work of breaking down the discipline of the army was carried
on energetically, and, of course, it was not altogether fruitless.
The ideal at which the leaders in the movement aimed was the state
of affairs brought about by the mutinous sailors on the battleship
_Potemkin_. These enemies of the army and the country were aided by
certain other persons who were simply foolish and unreasonable. One
can imagine the indignation that the M―s, the K―s, and the K―s would
feel if they were told that they played the same part in the army
that was played by the persons who incited the insubordination on the
_Potemkin_; yet such was the case. Firm in spirit though Russians might
be, the indifference of one class of the population, and the seditious
incitement of another, could hardly fail to have upon many of them an
influence that was not favourable to the successful prosecution of war.
Commanding officers in the Siberian military districts reported,
as early as February, that detachments of supernumerary troops and
reservists had plundered several railway-stations, and later on regular
troops, on their way to the front, were guilty of similar bad conduct.
The drifting to the rear of large numbers of soldiers—especially
the older reservists—while battles were in progress was due not so
much to cowardice as to the unsettling of the men’s minds, and to a
disinclination on their part to continue the war. I may add that the
opening of peace negotiations at Portsmouth, at a time when we were
preparing for decisive operations, unfavourably affected the _moral_ of
the best in the army.
M. E. Martinoff, in an article entitled “Spirit and Temper of the Two
Armies,” points out that
“... even in time of peace, the Japanese people were so
educated as to develop in them a patriotic and martial spirit.
The very idea of war with Russia was generally popular, and
throughout the contest the army was supported by the sympathy
of the nation. In Russia, the reverse was true. Patriotism was
shaken by the dissemination of ideas of universal brotherhood
and disarmament, and in the midst of a difficult campaign
the attitude of the country toward the army was one of
indifference, if not of actual hostility.”
This judgment is accurate, and it is evident, of course, that with
such a relation between Russian society and the Manchurian army it
was impossible to expect from the latter any patriotic spirit, or
any readiness to sacrifice life for the sake of the Fatherland. In
an admirable article, entitled “The Feeling of Duty and the Love of
Country,” published in the _Russki Invalid_ in 1906, M. A. Bilderling
expressed certain profoundly true ideas as follows:
“Our lack of success may have been due, in part, to various
and complicated causes, to the misconduct of particular
persons, to bad generalship, to lack of preparation in the
army and the navy, to inadequacy of material resources, and to
misappropriations in the departments of equipment and supply;
but the principal reason for our defeat lies deeper, and is to
be found in lack of patriotism, and in the absence of a feeling
of duty toward and love for the Fatherland. In a conflict
between two peoples, the things of most importance are not
material resources, but moral strength, exaltation of spirit,
and patriotism. Victory is most likely to be achieved by the
nation in which these qualities are most highly developed.
Japan had long been preparing for war with us; all her people
desired it; and a feeling of lofty patriotism pervaded the
whole country. In her army and her fleet, therefore, every
man, from the Commander-in-Chief to the last soldier, not
only knew what he was fighting for, and what he might have
to die for, but understood clearly that upon success in the
struggle depended the fate of Japan, her political importance,
and her future in the history of the world. Every soldier
knew also that the whole nation stood behind him. Japanese
mothers and wives sent their sons and husbands to the war with
enthusiasm, and were proud when they died for their country.
With us, on the other hand, the war was unpopular from the
very beginning. We neither desired it nor anticipated it,
and consequently we were not prepared for it. Soldiers were
hastily put into railway-trains, and when, after a journey that
lasted a month, they alighted in Manchuria, they did not know
in what country they were, nor whom they were to fight, nor
what the war was about. Even our higher commanders went to the
front unwillingly, and from a mere sense of duty. The whole
army, moreover, felt that it was regarded by the country with
indifference; that its life was not shared by the people; and
that it was a mere fragment, cut off from the nation, thrown to
a distance of 6,000 miles, and there abandoned to the caprice
of Fate. Before decisive fighting began, therefore, one of
the contending armies advanced with the full expectation and
confident belief that it would be victorious, while the other
went forward with a demoralizing doubt of its own success.”
Generally speaking, the man who conquers in war is the man who is
least afraid of death. We were unprepared in previous wars, as well
as in this, and in previous wars we made mistakes; but when the
preponderance of moral strength was on our side, as in the wars with
the Swedes, the French, the Turks, the Caucasian mountaineers, and
the natives of Central Asia, we were victorious. In the late war, for
reasons that are extremely complicated, our moral strength was less
than that of the Japanese; and it was this inferiority, rather than
mistakes in generalship, that caused our defeats, and that forced us
to make tremendous efforts in order to succeed at all. Our lack of
moral strength, as compared with the Japanese, affected all ranks of
our army, from the highest to the lowest, and greatly reduced our
fighting power. In a war waged under different conditions—a war in
which the army had the confidence and encouragement of the country—the
same officers and the same troops would have accomplished far more
than they accomplished in Manchuria. The lack of martial spirit, of
moral exaltation, and of heroic impulse, affected particularly our
stubbornness in battle. In many cases we did not have sufficient
resolution to conquer such antagonists as the Japanese. Instead of
holding with unshakable tenacity the positions assigned them, our
troops often retreated, and in such cases our commanding officers of
all ranks, without exception, lacked the power or the means to set
things right. Instead of making renewed and extraordinary efforts to
wrest victory from the enemy, they either permitted the retreat of
the troops under their command, or themselves ordered such retreat.
The army, however, never lost its strong sense of duty; and it was
this that enabled many divisions, regiments, and battalions to
increase their power of resistance with every battle. This peculiarity
of the late war, together with our final acquisition of numerical
preponderance and a noticeable decline of Japanese ardour, gave us
reason to regard the future with confidence, and left no room for doubt
as to our ultimate victory.
In both Russian and foreign papers numerous articles have appeared
in which the Commander-in-Chief has been accused of a lack of
determination in the conduct of various battles. Without any real
basis for their statements, critics have represented that orders to
retire were for some unknown reason more than once given by him at a
moment when victory lay in our hands. Comments upon his indecision and
frequent change of orders were so common that the idea became universal
that it was Kuropatkin, and Kuropatkin alone, who prevented the army
and corps commanders from defeating the enemy.
My first three volumes supply the answer to the most serious of these
accusations: in them are described the tremendous efforts we had to
make to prevent our operations ending worse than they did. I have never
been one of those who believe that an order once given should not be
countermanded or modified. In war circumstances change so quickly, and
information received so frequently turns out to be false, that it would
be fundamentally unsound to insist, in spite of changed conditions, on
keeping exactly to an order once issued. An excellent example of this
is given by the operations at Hei-kou-tai. The order received by the
officer commanding the 1st Siberians to rest his troops on January 27,
and to occupy the line Hei-kou-tai–Su-ma-pu–Pei-tai-tzu, was founded
on the incorrect supposition of the commander of the 2nd Manchurian
Army that San-de-pu had been captured. The former was more than once
told not to attack. Yet, even though news was received that San-de-pu
had not been taken, he insisted in carrying out the orders given, in
which, by a mistake, a village held in force by the enemy was appointed
as our halting-place. The result is known: we fought all day, lost
7,000 men, and at daybreak on January 28 were compelled to retire.
With regard to the accusation that the late Commander-in-Chief[26]
constantly countermanded his own orders, it is interesting to note that
General Grippenberg, in his article, “The Truth about the Battle of
Hei-kou-tai,” points out that, although he did not agree with him as to
the necessity for retiring the right flank of the 2nd Army to take up
a more concentrated position, he did not express this opinion to the
Commander-in-Chief, because he and all his staff knew that Kuropatkin
would never countermand an order once given.
Upon the point as to whether we might have defeated the Japanese at
Liao-yang or Mukden we shall remain unenlightened, in spite of the
publication of my book, till we know in detail the actual movements of
the Japanese in these actions. As regards Liao-yang, I can only express
my personal opinion. An important decision, such as that leading to
an order for troops to retire, cannot be given upon the inspiration
of a moment. All the attendant circumstances have to be taken into
account—the results of the previous engagements; the physical and
mental condition of the troops; the strength and dispositions of the
enemy; the results which he may attain if the fight is continued; the
reports from the front, flanks, and rear; the extent to which the
reserves have been depleted, their readiness for action; the amount of
ammunition in hand, etc. At the battle of Liao-yang Kuroki’s army, in
addition to Nodzu’s, might easily have been pushed across to the right
bank of the Tai-tzu Ho, just as the Japanese boldly threw the greater
part of Oku’s army, in addition to Nogi’s, across on to the right bank
of the Hun Ho at Mukden. This was all the more possible because our
attempt to assume the offensive with the troops stationed on the left
bank on September 2 ended disastrously. If there is no hope of worsting
an enemy by an offensive counter-stroke, it is very important for a
defending force, circumstanced as we were,[27] to retire in good time,
and not to hold on until an orderly retirement becomes impossible to
carry out. We retired under very difficult conditions along roads deep
in mud, but not a single trophy was left behind, not a prisoner, not a
gun, not a transport cart.
If we had delayed a single day, our retirement might have resembled
that of the 2nd and 3rd Armies, which were in so awkward a plight at
Mukden. For the reasons explained in my third volume, the 2nd Army was,
on March 7, almost surrounded on flanks and rear. Great efforts were
necessary in order that we might extricate ourselves from the position
in which we were placed without being utterly defeated. But these
efforts were not made, and the situation of our whole force on March 7,
8, and 9 became worse, and the danger of a considerable part of the 2nd
Army being surrounded by Nogi’s troops still more imminent. Comparing
the condition of our men with that of the Japanese on March 7 and 8, as
well as the positions occupied by the two forces on the 8th, and taking
into account the moral superiority of the Japanese, I should have given
up hope of a victorious issue from the battle on the 7th and 8th, and
have arranged for a retirement to Tieh-ling before the army became
disorganized. The future historian will probably accuse me of having
held on too long. I did not give the order to retire till March 10, and
according to events and the opinion of my staff, the order should have
been given a day earlier. If we had retired on the 9th, the army would
probably have fallen back in complete order without losing anything
(except wounded); indeed, we might have taken with us a fairly large
number of prisoners and captured guns and machine-guns. In my report
upon the battle of Mukden to His Majesty the Tsar, I acknowledged that
I was primarily responsible for our reverse, and admitted that I should
have more accurately gauged the difference between the men of the two
forces and the qualifications of the commanders, and that I should
have been more careful in making my decisions. Hoping against hope to
defeat the enemy, despite the disastrous operations of the 2nd Army,
between March 2 and 7, I gave the order to retreat too late. I should
have abandoned all hope of eventual victory at Mukden a day sooner than
I did, and our withdrawal would have been effected in good order. Thus,
the general conclusion regarding the battles of Liao-yang and Mukden
could, in my opinion, be expressed as follows: If we had retired from
Liao-yang a day later than we did, the result would have been much the
same as at Mukden; if we had retired from Mukden a day sooner, the
result would have been much the same as at Liao-yang.[28]
I might also have been blamed for not holding on longer to Tieh-ling
and fighting there, and for ordering the troops to retire on to the
Hsi-ping-kai position. My reply is given in detail in my third volume.
It is sufficient to say here that, when it was decided to retire from
Tieh-ling on March 12 and 13, according to the officers commanding
those units of the 2nd and 3rd Armies which suffered most in the battle
of Mukden, we only had an effective strength of 16,390 rifles in 114
battalions.[29] If I had accepted battle there under such conditions,
it would have been most dangerous, as we might have completely lost the
cadres of many units. How long it would have taken us to re-form for
a new battle can be judged from the fact that the officer commanding
the 3rd Army stated before a committee assembled as late as May 17
[two months after the retreat] that he thought the acceptance of a
general action even then on the Hsi-ping-kai position itself was
inadvisable.[30]
I will bring the present chapter to a close by quoting literally my
farewell address to the officers of the 1st Manchurian Army. In this
address, with fresh impressions of all that we had gone through and had
actually felt during the war, I outlined those of our defects which
prevented us defeating the enemy in the time at our disposal. But while
indicating our weaknesses, I also brought out the strong points of
the troops which I had commanded—points which gave every reason for a
belief that we should have won in the end.
“_To the Officers of the 1st Manchurian Army._
“In a few days the 1st Manchurian Army will be broken up, and I must
now bid farewell to the glorious troops which I have had the great
honour to command for two years. Upon you fell the arduous duty, in
the beginning of the war, of withstanding the attack of a numerically
superior enemy, so as to gain time for our reinforcements coming from
Russia to concentrate. You had the good fortune to be present at
the battles of the Ya-lu, Te-li-ssu, Ta-shih-chiao, Yang-tzu Ling,
Lang-tzu-shan, and also at the long-drawn struggles of Liao-yang, the
Sha Ho, and Mukden, and by your conduct during those fights you earned
the praise of the rest of the army.
“With a comparatively weak establishment of five and a half corps (160
battalions), or an average fighting strength of 100,000 rifles and
2,200 officers, the 1st Manchurian Army lost up to March 14, 1905:
Officers. Rank and File.
Killed 395 10,435
Wounded 1,773 56,350
or a percentage of killed and wounded amongst the officers of 91, and
amongst the rank and file of 67, per cent. of the average war strength.
In the independent units the losses in killed and wounded were:
Officers. Rank and File.
34th East Siberian Rifle Regiment 89 3,243
36th East Siberian Rifle Regiment 73 2,531
3rd East Siberian Rifle Regiment 102 2,244
4th East Siberian Rifle Regiment 61 2,170
23rd East Siberian Rifle Regiment 50 2,290
1st East Siberian Rifle Regiment 71 1,920
“The particularly gallant conduct in action of the officers is apparent
from the fact that the percentage of killed and wounded is considerably
higher than that of the men, while many single units proved that it
is possible to continue fighting after a loss of two-thirds of the
fighting strength. And yet, despite these sacrifices, despite all our
efforts, we were unable to beat the enemy. Undoubtedly we had to fight
against a very brave, energetic, and most martial foe. So careless were
the Japanese of life that they piled the bodies of their comrades on
our obstacles, and endeavoured to reach our positions by climbing over
these masses of corpses. For a long time also they were able to bring
superior forces against us. But we became tempered by misfortune, and
gained wisdom by experience, and our numbers grew until we finally
became so strong in mind and spirit last summer that victory seemed
assured.
“The intervals of comparative peace between the great battles were
employed in strengthening the army, and many positions up to and
including Mukden were fortified with immense trouble. After that battle
the defence of the left flank of the whole force was entrusted to
you, and three very strong defensive lines were constructed by your
labours up to the River Sungari. These lines, particularly the first
and second, were, on account of their fortifications and the nature
of the ground, in every way suited either for a desperate defence or
for the attack. Although our army was not quite ready to assume the
offensive by last May, it would have welcomed orders to advance. The
enemy, shaken by their losses at Mukden, kept their positions for
six months, and waited for us to move forward. We inaugurated many
improvements based upon our previous experiences in the war, and the
tactical training of the troops made immense progress. We not only
filled up our weakened ranks by means of the drafts which reached us,
but expanded all the rifle regiments into four battalions. In the way
of reinforcements, the 1st Army received the 53rd Infantry Division,
the Cossack Infantry Brigade, and the Don Cossack Division.
“The firing-line of the 1st Army was in August last stronger than it
was at the beginning of the war, before the September battles on the
Sha Ho, and, thanks to the great exertions of those in command, and
the unselfish work of the medical services, the health of the army
remained excellent throughout. It was, indeed, fortunate, for if any
great sickness had broken out we should, owing to the few drafts
then arriving, only have had very weak cadres for the field. It was
absolutely essential, therefore, that no expense or efforts should be
spared in order to keep every man fit for the ranks, and I am happy
to say that our common efforts met with unusual success, for our
losses from sickness were less than in killed and wounded. In the 1st
Manchurian Army we had lost up to August 14, 1905, 2,218 officers and
66,785 other ranks killed and wounded in action, and 2,390 officers and
58,093 other ranks from sickness. I draw your attention to the fact
that while the percentage of losses from action should naturally be
higher among the officers than the men, they ought, on account of their
better living, to lose less from sickness. The converse was the case
with us, which shows that our officers were not sufficiently hardy,
and did not know how to preserve their health. To this we must pay
particular attention.
“In material matters the army was also excellently situated in August.
Clothing and equipment of all sorts were on the spot and plentiful,
while all technical supplies had accumulated. Never have we been such
a formidable force in every sense as we had become by the summer of
1905, when we were suddenly informed of the unhappy negotiations
at Portsmouth, and that peace had been concluded. Doubtless this
was necessitated by the state of the interior of Russia; but it was
heart-breaking for the army. I remember with what grief the news was
received by all ranks. Life seemed to die out of our bivouacs, and all
our minds were filled by one sad thought—that the war had ended before
the enemy had been beaten. Looking back on the trials we have recently
gone through, we can find consolation in the feeling that we have done
our duty to Tsar and country as far as has lain in our power; but for
many reasons the time given us has turned out to be insufficient. These
reasons we must fearlessly search out, and discover what—beyond mere
numerical inferiority—prevented our success before peace was concluded.
Before all others, I, your senior commander, am guilty because I did
not succeed in rectifying our many moral and material defects during
the war, and in making the most of the undoubted strong points of our
troops. The material defects are known to all of us—the small number
of rifles in the firing-line per company [partly owing to lack of care
to put as many men as possible into action], the insufficiency [at the
beginning] of mountain artillery, the lack of high explosive shells,
of machine-guns, and of technical stores of all sorts. By last August
the majority of these deficiencies had, through the great exertions
of the War Ministry, been made good. Our moral defects I attribute to
the different standards of training among the troops, their inferior
technical preparation, and the great numerical weakness of units in
action. We also suffered much from inadequate reconnaissance of the
enemy’s position before a battle, and the resulting vagueness as to
how to conduct the action [particularly in the attack]; and, most
important, from the lack of initiative and independent thought in
individual commanders, the absence of the military spirit in officers
and men, of dash, of mutual co-operation between units, and of a
general determination to carry out a task to a finish at any sacrifice.
The tendency to accept defeat too soon—after only the advanced troops
had suffered—and of retiring instead of repeating the attack and
setting an example, was highly detrimental. Such retirement, instead of
calling forth increased efforts from the neighbours, in most cases only
served as a signal for their own retreat.
“Generally speaking, there was in all ranks a great dearth of men
of strong military character, with nerves tough enough to enable
them to stand the strain of an almost continual battle lasting for
several days. It is evident that neither our educational system nor
our national life during the last forty to fifty years has been of
a nature to produce men of strong independent characters, or more
would have appeared in our army when wanted. Now the Tsar has given
us the blessing of freedom. The nation has been released from the
leading-strings of a bureaucracy, and can now develop freely, and
direct its energies to the good of the country. Let us hope that this
blessing of freedom, coupled to a well-thought-out system of education,
will raise the material and moral forces of the Russian nation,
and produce in every sphere of national activity stalwarts who are
enterprising, independent, possessed of initiative, and strong in body
and soul. By an infusion of such the army will be enriched. But it is
not possible for the army idly to await results which are the work of a
generation. Knowing now our strong and weak points, we can, and ought
to, start on self-improvement without delay. The war has brought out
many men [especially amongst all ranks of the 1st Army], from modest
company officers up to corps commanders, on whose energy, zeal, and
ability the Russian nation can rely; and I notice with pleasure that
not a few of those amongst the 1st Army have received good appointments
in the Far East and in Russia. This should serve as a fresh proof that
the Tsar is diligently watching our efforts, and is losing no time in
employing the most worthy of you to the advantage of the whole army.
“You have first-hand knowledge of the difficult conditions generally
under which war is now conducted, and of the moral and physical effort
that is required to carry on an almost continuous battle for several
days. You also know by experience the exact value in action of all
kinds of technical equipment. All this makes it necessary for you
to endeavour to perfect yourselves. With the exception of the cadet
corps, our schools take no pains about the physical development of
children; consequently, many of our officers, as was evident in the
war, are physically feeble. Pay attention to gymnastics, to fencing,
to singlesticks, and to musketry. An officer should not be a mere
spectator of the physical exercises of the men—a thing I have often
noticed—but should himself set the example to those under him.
“The relations between officers and men have always been of the
closest. Like fathers to the men, our officers have won their
affectionate respect. Remember that to our soldiers the word
‘father-commander’ is not merely an empty phrase; they believe in it.
Remember, also, that a commander only wins the heart of his soldiers
when he is their father-commander. It is quite possible to be strict
and at the same time look after the men’s welfare, for our soldiers are
not afraid of severity, but respect it; in the majority of cases a just
severity is a deterrent against crime. But the simple-minded soldier
is particularly sensitive to injustice, and soon sees through any
deceit practised on him. You who shared with the men all the hardships
and dangers of field service are very favourably situated. The men
having seen you in action—always in your place, giving an example of
unselfishness—will forgive much, and will follow you through fire and
water. These links which bind the ranks must be carefully maintained,
and officers who have been in the field with units must not be removed
from them unless absolutely necessary. Guard the military traditions
acquired by regiments, and do your best to preserve the memory of the
gallant deeds done by companies, squadrons, or batteries collectively,
or by individual members of them. Keep in close touch with the private
soldier; try to win his full confidence. You will gain it by your
constant care of and your affection for him; by your strict, and at the
same time fatherly, relations to him; by knowing your work; and by your
own example. Only by these will you be able to take advantage of all
his good points, to correct his defects, and guard him from the harmful
influences which will be more numerous in the future than ever. The
recent cases of military mutinies should be constantly in our memories.
I turn to you officers in command of regiments in particular. You know
the great responsibility which falls upon you in action. How often has
the issue of the battle depended on the way a regiment has been led. It
has often been enough for an energetic, gallant, capable man to get the
command of a regiment to change its character utterly. The selection
of men for these appointments must, therefore, be carefully made, and
those chosen must work incessantly to educate all those under them.
“Up to the present our regimental commanders have, unfortunately, been
too much taken up with routine and office work, and have been unable to
give sufficient time to the practical military side of their duties,
to that intercourse between officers and men which is so valuable.
Some seem to think that their chief duty is to look after such details
as the colour and the repainting of the transport carts, and not the
training of the men. The constant strain of how to make both ends meet
with the money granted, how to maintain the clothing and other funds,
has increased to such an extent, and worries some commanders so much,
that they scarcely get to know their own officers, and do positive
harm to their men by trying to increase funds at the expense of their
rations, and therefore of their health. In the late war the Supply
Department carried out their difficult duties so well that they have
proved that they deserve to be implicitly trusted in peace-time; we can
therefore give over to this department much of the work of supplying
the troops (clothing, equipment, transport, food). Then regimental and
company commanders will stand out as real flesh and blood commanders
in the true sense, and will cease to be “office” automatons and mere
inspectors of stores and depôts, and the work of training and education
will progress.
“I would invite the special attention of all commanding officers to the
necessity for thoroughly studying the characters of those under them.
With us, men of independent character and initiative are rare. Search
out such men, encourage them, promote them, and so encourage the growth
of the qualities which are essential for all soldiers. Men of strong
individuality are with us, unfortunately, often passed over, instead of
receiving accelerated promotion. Because they are a source of anxiety
to some officers in peace, they get repressed as being headstrong.
The result is that they leave the service, while others, who possess
neither force of character nor convictions, but who are subservient,
and always ready to agree with their superiors, are promoted. Remember
how much our inattention to the opinions and evidence of those under us
has cost us.
“The greater part of the 1st Army is to remain in the Far East, and I
am convinced that the glorious Siberian regiments of the 1st Manchurian
Army, which have been such a tower of strength in action, will now,
under the new conditions of peace, still be Russia’s bulwark in that
quarter.
“In bidding you farewell, my dear comrades in the field, I sincerely
hope that the war experience you have gained will be of great advantage
to the army and the country. Devoted to Crown and country, always
ready to maintain law and order, and to uphold the authority of the
Government, holding yourselves aloof from the intrigues of political
parties, and knowing your own weak and strong points as shown up
by the struggle we have all been through, you will, I believe,
quickly heal your wounds, and lead the army in its struggle towards
perfection. Although in the future you may be denied the recollection
of victories won, you can remember—and this should be a consolation
and an encouragement—that you were ready, without fear of sacrifice,
to continue the struggle with the gallant enemy till you had beaten
him. You, officers, believed that you would win, and you succeeded in
instilling this belief into our grand soldiers.
“May God assist you in the duties that lie before you, which are as
important for our dear country as any we have already performed, even
though they be in peace. Farewell. Accept my sincere gratitude for
all your self-denying service in the field, and express to the men my
thanks for their services, and for the many proofs they have given of
devotion and loyalty to the Tsar and Fatherland.
“SHUAN-CHEN-PU,
“_February 18, 1906_.”