CHAPTER I

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THE RUSSIAN ARMY AND THE

JAPANESE WAR

[Illustration: _General Kuropatkin._]

THE RUSSIAN ARMY AND

THE JAPANESE WAR,

Being Historical and Critical Comments on

the Military Policy and Power of Russia

and on the Campaign in the Far East,

by

GENERAL KUROPATKIN.

Translated by

Captain A. B. Lindsay,

2nd King Edward’S Own Gurkha Rifles

Translator of “The Battle of Tsu-Shima”;

“The Truth about Port Arthur,” etc.

Edited by

Major E. D. Swinton, D.S.O., R.E.,

Author of “The Defence of Duffer’S Drift”;

and Editor of “The Truth about Port Arthur.”

With Maps and Illustrations

IN TWO VOLUMES: VOL. I.

New York

E. P. Dutton and Company

1909

Printed in Great Britain

TRANSLATOR’S PREFACE

“The General stands higher than any other Russian officer, not only in

Russian opinion, but in that of professional soldiers all the world

over, and if any human agency can change the deplorable situation

to Russia’s advantage, Kuropatkin may be the man to do it.”[1] This

sentence, written by the military correspondent of the _Times_ in

February, 1904, well expresses the sentiment that predominated when

General Kuropatkin’s appointment to command the Russian army in

Manchuria was announced.

“It may be 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,”[2] were the words used by the General himself

two years later when reporting to his Sovereign.

Though these two quotations epitomize the _raison d’être_ and

tendency of this book, they by no means afford a complete description

of its scope. Were it nothing but an _apologia_, not even the former

reputation and position of its author would save it from the neglect

which invariably awaits the excuses of the man who has failed. But it

is no mere _apologia_. For, apart from its tone of disappointment,

apart from the dominant note of failure which is current throughout,

and the explanations and reasons repeated on almost every page, the

work is one long-continued protest. It is a protest from first to last

that the war was not—as far as Russia was concerned—fought to anything

like a finish; that it was brought to a premature conclusion; that

peace was declared at the moment when victory lay within Russia’s

grasp, when her strength was at its greatest, and that of her enemy

had begun to ebb. Whether true or otherwise, this view should not be

rejected without consideration as the natural cry of an unsuccessful

party. These pages give food for thought; they, moreover, contain much

that has hitherto rested in obscurity with regard to the attitude of

the Russian War Ministry, its efforts to prevent the war, its general

policy, and other matters.

The author endeavours to drive home his protest by marshalling an array

of facts, and by analogy from the military history of his country for

more than two centuries. Whether he proves his case is for the reader

to judge. Be that as it may, his book must claim attention as being the

absolute opinion of the one man on the Russian side best qualified to

throw light upon the causes and course of the greatest world-disturbing

international struggle that has taken place for more than a third of a

century. It has also a sentimental interest in that it is the utterance

of one who, after a long and meritorious career in his country’s

service, and after holding the highest appointments his profession

offered, has failed and retired discredited into the depths of the

country. Whether he will reappear in public life or not is unknown; but

when his distinguished services for Russia are called to mind, and a

few of the stupendous difficulties with which he had to contend in this

last campaign are realized, it is impossible to withhold sympathy.

The son of a Russian provincial official, Alexei Nicolaevitch

Kuropatkin was born on March 17, 1845. After being educated in the

cadet corps and the Pavlovsk War School, he was, at the age of

eighteen, posted as a Lieutenant to the 1st Turkestan Rifle Battalion,

with which he saw active service in Central Asia. Having passed

with success through the Staff College, and being graded as Staff

Captain, he in 1874 accompanied a French expedition into the Sahara.

In 1876 he took part in the Central Asian Campaign of that year,

being on Skobeleff’s staff, winning many laurels, and being wounded.

During the Turkish War of 1877–78 he was Chief of the Staff, and was

again wounded. In the Akhal Tekhe Expedition of 1880–81 he once more

distinguished himself, commanding the Turkestan Rifle Brigade, and

being twice wounded at the storming of Geok-Tepe. From 1883–90 he

was General in Charge of strategical questions on the great General

Staff. In 1890 he reached the rank of Lieutenant-General, and from

that year till 1898 did valuable service as Commander-in-Chief of the

Trans-Caspian Military District. In 1898 he received his portfolio as

Minister of War, which position he filled until February 20, 1904,

when he was appointed Commander-in-Chief of the Manchurian Army of

Operations (having been promoted to General of Infantry in 1900). On

March 27, 1904, he reached Liao-yang to take up his duties, and after

several battles, in which the Russians were almost invariably defeated,

he was, in March, 1905, superseded in the chief command by General

Linievitch. Henceforward he continued to serve on in a subordinate

position in command of the 1st Army until the end of the war. After

peace was concluded, he remained in Manchuria superintending the

demobilization of the Russian forces, proceeding, on the completion of

this duty, to his country seat in Russia, where he has since remained

in retirement. It was during his stay in Manchuria, after hostilities

had ceased, and later at his home, that he wrote this book, with the

assistance acknowledged by him in the introduction. Its publication in

Russia was suppressed almost as soon as the book appeared, and it is

believed that the subject-matter of this translation was never printed

in Russia. Of the four volumes of the original work, the fourth has

alone been translated, and is now presented to the British public in

these pages.[3]

Among the many facts presented to us by the author there are some which

call for special reference. The first point to claim our attention

is the fact that though General Kuropatkin was Commander-in-Chief of

an army engaged in active operations in the field, he was for a long

time not supreme. Indeed, from the day he arrived at Liao-yang until

October 25, 1904, he was subordinate to an officer not actually at the

front, being appointed as _assistant_ (the italics are ours) to the

Viceroy—Admiral Alexeieff—whose headquarters were at Harbin. Curiously

enough, General Kuropatkin says very little upon this subject. He

merely points out that he was really in supreme command only for four

and a half months of the war—between Admiral Alexeieff’s departure and

his own supersession by General Linievitch—and incidentally mentions

various actions and orders of the Viceroy which forced him to act

against his own judgment. How detrimental such control must have been

to the conduct of operations needs no emphasis. It is not within the

scope of this preface to attempt criticism or justification of the

Russian strategy or conduct of the war—be it that of General Kuropatkin

or another—but such a vicious system of command may account for much

that has hitherto appeared inexplicable. Other points which stand out

are: the absolute unreadiness of Russia, the causes which led her into

hostilities in spite of this unreadiness, the overwhelming nature of

the advantage gained by Japan with the command of the sea, the drag

upon Russia’s strategy constituted by the fortress of Port Arthur, and

the fear of complications on the western frontier, which forced her

to retain her best troops in Europe. The handicap that her inferior

railway communications were to her arms is obvious, and less remarkable

than the immense improvement in them effected during the course of

hostilities.

Of the author’s opinions, that of most interest to his own countrymen

is probably the one we have already mentioned—that the war was, for

Russia, prematurely concluded. To us, however, the value attached by

him to a “national” war as opposed to an “army” war is instructive

while the forethought and care with which the possible price of Empire

in the twentieth century was worked out by the Russian War Ministry

is enlightening, for who has estimated the probable cost in blood and

treasure of the expansion or maintenance of the British Empire during

the next hundred years? His views also as to the correct policy to be

pursued by Russia on the Afghan and Persian frontiers, and generally

with regard to Great Britain in India and the Middle East, are

certainly important.

One last point, and one which is much to the credit of General

Kuropatkin, is that he was able to follow where he had once led,

and after having been in supreme command, was content to accept a

subordinate position, and do his duty in it, rather than return to

Russia before the war was over. It is refreshing to find no word of

repining over his supersession, nor any direct or indirect complaint of

his treatment by his Sovereign.

These pages are an exact translation of the portion of the work

comprised within them. The only liberty that has been taken with the

original is that some of the frequent repetitions—of which the author

is a past master—and certain passages which are nothing but long

lists of names and places, have been eliminated. There is still much

repetition in the translation, but this has been allowed to remain, in

order that the English version might adhere as closely as possible to

the shape of the original. As the translation had to be made mostly

from a faint carbon copy of typescript, the work was attended with

considerable difficulties. The many faults in style and arrangement

can perhaps be explained by the fact that the original had evidently

not been corrected in proof by the author. The fact, also, that no

copies of the maps referred to by the writer (if such exist) have been

available has added very much to the difficulty of the cartography

of this translation. As the Russian system of transliterating the

place-names in Manchuria differs considerably from that used by the

English, French, German, or Japanese, it has been impossible without

large-scale Russian maps to identify every village or locality

mentioned in the narrative. Those that have been fixed are shown on

the maps that have been prepared, and in all cases, whether a place

has been located or not, the name has—as far as possible—been spelled

according to “Wade’s System of Transliteration.”[4] By this means it

is hoped that, when better English maps become available, some of the

places not at present identifiable may be located. The large map is

a reprint of that issued with vol. ii. of the “Official History of

the Russo-Japanese War,” and has been used by the permission of the

Controller of H.M. Stationery Office. A list of the most important

actions, showing their names spelled according to the Russian and

English methods, has been added.

In order to elucidate certain references to the Russian troops and to

the mobilization of the military districts, it may not be out of place

to give briefly the system of mobilization which existed in Russia

in 1904. The law of universal military service has existed in that

country for many years, and when war broke out with Japan recruits

were enlisted from the age of twenty for twenty-three years’ service

in the army, of which five were passed in the regular army, thirteen

in the reserve, and five in the militia. The period in the reserve

was divided into two “categories.” The 1st Category comprised those

recently passed into the reserve, and the 2nd the older men. If a

“general” mobilization were ordered, the 1st Category reservists of

all districts were the first to be summoned to rejoin the colours.

In case of a “partial” mobilization, however, the mobilization was

by districts instead of categories, and in such a case men of both

categories were to be ordered up from certain districts. The latter

was the system employed in the war against Japan. The authorities,

for reasons explained in the book, hesitated to employ the system of

general mobilization, and so denude European Russia of all the 1st

Category reservists. They therefore drew largely on the older men.

The unfortunate results of this action are made clear by General

Kuropatkin. Again, as regards the troops sent from European Russia, a

distinction must be made between “reinforcements” and “drafts.” The

former term has been used to signify formed units sent to the front;

the latter term is applied to bodies of men despatched to make good the

wastage as required.

A. B. L.

E. D. S.

LONDON,

_March 1, 1909_.

FOOTNOTES:

[1] “The War in the Far East, 1904-1905,” by the Military Correspondent

of the _Times_. John Murray.

[2] P. 68, Volume II., of this book.

[3] With a small portion of the third volume in Chapter XIII.

[4] As adopted in the “Official History of the Russo-Japanese War,” now

being published by the Historical Section of the Committee of Imperial

Defence.

AUTHOR’S INTRODUCTION

In the first three volumes[5] of my work accounts are given of the

three principal battles of the war—Liao-yang, the Sha Ho, and Mukden.

Though compiled from the best information obtainable, it is impossible

for such a book to be entirely free from inaccuracies; for not only

is our knowledge of what was done by the Japanese extremely limited,

but it is derived from unofficial sources. At the time these volumes

were written, moreover, there were few reports available from our own

individual corps and armies, and what we had were sketchy in character.

The most complete information, on the whole, was that given in the

regimental reports, upon which we almost entirely depended; but even

these were far from perfect. Commanding officers naturally have a soft

spot in their hearts for their own troops, and the separate narratives

gave very different accounts of what was done by units of one and

the same division or army corps. Great importance has therefore been

attached to such documents as copies of written orders for operations,

dispositions and marches, casualty lists, and ammunition returns. Not

that the latter could be accepted without careful scrutiny, as the

ammunition lost on the march was often included in the total rounds

fired. But, in spite of the admitted incompleteness and the partiality

of the sources of information, the facts narrated in my first three

volumes present ample material whereby to gauge the _moral_, the

tactical fitness, and the armament of our troops—in short, to judge of

the readiness of our army for war.

The account of the battle of Liao-yang was written in Manchuria by

Colonel Ilinski, of the General Staff, who was then on my staff,

and was sent in November, 1904, to headquarters in St. Petersburg.

This narrative, supplemented by additional material from the pen

of the author, forms the first volume. The second, “The Battle of

the Sha Ho,” was drawn up under my guidance in Manchuria by Colonel

Bolkhovitinoff, of the General Staff. The third, “The Battle of

Mukden,” and the fourth, “The Summary of the War,” I wrote myself,

the former in Manchuria and the latter at my country home. For the

collection of material, the compilation of statistics, and most

of the cartography for the third volume, I am indebted to Colonel

Sivers and Lieutenant-Colonel Havrilits, of the General Staff, whilst

Lieutenant-Colonel Krimoff, of the same branch, has undertaken this

work for the fourth volume. Without the able and unremitting efforts of

these officers, the completion and printing of this book, consisting of

2,000 pages, with plates, maps, and plans, would have dragged on for

years.

Although the ordeal of war through which our country and our army

passed in 1904–1905 is now a matter of history, the materials so far

collected are insufficient to enable us to estimate fairly the events

which preceded the war, or to give a detailed and complete explanation

of the defeats that we sustained. It is essential, however, that we

should take immediate advantage of our recent experience, because it is

only by ascertaining the nature of our mistakes and the failings of our

troops that we can learn how to improve.

In times past, when wars were carried on by small standing armies,

defeat did not touch the everyday interests of the whole nation so

profoundly as it does now, when the obligation to render military

service is general, and most of the soldiers are drawn from the great

mass of the people. If a war is to be successful in these days, it must

not be carried on by an army, but by an armed nation. In such a contest

all classes are seriously affected, and failure is more acutely felt

than it was formerly. When the national pride has been humiliated by

defeat, attempts are usually made to ascertain the causes and persons

responsible. Some attribute failure to general, others to specific,

reasons; while some blame the system or the régime, others blame the

individual. Discontented political factions are quick to make use of

a national disaster as a weapon against the Government, and so with

us the party hostile to the Russian Government not only strove to

injure it after the war, but did so—much to the disadvantage of our

arms—during the actual course of military operations. This party would

indeed have been genuinely glad to see us suffer defeat, as there would

then have been a hope of undermining the prestige of the Government,

and so bringing about a revolution. Their motto was, “The worse things

are—the better,” and hundreds of thousands of proclamations were

distributed among the troops going to the front—especially those from

the west—urging the soldiers on to defeat, not victory. In Russia

many journals, though not the organs of the above party, contributed

materially to its success by abusing both the army and the Government.

Again, many of the correspondents at the front, ill-informed as to

our own operations, and worse informed as to the enemy’s, did not

scruple to despatch reports founded on entirely unreliable information,

and so, by exaggerating the importance of every reverse, shook

public confidence still more. Many officers, too, wrote home from

the field,[6] and tried to show their smartness by hasty criticism,

by making inaccurate statements, and by discussing affairs in a

pessimistic tone. Little was written of what really happened in the

actual fighting-line—of the deeds of those many heroes who lay face to

face with the enemy for months together, and fought on without losing

confidence in eventual victory. The gallant private soldiers, modest

young officers, commanders of companies, squadrons, batteries, and

regiments, did not write—they had no time to scribble of their labours

and exploits—and there were few pressmen who elected to witness their

deeds: it would have entailed sharing their hardships and their dangers.

Of course, there were brave men among the correspondents, and men who

were genuinely desirous of rendering assistance; but, lacking as they

were in the most elementary military knowledge, their efforts were,

not unnaturally, of little value where complicated operations were

concerned. The persons really most capable of forming a judgment upon

what they saw, and of putting matters in their proper light before

the reading public, were the foreign military attachés. Many of them

were in every sense picked men. They were interested in our soldiers,

shared all their dangers and hardships, and, in return, gained their

affection and respect. But while none of their reports were seen in

Russia for a long time, many of our Press correspondents, who stayed in

the rear and saw only the reverse side of war, revelled in harrowing

accounts of the orgies and dissipation that went on in Harbin, and

presented to the public an absolutely distorted picture of the life of

the army. The result was that our Press to a great extent played into

the hands of our foreign and domestic enemies; instead of which, it

might have called into being with the news of our first defeats a wave

of patriotism and self-sacrifice, and, as the difficulties at the front

grew thicker, might have appealed to the Fatherland for fresh efforts,

cheered the faint-hearted, and summoned all the best of the country’s

manhood to fill the gaps in our ranks caused by the enemy. What it

did accomplish was to instil a hatred of the war into the masses,

depress those departing for the front, undermine the private soldier’s

confidence in his officers, and weaken the authority of those in

command. Truly the army had little encouragement to issue victoriously

from its difficulties. On the contrary, the troops sent forward from

Russia carried with them the seeds of fresh disaster in the seditious

proclamations with which they were loaded.

A large number of valuable works upon different subjects suggested by

the late war have appeared, many of them written with a sincere desire

to do justice to the army; but, owing to ignorance of what really

happened, they contain numerous and serious mistakes. Passions are now

calming down, and it is possible to separate into different categories

the charges levelled at our forces and their representatives during and

after the war. These accusations, in so far as they refer to the War

Department, were mainly as follows:

That the army was not ready for war with Japan.

That, having taken insufficient steps to prepare for war, the War

Department did not attempt to prevent it.

That the leaders of the army did not make the best use of the men and

material placed at their disposal during its course.

I shall endeavour in my fourth volume both to refute these accusations

conclusively and to emphasize the principal lessons for our future

guidance to be drawn from the campaign.

The work of the War Ministry of an Empire like ours ought not to

be of a haphazard nature. Its success must depend on the amount of

money allotted to military needs and the manner of expenditure of

these funds. The country spends large sums on the army, thus starving

numerous other urgent demands, and an unsuccessful war naturally

leads to the conclusion that this expenditure has been thrown away.

But, before forming any judgment, it is necessary to be in possession

of full details of what had to be undertaken, and of the financial

means available. The problems which confronted our War Department

were the inevitable result of the policy pursued by it in former

years; they were, so to speak, the legacy of the nineteenth century

to the twentieth. That the size and cost of an army must be in direct

proportion to the growth of a nation and the military activity of its

neighbours, is a fact that cannot be ignored if we wish to rest assured

of the safety of our Empire. To us, in our comparatively immature

state of civilization, the burden of the armed peace necessitated by

the immense growth of armaments in Europe seems almost unbearable,

and our available funds are inadequate to meet all the initial and

recurring financial demands. It has only been possible to satisfy the

most urgent. To decide which were most important among such things as

the re-armament of the artillery, the construction of fortifications

and barracks, the accumulation of reserves, and the improvement of the

condition of the troops, etc., was a complicated and difficult enough

matter for the War Department; but the decision upon larger questions,

such as which frontiers were most in danger of attack or on which side

our policy of expansion called for another forward step, was beyond its

scope. The solution was dependent on the general political programme,

and this was, in its turn, the result of the policy followed in former

centuries, and the outcome of the internal condition and needs of the

Empire.

On January 1, 1898, when I took over the duties of War Minister, I

found many schemes actually in progress, and numerous others—worked

out and marked as urgent—for the execution of which money had not been

available. Thanks to the ability and energy of my predecessor, the army

was in a high state of efficiency as compared with former years, and I

thus found myself in a favourable position to draw up a scheme of work

for the next quinquennium.[7] But, as has been explained, the policy of

my department was bound up with that of the Ministries of the Interior,

of Finance, and of Foreign Affairs, and there had been a difference

of opinion between the late War Minister and his colleagues on some

most important points. As there was no co-ordinated programme between

the War and Navy Departments, I was forced to spend my first two years

in office in framing an exhaustive statement for our guidance. In

this I traced out and summarized the achievements of Russian arms and

what the tasks before them had been in the eighteenth and nineteenth

centuries, showed which had been finished and which had been left over

for completion to the twentieth century, and pointed out the sacrifices

made by the nation towards this result. I reviewed the condition of

each of our frontiers, indicated the numbers and organization that

would be necessary for military operations in the different probable

theatres of war, and estimated the power of offence of our most likely

adversaries. Having thus arrived at some logical conclusions as to what

had to be faced in the coming century, it remained to draw up definite

proposals for the improvements necessary in the organization for war of

the army.

The General Staff Academy assisted me in my work, Colonel Mishlaivski

helping in the history, Major-General Zolotareff in the military

statistics, and Colonel Gulevitch in the administration. Information on

strategical matters was furnished by the General Staff. This analysis

was completed and submitted to the Tsar in the spring of 1900, and a

few copies—with the secret strategic matter omitted—were, with his

permission, sent to the Ministers of Finance, Foreign Affairs, and

the Interior, to the State Comptroller, and a few selected officials.

The programme for the period 1898–1902 was framed by me upon the

conclusions drawn from this statement. In 1903 a general report of all

that had been carried out by my department during the previous five

years was printed and submitted to the Tsar. This document showed the

funds available, the total requirements which had been carried out,

and those left undone owing to the lack of money. Later on in the same

year a programme for the period 1904–1908 was submitted and approved.

Thus, for the twelve months immediately preceding hostilities work was

carried out according to a strictly defined programme, from the printed

record of which the results attained can be judged. In the same way

that we in the War Ministry were forced to have recourse to the lessons

of the past when framing our programme for the future, so in this work

is it necessary, in order to explain properly what was done in the

years 1898–1904, to refer to the conclusions upon which the programme

for this period was based.

My fourth and last volume consists of twelve[8] chapters. In the first

chapters I shall include some necessary extracts from my analysis of

1900, and my report of 1903 upon the work of the War Ministry for the

quinquennium 1898-1902, omitting, of course, confidential matter. The

last chapters will be based on papers relating to the recent war, on

my diaries, and on articles that appeared in the Press.

I have been so intimately connected with the important events in the

Far East, and have been so largely responsible for the failure of

our military operations, that I can hardly hope to take an entirely

dispassionate and objective view of the men and matters that I shall

deal with in the present work; but my object is not so much to justify

myself by replying to the charges that have been brought against me

personally, as to furnish material that will make it easier for the

future historian to state fairly the reasons for our defeat, and thus

enable us to avoid similar misfortunes in the future.

FOOTNOTES:

[5] [Of these only portions of the Introduction and Conclusion of

Volume III. have been translated.—ED.]

[6] The motives of those who started writing upon their return to

Russia, also, were not entirely above suspicion.

[7] The money put aside by the Treasury for the War Department is not

allotted annually, but for quinquennia periods.

[8] [Chapters I. to XII. in the following translation.—ED.]

CONTENTS TO VOL. I

CHAPTER I

PAGES

An historical résumé of the problems which confronted

the Russian War Department during the past two

centuries 1–39

CHAPTER II

Russia’s frontiers in Europe and Asia—Conclusions as

to their suitability to the needs of the Empire 40–77

CHAPTER III

The expansion in numbers of our army in the eighteenth

and nineteenth centuries, the suitability of our

peace and war establishments, and the growth of

our neighbours’ forces—The growing complication

of our defence problems towards the end of the

last century 78–95

CHAPTER IV

Deductions drawn from the work of the army in the

past 200 years, which may serve as some guide for

the line our military policy should take in the

beginning of the twentieth century 96–110

CHAPTER V

The work before the War Department in the concluding

years of the last, and the early years of the present,

century—Money allotted to it from 1898–1903—Inadequacy

of these sums to meet the demands—Measures

which it was possible to undertake—Steps

taken to improve and consolidate our position

in the Far East 111–144

CHAPTER VI

The War Minister’s opinion on the Manchurian and

Korean questions from the year 1900 to 1903—What

he did to avoid a rupture with Japan 145–198

CHAPTER VII

Why the Japanese were successful 199–228

CHAPTER VIII

Reasons for our reverses: The minor part played by the

fleet—The small carrying capacity of the Siberian

and Eastern Chinese Railways—Absence of any

diplomatic arrangements to permit of the unhampered

despatch and distribution of our forces—Delay

in mobilization of reinforcements—Disadvantages

of “partial mobilization”—Transfer

during the war of regulars from military districts

in European Russia into the reserve—Delay in

the arrival at the front of drafts—Weakening of

the disciplinary powers of commanders as to the

punishment awarded to private soldiers—Delay in

promoting those who distinguished themselves on

service—Technical shortcomings 229–309

ILLUSTRATIONS TO VOL. I

GENERAL KUROPATKIN _Frontispiece_

OPPOSITE PAGE

H.I.M. THE EMPEROR NICHOLAS II. 156

VICE-ADMIRAL ALEXEIEFF 168

H.I.M. THE EMPEROR OF JAPAN 200

PRINCE KHILKOFF 230

RUSSIAN TRANSPORT CARS BEING DRAGGED ACROSS

LAKE BAIKAL ON THE ICE BY HORSES 248

MAPS

SKETCH-MAP OF EASTERN ASIA, SHOWING POSITION OF

THEATRE OF WAR WITH REFERENCE TO NEIGHBOURING

TERRITORIES 145

MAP OF THE SIBERIAN RAILWAY 243

THE RUSSIAN AND ENGLISH NAMES OF THE PRINCIPAL ACTIONS

+------------------+-------------------------+----------------------+

| Date. | As in Russian Original. | As Translated. |

+------------------+-------------------------+----------------------+

| =1904.= | | |

| April-May | Turinchen (Battle) | The Ya-lu |

| May | Kinchau (Battle) | Chin-chou (Nan Shan) |

| June | Siuyan | Hsiu-yen |

| June | Wafangkau (Battle) | Te-li-ssu |

| June | Feishuiling | Fen-shui Ling |

| July | Sikhean | Chiao-tou |

| July | Motienling, Moduling | Mo-tien Ling |

| July | Simuchen | Hsi-mu-cheng |

| July | Taschichao (Battle) | Ta-shih-chiao |

| July | Yanzeling | Yang-tzu Ling |

| August-September | Liaoyang (Battle) | Liao-yang |

| October | The Shaho (Battle) | The Sha Ho |

| | | |

| =1905.= | | |

| January | Sandepu (Battle), so | |

| | called from the | Hei-kou-ta |

| | struggle round that | |

| | village | |

| February-March | Mukden (Battle) | Mukden |

+------------------+-------------------------+----------------------+

TABLE OF EQUIVALENTS USED

1 verst = 500 sajens = 2/3 mile

1 sajen = 7 feet

1 square sajen = 49 square feet

1 pood = 36·11 pounds avoirdupois

1 rouble = 2 shillings

1 yen = 2 shillings

THE RUSSIAN ARMY AND THE JAPANESE WAR

THE SUMMARY OF THE WAR

CHAPTER I

An historical résumé of the problems which confronted the Russian War

Department during the past two centuries.

During the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries the chief work

accomplished by our armed forces was that necessitated by the expansion

of our Empire towards the north, west, and south, in her struggle to

reach the shores of the Baltic and Black Seas. During the first years

of the twentieth century our forces have been similarly engaged in an

approach towards the ocean, for, some years before the recent war with

Japan—but after she had defeated China—we occupied Manchuria and pushed

forward our advanced troops into the Kuan-tung Peninsula and on to the

shores of the Pacific. During the war we had to repel Japan’s advance

while we maintained the position taken up by us as far back as 1897.

In the event we have lost both Kuan-tung and Southern Manchuria, and

have been driven back in the Far East, with the result that we are now

in immediate contact on the mainland with Japan, who is in military

occupation of Korea, Kuan-tung, and Southern Manchuria. For Russia this

has been more than a surprise. It has been a disaster. But now that the

first outburst of natural grief has subsided, there is some possibility

of being able to trace the various causes to which our military

misfortunes are due, of drawing attention to the most important, and of

appreciating at their correct value the many hasty judgments pronounced

upon military events by the Press. The complexity of the chain of

circumstances which led up to hostilities, and the intricacy of the

military operations which followed, demand some detailed investigation

into the nature of the peculiar conditions which denied success to our

arms in Manchuria. A proper understanding of the difficulties will, I

think, be materially assisted by a review of certain events in our past

military history.

It was only after a severe struggle and a violent upheaval that

Russia became one united Empire in the seventeenth century. At the

commencement of the eighteenth there were, in our immense expanse of

territory amounting to some 265,000 square miles (of which 79,000 were

in Europe), only 12,000,000 inhabitants; and our frontiers, though

only partially defined, were already 9,333 miles in length. Our army

was about 150,000 to 200,000 strong, but was unreliable as a fighting

force owing to inferior organization and training. Of the total State

Budget—some £1,200,000—half was taken up for the maintenance of this

force. The proper defence of our long frontier necessitated an immense

army, for our boundaries were not strengthened by any natural features,

while our neighbours were powerful kingdoms, such as Sweden, Poland,

and Turkey, nomad Tartars, Caucasian mountaineers, and the Chinese,

about whom little was known.[9]

In the eighteenth century, besides creating a regular army, we had

to carry on the following work, handed to us as a legacy from the

preceding hundred years:

In the north-west we had to continue the efforts of Tsars John III. and

IV. to drive Sweden from the Baltic littoral, and so push forward our

frontier to the coast-line.

In the west, to proceed with the work of Tsar Alexie-Michaelovitch, and

wrest White Russia and Little Russia from Poland.

In the south, to follow the course indicated by the Grand Dukes

Sviatosloff and Oleg, of advancing to the Black Sea coast and creating

unrest in Turkey, as a preparation for our further move forward.

In the south-east, to carry on the struggles of Tsar

Theodore-Ivanovitch and Boris Godunoff to convert the Caspian into a

Russian inland sea, and obtain a firm foothold on the ridge of the

Caucasus. In Asia, to extend the Empire in two directions—towards

Central Asia, for protection against raids, and towards Russia’s

natural outlet in the East, the Pacific Ocean.

During this century it was only the first three of these projects

that we really set ourselves to carry out. Our attempt in 1717 to

gain possession of Khiva ended in complete failure, which for a long

time arrested our advance in Central Asia; while in Siberia, thanks

to the peaceful attitude of the Chinese and Japanese, and to the

weakness of the Kirghiz, we were enabled to protect our 6,000-mile

Chinese frontier with an insignificant number of men. Of the three

tasks seriously attempted, the first—that of gaining possession of

the Baltic sea-board—was the most difficult. For twenty-one years

had that able commander, Charles XII. of Sweden, fought with a small

but veteran army against the might of Russia led by Peter the Great.

Even the genius of the latter did not avail to avert our complete

defeat at Narva in 1700, but his determined efforts to create an

army well trained and numerically superior to the enemy were crowned

by our victory at Poltava just nine years later. This struggle—the

Great Northern War—only came to an end in 1721 with our annexation,

under the Treaty of Nishtabtski, of Ingermanland (the province of St.

Petersburg), Esthonia, Livonia, and a small part of Finland, altogether

3,500 square miles. The reasons of our defeat at Narva were that we put

too few men—50,000—in the field in the first instance, and that they

were unreliable. During the course of the war the army was increased

in numbers to 136,000, and at Poltava Peter the Great had a very

large superiority in numbers, besides the assistance of experienced

subordinates and veteran troops. During the whole war we put in the

field a total of 1,700,000 men. Our access to the Baltic cost us

120,000 killed and wounded, excluding missing, and 500,000 invalided,

but in gaining it Russia won a place among the great Powers of Europe.

Our progress towards the Black Sea proved almost as difficult, and

necessitated four wars with Turkey. In the first—in 1711—we again

committed the same initial error as we had against Sweden, and started

operations with insufficient numbers, with the result that, in spite

of the presence of Peter the Great, we were surrounded on the Pruth.

Not only did we fail in our object, but we were forced by the Turks to

surrender Azov, and to raze our fortifications on the Lower Dnieper;

but we brought up our total numbers during the fourth war (1787 to

1791), by gradual increases, to 700,000 men, and eventually defeated

the Turks. Our maximum number in any one campaign was 220,000. By

the Treaty of Jassy[10] we obtained the Crimea and the area between

the rivers Bug and Dniester. This final four years’ struggle cost us

90,000 killed, wounded, and missing, and about 300,000 invalided; the

total number of men put in the field during the century in order to

gain access to the Black Sea being 1,500,000. The prosecution of the

third task—namely, that of regaining Little Russia and White Russia—was

the cause of three struggles with Poland, after the last of which she

ceased to be an independent State. In these campaigns the largest army

taking the field on our side was 75,000 strong. The total numbers on

our side taking part in the three wars were 400,000, our casualties

being 30,000 killed, wounded, and missing, and 75,000 invalided. It is

plain, therefore, in which directions our efforts at expansion during

the eighteenth century proved most costly. The brunt of these struggles

was borne by our army, though our fleet, under Peter the Great—its

founder—played a conspicuous and gallant part in the conflict with

Sweden.

The commencement of the nineteenth century found Russia a strong Power

as compared with her condition a hundred years before. During the past

hundred years the Empire had extended in area from 265,000 to 331,000

square miles, and the population had increased to 37,000,000. The

revenues had also grown considerably, from £1,200,000 to £5,500,000;

but the finances of the State had been severely shaken by incessant

warfare. Though £2,200,000 had been spent on military requirements, the

whole frontier was still in an unsettled state, and required special

watchfulness on account of the many politico-military questions which

might arise with Sweden, Prussia, Austria, the Caucasus, and Central

Asia.[11] The efforts which had been made during the latter part of the

preceding century to develop our army had not been fruitless. It had

improved in quality and in professional knowledge, had produced such

men as Rumantsieff and Suvoroff, and had grown in numbers; but still

its size was out of all proportion to the country’s financial position.

Economy was unknown in military affairs. The administration was

defective, there was no higher tactical organization than the regiment,

and the training given was not uniform. The steps taken by the Emperor

Paul II. to rectify these defects were without success, and the war

establishment was reduced from 500,000 to 400,000. Theoretically,

the army was distributed over twelve inspection areas or military

districts; but when the western districts became incorporated in the

Empire, and we thereby became directly involved in the political

problems of Europe, the greater portion of our troops was required to

garrison the country west of the Dnieper. In 1799 about 100,000 men

were stationed across the frontier,[12] approximately 130,000 formed

two armies in the south-western districts,[13] and in the north some

50,000 were distributed around the capital; the rest were scattered

throughout the country, about 25,000 being on the Siberian and

Caucasian frontiers. Though a continuation of what had gone before,

the military problems of the nineteenth century had to be faced under

more complicated conditions. In the north-west Russia had still to

put the finishing touch to her effort towards an outlet on the Baltic

by gaining possession of the northern shores of the Gulf of Finland

and the eastern shores of the Gulf of Bothnia. In the west the Poles

had to be kept in subjection, and our frontier defended from Prussia

and Austria. We had to maintain the position we had won, and also to

oppose Napoleon’s army of a million men. In the south we had to make

permanent our footing on the shores of the Black Sea, and to guard its

coasts from oversea attack. In the Caucasus and the Far East everything

remained to be done. The consolidation of our position in the two

latter directions, so as to protect, before all else, the Russian

population of the southern districts, demanded an energetic advance.

It was upon the army that a large share of the execution of these

projects naturally fell. Firstly, the beginning of the century was

remarkable for our colossal struggle with France, of which Suvoroff’s

campaign in 1799 was the commencement. We advanced against Napoleon

as the ally of Austria and Germany, whom he was in the process of

destroying; but the campaigns ended in our utter defeat at Austerlitz

in 1805, and Friedland in 1807. The war in our country of 1812–14 was

a continuation of the first two Napoleonic wars, and, notwithstanding

the invasion of Russia by an immense army, and the fact that our troops

were driven back beyond Moscow, Napoleon was defeated, Europe was freed

from his yoke, and Poland became an integral portion of the Russian

Empire. The determination with which Peter the Great and Alexander

I. conducted their struggles against such opponents as Charles XII.

and Napoleon is in the highest degree instructive. In both cases

we commenced hostilities with inadequate numbers, suffered complete

initial defeat at Narva, Austerlitz, and Friedland, but nevertheless

continued the contest. In both cases our troops were reinforced, and

gradually became trained and seasoned; leaders were created by the war

itself, and our numbers increased until we obtained superiority over

the enemy, and finally ended the struggle victoriously by winning the

battle of Poltava in the one case, and by marching into Paris in the

other.

One result of these wars was the final definition of our present

boundary with Poland, which will soon have been established for one

hundred years. Any alteration of it, as will be shown later, would not

only be distinctly detrimental to our interests, but could only be

brought about by a European conflict, which would entail such appalling

sacrifices that any change would be on the whole as disadvantageous

to Germany and Austria as to Russia. Thus we can at once dismiss the

defence of our present Polish frontier from the probable tasks of the

twentieth century. Still, the Poles, split up as they are amongst three

great Powers, with their well-known national aspirations, have not up

till now become reconciled to their fate, and the internal pacification

and administration of Poland will doubtless prove one of the problems

of this century.

Though our most difficult piece of work in the eighteenth century had

been the attempt to gain an outlet on the Baltic, the completion of

this task in the nineteenth met with little opposition from Norway

and Sweden. The campaign with the latter country in 1808–09 lasted

fifteen months, and ended with our annexation of Finland. During its

progress the army was never stronger than 44,000 men, the total number

put into the field amounting to 65,000. Our casualties were 7,000

killed, wounded, and missing, and 9,000 invalided; total, 16,000. It is

interesting to note that we were in superior strength in forty-three

engagements, of which we won twenty-nine and lost fourteen. Although

after this war we annexed Finland as an integral part of our Empire,

we paid too little attention to its internal affairs, the result being

that there grew up close to our capital a large hostile country,

of which the population, though small in number, was stubborn and

independent in character, and was imbued with ideals entirely differing

from our own. The final incorporation of Finland in the Empire has been

left for our statesmen of the present century.

The consolidation of our position on the Black Sea, which we had gained

in 1791, was proceeded with energetically, but was not completed, in

spite of three wars waged with Turkey—in 1806–12, 1828–29, 1877–78.

The first ended in our annexation of a portion of Bessarabia. By the

second we acquired the mouths of the Danube and a strip of the Black

Sea littoral, 370 miles long. The interference of the European Powers

in Russian affairs, in order to weaken us in the Near East, led to

the Crimean War of 1854–56, which resulted unfortunately for us, as

we lost our Black Sea fleet and the possession of the mouths of the

Danube. At the time of the Crimean War we had a numerically strong

army, and much excellent material both among the officers and the

rank and file. A great number of the former were of the nobility; the

men were long-service soldiers (twenty-five years); while the warrant

and non-commissioned officers were experienced men, and wielded

considerable authority. But after the successful wars we had waged

earlier in the century the army had deteriorated in war-training

and fallen behind in armament. All ranks had been deeply bitten

by Arakcheeff’s views of military science, the senior ranks being

specially weak. That an army was intended for war was quite forgotten.

Spit and polish and parade smartness were considered far more than

battle efficiency, and more attention was paid to the “manual exercise”

and to ceremonial movements than to anything else. The best proof of

the views held at this period was the way in which commanding officers

of all arms permitted the rifles to be filed and burnished, so that,

in performing rifle exercises, a thousand rifles would flash and ring

together as smartly as one. An officer’s military career depended on

the interest behind him. Without influence only those got on who most

slavishly performed the wishes of their commanders, however cruel or

barbarous. The national movement towards greater personal freedom,

initiated by Emperor Alexander I. after the Napoleonic wars, had

penetrated to the rank and file of the army, but had now been replaced

by an Administration which paralyzed every activity or impulse towards

initiative throughout the country, and acted like a blight on every

grade of the population, civil as well as military. Everyone was, so to

speak, dressed in a tunic buttoned right up to the chin, and looked as

if he had “swallowed a poker.” The whole country, army included, could

say nothing but “Very good,” “Quite so,” and “All correct.” The private

soldier was treated with cruelty, and was badly fed; peculation and

dishonesty of all kinds were rampant. Not only did commanding officers

largely augment their pay from the money granted for the purchase of

forage, but this was winked at as being only natural. As had always

been the system, the commands of regiments were given to the younger

sons of the nobility, to enable them to exist, while the favouritism

shown to the Guards was the curse of the service. Any display of

initiative by soldiers was punished, and the Press was afraid to

speak; a discussion in a military paper of questions of dress even was

considered to be harmful “free-thinking.” The result was that while we

were outdistanced in _matériel_ by the armies of Europe, we made no

progress in _moral_, despite our large numbers. Holding such views as,

for instance, that the main use of a rifle was to make a pleasant noise

in the “manual exercise,” we naturally did not worry about re-armament,

and entered upon the war of 1854–56 armed with smooth-bore weapons

against our opponents’ rifles. The spirit of our fleet, fresh from

its victory at Sinope, and having such men in command as Lazareff,

Nakhimoff, Korniloff, and Istomin, was excellent, and its numbers were

strong; but, technically, it was even more behind the other fleets of

Europe than our army was behind the land forces of our neighbours, and

against our sailing-ships in the Black Sea the Allies brought a fleet

of steam-vessels. The peace strength of the standing army in 1850–60

was more than 1,100,000 men, but the greater part of it was stationed

in the western frontier districts, in the Caucasus, and in the large

cities. The peace strength of the Allied armies amounted to: France,

400,000; Great Britain, 140,000; Turkey, 450,000. Only a portion of

these forces took part in the war, but nevertheless Russia was beaten.

As regards our preparedness in our first campaign on the Danube, an

officer who took part writes in his recently published Memoirs:[14]

“The conflict with the West in the Crimean War of 1854–56 ought

not to have taken us by surprise. Rumours of war were prevalent in

the summer of 1852; and, on account of these rumours, particular

anxiety was felt concerning the inefficiency of our transport

and military equipment generally. Indeed, the late Emperor

Nicolai-Pavlovitch, at his autumn inspection at Elisavetgrad,

personally warned the troops of the proximity of hostilities.

Finally, in June, 1853, our troops crossed the Pruth and occupied

the Danube Principality, and in October Turkey declared war. Our

brilliant victory and the total destruction of the enemy’s fleet at

Sinope aroused the enthusiasm of the whole nation, but gave France

and great Britain a _casus belli_ against us. Then began the long

series of sad and scandalous disasters to the Russian arms. The

Danube campaign of 1853–54 could not possibly have been successful,

for it was carried out with no definite object. Either because we

did not fathom Austria’s real intentions, or else believed that she

would remain neutral, we tried to meet her demands, and by so doing

tied our own hands. Our defence of the left bank of the river was

not favoured by one single piece of good fortune, and our offensive

operations were soon abandoned under pressure from Austria. The

campaign brought us neither honour nor gain, and while once more

confirming the gallantry of the Russian soldier, it exposed the

criminal incapacity of his commanders and the many abuses which had

crept into the Service. In June, 1854, we returned with shame and

anger to our own country from the walls of undefeated Silistria,

and the Allies turned their glances towards the Crimea.”

The disembarkation of the allied armies, only 50,000 strong, seemed

madness in face of our force of 1,000,000 men and our strong fleet.

However, Prince Menshikoff, the Commander-in-Chief, and a professional

sailor into the bargain, allowed the landing to take place without

hindrance at Eupatoria on September 14 and 15, though he had at his

disposal sixty vessels, amongst them some steamers. Though the fleet

could not, of course, have counted with absolute certainty on victory,

we had it in our power then to wreck the enemy’s plan of operations by

dispersing their convoys of transports. The Allies were on the sea from

September 8 to September 14 between Varna and Eupatoria, but we were

unable to find them. At the Alma we had 33,000 men (42 battalions, 16

squadrons, 84 guns), and offered a determined resistance; but though

we were operating in our own country, we did not know the locality,

and General Boskey, leading his column by a path of whose existence we

were ignorant, fell upon our left flank. This attack decided the day,

and our troops were routed.[15] Then on September 26 began the eleven

months’ struggle for Sevastopol. Our exhausted fleet landed a number

of guns and lent some experienced commanders to the army—chief of all,

Nakhimoff, Korniloff, and Istomin. Operations now assumed the character

of siege warfare, in which our troops played their part most nobly; but

it must be remembered that the army of the Crimea was twice severely

beaten: on November 5, 1854, at Inkerman, and on August 17, 1855, at

the Tchernaya. Regarding the Battle of Inkerman, the above-quoted

writer says:

“Prince Menshikoff, with the arrival of the remaining two divisions

of the 4th Infantry Corps, had, in addition to the Sevastopol

garrison, an army of 40,000 men under him, but he lost the great

battle of Inkerman on November 5, 1854. Its object was to seize

Sapun Ridge, as a first step to raising the siege of the town,

after which he would have driven the Allies towards Balaclava

and then out of the Crimea. The battle was well planned, every

arrangement was made to insure victory, but the result was, owing

to the incomprehensible mistakes of individual commanders, a bloody

and decisive defeat.

* * * * *

“Ten thousand casualties, a loss of _moral_ among the troops—the

soldiers’ lack of confidence in their leaders, as well as Prince

Menshikoff’s distrust of the army under his command—were the

results of this disaster which for so long doomed our force to play

a passive rôle. The ultimate issue of the Crimean campaign was

really settled by this; the moment for the relief of Sevastopol

had been missed, and our field operations lost every trace of

initiative. A moral deterioration set in which led to unheard-of

irregularities in our army.”

Menshikoff was replaced by Prince Gorchakoff, but things became no

better. The troops at the Alma[16] were commanded just as they had been

at Inkerman. While individual commanders did not help one another,

the attack delivered from Sevastopol did not support the operations

on the Alma. On September 8 the Allies delivered an assault, and

seized Malakhoff Hill. Though they were driven back with great loss

from other portions of the position, we were compelled to withdraw

from the northern side during the night of the 10th. This retirement

was decisive, and peace was declared—a peace dishonourable to us, for

by it we were deprived of the right to maintain a fleet on the Black

Sea, and lost the mouths of the Danube. This result was all the more

painful as the Allies were inferior to us in strength, and, had we been

determined to continue the war at all costs, would have been obliged to

make up their minds to conquer the Peninsula. Even had they succeeded

in taking it, we ought, remembering Peter the Great’s counsel in the

Northern War, and Alexander I.’s example in the war of the Fatherland,

to have continued the struggle.

Our weak points were the incapacity of our seniors and of our staff,

and particularly the inefficiency of the supply services. Of the

different arms, the infantry, artillery, and sappers were the most

reliable, while the cavalry, despite its numbers, played a small and

inglorious part. It was very difficult to maintain communication with

our own country in the rear, especially in the winter, when the roads

were bad. The transport of supplies to the front encountered such great

obstacles, and was so badly arranged, that the troops had not only

to undergo great hardships, but were often in actual want of food.

The medical services also were shockingly organized. Drunkenness and

gambling amongst both officers and men, especially at a distance from

the advanced positions, were of everyday occurrence, and looting and

robbery of every kind became universal. But this was the seamy side of

affairs, and did not imply that the whole army or the whole nation were

rotten, for, despite all the mistakes of our commanders, the men kept

up their spirit, and were quite ready to fight on until victory should

eventually crown their efforts. The war produced Nakhimoff, Korniloff,

and Istomin, who met heroic deaths, whilst amongst the survivors stood

out the names of Khruleff, Todleben, Sabashinski, and others. Of the

regimental commanders, most proved in every way fitted for their

duties, and many junior officers of all arms became seasoned veterans

whom the private soldiers would follow anywhere. The men were patient,

enduring, brave, and ignorant.

The finances of the country, moreover, were not crippled by this war.

Throughout the operations only two loans were raised, amounting to

£10,000,000; £43,000,000 of paper-money were issued, and £19,000,000

taken in State banks. Altogether the war cost us £72,000,000. Even

in 1856 general belief in our power and resources was not shaken,

and our credit stood high, in spite of our disasters in the field.

We, therefore, could and ought to have continued the struggle. If we

had done so, the Allies would, as I have said, have been obliged to

undertake the conquest of the Crimea. In proportion as they advanced

from the coast their difficulties would have increased, while our

army, gaining numbers and experience, would have become more and more

formidable, and would in the end have hurled them back into the sea. In

his notes on the war our historian, Solovieff wrote as follows:

“At the time of the accession of the new Emperor, the minds of all

were full of the painful ending of the Crimean War. Alexander II.

was forced to begin his reign with the conclusion of a peace such

as no Russian Emperor had accepted since the peace after the Pruth,

and the new Emperor felt to the full the weight of the burden

imposed upon him. Foreign affairs were by no means in so critical a

state that an energetic ruler could not have emerged from the war

without loss of dignity or material advantages. In the interior of

Russia there was no exhaustion; the nation was by no means driven

to extremities. The new Tsar, whom everyone desired to love, could

undoubtedly, if he had appealed to this feeling and to the national

patriotism, have aroused a tremendous enthusiasm which would have

supported any action he chose to take. The Allies not only felt

the burden of the war, but were desperately anxious for its close,

and a firm announcement by the Tsar to the effect that he intended

to continue fighting until an honourable peace was concluded would

undoubtedly have compelled them to fall back.

* * * * *

“... But for this course of action, breadth of view, daring,

capability, and energy were necessary—qualities which the new

Emperor did not possess. It would even have been sufficient if he

had had round him advisers who would have lent him some support,

but there was not a man of any moral or intellectual strength in

his entourage. He was surrounded by those who, haunted by the

groundless fear of having to fight the whole of Europe, had been

partly responsible for Nicholas’s retreat. The only voices to be

heard now were those that cried: ‘Peace! peace at any price!’ And

so, after the fall of Sevastopol, peace was concluded at a moment

when that place might have played the same rôle as Moscow did in

1812. After the sacrifice of the fortress we should have announced

that, far from being over, operations were only just beginning!

With the Allies would have then remained the onus of finishing the

war.”

Dissatisfaction with the results of the campaign was universal, and

penetrated all grades of society. The root of the evil was seen to lie

in our serfdom, so the Tsar Alexander II., the most humane of men,

himself headed a movement for the emancipation of the serfs. They

received their freedom. This event was of extraordinary importance,

constituting, in truth, an epoch in Russian life, which affected all

spheres of activity, not excluding that of the War Department. A new

language was heard on all sides. Indeed, it is difficult now to realize

the animated, convincing, and liberal tone of the articles which

appeared in the _Voenni Sbornik_. But, alas! everything soon returned

to its former state. The Polish rebellion of 1863, the attempt to

assassinate the Tsar, and the open conspiracies of a few evil-minded

people, served as a pretext for the adherents of the old régime to

strive for the reduction of the rights that had been granted. Their

efforts were crowned with success, and a reaction set in which was

particularly violent as regards educational and agrarian affairs. The

War Department, however, was under the enlightened guidance of General

Milutin, who, as far as possible, reduced the effect of this reaction

upon the army; the department, indeed, was on this account for some

time looked upon with suspicion. Though the Crimean War did arouse to

some extent the latent patriotism of the masses, it was waged at too

great a distance from the heart of the people to have earned the title

of a national struggle.

It is unthinkable that any great nation could ever have become

reconciled to the terms of such a peace as that signed by Russia in

1856, when she engaged to abstain from maintaining a fleet in the Black

Sea, and to give up the mouths of the Danube, won by her in 1828–29.

However involved, therefore, its causes may appear, the war of 1877–78

was in reality but a continuation of our two-hundred-year-old struggle

towards the Black Sea, on this occasion complicated by the necessity

of assisting our kindred in the Balkans—the Servians and Bulgarians.

Though we did not make the most of our opportunities, the time for

preparation allowed us by the Turko-Servian War really decided the

issue of that between ourselves and Turkey. It is true we mobilized

and concentrated the army in Bessarabia before the declaration of war,

but we delayed so long in making this declaration that the Turks also

had time for preparation. The severe reverses we suffered after our

initial successes showed that our opponents, who were now armed with

the breech-loading rifle and organized on the European model, were no

longer the foe that we had faced in 1828, whose mobs of armed men were

easily routed by small bodies of our troops. As usual, we put too few

men in the field at first; but the Emperor, upon the advice of General

Milutin, pressed masses of reinforcements to the front, among them the

Guards and the Grenadiers, the flower of our army. Our comparatively

short line of communication enabled this to be done with considerable

rapidity. It was at Plevna, in August, 1877, that we suffered our last

heavy reverse, and by October the Guards and Grenadiers had arrived at

the front. Including the Roumanian, Servian, Montenegrin, and Bulgarian

militias, we succeeded in placing superior numbers in the field, our

armies amounting altogether to some 850,000 men in both theatres of

operations, and in spite of the enemy’s gallant opposition, we advanced

up to the very walls of their capital. But it was not a lightly-won

victory. To break down the stubborn defence of the Turks, who were ably

commanded at Plevna, we were forced to put thrice their number into the

field. Dubniak Hill, which was very weakly fortified, was only taken by

the Guards, who were five or six times as strong as the enemy at that

particular point, after a desperate fight. Though their earth-works

were mostly of field profile, and without any obstacles, such as wire

entanglement, mines, and abatis; though the defenders had no bomb-proof

shelters; and though we were three to one in men, and put many more

guns in action, we were unable to seize Plevna by assault, but had

to resort to a blockade. Our Commander-in-Chief, however, was ably

supported on the European side by such distinguished leaders as Gurko,

Skobeleff, Radetski, and Todleben, whose troops soon became seasoned,

and brought victory to our arms. In the theatre of operations in Asia

the Grand-Duke Michael Nicolaeff was assisted by Lazareff, Heyman,

Ter-Gukasoff—all energetic and able soldiers. Under them our Caucasian

force did gallant service. While the force under Kridner and Zotovi

was being driven back from the weak Plevna position, they were engaged

in night assaults on the fortress of Kars. The defence of the Shipka

Pass and of Bayazet, on the Turkish side, are among the most brilliant

achievements in our military history.

This war again showed up many blots in our organization. The supply and

medical services were very inefficient. The work of the cavalry and

artillery on the European side was not up to expectation. The whole

burden of the campaign was borne by the infantry, and right well did

this Arm issue from the ordeal. In some engagements units lost as

much as one-third or even half their strength, and yet were able to

re-form and continue the action. Nor was there anything to complain of

as regards the reservists. Their long halt at Kishineff enabled them

to shake down and to amalgamate with the serving soldiers. Certain

units, however, just brought up to strength with reservists, and

sent into action before they had had time to be properly trained and

disciplined, were not on every occasion as steady as they should have

been; but, generally speaking, our troops upheld their reputation for

gallantry, steadiness, endurance, and discipline. But we were stronger

in defence than in the attack. Although this campaign—our first

experience after the introduction of the law of universal military

service—ended successfully, it emphasized the inferiority of our

arrangements for rapid mobilization and concentration as compared with

those of our western neighbours. The men were called up upon no regular

mobilization scheme or system, and the reserve units were formed

haphazard, and, owing to the inefficiency of the railways running to

Roumania, the general concentration was slow. Our information about

the enemy was insufficient and unreliable—it was due to our ignorance

of their strength that we took the field with such weak numbers. Our

re-armament was not completed owing to lack of funds, and we started

operations with three different patterns of rifle. We did not have

enough maps, and the reconnaissance sketches which had been made—of

the Shipka position, for instance—were left behind in St. Petersburg.

Our artillery _matériel_ was technically inferior to the enemy’s, our

4-pounder gun in particular being useless. The engineer services and

stores were insufficient, and their distribution was bad. Thus, in the

fights at Plevna on September 12 and 13, when Skobeleff and Imeretinski

led the main attack on the enemy’s fortified position, with an army

corps consisting of twenty-two battalions, there was only a detachment

of some thirty sappers, which I myself had by chance been able to

collect! Siege material was not forthcoming in sufficient quantity,

and what there was was of obsolete pattern. I have touched upon the

cavalry duties on the European side, which were, with few exceptions,

unsatisfactorily and selfishly performed throughout the war. The

work of the artillery, which on the Caucasian side was splendid and

self-sacrificing, in Europe often left much to be desired. There were

instances of batteries retiring because a few men had been wounded.

Many of the most senior commanders were unfit for their positions,

and capable artillery or cavalry leaders were few and far between.

The staff work, particularly that of the General Staff, was seldom

good. There was far too much correspondence before a battle, while

to report the most important events, or to inform subordinates of

what was happening, was a duty frequently forgotten in the stress of

action. During the actual combat touch was not properly maintained

either laterally or to the rear, and as a result there was little

co-operation between the different arms, the brunt of the fight being

thrown almost entirely on the infantry. The light railway communication

(via Roumania) was inadequate in capacity and badly organized. There

were no rest-camps along the line, and in winter, when the roads were

cut up, the transport of every kind of supplies was almost impossible.

The attitude of our troops in Bulgaria towards the inhabitants was

not always humane or just. Payment for produce brought in was made

irregularly, or not at all, owing to the improper system whereby forage

allowance was treated as the perquisite of a commanding officer. Away

from the front disorder and debauchery were common. Owing to our

hurried advance in insufficient strength, we were obliged to evacuate

areas of the country once occupied, and the people who had at first

received us with open arms as liberators were forced either to retire

with us or be slain by the returning Turks. Consequently, for a time

there was a general revulsion of feeling; the Bulgarians lost all

faith in us, and began to turn towards the enemy. Up to a certain point

it was the Crimea over again. Strong in defence, we were weak in power

of manœuvre, and our attacks consequently suffered from clumsiness:

this was notably the case at Plevna. On the other hand, there is no

doubt that we were greatly assisted by the comparative unreadiness

of the Turks for any offensive operations; otherwise our cordon in

Bulgaria might have easily been broken in August or September, before

reinforcements reached us. We should then have been obliged to fall

back behind the Danube. Only the jealousy and incompetence of the

Turkish leaders, and the interference from Constantinople, saved us

from misfortune. In spite, however, of all our want of organization,

in spite of all our shortcomings, we defeated the Turks, capturing

whole army corps at Plevna, Shipka, and Kars, and finally marched

victoriously to the walls of Constantinople itself. This was the last

great war in which we were engaged in the nineteenth century, and

immediately after it, in 1879, our military self-esteem received a

severe blow in Central Asia. Repeated raiding by the Turcomans, carried

out even in the neighbourhood of Krasnovodsk, necessitated a special

expedition into the Turcoman Steppe. The experienced and veteran

leader, General Lazareff, was appointed to its command, but at his

death, on the eve of the departure of the force from the line of the

Artek towards Geok Tepe, the command unfortunately passed to the next

senior—General Lomakin—who was quite unfitted for such responsibility.

The expedition ended in disaster. The force reached Geok Tepe, the

weakly fortified Turcoman stronghold, and made an attempt to storm it

which was unsuccessful, though our troops consisted of the magnificent

Caucasian regiments. We were forced to abandon several hundred

breech-loading rifles, and to retire with great loss to the fortified

posts on the line of the Artek. We had to make greater efforts, and had

to organize quite a large force—measured by the standard of Asiatic

warfare. General Skobeleff, an especially able and energetic man, was

given the command of it, and after a severe fight he defeated the

Turcomans and seized Geok Tepe. We twice met with reverses in the

different night attacks made by the enemy, being overwhelmed by sheer

numbers after desperate hand-to-hand fighting; we lost three guns

and the standard of one of the most distinguished of our Caucasian

regiments.[17] But Skobeleff succeeded in instilling into the minds of

all that, whatever the loss or sufferings, they should continue to

fight to the bitter end. So we won. This expedition showed, however,

that the time had passed when columns composed of a few companies, like

those under the command of Generals Cherniaeff and Kaufmann, could

defeat greatly superior numbers of natives. Besides being very brave,

the Turcomans were armed with captured Berdan rifles, with which they

managed to inflict severe loss upon us. Of the small force of under

5,000 which attacked Geok Tepe, we lost about 1,000 in killed and

wounded. The very last action in which our troops took part in the

nineteenth century was the affair at Kushk in 1885,[18] when a small

Russian force defeated the Afghans at the expense of forty-three men.

The result of the Turkish War of 1877–78 was that we regained the

mouths of the Danube, and obtained possession of Batoum and Kars. In

our contests with Turkey in the nineteenth century our primary object

was the freeing of the various Balkan nationalities still subject to

Turkey. But this question touched too closely the interests of the

other nations of Europe, who opposed us, by force at Sevastopol, and

diplomatically at the Berlin Congress. The lack of simplicity in our

aims also militated against our success, for in our anxiety over the

fate of the minor nationalities we lost sight of our own material

interests. Consequently, the results attained in this century on the

Black Sea did not on the whole correspond to the sacrifices we made.

In the three wars with Turkey we put 1,700,000 men into the field

(bringing the strength of the army up to 850,000 men in 1878), and

lost in killed, wounded, and missing 126,000; sick, 243,000; a total

of 369,000. If we take into account that we put 1,300,000 men into

the field during the Crimean War, and that our casualties in killed,

wounded, and missing were 120,000, and in sick 220,000, it appears

that the acquisition of the Black Sea littoral, the mouths of the

Danube, and the right to maintain a war fleet on the Black Sea, cost

us 3,000,000 men put into the field, a loss in battle of 250,000, and

460,000 invalided. Yet, in spite of all these sacrifices, the gateway

out of the Black Sea remained closed to us and open to our possible

foes. In 1878 we were virtually in possession of this gateway, but now

it is guarded against us not only by the Turks, but by the Germans. The

task of preserving our position on the Mediterranean from the Black Sea

has passed to the twentieth century.

To obtain possession of the Caucasus we had to fight twice with Persia

in the nineteenth century, and were at war for sixty-two years with the

mountaineers of the Caucasus. Before arriving at our present frontier

in Central Asia we had been making expeditions for thirty years. Our

operations both in the Caucasus and in Central Asia were productive

of many gallant feats. Though in the former we crossed swords with a

particularly brave opponent, and had to contend against extraordinary

natural difficulties, we were in greatly superior numbers and far

better organized than the enemy, and from a purely military point

of view the contest did not present at all the same difficulties as

the wars against the Turks. During our operations in Central Asia,

from 1847 to 1881, we never had more than 15,000 men in the field

at one time. The total number sent out was some 55,000, of whom we

did not lose as many as 5,000 killed and wounded, and 8,000 sick.

Our work in these two directions can be said to have been completed

in the nineteenth century, for, as will be shown later, not only

is no realignment of our present frontier necessary, but no change

is possible without risking serious conflicts with Turkey, Persia,

Afghanistan, and, probably, Great Britain. But the character of the

Caucasian and Central Asian peoples will demand constant watchfulness

and a strong hand in order to prevent racial and religious risings.

In spite of the small force maintained in Siberia, we considerably

altered our frontier line in the east during the nineteenth century,

and in the twentieth century we must be careful to preserve the

peaceful relations which have lasted for 200 years between the Chinese

and ourselves.

During that period we lost our possessions in America by making them

over to the United States for a small sum of money. We also practically

forced the Japanese to give us the southern portion of Saghalien in

exchange for the Island of Kurile, and annexed Kamchatka, the Amur

and Ussuri districts, and finally the Kuan-tung Peninsula. The Ussuri

district was awarded to us by the Peking Treaty of 1860, more or

less as a reward for the assistance we gave China in the drafting of

the Peking Treaty with the French and British after their capture

of Peking. Similarly, our movement in Manchuria was, so to speak, a

_quid pro quo_ for our mediation and intercession on China’s behalf

after her unsuccessful war with Japan. Thus, while our advance to the

Baltic and Black Seas cost two centuries of work by the army and many

lives, we were able to reach the Pacific seaboard in 1897 without any

bloodshed. But the success so easily gained was pregnant with the seeds

of disaster.

During the last two centuries the expansion of the Empire implied a

gradual realignment of all our frontiers, except on the greater part

of that between us and China, which, from the valley of the Katuna

to the mouth of the Schilka, remained unchanged for 200 years. The

western frontier had moved from a distance of 300 miles from Moscow in

1700 to one of 670 miles. In the north-west and south we had reached

natural boundaries in the Baltic and Black Seas. In the same period

we had pushed forward our confines a considerable distance from the

Caucasus and in Central Asia. The following figures show us roughly

what the two main struggles, between the years 1700 and 1900, have cost

us in men: In our efforts to reach the Black Sea we lost 750,000 out of

3,200,000[19] men put in the field against Turkey, while the conflict

with Sweden for an approach to the Baltic cost us 700,000 out of the

1,800,000 combatants employed. This is sufficient to convey some idea

of what sacrifices we must expect from our army in any attempt on our

part to reach the shores of the Pacific and Indian Oceans during the

present century. Moreover, the growth of our territory has forced us to

include within it many and different foreign and even hostile races,

and our frontier is to-day (1900),[20] from a military point of view,

therefore less soundly established than it was in 1700. Though the

population of the Empire has increased from 12,000,000 to 130,000,000,

it must be remembered that we have now on and within our borders more

than 40,000,000 who are only partly connected to us by racial ties, but

are more or less alien both by religion and by their historical past.

Within the same period peace reigned in Russia for 71-2/3 years. During

the remaining 128-1/3 years there were thirty-three foreign and two

internal wars, which can be classified, according to the political

objects for which they were fought, in the following order:

1. For the expansion of the Empire—twenty-two wars, lasting about 101

years.

2. In defence of the Empire—four wars, lasting 4-1/4 years.

3. In the interests of general European politics—seven wars and two

campaigns, taking 10 years.

4. Civil wars—two wars, lasting 65 years.

5. For the suppression of revolts—6 years of military operations.

These conflicts exposed to the horrors of war some 10,000,000 of

people, of whom about one-third were lost to the nation, nearly

1,000,000 being killed and wounded.

The gradual change in the war establishment of the army (excluding

militia, second line troops, and reserve) can be traced from the

following figures:

In 1700, with a population of 12,000,000, we had a war strength of

56,000 men—_i.e._, 0·47 per cent. of the population. In 1800, with a

population of 35,000,000, we had a war strength of 400,000—_i.e._,

1·14 per cent. In 1900, with a population of 132,000,000, we had

1,000,000—_i.e._, 0·75 per cent. It must, however, be noted that

the army had only just been formed in 1700, and that very shortly

afterwards its war strength rose to 150,000—_i.e._, 1·3 per cent.

Thus, notwithstanding the introduction of a new system of recruiting

our forces (the law of universal military service), and their gradual

growth, the proportionate burden imposed upon the nation in keeping

the ranks filled was at the beginning of the twentieth century

about one-half of what it had been 100 and 200 years before. This

is all the more remarkable, as in 1700 and 1710 the army had not

been properly developed, and was considerably below its strength in

1800, owing to the reforms of the Emperor Paul Petrovitch. The great

difference between the peace and war establishments first arose in

1855, on account of the Crimean War, but it became permanent upon the

introduction of universal military service.

As regards the work that would probably fall to the Russian armed

forces in the twentieth century, I wrote the following in a report I

made, as War Minister in 1901:

“With the limitations of human understanding, it is not possible

to look ahead a hundred years, and we cannot, therefore, lay down

what our army will have to undertake in the twentieth century; but

by analyzing the past and reviewing our present position among the

great Powers of the world, it is both possible and essential to

estimate the nature of the work that will come before our army in

the next few years at least. In the last two centuries Russia’s

main work was connected with the expansion of the Empire. _From

this it seems that the matter of our frontiers is still the most

urgent._ It is, therefore, important to answer the following

vital questions: Are we content with our present frontier? If

not, where and why are we not? This is a matter which must not

be considered only from our own point of view. If we are content

with our position, and are not anxious to advance or retire our

frontier, it is certainly improbable that we shall undertake any

wars of aggression in the twentieth century; but in arriving,

by great efforts and the immense sacrifices of 200 years, at a

position satisfactory to ourselves, we have, perhaps, so placed our

neighbours that it may be their object in the coming century to

regain the territory of which they have been deprived. If so, the

danger of war will not have been removed; it will have been changed

in nature from that of an offensive to a defensive struggle.”

FOOTNOTES:

[9] On the north-west, from Varanger Fiord to Pskoff (about 1,350

miles), we marched with our powerful neighbour Sweden, who possessed

an army of 100,000 men. At this disturbed period she was mistress of

the country round the Baltic coasts and of the present province of

St. Petersburg, and possessed in the fortresses of Finland and in the

Baltic littoral an enveloping base for a gradual movement on our Pskoff

and Novgorod provinces. On the west, from Pskoff to Tchigrin (about

1,000 miles), we marched with Poland, the frontier re-entering like a

wedge near Smolensk to a distance of 300 miles from Moscow. Poland,

the ally of Sweden and Turkey, was Russia’s natural enemy, for she was

in occupation of our soil in White and Little Russia. On the south,

from Tchigrin to Azov (about 400 miles), the boundary ran practically

undefined, shared with the Tartar hordes subject to Turkey, who then

possessed an army of some 500,000 men, and a strong fleet on the

Black Sea. From Azov to the Caspian (about 400 miles) our neighbours

were Tartars and nomadic Caucasian mountaineers, who were continually

raiding our borders. Lastly, in Asia our frontier, which was here also

only vaguely defined, marched with that of the Kirghiz tribes and races

subordinate to China.

[10] [In 1792.—ED.]

[11] In the year 1800 the weakest portions of our frontiers, which had

increased since 1700 to a total length of 11,333 miles, were: On the

side of Finland (Swedish), from Neyshlot to the mouth of the Kumen

(about 200 miles), owing to the proximity of this boundary to St.

Petersburg; from Grodno to Khotin (about 130 miles), due to the absence

of natural obstacles and strong fortresses, and to the propinquity of

Prussia and Austria; on the Caucasian side only a portion lay within

our sphere of influence, and after the annexation of Georgia conflicts

became frequent with the Caucasians; on the Central Asian side, because

the annexation of the Kirghiz tribes, in the time of Anne Ivanovna,

had brought Russia into immediate contact with the Khanates of Khiva,

Bokhara, and Khokand, whose inhabitants looked upon our approach with

no friendly eye.

[12] The troops of Suvoroff, Rimskov-Korsakoff, Herman, and those

afloat in the fleet of Admiral Ushakoff.

[13] The armies of Lassa (about 65,000; headquarters, Grodno) and of

Gudovitch (about 65,000 to 70,000; headquarters, Kamenetz-Podolsk).

[14] “Memoirs of a Sevastopol Man” (N. S. Maloshevitch, 1904), chaps.

ix., x.

[15] In this fight our weapons had a range of 300 to 450 yards, as

compared with the enemy’s (Minié) rifle, which had a range of 1,200

yards. Our Rifle battalions, of which we had one per army corps, were

alone armed with rifles.

[16] [? Tchernaya.—ED.]

[17] Only fourteen men were left of the company in whose advanced

trench the standard was. The officer commanding the battalion, the

company commander, and company subaltern, were all killed.

[18] [An affair of outposts on the Afghan frontier, which caused a

considerable stir at the time.—ED.]

[19] [In the eighteenth century, 1,500,000; in the nineteenth century,

1,700,000.—ED.]

[20] [This is apparently extracted from General Kuropatkin’s report of

1900.—ED.]