he and his officers were all introduced to us. Among those there that
day was a lone British officer, Lieutenant-Colonel Roberts. I am not
sure that this dignified and canny British observer did not see more,
and understand more, of what was going on, than all the rest of us
Anglo-Saxons. This statement is not made in derogation of the abilities
of American officers as observers, nor as a compliment intimating a
superior craft in international affairs on the part of the British
officer, but occurs to me as due to the lack of anything approaching a
“policy” regarding Siberian affairs on the part of our administration.
Not knowing what we were expected to do beyond avoiding as far as
possible any action which might be interpreted as “interference,” our
interests did not extend beyond the dramatic effect of what we were
there to witness. To us, it was merely a show, possibly with something
of an historical interest, as it had been said that by presenting the
colors to this regiment of Cossacks, Kalmikoff was acting as a sort of
godfather at the “birth of the new Siberian army.”
But the British, with India so close to Russia, and an age-old
suspicion of “the man who walks like a bear” in the backs of their
heads, watch Russian affairs with deadly earnestness, for to lose
India might be the first break in the chain of the British Empire.
So to Colonel Roberts, a gaunt and elderly officer typical of the men
who have built the best traditions of Britain in far-flung empires,
this was more than a mere entertainment of a day. At least I got that
impression, as I observed him--politely punctilious, yet with roving
eyes which saw, and weighed, every trifling incident.
I felt that our attitude was the vaudevillian one of “I don’t care.”
No doubt, if one of us had written a detailed report of what happened
that day, and had dared to draw conclusions, and had sent this report
to, say, our own General Staff, it might have been filed. But if we
are going to deal with international problems, we must begin to regard
foreign affairs seriously, and leave to the cartoonist his humorous
conceptions of foreign peoples. We are somewhat inclined to regard
humorously the deadly earnestness of the British in dealing with queer
peoples, but the British know that queer peoples are sometimes the most
dangerous. We persist in using them for comic opera material, and then
wonder why we cannot analyze promptly, and take proper and decisive
action to meet a crisis.
As we stood there in the morning sun, with the wide river below, there
was a sudden stir, and the lances of the Cossacks became more rigid as
the troops came to attention.
From round the corner, we heard the clatter of galloping hoofs, and
suddenly, Kalmikoff swooped into view, mounted on a superb black horse.
Rising in his stirrups, with saber upraised, he cried in Russian,
as he passed at full gallop, a hail which was interpreted to me as:
“Ussuri Cossacks! Your commander comes!”
And from the line of horsemen, came the reply, yelled in unison, “We
are glad to greet you,” and the lances, with their pennons, shot upward.
Kalmikoff whirled back, dismounted, and strode into the church. A band
blared the new Russian anthem. From the church now came a column of
acolytes in white robes, some bearing crucifixes before them, some
swinging censors, all led by mitered priests, who were intoning chants.
The band became silent, an altar was set up in the square before the
assembled troops, and a Russian mass was said. Kalmikoff and his staff
stood at one side with bared and bowed heads, and on the opposite side,
General Oi, and his staff at attention. In line with the Japanese,
were Colonel Styer and his staff. But General Oi, as fitting for the
ranking officer, stood a trifle to the front, in such position that he
was almost directly in front of me, and as he bared his head, I was
conscious of his shaven poll gleaming between me and the altar. He is
a short, stocky, sturdy-looking man, with round, shaven face, of most
martial bearing, and bears himself with quiet dignity.
Thrust up behind the altar was the gorgeously colored and embroidered
standard of the new regiment. The priest, in chanting the mass,
at times removed his mitre, and his long black hair fell over his
shoulders, equalled only in length by his heavy beard. The choir
nearby sang the responses, and their voices were most sweet.
I watched Kalmikoff. A young man, said to have been born in 1884, he is
scarcely more than five feet tall, slight of build, with bluish eyes,
and a small mustache. He wore a saber, and a small pistol slipped into
the loop of a strap hanging from his belt, rather than a holster--a
pistol so small as to suggest a derringer. His aspect was proud and
military, but he did not make the figure one would expect to see head
of several provinces of Cossacks. However, he is reputed to be very
brave, a good commander, and a dashing leader of irregular horse, such
as the Cossacks are. I heard that in the charge, if any of his men
attempted to ride ahead of him, he promptly cut them down with his
saber.
He had made himself a Major General, it was said, and we understood
that he was civil and military governor of the Ussuri district. His
claim to the title of Ataman I never understood fully; some said he was
hereditary chief of all the Cossacks of that section, and some said
he had been elected to that position by the Cossacks, while others
maintained that he had set himself up as the local prince, with no more
to back his authority than a small band of partizans who were organized
into a military staff, chiefly engaged at that time in executing
everybody who opposed his rule.
Already, reports were coming down to our headquarters that protests
were being made by the civilians of Khabarovsk, that many people were
being executed by Kalmikoff’s orders without trial, and that the
victims were merely such personal enemies, or such persons as might
question Kalmikoff’s authority.
But our position of “non-interference” with Russian affairs, made
it difficult for our staff to either advise Colonel Styer, or for
Colonel Styer to take any action other than to make official inquiry
of Kalmikoff as to the executions. Not that I infer Colonel Styer or
our staff found it difficult to obey orders, but Kalmikoff happened
to be one of the “Russian people,” and how could an American officer
interfere with Kalmikoff’s executions without interfering with a
Russian?
And at that time, Kalmikoff’s exploits in fighting the Bolshevist
forces were uppermost in the minds of some of our officers, and it
appeared that what Kalmikoff did at that time was considered by some
subordinate officers to be indicative of his abilities as a ruler. I
heard one young officer say while I was in Khabarovsk the first time:
“The Ataman is a smart fellow. He sits at his desk in headquarters, and
when a couple of prisoners are brought in, he looks at them with those
snapping little eyes of his, and waving his hand, says: ‘take ’em out
and shoot ’em.’”
That, to some minds, may be proof that a general or a ruler is great;
but I could not see that government by firing squads by Kalmikoff is
any better than government by firing squads under the Czar. It all
depends pretty much upon who is going to be shot, and what the person
is to be shot for.
If it happened to be a man of the city who privately expressed an
opinion that Kalmikoff had no business executing peaceful citizens, who
was to be shot for expressing that opinion, the procedure as I see it,
is in line with Villa and similar bandits who keep in the public eye by
having the power and machinery for wholesale human butchery.
The fact that a man may be brave, dashing, and wear a picturesque hat,
has nothing to do with a judgment of his abilities or his morality.
Government by machine-gun may be necessary in certain cases, but it
means that the ruler who has to resort to such tactics has oppressed
the people, or has not made proper use of the printing-press--in other
words, has not educated the people over whom he rules, in the proper
ideas.
I consider Kalmikoff a young upstart, not at all concerned with what
happened to Russia, but attempting to take power to himself in a
crisis, and then aping the worst elements of the old régime. And I
believe that his interests were largely material, and in such form
that the gains financially might easily be taken out of the country.
Because he had fought the Bolshevists, in no sense assured me that
he was at all what he posed as being--a Russian patriot, working for
the rehabilitation of a great and united Russia. I may not have been
alone in this measure of the man, among the American officers, and in
speaking only for myself, I do not wish to imply that I was the only
one to so gauge his character.
To return to the ceremonies, when the mass in the square was over, the
priest blessed the colors of the new regiment, and threw upon them holy
water. Then he presented them to Kalmikoff, who half knelt to receive
them, with a blessing. Standing, and thrusting up the flag, he made a
speech to his troops, in which he said, among other things, that they
were always to guard it with their lives, as true Russians.
The color-bearer rode forward and took it from the Ataman’s hands, and
then the lances were hoisted, and the Cossacks cheered both flag and
Ataman.
After receiving the congratulations of the officers assembled,
Kalmikoff invited us to review his men with him, and we mounted and
rode down the street to the position from which we were to review the
force.
As we rode along, we observed three Russians on the sidewalk with their
hands bound behind their backs, being hustled along by Cossacks, and we
heard whispers that they were to be shot. But we discreetly pretended
not to see these prisoners, and wheeled in our horses to let the new
regiment pass.
The Cossacks approached in column of fours, their new flag in the lead,
and Kalmikoff took the salutes of the commanders. The men of the First
Ussuri Regiment, as it was called, were a motley lot but undoubtedly
were good cavalry of the irregular type. Their uniforms were a queer
mixture of stuffs, and at times, it was hard to realize as some squads
passed, that this was really an army. It looked more like a gathering
of the clans from the hills and plains, and most of them needed a
haircut, as well as a shave. But they looked proud and determined, and
able to over-awe any mob of civilians that might gather to riot, or to
do good work charging or raiding an enemy of neater and more soldierly
appearance. Their arms showed good care, but their long-haired Siberian
ponies probably never had felt a brush. Altogether, it looked like an
army that had been sleeping in its clothes for weeks, instead of a
regiment turned out in a capital city to get official baptism.
In passing, I wish to state that a few months later, these very troops
mutinied against the severity of Kalmikoff, and seeking protection
from Colonel Styer, were disarmed. I heard that the Japanese commander
demanded the arms, claiming them as property of the Imperial Japanese
Government. So the lack of discipline so apparent on the day of the
“new Russian army’s” birth, rebounded upon the commander, and indicates
that on that day he held his power by a very thin thread.
After the review we went to what was apparently a hotel, judging from
the sign, but which was reputed to be Kalmikoff’s private residence. He
had probably borrowed it, after the style of Cossack chiefs usurping
power. We lunched there, while the band played in an adjoining room. At
the head of the table sat Lieutenant General Oi, at his right, Colonel
Styer. Kalmikoff’s officers, in the seating of the guests, happened to
put me beside Kalmikoff’s chair, half way down the table from General
Oi, the seats between General Oi and Kalmikoff being occupied by a
Japanese colonel, and a Japanese staff captain.
As it turned out, the lunch was in the nature of a compliment to
General Oi, and in due time Kalmikoff made a speech in Russian, in
which he thanked General Oi for the aid the Japanese forces had
rendered him, making it possible to establish this regiment just
formed. Kalmikoff spoke no English. After each sentence, an interpreter
gave the translation in Japanese, another interpreter gave us the
English of it.
General Oi responded likewise through an interpreter, and as he spoke,
gazed steadily at the opposite wall, waiting patiently for his staff
officers to render his remarks into Russian and English. We understood
that he wished the new Russian army success, and pledged the help of
his forces in making it a success.
There were considerable international politics being let loose in that
room. In effect, the Japanese were backing Kalmikoff, and when we came
to protest against Kalmikoff’s actions, we were really protesting what
appeared to be actions advised by the Japanese; at least, it is safe
to draw the conclusion that, owing General Oi what he asserted he did,
Kalmikoff was not running counter to General Oi’s wishes. And I have
heard it said that whenever Colonel Styer asked Kalmikoff to explain
the reasons for executions, Kalmikoff went directly to General Oi’s
headquarters before making his reply to Colonel Styer.
I do not bring these matters in as a criticism of the Japanese. I
cite heresay and such facts as I know, to show that the Japanese were
stronger politically in their situation in that part of Siberia,
than we were. It may be safely assumed that General Oi was acting
according to instructions, and from that I deduce that the Japanese
government had a policy of upholding all forces avowedly and surely
anti-Bolshevists. It may have been the correct policy. At least,
Kalmikoff knew that he could depend upon the Japanese to back him up
in putting down the Bolshevists. He had no such assurance from our
government.
It is human nature to lean to the side which declares itself, and
the Japanese made no secret of the fact that they were backing
Kalmikoff with arms and money, and standing in the background while he
consolidated his power. This means that the Japanese were really in
control of things in the Ussuri, and for wanting to hold that control,
I do not blame them, considering that they had large military forces in
the country, and were there as enemies to the Bolshevists.
The Japanese took sides. This meant that at least one side knew them as
friends. In our case, the anti-Bolshevist forces of the Russians, then
chiefly the Cossack forces, were confused by our attitude of grouping
all Russian factions and classes together, with what appeared to be
a distinct leaning to the Bolshevist side. The result was that real
anti-Bolshevists suspected our motives and were most cautious in taking
us into their confidence. But the Japanese had the full confidence of
the anti-Bolshevist leaders, and to have the confidence of either side
in such times, gives a decided advantage in getting a grasp of the
situation.
I have no means of knowing the motives of the Japanese in giving
financial and military assistance to the various Cossack chiefs. I have
no particular reason for assuming that their motives were anything but
what they claimed them to be--to put down Bolshevism. I do doubt that
the Japanese motives were wholly to assist Russia in rehabilitating
itself as a great and powerful empire; I do doubt that the Japanese
Imperial government, sought or seeks to see Russia a united and
powerful republic. Russia has been a source of worry to Japan for many
years, and the many barracks built in Siberia since the Russo-Japanese
war, have not had a tendency to remove that worry. For if the war had
not broken in 1914, or if it had ended without smashing the régime of
the Czar, Japan would have felt the weight once more of the Bear’s paw.
The bigger cities of Siberia are cities which have grown up round
new brick barracks. There are literally miles of these barracks all
through Siberia along the railroad. These quarters could not have been
necessary for an army of the size contemplated by this construction,
merely to keep order in Siberia.
It is plain enough that Russia contemplated revenge for the Manchurian
fiasco. The Czar undoubtedly intended to throw a vast army into
Siberia, move it against Japan, throw another army into Siberia behind
in reserve, and keep hammering Japan till the island Empire was
destroyed or rendered harmless in a military and naval way. He was
waiting for a new fleet capable of coping with Nippon’s navy. And Japan
knew it. I have doubts that she wishes to see that menace once more
in her back yard, and under the present system of competition between
nations for territory, I do not blame her for wishing to protect
herself. Her methods are another matter.
VII
FROM KHABAROVSK TO USHUMUN
A glance at the map shows that a wedge of Manchuria runs up into
Siberia. Khabarovsk is at the northern point. The Amur, flowing in
a general westerly direction, bending southerly along the northern
boundary of the Manchurian province of Tsitsihar, and then turning to
the north sharply as it comes in contact with the province of Kirin,
runs up the westerly side of the wedge, and from Khabarovsk flows
almost due north, where it empties into Amur Gulf, near the Siberian
port of Nikolaievsk, opposite the northern end of Saghalien Island.
The Amur branch of the trans-Siberian railroad crosses the Amur River
a little to the north of Khabarovsk, and almost parallels the river,
but at a considerable distance to the north of it, crossing many
tributaries of the Amur flowing from the north. The red line marking
the railroad, superimposed on a standard wall map, shows no railroad
stations till Kerak, some fifteen hundred versts west of Khabarovsk.
And the sectional Intelligence map which I had, was little better, for
the spelling of the towns was so radically different, that except for
the larger places of simple spelling, I gave up using it except to
orient myself by identifying the various small rivers.
Where the name of the town was transformed into English by our Russian
map-makers, and then the station-sign in Russian betrayed no special
affinity for the Anglicized version, I found many towns which were
apparently astray. Like the navigator who having made a landfall was
told that the port he was approaching was Karaka, said: “Impossible!
Karaka is two hundred miles to the south of here on my chart!” when
my interpreter told me that we were arriving in Poperoffka, I looked
at my map and said: “Impossible! Unless the Bolshevists have brought
Poperoffka here and tied it till they want it.”
There was a company of the Twenty-seventh at Ushumun, our farthest
north. I had a limited time in which to reach this company, and with
one train a day running, on uncertain schedule, I must needs leave
Khabarovsk to complete my itinerary in time.
But there was talk at Khabarovsk that this company would draw down
the line, though the time of its departure was uncertain, and its
destination unknown. At headquarters of the Twenty-seventh I could get
no definite information, a fact which puzzled me, until I learned that
the movement was to be directed by the Japanese commander, General
Otani, and that Colonel Styer, in command of the regiment, was waiting
for orders as to the movement.
I decided to proceed in accordance with my orders, and from detachments
of our troops seek news of the force supposed to be at Ushumun, and
either catch it, or go to where it was.
So with my interpreter, I embarked on a passenger train, late at
night. We got a “coupé” or compartment, fitted with berths for four
persons. It was a so-called “sanitary car” of the second class, and
clean and comfortable. The car appeared to be empty except for us, till
morning, when we found a Japanese captain and his orderly in the next
compartment.
At Nikolsk, on the way to Khabarovsk, and at Vladivostok, there were
American officers in the stations, members of the so-called Russian
Railway Service, known at home as the Stevens Commission. All were
expert railroad men, and telegraph operators, and their presence in
stations made travel simple enough. But after leaving Khabarovsk, I
found the stations in charge of the regular Russian staffs, and a
Japanese staff, the latter with their own telegraphic service. I had
been under the impression that every station had officers of our corps,
and as I found them missing over the Amur branch, I was puzzled, in
addition to being hampered for news and a means of keeping in touch
with my own headquarters. At that time this corps was serving only on
the Chinese Eastern line, but I did not know it.
An instance of my helplessness may be shown by the fact that the
conductor of the train told my interpreter that our car was going
through to Ushumun, and that we did not need to make any change at
Botchkereva, the junction point for the branch running south to
Blagoveschensk. We arrived at Botchkereva about daylight, and I hustled
out to the station, leaving my bedding and baggage in the car, as we
had been informed that we would have a stop of an hour to wait for a
train coming from the south.
I had so far received no information concerning the expected movement
of the force at Ushumun. I now resolved to telegraph in Russian to
Major Miller, the commander, to learn of his plans. We translated
into Russian this message: “Please advise if you will be at Ushumun
to-morrow, as I am on my way to see you.”
My interpreter and the Russian telegraph operator now engaged in a long
debate, and as I was about to inquire into the reasons for it, the
interpreter turned to me in consternation and told me that we must get
our baggage out of the car as promptly as possible.
We fled down the tracks, and while the car was already moving out,
dumped through the window without waiting to roll it, my bedding,
grips, and supplies of sugar and tea and other groceries, along with
the interpreter’s blankets and kit.
While we were thus distributing our property along the railroad,
the interpreter told me that the car was going on the train to
Blagoveschensk. He also said that he had learned of this sudden shift
of the car by overhearing the Japanese commandant’s interpreter at
the station order the Russian station-master to so switch the car,
because the Japanese captain in it desired to go to Blagoveschensk. If
that order had not been overheard, our kits, so vitally necessary to
us, would have been whisked away, locked in the compartment. And our
conductor had assured us, by all the saints in the Russian calendar,
that the car was bound for Ushumun!
While we jettisoned our property from the car-window, the Japanese
captain and his orderly looked on in mild surprise, probably sure that
we were wholly mad. In a sense we were. I refrain from including our
comprehensive and utterly complete remarks on all things pertaining to
the Russians, from the time of the first Michael Romanoff up to the
present and into the future.
Having rolled up a fine supply of particularly sharp cinders into my
bedding-roll, and placed it on the station platform, a Chinese took
a liking to it, and I discovered him making off with it. I doubt if
he understood English, but he did get the drift of my remarks, for he
dropped the roll.
Once more my interpreter resumed the debate with the Russian operator,
and the latter decided to send my message. We had a wait of ten hours
for the next train, and I expected to hear from Major Miller in time to
know whether to proceed aboard that train for Ushumun.
The station waiting-room, crowded with poor people either waiting
for trains, or simply killing time and talking politics, was a most
filthy place. According to our standards, they were in dire poverty,
but men, women and children were most contented and good-natured, and
carried on their primitive housekeeping on the floor, and the mothers
performed most intimate services for their children in full view of the
assemblage with a carelessness for the senses of their neighbors which
appalled me.