with three or four of his staff. He is a tall, soldierly man, with thin
face, clean-cut jaws, and most alert and intelligent. He impressed me
as being the ideal type of Russian general in appearance. Proud without
being haughty, frank without conveying the idea that he sought the good
graces of anybody for the purpose of misleading them, a manner of quiet
determination which suggested that he would not hesitate to be cruel if
necessary to gain his ends, he looked every inch the commander. He wore
several imperial orders.
“Commanding General of the Siberian Army and Ataman of Siberian
Cossacks” was rather a wide and all-embracing description, considering
the fact that Semenoff commanded some five thousand men supposed to be
Siberians, and was himself a Siberian Ataman in Trans-Baikal. There
probably was some conflict of authority, yet the Trans-Baikal has
been represented to me as not being really Siberia. However, stand
Ivanoff-Renoff beside Semenoff, in civilian attire, and on the instant
I would select Ivanoff-Renoff as a Siberian Cossack chief, and hire
Semenoff for a motorman. I do not mean to imply by this that Semenoff’s
abilities do not go beyond his being a motorman, but merely wish to
state that, compared with Ivanoff-Renoff, Semenoff does not contrast
favorably with the other.
At that time, it was reported that Trotsky had said that the Bolshevist
government would control all Russia in six months. I had my interpreter
quote Trotsky to Ivanoff-Renoff. He smiled grimly, and said: “Before
then we will have hanged Trotsky.”
Ivanoff-Renoff remained several days in Chita. I heard that Semenoff
offered to join forces with Kolchak if the latter would withdraw the
“traitor” order, but that in no case could he coöperate with Kolchak
while that order stood. I do not see that Semenoff could take any other
stand.
Ivanoff-Renoff investigated the charges that Semenoff had interfered
with supply and troop trains for Kolchak, and I heard that he reported
to Omsk that there had been misunderstandings, or exaggerations, and
that the charge should be withdrawn against Semenoff, together with
the “traitor” order. It seems that Kolchak was not satisfied with this
report, and in time Ivanoff-Renoff departed for Vladivostok, and was
reported to have broken with Kolchak because Kolchak did not take his
recommendations in the proper spirit. It was said that a commission
would be sent by Kolchak to take the matter up in detail, which I
suppose made Ivanoff-Renoff feel that his services were of no more
value to Kolchak. It would be absurd to suppose that I knew the real
truth of what was going on.
Both parties were probably playing for time, and keeping the Allies
confused. And all hands were waiting to see which way the cat of
the Peace Conference in Paris would jump. There was a new rumor in
the corridors of the Hotel Select every fifteen minutes. If I had
attempted to report them to Vladivostok, it would have taken a dozen
private wires and as many expert operators. But I did put considerable
credence in the rumour that Grand Duke Michael was in Harbin waiting
for the “proper time” to accomplish a coup d’etat and take the throne.
As a sample of Asiatic intrigue, while Ivanoff-Renoff was in Chita, it
was rumored that Semenoff was going to Harbin for a conference with
some mysterious person. It was also said that the Ataman needed the
services of a surgeon, as his wounds from the bomb were not healing
properly. Two days later it was reported that the Ataman had suffered
a collapse and returned to his bed, and that the trip to Harbin was
postponed indefinitely.
As a matter of fact, a couple of private cars of the Ataman had been
run up on a siding close to his residence, and the night that he was
supposed to be back in his bed, he secretly boarded his train, and was
whisked down the line. And his staff officers who remained in Chita
were gravely informing me that the Ataman was at home and feeling very
ill.
This demonstrates the amount of dependence which could be put in
information given out by Semenoff’s headquarters. It reveals the reason
why Americans and Russians were not coöperating to the puzzlement of
our statesmen at home. As a matter of fact, Semenoff went to Harbin,
and then went on to Vladivostok. And I so reported to Vladivostok.
[Illustration: AN EXAMPLE OF CARVING ON A TYPICAL SIBERIAN HOUSE]
[Illustration: TYPICAL RUSSIAN CHURCH IN CITIES OF SIBERIA]
Yet while Semenoff’s train was lying in the yards of Vladivostok, and
our own headquarters were watching for him, headquarters got a story
that Semenoff was still in Chita, and certain staff officers were
rather peevish that they should be misled as to the whereabouts of
Semenoff. They were told that Semenoff happened to be in their front
yard, and to look a little closer for him there. They did, and found
him.
It was about this time that news reached us in Chita that the
Bolshevist leaders had been invited to meet at Prinkipo with the
delegates of the Peace Conference. Our dispatch was translated into
Russian by our Committee on Public Information in Siberia, and
telegraphed to all the Siberian newspapers.
The effect was similar to letting loose about my ears a hornet’s nest.
A Japanese staff-officer came to my room in haste to ask what it meant.
He seemed afraid that the United States intended to recognize the
Bolshevist government. And he was extremely puzzled, which of course
reflected the attitude of General Oba, which was that after the Allies
had come into Siberia to restore order the United States appeared about
to take sides with those creating the disorder.
In any event, the United States appeared willing to treat with
Bolshevism, a fact which would strengthen Bolshevism. All I could say
was that the Prinkipo invitation was obviously based upon conditions of
which we in Siberia knew nothing, and that it was likely that the text
of the message as we received it, had been garbled in transit.
The humorous aspect of the invitation was that “all parties” were
invited to be in Prinkipo, in the Sea of Marmora by the first of
February, or some fifteen days after the invitation was issued.
Considering the fact that it had taken me thirteen days to travel from
Vladivostok to Chita, a distance of two thousand versts, fifteen days
for all delegates from Russia and Siberia to get to Prinkipo revealed
the fact that those who set the date were ignorant of the conditions of
travel in Siberia--or bluffing diplomatically.
So the Japanese were perturbed by the Prinkipo invitation--that is, as
perturbed as a Japanese permits himself to be.
The effect on the Cossack officers of Siberia, was to fill them with
suspicion toward the United States, to make them feel that we were not
playing fair with them, and to give them the impression that they had
been betrayed into the hands of the Bolshevists. In other words, that
the Bolshevists were right, and that all anti-Bolshevist forces were
wrong.
The information we got was to the effect that President Wilson
recognized a state of revolution in Russia and desired no
counter-revolutionary action.
“But we are counter-revolutionists,” expostulated an officer high in
the councils of Semenoff. “We have been fighting the Bolshevists from
the first, and always will fight them. This information that your
president is willing to hold a conference with a lot of robbers and
murderers, spread broadcast over the country, gives the Bolshevists
a standing they have never had before. And that is not the worst of
it--we have in our armies men who have been Bolshevists, and who have
been more or less argued out of it. These men are now beginning to
suspect that our representations to them against Bolshevism are false,
and we may have mutiny in our forces. It has been hard enough to fight
Bolshevist propaganda, in and out of our armies, but this thing has
made us afraid that we cannot hold the former active Bolshevists and
Bolshevist sympathizers whom we have won to our side. Even if nothing
is done toward a conference, this invitation in itself will do our
cause great harm, and the Bolshevist leaders much good. We feel that
the United States has turned against us, or will in time recognize the
Bolshevist government.”
All I could do was to state that President Wilson was the head of my
government, and commander in chief of our army, and that no matter what
course he pursued, no matter what orders he or his subordinate officers
issued, I should obey. And that if I were in a position to know his
intentions and all the facts in the matter, my personal opinion could
have no effect upon my obedience to orders. And that I could not enter
into a discussion of decisions made in Paris or elsewhere regarding the
policy of the United States. Also, that I had faith that the United
States would act consistently with its history and aspirations, and for
the good of Russia. I asserted that the invitation to Prinkipo might
be a desire to get the Bolshevist leaders to define their position
regarding Russia, and to commit themselves to a line of action--in
other words to state their ideas and ideals. And if their desires did
not meet approval, then we would take a stand against Bolshevism and
the Bolshevists. But my arguments did not reassure him much--he felt
that all the damage had been done.
Now I found a new spirit among those persons who were known to me as
Bolshevist sympathizers. I had had many frank talks with some of these
people, and had listened to their arguments in favor of Bolshevism.
These people now became almost insolent. They told me in effect that
I ought to go home, as my president had taken preliminary steps to
recognize the Bolshevist government, seeing that it would be useless
to combat the Bolshevist rule. They were right, and I was wrong by
being there in their country, and what was I doing, they asked, walking
around with a pistol in my belt. My answer to this was, if my president
felt they were right, and that the presence of American troops in
Siberia was wrong, my president as commander in chief would withdraw
the American forces from Siberia. All my Bolshevist friends had to do,
and all I had to do, I told them, was wait for that order.
For an officer who was practically on diplomatic duty, it was rather a
peculiar position--far inland in Siberia, with all parties suspicious
of him and his government. The Bolshevists regarded me with more open
hostility, the anti-Bolshevists not quite sure I was a friend, the
principal Allied power in Chita somewhat hurt and suspicious that
it might be discredited in Siberia, and such Russians as concealed
whatever partisanship they secretly held, discouraged and believing
that their country was to be betrayed to the Bolshevists by the nation
which they looked to for the most aid and moral support. And American
officers and civilians were scattered through the country, practically
alone, and far from supporting or protecting troops.
For a couple of weeks the Hotel Select buzzed with noisy discussions
in which the principal word was “Americanskys.” More than ever, I felt
that any nation sending its forces into a country, should know what it
intends to do before such troops are sent. And if it gets an expedition
into a foreign country and finds that conditions have changed which
leaves the purposes for which the expedition may be used, in doubt,
the expedition should be put into transports and sent to its own
territory. No man should expect to be a leader without being willing
to make decisions, and assume the responsibility for his decisions.
The man who is not brave enough to make a decision, should be retired
to private life. The quality of a man’s decisions is the only test of
his leadership, regardless of what his uttered ideals may be. Good
intentions with bad decisions will ruin a nation much more quickly than
autocratic ideas wisely expressed in action.
The United States must expect leadership in all its executive branches
because the will of the people in our vast country regarding foreign
affairs solidifies too slowly for the man in power during a crisis to
follow public opinion in matters which touch upon the safety of the
nation. National good must stand above the good of parties.
I was more discouraged by the views of the Prinkipo invitation than
were the Siberians or the Japanese. They suspected my attitude, for I
had always expressed myself as opposed to Bolshevism. But the Cossacks
had difficulty in understanding my reticence regarding my private
opinions and my avowal that I would stand with my political chiefs.
Probably they thought I should ferment an American revolution!
The Japanese understood better, I think, loyalty to government.
Probably, knowing I was anti-Bolshevist, they expected me to commit
hara-kiri.
XXII
FAREWELL TO CHITA
The routine of every day ran along about the same as ever for about a
week after the Prinkipo invitation to the Bolshevists had unsettled our
little world in Chita. But I noted a decided coolness from all parties,
or so it seemed to me. My old stock phrases about the “friendship of
the United States for a great and reunited Russia” did not ring so true
when I got up at banquets to say something pleasant.
And as the toasts to President Wilson and the United States at these
affairs became less frequent and less fervid, I began to feel like a
wet blanket at joyous occasions to which I had been invited. But I will
say that the Russians and the Japanese covered whatever chagrin they
felt in fine style and never relaxed their kindness.
At about this time there was a complete upheaval in Semenoff’s staff.
New officers got into control, and the old ones, with whom I had been
on most friendly terms, went into retirement, which generally took the
form of a trip to Harbin, or an absence explained by a necessity for a
jaunt to some other city. This new staff, with one or two exceptions,
struck me as being composed of the less capable officers in military
administration, but well schooled in intrigue. In effect, it seemed to
me that Semenoff was gradually drawing to him such officers as gave
him the worst advice. Some of them were of a very low type of mind,
and distinguished themselves at banquets by their ability to get so
drunk that they had to lean on the table when they stood up to make
maundering speeches.
I remember one officer who sat at the head of a great table and
represented the Ataman while Semenoff was out of the city. He was in a
drunken stupor, with his head resting on his chest, when the Cossack
band in the next room broke out into a loud and rattly patriotic air.
The host roused himself and got to his feet. He showed every sign of
being inspired to utter profound thoughts. He put up a swaying arm,
as a signal for somebody to stop the band, and when a young officer
ran out into the next room, the tune did stop abruptly. Meanwhile, the
presiding officer hung in stays for a full five minutes like a ship
waiting to come up into the wind. Suddenly the bandsmen, evidently
feeling that the silence in the next room should be covered, broke out
again in music. It was checked none too politely.
Once more the officer gathered himself, and managed to blurt out
the single word: “Russians!” Then he lapsed into silence. The band
exploded, so to speak, beginning on the very bar on which they had left
off. Somebody hurled an empty vodka bottle into the next room, and
demanded silence. The band stopped. This intermittent playing sounded
for all the world like a gigantic phonograph being stopped and started
while somebody tinkered with its machinery.
Our officer uttered a sentence in Russian, swayed and sat down heavily
in his chair. He was asleep by the time he touched the seat. Another
officer felt that he must fill the breach and cover the failure of his
superior. He was not quite so drunk as his chief. He strode to the
balustrade of a balcony, dragging behind him his heavy saber, which had
become unhooked. He raised his arm to command attention, and the sudden
readjustment of his center of gravity threw him heavily against the
balustrade. He lost his balance and fell off the balcony, a distance of
some ten feet to the floor.
But the floor was merely a landing at the head of a long stairway. In
getting up he missed his footing, and tumbled the length of the stairs,
his descent being accompanied by the musical rattle of his saber. The
cooks in the kitchen picked him up, and somebody ordered the band to
resume playing, which it did, at the very note where it had last left
off. No one dared to laugh.
In itself, this incident may appear trifling. Yet it must be borne in
mind that at the table was the governing body of Chita, less the Ataman
himself. But the Ataman’s brother was there, a distinguished-looking
man wearing a Japanese order. And he was not drunk. Mr. Tashkin,
the head of the “civil government” of the province, was also
present--sober, quiet, dignified. I wondered what he was thinking
while this orgy was going on.
And Japanese officers were present, jolly but self-contained, spending
most of their time explaining to some insistent Russian officer that
they could not drink any more champagne. And all the Russian speeches
were of a most patriotic character, and told of the wonderful things in
store for Russia under the flags of Ataman Semenoff.
Marvels were to be accomplished by all those present to restore Holy
Russia to her greatness before the world. The soldiers serving the
tables were quiet and sober. It did not take gigantic brain power
to understand that Russia would never regain any great powers with
Semenoffs set in the saddle.
And I managed, quite by mistake, to get into the kitchen in the
basement when I went down for my coat and cap. There I found at an
early hour in the morning, a group of poor old men and women in dirty
rags mechanically going about their work of cleaning dishes and
mopping the floors. And they looked at the Americansky officer with
inquiring eyes. Somewhere in their brains I suspect they wondered if
the Americans were upholding Semenoff’s régime. It looked that way. Was
I not a guest at the banquet?
This exposition of what was going on in Chita may appear to be bad form
on the part of one who was a guest. But in effect I was the United
States at that banquet, and the people of the United States were paying
me as an officer to learn as much about Siberia as I could, and the
people of the United States have a right to know what I learned.
My hosts knew I was an official guest, and their hospitality was
not really hospitality to me in the proper sense, but an attempt to
gain my esteem by proving to me that they were good fellows. They
thought that champagne would gain for them a favorable report from
me. But the future of Russia, and more particularly future relations
and understandings between the United States and Russia, should not
rest on the good-fellowship of wine. I can report on the splendid
hospitality of the Siberians, as dispensed on their own understanding
of hospitality. I cannot say I would commend Semenoff’s officers
as suitable administrators. It is quite likely that while the band
was playing, they were having several persons executed in a grove.
Festivity has been known to be used as a cover for firing squads.
Semenoff and others had lost hope that the United States would
coöperate with them against the Bolshevists, and had turned to other
agencies from which they might expect financial aid and moral support.
We demanded that an ideal government be formed before we would
recognize any. If an actual honest and competent government had been
formed I doubt if we would have recognized it, because no government
could, or will be formed, which will not be criticized by some Russian
faction. And all some Russian had to do in order to discredit with
us any government or leader that rose, was to whisper that such was
“monarchists,” or “not representative,” or “reactionary.” And all of
those charges would be true, for the simple reason that in any group
of Russians which can be gathered together there are bound to be among
them some who are monarchists, or not representative of all Russia, or
reactionary.
Kolchak formed a government at Omsk in November, 1918. He has not been
recognized yet by the United States. Some say he is a monarchist in
his sympathies. A former officer of the Czar’s fleet, his training and
sympathies are bound to be monarchistic in tendency. He feels that a
firm hand is necessary in dealing with the Russian situation. If we
had recognized him promptly, and backed him up, Semenoff and Kalmikoff
and other lesser lights would have had to adhere to him at once. All
power for the regeneration of Russia would have been coördinated, and
all ambitions of Cossack chiefs to become local princes, would have
been swept away. They would have had to join the parade, and the other
Allies would have been willing enough to follow our lead. And a lot of
bickering and killing would have been stopped.
For that matter, to give Semenoff and Kalmikoff their due, if they had
been recognized, with limitations of their authority, those leaders
would have given up much of their petty intriguing from the first, and
swung into line behind the United States. They would have listened to
our advice.
The whole question when our expedition first landed, was “What will
the United States do?” The answer in a couple of months was: “The
United States will do nothing--let us start something ourselves, which
will repay us for the trouble we have had fighting the Bolshevists.”
So the secret trading began, the forcing of loans from banks got
bolder, there was aid which we deprecated from certain quarters
to these Cossack chiefs. We played a dog-in-the-manger game, with
Christmas-Tree decorations in the form of Red Cross aid, and Y. M. C.
A., and Committee on Public Information, and Trade Boards. We conferred
and commissioned and sent official representatives in military uniform
to various places to make friends, while Bolshevists killed off a
vast population, and Cossack chiefs, under the plea of exterminating
Bolshevists, executed personal enemies.
We sent two or three hundred railroad engineers into the country, they
all thinking that they would be in the army. When they applied for
government insurance, they were told they were not in the army. But
they wore the uniforms and insignia of our army officers, and when some
of them wanted to get out of the country and go home, they were not
allowed to quit their jobs. Members of this organization told me that
they had been given to understand that if they insisted upon resigning,
they could do so, but that they need never again expect to hold a job
with an American railroad. And the Russians said that Russian money was
paying the salaries of these men--and that these Americans were there
to steal the railroad from the Russians. That may sound absurd. But
such absurdities thrust at men in Siberia are not pleasant. They reveal
to some slight extent the difficult environments in which Americans
found themselves in Siberia.
So while in January the temperature hung around seventy degrees below
zero, the social atmosphere was about as cold. Some weeks before,
having replied to a request that I class myself for discharge or for
permanent commission in the army, I had requested discharge.
On January twenty-sixth, in reply to my classification request, I
got orders to return to Vladivostok as soon as an officer who was to
relieve me, arrived in Chita. I had offered my services for the war,
and the war was over.
I immediately informed my friends that I was leaving soon for the
United States. General Oba’s chief of staff gave a Japanese dinner
at headquarters, and invited the British officers and me. We had a
most enjoyable time, free from the drunkenness which marked Siberian
affairs. In fact, it was my most enjoyable official function in Chita.
I made my official call on Oba the day of my departure, and he came to
my room to say farewell. I was sincerely sorry to say good-bye to him.
Captain B---- and Mrs. B---- had planned to go to Vladivostok before
I was relieved. They delayed their departure in order to go with me.
And we went in the private car of a Russian colonel who was going
to Harbin. He was in Semenoff’s service, but I surmised that he was
too high a type of officer and gentleman ever to get very far in the
councils of the Ataman. I did not remember having met him before in
Chita--a rougher element held the front of the stage most of the time.