BEYOND THE BAIKAL
From Baikal to Irkutsk is a short run down the left bank of the Anghara.
We arrived at Irkutsk about the same time as a small detachment of
Japanese troops, who were acting as a guard to their traders and their
stores, who usually travel with the army. The Japs have very pretty
bugle calls for different military purposes, mostly in the same key,
with a sort of Morse code for the different orders, but a Japanese bugle
band is the most terrible thing in the world of sound. It makes one
either swear or laugh, according to one's taste. They gave us an
exhibition in moving off from the station, which everyone who heard will
never forget. I was rather surprised to find that the Jap traders had
established themselves at Irkutsk, as their headquarters were at Chita,
which was also the centre of their agent, Semianoff. Why they came to
Irkutsk at all is a problem. It was generally understood that some of
the Allies were prepared to concede them only the fairest part of
Siberia up to Lake Baikal. Perhaps they had heard whispers of the
mineral wealth of the Urals.
Irkutsk, situated on the right bank of the Anghara, is a rather fine old
town for Siberia. Its Greek cathedral has a commanding position, and
contests successfully with the Cadet School for supremacy as the
outstanding architectural feature first to catch the eye. The town is
approached by a quaint, low wooden bridge which spans the swiftly
running river. When we saw it the battered remnants of human society
were grimly collecting themselves together after some months of
Bolshevik anarchy and murder. Whole streets were merely blackened ruins,
and trade, which had been at a complete standstill, was just beginning
to show a return to life. Putting out its feelers, it had taken upon
itself a precarious life not yet free from danger. The 25th Battalion
Middlesex Regiment was the only British unit in the country; it had
spread itself out in a remarkable manner, and shown the flag on a front
of 5,000 miles. In spite of its category it had brought confidence and
hope to a helpless people out of all proportion to its strength or
ability.
A public banquet (the first since the Revolution) was held ostensibly to
welcome Volagodsky, the Social Revolutionary President of the Siberian
Council, but really to welcome the first British regiment that had ever
entered and fought in Siberia. It was a great occasion, and the first
real evidence I had seen of possible national regeneration. Even here it
was decidedly Separatist, and therefore Japanese in character; a
glorification of Siberia and Siberian efforts, completely ignoring the
efforts of other Russians in the different parts of their Empire.
Evanoff Renoff, the Cossack Ataman, led the panegyric of Siberia, and
the President and the Secretary for Foreign Affairs, a long, watery-eyed
young man, joined in the chorus. They were doubtless all well pleased
with themselves, and thoroughly enjoying a partial return to the old
conditions. Colonel Frank translated in a whisper all that was said, so
that I got a good hang to the mental atmosphere of this unique
gathering. The toast of their Ally, Great Britain, was the occasion
which brought me to my feet. The band played "Rule Britannia" as a
substitute for "God Save the King," for the simple reason that though
mostly Social Revolutionaries they dared not play a Royalist hymn until
they had tested the feelings of their audience. This gave me my cue. I
laughed at their fears, and informed them that whatever happened, our
anthem, which for the time represented the unity of our race, would be
played by my band at the ceremonial to-morrow, and all the Bolsheviks in
Russia would not be powerful enough to prevent it. From this I led to
the flag, another great emblem of racial unity. I called attention to
the entire absence of a Russian flag from Vladivostok to Irkutsk, and
asked, "Is this the country of the once great and mighty Russia that a
stranger travels over without knowing what country it is?" I suggested
that though we had twenty revolutions I could never imagine Englishmen
being ashamed of the English flag or afraid to call themselves
Englishmen. The translation of my remarks ended in a wonderful ovation,
and I thought the band would never play anything else but the National
Anthem, which it repeated again and again.
My list of telegrams and messages of every kind and character from every
part of Russia and the outside world, together with constant repetition
of the speech in the Press, indicates plainly that from this day began
the resurrection of the Russian soul. Another sign of renewed vigour and
life was the fact that from that day the Russian flag (minus the Crown)
flew from the flagpost over every big station we passed, and on all
public buildings. The Russians are extremely emotional, and I had
managed to strike the right chord the first time.
The day following we marched to the square space surrounding the
cathedral, and I inspected the newly-formed units of the army. Splendid
men with good physique, but slow and stilted in movement. The remnant of
the cadets who had escaped the general massacre was there, a wonderfully
smart set of beautiful boys, who at a distance, looking at their faces
only, I took for girls, much to the disgust of the colonel in charge. It
was altogether a fine and impressive sight, with big crowds and the fine
cathedral as a background. With the "Present" and "The King" at the end,
every man present uncovered, and an old Russian lady knelt and kissed my
adjutant's hand and blessed us as "saviours," while the commandant asked
for cheers for "the only country which came to our help without
conditions." I wonder how that will pan out?
We were entertained at the British Consul's, followed by a concert at
night. It was terribly cold, and no droshkies were to be had. We had to
walk to the theatre in a blinding snowstorm. At 2 A.M. we started on our
last lap.
The sentiments of the people changed completely every few hundred
miles. After leaving Irkutsk we soon discovered that we were in enemy
territory, and the few weeks, and in some cases days, that had elapsed
since the retirement of the Bolshevik Commissars had left the country
the prey of the desperado. Let there be no mistake, Bolshevism lived by
the grace of the old régime. The peasant had his land, but the Russian
workman had nothing. Not one in a thousand could tell one letter of the
alphabet from another. He was entirely neglected by the State; there was
not a single effective State law dealing with the labour conditions or
the life of the worker in the whole Russian code. His condition was, and
will remain, in spite of the Revolution, utterly neglected and hopeless.
He has not the power to think or act for himself, and is consequently
the prey of every faddist scamp who can string a dozen words together
intelligently. There are no trade unions, because there is no one
amongst them sufficiently intelligent either to organise or manage them.
All the alleged representatives of Labour who have from time to time
visited England pretending to represent the Russian workmen are so many
deputational frauds. There cannot be such a delegate from the very
nature of things, as will be seen if the facts are studied on the spot.
The lower middle classes, especially the professional teacher class,
have invented the figment of organised Russian labour for their own
purpose.
The condition of the Russian workman is such that he can only formulate
his grievances by employing others to do it for him. Hence there has
come into existence numerous professional councils, who for a
consideration visit the workers in their homes and wherever they
congregate, and compile their complaints and grievances. But these
professionals always point out that the rectification of small points
like rates of wages and working hours are a waste of time and energy;
that the real work is to leave the conditions so bad that, in sheer
despair, the worker will rise and destroy capitalism in a night, and
have a perfect millennium made ready for the next morning.
The poor, ignorant, uneducated, neglected Russian workman is perfect and
well-prepared soil for such propaganda. He found himself bound hand and
foot in the meshes of this professional element, who did not belong to
his class and, except in theory, knew nothing of his difficulties. When
this professional element had misled, bamboozled and deserted him, in a
frenzy of despair he determined to destroy this thing called education,
and made the ability to read and write one of the proofs of enmity to
his class on the same principle that our uneducated workmen of the first
half of the nineteenth century destroyed machinery and other progressive
innovations, whose purpose they did not understand. There would be less
chatter about revolution if our people could only understand what it
means to go through the horrors that have destroyed Russia and her
people more effectively than the most ruthless invasion.
We stopped at a station near a mining village largely peopled with
emigrant Chinese workmen. We removed the Bolshevik flag from the
flag-post, and insisted upon the Russian flag being run up in its stead.
A Russian woman told us to go back, and when we asked her why, she said,
"Well, it does not matter; our men will soon find enough earth to bury
you." But another Russian woman thanked us for coming, and hoped we were
not too late to save a country that was sick unto death.
That night we ran into Zema station, where we came to a sudden stop. I
sent my liaison officer to find the cause, and he informed me that a
body of men were beside the engine and threatening to shoot the driver
if he moved another foot. I ordered the "Alarm" to be sounded, and
instantly 400 British soldiers tumbled out of the trucks. Taking their
prearranged positions, they fixed bayonets and awaited orders. My
carriage was the last vehicle of the train. I walked forward to find the
cause of our enforced stoppage, and was just in time to see in the
darkness a squad of armed men leaving the station. I took possession of
the station and telegraphs, and then heard from the officials that
Bolshevik agents had come to the town and had persuaded the workmen to
leave work, to take arms and cut the line to prevent the Allies moving
forward, and await the arrival of the Bolshevik force which had retired
from Baikal. This force had worked its way along the Mongolian frontier,
and was now feeling its way towards the line to destroy the bridge which
carries the railway over the River Ocka at a point about three versts
from Zema. I placed guards around and in the railway works, engine
sheds, and approaches, and discovering telegrams still passing between
the Bolsheviks and the inhabitants, I occupied by force the post and
telegraph office in the town. Orders were issued that all men must
pledge themselves not to interfere with the trains, and return to work
by 6 A.M., or they would be dealt with under martial law. Two hours
elapsed, during which time my other trains arrived, with machine-gun
section complete, and the whole force were disposed to receive attack.
The troops surrounded the house of the leader of the movement, but the
bird had flown. I found some Bolshevik literature advocating the
wholesale destruction of the _bourgeoisie_ and _intelligenzia_ (I forget
which they put first), also 3,600 roubles, which I gave back to the
wife, saying, "That is a gift from me to you." This act disgusted the
local chief of the gendarmerie, who assured me that it was German money
and ought to be confiscated. I had no doubt it was, but then I was
English, and a Hampshire man at that. Then the usual teacher arrived and
asked if he would be allowed to speak to the "Anglisky Polkovnika."
Receiving an affirmative, he entered and began the conversation. He
naïvely confessed that if he had known it was an "Anglisky" train he
would have allowed it to pass. They had read my order as to their pledge
to return to work, and wanted to know what I proposed to do if they did
not do so. I answered that after having taken up arms against us they
could expect no mercy, and that if they did not obey my orders every
leader I could find I would shoot. The teacher inquired if I would
allow the men to be called together for consultation by their
prearranged signal at the works. I agreed, if they came without arms.
Soon after, the most awful sound came from a huge buzzer. It was now
midnight, and the air was rent by a wailing sound that grew in volume,
to die away into a world sob. Every Britisher there was affected in some
peculiar fashion; to myself it was like nothing so much as a mighty
groan from a nation in distress. Colonel Frank, my Russian guide,
philosopher and friend, ran from the table when the sound began, and
paced the car in evident anguish, and as it died away exclaimed, "Poor
Russia!" and I had felt the same thought running through my mind. All my
men expressed themselves in similar sentiments and as never wanting to
hear it again.
My business was to get out of the place as quickly as possible, but to
leave the line safe. The small militia force was quite inadequate to
deal with a population fully armed. Hence I ordered the surrender of all
arms by the inhabitants, and allowed twelve hours in which this was to
be done.
Six A.M. arrived, and my officers reported all men at work except eight,
and these reported later and asked forgiveness, which was readily
granted. I then informed the management that I intended to call a
meeting of the men and hear their grievances. The management tried to
dissuade me from my purpose, but I at once ordered their attendance in
the headquarters of the works at 10 A.M., when I would hear the men's
complaints. Promptly to time the work finished, and the men crowded to
the spot selected. A British sentry with fixed bayonet and loaded rifle
stood on either side as I sat at the table, while others were placed in
selected positions about the building. I called the managers and heads
of all the departments first, and warned them that I had been forced to
take this trouble into my own hands, that I intended to settle it, and
that if they interfered with the men in any way, either by harsh
measures or victimisation, I would place them under court-martial just
the same as I would any workman who prevented the smooth working of the
railway; in fact, they being presumably more intelligent, would find no
mercy. This information caused quite a commotion amongst all concerned.
I asked the men to state their grievances. The first workman said he had
no economic grievance; his was political. He had been told the Allies
were counter-revolutionists, and as such should be destroyed. Two or
three protested against this, and said they came out on economic
grounds. They said their objection was to piece-work. I tried to get a
statement from them that their wages were low, but they would not
consent to this, admitting that their pay for the same work was five
times what it was in 1917.
I came to the conclusion that it was more of a military movement on the
part of the Bolshevik leaders than a strike such as we understand it in
England. I gave my decision that the men's leaders were to be tried by
General Field Court-Martial. The men's committee then said that they had
never had the chance to meet anyone in authority before, that they were
anxious not to appear as enemies to the great English people, that if I
would carry out no further repressive action against them, they would
continue to work until the end of the war. They heard that Bolsheviks
were approaching their town, and knew the tortures in store for them if
they were found continuing to help the Allies in their advance to the
Urals. If I would secure protection for them they would sign an
agreement never to strike until the war in Russia had ended. I believed
them, and the agreement was signed, but I insisted upon disarmament.
That evening the time limit in which the arms were to be handed in
expired. We were informed by the local militia that some arms were
handed in voluntarily, but many more remained.
The following morning a train with General Knox and his Staff pulled
into the station. I reported the whole occurrence to the general, and
how I had received and sent forward notice of his coming and the object
of his journey. It was here that he informed me of the outrage which the
Japanese officers had perpetrated upon him, in spite of the fact that a
big Union Jack was painted on the side of each carriage of his train.
The inhabitants of Zema were just congratulating themselves on having
got rid of the "Anglisky" when they suddenly found machine guns in
position ready to spray all their main thoroughfares with lead should
the occasion arise. Sections of the town were searched, house by house,
until the piles of arms necessitated transport to remove them. Real
sporting guns which could be used for no other purpose, and the owner
of which was guaranteed by the local police, were returned. In some
houses dumps of looted fabrics from other towns were taken possession
of, and altogether work for the courts was found for the next two
months.
The echo of Zema travelled far and wide, and gave the authorities an
object-lesson how to tackle a cancer as deadly as it was devilish. When
Kerensky destroyed the old Russian army sixteen million ignorant and
uneducated soldiers took their rifles and ammunition home. This was the
insoluble problem of every attempt to re-establish order in the Russian
dominions. The Middlesex Regiment made the first plunge at Zema, and
others soon followed along the path indicated. We re-armed the local
militia, and we took the remainder of the confiscated arms to Omsk,
where they were taken over by the Russian authorities for the new
Russian army. I wired to Irkutsk for reinforcements for the local
militia, as I did not think them strong enough to deal with the
possibilities of the situation. The commandant at Irkutsk wired that he
had information which proved there was no truth in the rumoured approach
of Bolshevik forces, which reply I knew from the experience I had gained
in Russian ways merely indicated his determination not to weaken his own
guard.
At midnight I started on my further journey. About a fortnight later I
received a despairing message from the local militia chief at Zema for
help; he said he was nearly surrounded by the Baikal Bolshevik
contingent, which had suddenly appeared. I took the message to Russian
Headquarters at Omsk, and called attention to my wire to Irkutsk and the
refusal to protect this part of the line. Later I received a report from
the commander of the Russian force sent to deal with the situation. He
said that the Bolshevik leader had come into Zema expecting to receive
material and military help from the people. He found them disarmed and
unfriendly, and determined to take no part in further outrages against
established order. He wreaked vengeance upon some of his false friends,
and was then surprised by Government troops, who dispersed his forces,
killing 180 and capturing 800, together with ten machine guns and 150
horses.
As a rule, Bolshevik contingents were easily disposed of in a town. They
usually looted everything and everybody. Officers were elected from day
to day, with the result that such a thing as discipline did not exist.
Still, had that party arrived when I was in Zema we should have had a
pitched battle worth a lifetime, for as it turned out they had many
machine guns, while we had only four; but there would never have been
any doubt about the result, for though we were only a "garrison
battalion," the steadiness of my men under fire had hitherto been
excellent.
We had been passing through hundreds of miles of wonderful virgin
forests for the last two weeks, with only an occasional opening for
village cultivation and an occasional log town of more or less
importance. The hills and valleys as we approached Krasnoyarsk, covered
with pine trees and frozen rivers, looked like a huge never-ending
Christmas card. At last we arrived at Krasnoyarsk, a large, straggling
town of great importance on the River Yenisei. As we approached we
passed miles of derelict war material--tractors, wagons, guns of every
kind and calibre all cast aside as useless, there being no place where
minor defects could be repaired. Some had no apparent defects, but there
they lay, useful and useless, a monument to the entire absence of
organisation in everything Russian.
I had suffered a slight indisposition, so Major Browne deputised for me,
and inspected the Russian and Czech guards of honour drawn up to welcome
the troops on their arrival. I found the town in a very disturbed
condition, and as it was necessary to guard the great bridge, I accepted
the suggestion to quarter a company under the command of Captain
Eastman, O.B.E., in the excellent barracks which had been prepared for
my unit. This place had been originally fixed upon as the station for
the whole battalion, but important events were happening in Omsk. Our
High Commissioner, Sir Charles Eliot, and the Chief of the British
Military Mission, General Knox, had already arrived there, and required
a guard, hence I was ordered to proceed with the remainder of my
battalion. We remained in Krasnoyarsk for two days, and marched through
the town and saluted the British Consulate. On the last evening the
usual banquet was held in our honour, and is worth a few words because
of an incident which created great interest at the time. The guests were
made up of many officers and others in uniform, and also civilian
representatives of the Town Council, the district Zemstvo, and other
public organisations. The usual fraternal speeches and toasts were
given, and not more than the usual six speakers attempted to deliver an
address at one time. A number of dark-featured, glowering civilians sat
at a table almost opposite to myself, men who by their attire and sombre
looks appeared to be unsuited to the banquet atmosphere, and out of
place amongst the gorgeous uniforms of Cossack Atamans and Russian
generals. They seemed to take not the slightest interest in the
proceedings except for a few moments when certain of my words were being
translated. All seemed bent on the business of the evening and a good
dinner, indicating a return to normal conditions. A Social Revolutionary
representative of the town delivered a furious tirade, which I could get
my officer to translate only in part, but even that part showed me the
world-wide division of opinion amongst my Russian hosts.
The orchestra, composed of German and Austrian prisoners, discoursed
sweet music during the evening, alternately listening to the fiery
eloquence of Cossack and Tartar. A Cossack officer, who had drunk a
little vodka, rose and gave an order to the band, but the prisoners only
got out about three notes. What was in those notes, Heaven only knows!
Instantly the whole banqueting hall was a scene of indescribable
confusion. Tartar and Cossack shouted with glee; older Russian officers
ordered the band to stop, and vainly tried to silence the disorder. The
dark-visaged and apparently unemotional civilians threw off their
armour of unconcern, and hurled epithets and shook clenched fists and
defiance at their military fellow-countrymen. Then they all rushed out
of the building in a body, hissing and spluttering like a badly
constructed fuse in a powder trail. It was like the explosion of a small
magazine. I had no idea what had happened, but took in the full
significance of the scene I had witnessed when told that the notes which
had acted like a bomb formed the first bar of "God Save the Tsar." A few
miles farther on the Autocrat of All the Russias had already met an
ignominious death by being thrown down a disused pit near the line
dividing Asia and Europe. In death, as in life, he remained the divider
of his people.
The trains started off during the night, and on the evening of the next
day we arrived at Hachinsk, where a Russian guard did the usual military
honours, and a sad-faced, deep-eyed priest presented me with bread and
salt, as becomes a Tartar who welcomes a friend. It was lucky for me
that I had some little training in public speaking, and that "Polkovnika
Franka" could make such excellent translations, or we might not have
made such a good impression as I flatter myself we did on some
occasions.
At last we arrived at Omsk, the end of our journey, having passed in a
zigzag direction almost round the world. A few miles to the Urals and
Europe again--so near and yet so far!