OMSK
As Omsk, unlike so many other towns of Siberia, did not care to pay the
usual toll demanded by the railway prospectors, it is situated several
versts from the main trunk line. To overcome this inconvenience a branch
line was afterwards run up to the town itself. The date of our arrival
was October 18, and a right royal welcome awaited us. The station was
decorated with the flags of all nations, the Russian for the first time
predominating. We were met by General Matkofsky, the commander of the
district, and his Staff, who welcomed us on behalf of the new Russian
army, by M. Golovaehoff, Assistant Minister for Foreign Affairs, and the
representatives of the municipal authorities and the co-operative
societies. The women of Russia presented us with bread and salt, and,
generally speaking, the people of Omsk gave us a real Russian welcome.
The ceremonial over, the men were taken to the Cadet School for tea and
entertainment, while the Russian officers regaled the Middlesex officers
at a feast in the Officers' Club. We were introduced to all and sundry,
and began to mix wonderfully well. If we had laid ourselves out for it,
we might have visited every decent Russian home in Omsk. As it was, we
soon became so much in demand that most of us had in a short time
formed lasting friendships with a very charming set of people. Their
welcome was doubtless tinged with relief at the security afforded by the
presence of well-disciplined troops. The wife of a Russian general told
me that she felt as though for the first time she could sleep peacefully
in her bed. The little cadet son of another officer gave permission for
his loaded rifle to be taken from the side of his bed, where it had
rested every night since the Bolshevik Revolution and the cadet
massacres had commenced. If I understand the Russian character denials
of this may be expected, but it is a fact that the presence of those 800
English soldiers gave a sense of confidence and security to the people
of Omsk that was pathetic in its simplicity and warmth. However
suspicious of each other as a rule the Russians may be, there is no
question that when their confidence is given, it is given generously and
without reservation. As to its lasting qualities, that has to be proved,
but at the time it is something real and tangible, and no amount of
trouble taken for one's comfort is too great.
On the date of arrival I had only a few moments for conversation with
Sir Charles Eliot, our High Commissioner, on the political situation. I
gathered from him and his Staff that a desperate effort was being made
to join the forces of the Directorate of Five, which stood as the
All-Russian Government and received its authority from the Constituent
Assembly at Ufa--largely Social Revolutionary in character--and the
Siberian Government, the outcome of the Siberian Districts Duma, which
met at Tomsk and was largely reactionary, with a small mixture of
Socialist opinion. The English and French representatives were genuinely
anxious that a workable compromise should be made between these two
groups and a Cabinet formed that would give confidence to moderate
Russian opinion, and so command Allied recognition with reasonable
prospects of success. This very desirable ambition of the Allied
"politicals" had the sympathy of every friend of Russia, but advice is
one thing, accomplishment another. It was impossible to expect that the
effects of hundreds of years of tyranny and bad government could be
swept away by the waving of a diplomatic wand. The Siberian Government
was largely composed of the "old gang," Revolutionary and Royalist, and
derived its support almost exclusively from the desire of the people to
escape further bloodshed; it was guarded by the Royalist Cossack clans,
as lawless as they are brave. The Ufa Directorate derived its authority
from the moderate Social Revolutionary party composed of the
"Intelligenzia"--republican, visionary, and impractical. Kerensky was,
from all accounts, a perfect representative of this class, verbose and
useless so far as practical reconstructive work was concerned. This
class blamed the unswerving loyalty of the Cossacks and the old army
officers for all the crimes of which the Tsars were guilty, and had
hunted them like rats in cellars and streets during the worst days of
the Second Revolution. The officer and Cossack class cursed Kerensky and
the Social Revolutionaries for destroying the old army and letting free
the forces of anarchy and Bolshevism, which had destroyed the State and
had massacred the manhood of Russia in an orgy of violence and hate.
There should be no mistake made as to the apportionment of blame.
Kerensky is considered by all classes of Russian society as the cause of
all their calamities. They think, rightly or wrongly, that at the
supreme moment when the destiny of his race and country was placed in
his hands he proved traitor to the trust; that had he possessed
one-tenth of the courage of either Lenin or Trotsky millions of Russians
would have been saved from worse than death.
To combine these hostile and divergent elements into a united party for
the resurrection of Russia seemed impossible to me, as it did to one
other Britisher, Mr. David Frazer, the _Times_ Pekin correspondent; but
the "politicals" thought otherwise. That they were guided by the highest
motives and that they gave of their very best in the interest of the
Russian people no one who has the slightest knowledge of the high
personal character of our representatives could doubt for a moment, but
they tried to accomplish the unattainable. The most that could be said
of their policy is that it was worth attempting. Try they did, and under
the influence of the Bolshevik guns booming along the Urals and of
Royalist conspiracies at Chita a piece of paper was produced with a
number of names upon it which seemed to bear the resemblance of a
working arrangement between these two opposites.
I am writing this within three weeks of the occurrence, and may modify
my views later, but for the life of me I cannot understand the
satisfaction of our "politicals" with their work. They "downed tools" at
once and disappeared from the scene of their triumph as though the few
names on a piece of paper had solved the whole problem of the future of
Russia. It would be mighty interesting to know the nature of their
communications to their respective Governments. One thing, however, had
been done which was fated to have important after-effects. Vice-Admiral
Koltchak had been brought into the new Council of Ministers with the
title of Minister for War. I had never met the officer, and knew nothing
about him or his reputation, and merely lumped him in with the rest as
an additional unit in an overcrowded menagerie. Frazer and I had many
talks about these events, but we could fasten on to nothing real in the
situation except danger.
On November 6, 1918, we were all invited to a banquet in honour of this
new All-Russian Government. It was to be the climax of all our efforts
and a tangible evidence of the successful accomplishment of a great
diplomatic task. I was rather late, and the ante-rooms were already
filled with soldiers and diplomats in grand uniforms with glittering
swords and decorations.
I watched this peculiar and intensely highly-strung crowd with the
greatest interest, and except for one figure--a sort of cross between a
Methodist parson and a Plymouth Brother--was struck by the complete
absence of personality amongst the people present. The parsonified
person referred to turned out to be the Social Revolutionary,
Volagodsky, President of the Siberian Council, who had now transferred
his love from Siberia to the whole of Russia. But as my liaison officer
was repeating the names of those present a smart little energetic figure
entered the room. With eagle eyes he took in the whole scene at a
glance. The other officers had bowed gracefully to all their friends and
gallantly kissed the ladies' hands, while around them buzzed the
conversation. For an instant the buzz ceased, during which the brown
figure with the dark, clear-cut face shook hands with an officer friend
and departed. The impression on my mind was that I had seen a small,
vagrant, lonely, troubled soul without a friend enter unbidden to a
feast.
The new President of the Council of Ministers, Avkzentieff, presided at
the banquet, and as we sat down I found myself at the end of the head
table, which gave me a good view of the stranger I had seen in the
vestibule sitting second round the corner. The dinner was good, the
vodka gave warmth to the blood and made a very pleasant contrast to the
"60 below" outside. Avkzentieff led the speeches. Immediately my mind
flew to Hyde Park Corner, and then to the Lyceum stage with Irving in
"The Bells." He spoke with assumed sincerity, cutting the air with his
hands in the manner that a Cossack sweeps off a head with his blade. He
sank his voice and hissed his words in a hoarse stage whisper, while
pointing to the ceiling with a dramatic forefinger. In other words, he
was the best actor it had been my pleasure to see for a long time--a
second edition of his more famous colleague, the futile Kerensky.
Little did I dream that within a few days I would beg for this man's
life and that the Middlesex Regiment would shield him from eternity.
Then followed a speech by General Knox (Chief of the British Military
Mission), who implored all classes of Russian thought to pull together
to establish an Army and a Government capable of supporting law and
public order, a speech full of patriotism and very much to the point.
Then came General Bolderoff, Commander-in-Chief of the new Russian army
and military member of the Ufa Directorate. He had the appearance of a
big, brave, blundering Russian officer. Not too much brain, cunning, but
not clever. I should, however, give him credit for more than ordinary
honesty. Later Admiral Koltchak spoke--just a few short definite
sentences. Very few cheers or shouts greeted this orator. He seemed more
lonely than ever, but presented a personality that dominated the whole
gathering. There was the usual passing round and signing of menus. I
sent mine direct to the admiral for his signature, and when he
automatically passed it to General Bolderoff I said "Neat," and it was
returned with the solitary name of this solitary man. I was now
absolutely satisfied that the new Government was a combination that
refused to mix, and took the most stringent precautions to see that my
unit did not become involved in its impending overthrow. I, however,
made an important discovery at this congratulatory banquet, namely, that
Russia still had one man who was able to rescue her from anarchy.
The business of Omsk went on much as usual, but Omsk society became
more subdued in its whisperings. Clique countered clique, and
conspirators undermined conspirators, while a peculiar tension hung over
all.
During the negotiations connected with the formation of this Government
a very serious hitch occurred which at one time threatened the whole
project with disaster. General Bolderoff was known as a Social
Revolutionary in politics. Through him the Social Revolutionaries had
practically supreme control of the new army. Avkzentieff and Co., aiming
at Social Revolutionary control of all the forces of the new Government,
demanded that a Social Revolutionary should also control the
newly-organised militia, which were to act as a sort of military police
under the new régime. This was resented by the more moderate members of
both groups, as it would have practically placed all power in the hands
of one group, and that not distinguished for administrative ability or
caution. In addition to which, the very claim made the moderates
suspicious as to the use for which such power was to be employed. The
presence of the Allies and the determination to form some sort of
administration overcame these suspicions, and the moderates gave way and
left both forces under the command of the Social Revolutionary group.
The Allies were pushing forward supplies intended for the new armies
facing the Terrorists along the Ural front, but it was soon discovered
that such arms were being deflected from their proper destination. The
front line was kept denuded of arms and equipment of which it was in
greatest need, while the militia in the rear, and under the Social
Revolutionary control, were being regimented and fitted out with
everything they required. The appeals of the front-line generals to
Bolderoff, the Social Revolutionary Commander-in-Chief, fell on deaf
ears, and things were getting into a serious condition. Admiral
Koltchak, as Minister for War, presented the appeals to General
Bolderoff, and backed them in a very determined manner. Bolderoff was
equally outspoken, declaring that the appeals from the front were
fictitious, and concluded one of these wrangles by informing the admiral
that it was not his business; that the Social Revolutionary group had
been forced by one of the Allies to accept the admiral as a member of
the Government; that they had done so merely to secure Allied support
and recognition, but he would remain a member of the Government only so
long as he did not interfere in business from which, by a resolution of
the Directorate, he was expressly excluded. Admiral Koltchak thereupon
tendered his resignation, but was later prevailed upon to withdraw it so
as to keep up a resemblance of harmony before the Allied Powers. He,
however, insisted upon making a personal inspection of the front, for
which permission was granted, as much to get him out of Omsk as for the
proper performance of his ministerial duties.