ALONG THE URALS
On November 4 I received a telegram from Mr. Preston, British Consul at
Ekaterinburg, asking that a detachment might be sent to attend on
November 9 at the inauguration of Czech national life and the ceremonial
presentation of colours to four Czech battalions of the Czech National
Army. I consulted General Knox, and he having received a similar request
from General Gaida, commanding at Ekaterinburg, that a detachment should
visit the several fronts over the Urals for the purpose of giving moral
support to the war-weary veterans of our Allies, it was decided that I
should take the regimental band and a guard of one hundred picked men
for this purpose. Both Czech and Russian were sad at the long weary wait
between the promised help of England and the appearance of the first
khaki-clad soldier on the scene.
All preparations had been made for my journey, and I was timed to start
from Omsk at 3 P.M. on Friday. Early on Friday I was informed that
Admiral Koltchak, the Minister for War, was also travelling to the Czech
ceremony, and, as engines were very scarce, would I allow his carriage
to be attached to my train? I readily consented. About midday a further
note informed me that the admiral's own car was found to be full of the
wives and children of his old naval officers, that there were no other
cars, but they hoped to be able to get another by 7 P.M. The result was
that we did not turn out of the town station till that hour. We had only
got to the lower station, less than a mile on our journey, when the
officials informed me that something had broken on the admiral's
carriage which would take two hours to repair. I felt there was a
deliberate attempt being made by someone to prevent either the admiral
or myself from performing our journey. At 11 P.M. I walked out to the
workshops where the repairs were being effected, and sat on an anvil
until 4 A.M., through a horrible Siberian night, while a good-tempered
"Russky" blacksmith accomplished his part of the task.
No Russian official would dream of doing a straight thing if a crooked
one would accomplish his purpose. So "Polkovnika" Frank telegraphed in
my name to all the railway section commandants ordering them under pain
of summary execution to clear their part of the line and prepare express
engines at each stopping-place ready to haul on to the admiral's train
the moment it came in. We bribed an old Russian _provodnik_ to get us a
Russian flag to fasten on the admiral's carriage, which he did, and we
became the first Russian train that had dared to carry a Russian flag
for nearly a year. We also had two Union Jacks, and altogether the
Russian officials became suspicious that here at any rate was a
combination of colour to which the greatest respect must be paid.
The result was that we finally started on our journey at 7 A.M. instead
of 7 P.M., just twelve hours late, and arrived at our destination one
hour in front of time. Guards of honour awaited us, and breakfast of a
more or less scanty character. A presentation of bread and salt, on a
fine wooden dish on which the ladies had painted a picture of the old
monastery under whose walls the great Czech national ceremony was to
take place. We marched past the building in which the Tsar Nicholas II
and his family had been imprisoned and from which they were taken to
die. I am anxious not to believe the untold horrors alleged to have been
inflicted on the female members of his family, but they are told
categorically. It is best to believe nothing one hears in Russia, and
what one actually sees is not always what it seems.
We saluted the flag at the Consulate, where our great good comrade and
fellow-countryman, Consul Preston, gave warmth and good cheer to man and
beast. Suddenly we turned to the right and entered a huge square,
already surrounded by Czech troops, infantry, artillery and cavalry. It
was indeed a great sight. On the highest corner of the square a platform
was erected, on the right of which we were given the post of honour, and
for some strange reason which I could not understand were asked to play
the British National Anthem, when the whole Czech Army came to the
"Present!" as General Gaida and his Staff, with the colours, entered the
square. I felt that we were celebrating the birth of a nation. The scene
had that peculiar solemnity about it that makes the moment feel
pregnant with world events. One of the units was my old Ussurie
battalion, and our old chum, Captain (now Colonel) Stephan, was the
proudest man there, as he bore from the hands of the priest the
newly-consecrated colours of his country. What quantities of beer we
shall drink together if I ever see him in his dear Prague, thinking of
our thirsty days in Eastern Siberia!
It was my first introduction to the dashing young Czech officer, General
Gaida, who by sheer pluck had played such an important part in cutting a
way for his army from west to east. We had the usual banquet, at which
Admiral Koltchak delivered the first important speech since his
appointment as Minister for War. I gave expression to the delight of my
own country at the birth of new nations and the resurrection of freedom
amongst the subject people of the world. I also gave expression to my
pleasure that the first act of the new Russian Minister for War was to
visit his army at the front and make himself personally acquainted with
the conditions of the Russian soldiers who were so gallantly fighting to
protect the people and the State from violence and anarchy.
The ceremony over, we started at once for the Kunghure front, and the
early morning found us sliding rapidly down the European side of the
Urals. Huge forests, all loaded with snow, covered the mountain sides,
and there was a temperature quite impossible for British military
operations. We arrived about 11 A.M. at the headquarters of the army
under the command of General Count Galitzin. We held long conferences
and then lunched in his mess, which was quartered in an eight-wheeled
American truck. An occasional shell exploded first to right and then to
left, but none came very near, and by 2 P.M. the firing died away
altogether. It was decided to march to the advanced outpost and take the
band to give both friend and foe an opportunity to judge a sample of
British music. We got to the extreme point near which a cutting in the
railway gave excellent protection for the band, while the admiral's
Staff and my Middlesex guard went forward to have a look at the enemy.
The band started "Colonel Bogey," then went on to something which I do
not remember, but while we were groping about through machine-gun pits,
etc., the band behind began "Tipperary." That just put the finishing
touch to Bolshevik patience! This famous war tune got on their gunners'
nerves and they began to shell the tune for all they were worth.
Needless to say not a single shell went anywhere near the mark. All
shrieked over our heads and exploded harmlessly among the forest trees;
one, however, dropped near the railway bridge and went off like a
Hampstead squib on a wet bonfire night. It shows an utter lack of
culture among the Bolshevik officers that they could not appreciate good
music after we had taken so much trouble to bring it within their reach.
The band finished and the shelling ended. I expect they fancied they had
frightened my bandsmen, but the fact was they enjoyed the unique
experience immensely.
General Count Galitzin is a very fine type of the officer of the old
régime; an aristocrat to his finger tips, but a fine leader of men, born
to command. I should think there is a big strain of Tartar blood in his
make-up, but he is altogether the sort of man one would prefer to meet
as friend rather than foe. We discussed the possibility of an offensive
in the direction of Perm, from where I humorously suggested we might be
able to rescue the forces of General Poole, which had gone into winter
quarters somewhere in the direction of Archangel. We returned to
Ekaterinburg, and without stopping, proceeded towards the Lisvin front
to meet General Pepelaieff.
We arrived on the Lisvin front about 10 A.M. next day, but did not see
the enemy or hear his guns. This army had been compelled to retire some
60 versts the very day we were discussing an advance on Perm, and its
present position was none too secure. Pepelaieff is a young general, not
more than thirty, but looked a real hard-working soldier. His uniform
was as dirty and worn, though not quite so dilapidated, as the majority
of his soldiers. He had absolute confidence that he could beat the enemy
if his men had rifles and ammunition, which many had not. Half his men
were waiting for the rifles of comrades who might be killed or frozen in
the snow. The conferences were quite businesslike, and Admiral
Koltchak's presence seemed to galvanise the whole army into life and
energy. The "Russky soldat," whose boots had long since disappeared and
whose feet were bound up in bags to protect them from the snow, felt
almost certain that proper boots and clothes would follow from the War
Minister's visit. Pepelaieff came back in my carriage to meet General
Gaida, and the admiral also relished a British soldier's ration as we
discussed things generally, including the proposed advance and the
necessary measures to make it into a victory.
We were to have gone next to the extreme right, where General Verzbitsky
operated on the flank, but the admiral said the condition of the
soldiers was very sad, and his immediate business was to organise the
rear and so secure the means by which the soldier at the front could do
his duty. We saw the ceremonial of the presentation of colours to the
11th Siberian Rifles, a fine proceeding greatly enhanced by the fact
that three officers of the regiment had rescued the colours (originally
presented by Peter the Great) from the Bolshevik Revolutionaries, and as
pedlars and peasants had tramped for months through the Bolshevik lines
and brought them safely to the new regiment.
It was necessary for the admiral to see General Surovey and General
Detriks and their Staffs at Chilliyabinsk, and also to have a look at
the Ufa front. Travelling all night, we arrived at Chilliyabinsk next
morning, and after quite a formal inspection of guards, we adjourned for
lunch. The date I do not remember, but my old friend Colonel Pichon
burst through all etiquette to inform me of the terms of armistice
between Germany and the Entente, and brought out a bottle of champagne
he had preserved for the occasion; we swore by all the powers above and
below that we were the greatest people the world had ever seen in all
its ages and intended to remain so.
Lunch over, I left the admiral to his generals and walked a little
through this straggling, snow-swept town, firmly believing that we were
about to start for Ufa. At 5 P.M. I was informed that the conferences
were over and there were urgent reasons for an immediate return to Omsk.
I did not object as I was not anxious to see more of this army of
ill-fed, half-clad soldiers struggling to save the State under
intolerable conditions. We started on our return journey and travelled
till 11 A.M. next day, by which time we had arrived at Petropalovsk.
Here the station commandant informed us that General Bolderoff wished
our train to wait for his, as it was most essential that he should have
a conference with the Minister for War. This was the first intimation I
had received that General Bolderoff had left Omsk and was on his way to
visit the Ufa front. The admiral invited me to his carriage and
explained the critical situation at Omsk, but could give no reason for
the sudden decision of the Commander-in-Chief to leave Omsk and meet him
on the way. I had my suspicions that the two groups of the Government
had come to grips, and that each had decided to destroy the other; that
Admiral Koltchak was to be sounded as to which of these groups had his
favour, and that his life, and perhaps that of his British escort, would
depend upon his answer. Bolderoff and the people at Omsk were unaware of
the presence of the British escort or its numbers, and while they may
have discovered our joint appearance at the Ekaterinburg function, there
had been no original decision to accompany the admiral to Chilliyabinsk.
That was only arranged the previous day. In revolutions you can never be
too careful, hence I gave orders to my men to load and be ready for
instant action if necessary. Orders were also issued to patrol the
platform and allow no people, uniformed or otherwise, to collect near
the trains, and in no circumstances were the two soldiers who were to
accompany the admiral to lose sight of him for one instant without
reporting it to me. Two others stood guard at the entrance to General
Bolderoff's carriage. When I saw the look on the face of the
Commander-in-Chief's attendants I was satisfied that my precautions were
no more than necessary.
The general's train drew into the station and Admiral Koltchak entered
Bolderoff's carriage at exactly 12 noon on November 6, 1918. I asked my
servant, Moorman, to take a "snap" of the two trains, as I felt that
this conference was full of big events for Russia. While taking the snap
a returned emigrant workman spoke to Moorman in good English. He asked
who all these officers were and what they were all talking about, and
when my servant informed him he did not know, the emigrant said: "It is
all right so long as they do not want to bring back the old régime, but
if that is their object I can tell them that Russia will never submit to
live under the old régime again." I thought, and think now, that in that
workman's words I heard the voice of Russia. The conference between the
admiral and the general broke up at five o'clock; it had lasted five
hours.
The admiral was hungry and came into my carriage for something to eat;
his servants had nothing ready as it is the Russian custom never to
begin to prepare a meal till you are ready to eat it. After the meal we
talked, and from the conversation I gathered the nature of the questions
discussed at his conference with the Commander-in-Chief. He asked me
whether in England our Minister for War had any responsibilities placed
upon him for the supply of clothing, equipment and general condition of
the British Army? I replied that in England the Minister for War was
responsible to the Cabinet and, through Parliament, to the country for
the general efficiency of the British Army in every detail. He answered:
"What would you think in England if the Commander-in-Chief told the
Minister for War that these matters had nothing to do with him, that he
would be allowed to keep a small office with two clerks but no staff, as
it was the Minister for War's name only that was of any use to the
Directorate (or in your case Cabinet), and the less he interfered with
the affairs of his department the better for all concerned?" I answered:
"If I were the Minister I should claim to have absolute control of my
department, or resign." He thought a minute and said: "That is what I
have done," or "what I intend to do," I forget which. From what followed
I think it must have been the former, because I asked him what General
Bolderoff said in answer to his claim, to which he replied: "General
Bolderoff is a very good man, and though he does not see everything as
I wish, I think he understands the situation, and will himself ask that
greater power should be given to enable me to save the new Russian army,
that it may be able to resurrect the Russian State." I well remember
that word "resurrect"; it was so pregnant with truth. The State _was_
dead, Russia was no more; resurrection was necessary.
We arrived at Omsk town station at 5.30 on the evening of November 17,
1918. The admiral thanked me for my help and my guard and for the
kindness and protection I had afforded him. I promised him my continued
help and sympathy in his patriotic attempt to revive the spirit of his
people. He went straight to his lodgings and remained there.
The _Times_ correspondent in a message to his newspaper has suggested
that the admiral had prior knowledge of what was to happen that night in
Omsk. I do not think that was the case. He may have guessed that
something very unpleasant was in the wind--the least sensitive amongst
those behind the scenes knew that--but what it was, from which direction
it would come or on whom it would fall was a secret known to but very
few, and I am convinced that the admiral, except in a second degree, was
not one of them. Colonel (soon to be General) Lebediff could tell the
whole story, though his name was not even mentioned during the _coup
d'état_. A young and able Cossack officer, he was on the Staff of
Korniloff when Kerensky invited the great Cossack general to march his
army to Petrograd to save the newly-elected National Assembly. It is
well known how, when Korniloff obeyed Kerensky's order, he
treacherously turned and rent to pieces the only force which was moving
at his own request and could have saved Russia. He, in turn, became the
victim of the ghouls who urged him to this act of destruction. Lebediff
escaped, but one can be certain that he retained a lasting hate towards
the Social Revolutionaries who had betrayed his great leader.
The comrades of Kerensky, and in some cases the actual betrayers, had
found refuge in the Directorate of Five and the Council of Ministers,
and were continuing to play the same double game which had brought ruin
on the first National Assembly and disaster upon the Russian people.
They were members of the same futile crowd of useless charlatans who by
their pusillanimity had made their country a byword and the Treaty of
Brest-Litovsk possible. I was in a position to judge. I was certain that
this young man was the wrong sort to allow the execution of his chief to
pass without attempting punishment.
He had drifted down to Southern Russia and joined General Denikin in his
first efforts against the Bolsheviks. Sent from Denikin with dispatches
to Omsk, he became the centre of a group of desperadoes who were in want
of a cool brain to make them formidable. The state of Omsk at this time
was simply indescribable. Every night as soon as darkness set in rifle
and revolver shots and shouts could be heard in all directions. The
morning sanitary carts picked up from five to twenty dead officers.
There were no police, no courts, no law, no anything. In desperation
the officers grouped themselves together and hit back indiscriminately
at the people they thought responsible for the murder of their comrades.
So a fair proportion of civilian bodies became mixed up with those
wearing uniforms. That the officers got home at last on the right people
is proved by the fact that these nightly murders became fewer and then
practically ceased altogether.
It was into this scene of blood that we were hurled, and this was the
condition which had become quite normal in the capital under the rule of
the five-pointed Directorate. Its members were the most unmitigated
failures that even poor distracted Russia had so far produced, and the
people waited, hoping and longing, for their speedy removal. I was not
at all surprised when, next morning, my liaison officer, Colonel Frank,
returned from the Russian Headquarters in great perturbation and with
great excitement informed me that Russia was doomed never to rise out of
her troubles. I asked why. He answered that during the night some
villains had arrested the Social Revolutionary members of the
Directorate and Government, that no one at Headquarters knew the persons
who had again upset the whole government of the country, and he had no
doubt that the members of the late Government were already murdered. I
took the necessary precautions for the safety of my command and awaited
developments. I knew that the telegraph to the east was cut and that a
_coup d'état_ was in course of execution.