THE BATTALION AT THE FRONT
The same morning on which the telegram came from General Polovtzev
there also arrived a banner, with an inscription that read something
like this:
“Long live the Provisional Government! Let Those Who Can, Advance!
Forward, Brave Women! To the Defence of the Bleeding Motherland!”
We were to march with this banner in the demonstration, that had been
organized in opposition to the Bolshevik demonstration fixed for the
same day. The Invalids were to march in the same procession. I talked
matters over with their chief when we met at Morskaya.
The air was charged with alarming rumours. The Captain of the Invalids
placed fifty revolvers at my disposal. I distributed them among the
instructors and my other officers, reserving a pair for myself.
The band of the Volynski regiment headed the Battalion of Death, as
half the soldiers of that regiment had refused to march against the
Bolsheviks, having already been contaminated with Bolshevist ideas,
although it was only June.
Mars Field, our destination, was about five versts from our barracks.
The whole route was lined with enormous crowds which cheered us and
the Invalids, of whom there were about five hundred. Many women on the
pavements wept, grieving for the girls whom I was leading into what
seemed a conflict with the Bolsheviks. Everybody said: “Something is
going to happen to-day.”
As we approached the Mars Field, where the opposing demonstration was
held, I ordered my soldiers to sit down and rest for fifteen minutes.
“Form ranks!” I ordered at the end of that time. We were all more or
less nervous, as if on the eve of an offensive. I addressed a few words
to the Battalion, instructing them to support me to the end, not to
insult anybody, not to run away at the least provocation, in order to
avoid a panic. They all pledged themselves to fulfil my instructions.
Before resuming the march the Captain of the Invalids, several of his
subordinate officers, and all my instructors came forward and asked to
march in the front row with me. I objected, but they insisted, and I
finally had to give way, in spite of my desire to show the Bolsheviks
that I was not afraid.
The crowds on the Mars Field were indeed enormous. A long procession,
with Bolshevist banners, flowed into the great square. We stopped
within fifty feet of a Bolshevist cart and were met promptly by a hail
of jokes and curses. There were jeers at the expense of the Provisional
Government and shouts of: “Long live the revolutionary democracy! Down
with the war!”
Some of the women could not suppress their indignation and began to
answer back, provoking heated argument.
“When you cry, ‘Down with the war!’ you are helping to destroy Free
Russia,” I declared, stepping forward and addressing my turbulent
neighbours. “We must beat the Germans first and then there will be no
war.”
“Kill her! Kill her!” several voices threatened.
Greatly excited, I rushed a few steps nearer to the crowd. My fingers
gripped the two pistols, but in all the tumult that followed, the idea
was fixed in my mind that I must not shoot at my own people, common
workers and peasants.
“Wake up, you deluded sons of Russia! Think what you are doing! You
are destroying the Motherland! Scoundrels!” I concluded as their jeers
continued.
My instructors tried to hold me back as the throng swarmed round me,
but I tore myself out of their arms and plunged into the thick of it. I
worked myself up to such a state of frenzy that I did not cease talking
even when a volley of shots was sent into our midst. Then my officers
ordered the Battalion to fire. There followed a terrible scuffle.
Two of my instructors were killed, one while defending me. Two others
were wounded. Ten of my women were also wounded. Many bullets grazed
me, but I escaped till struck unconscious by a blow on the head with
an iron bar, from behind: Many of the onlookers were drawn into the
scrimmage and the result was a panic.
I recovered consciousness in the evening. I was in my own bed with a
physician beside it. He told me that although I had lost a good deal of
blood my wound was not serious, and that I should be able to resume my
duties soon.
Late in the evening the officer in charge reported that Michael
Rodzianko had come to see me. The physician went out to meet him and I
heard the two conversing in the room next to mine. Rodzianko’s first
question was whether I had been killed. It appeared that rumours were
being spread in the town that I had been struck dead on the Mars Field.
The doctor’s account of my condition apparently came as a joyful relief
to the President of the Duma.
He then came in and smilingly approached my bed and kissed me.
“My little heroine, I am very glad that you escaped serious injury.
There were many alarming reports about you. It was a brave act to march
straight into the midst of the Bolsheviks. Nevertheless, it was foolish
of you and the wounded men to oppose such tremendous odds. I have heard
of your victory in the fight against the introduction of the committee
system in the Battalion. Well done! I wanted to call and congratulate
you earlier, but I have been very busy.”
I sat up in bed to show my visitor that I was quite well. He told me of
the appointment of General Kornilov to the command of the south-western
front, and of a luncheon to be given the following day at the Winter
Palace, at which Kornilov would be present. Rodzianko inquired if I
should be strong enough to attend it, and the physician thought that
I probably should. Rodzianko then took his leave, assuring me of his
readiness to help me at all times and wishing me a speedy recovery.
The following morning I spent at the window, with my head bandaged,
watching my women drill. I felt strong enough to go with Rodzianko to
the luncheon. He called before noon and drove me to the Winter Palace.
In the reception-room there I was introduced by the President of the
Duma to General Kornilov.
Middle-aged, with a spare, manly, vigorous frame, a keen face, grey
moustache, Mongol eyes, semi-Mongol cheek-bones: this was Kornilov.
He spoke little, but every word he uttered rang out clearly. One felt
instinctively that here was a man of powerful character and of dogged
perseverance.
“I am very glad to meet you,” he said, shaking my hand. “I congratulate
you on your determined fight against the committees.”
“General,” I replied, “I was determined because my heart told me that I
was in the right.”
“Always follow the advice of your heart,” he said, “and you will do
right.”
At this moment Kerensky appeared. We rose to greet him. He shook hands
with Kornilov, Rodzianko and me. The War Minister was in a good humour
and smiled benignly at me.
“Here is an obstinate little person. I never saw her like,” Kerensky
said, pointing at me. “She took it into her head not to form a
committee, and nothing could break her will. One must do her justice.
She is a diehard, holding out all alone against us all. She foolishly
persisted in maintaining that no such law existed.”
“Well,” said Rodzianko in my defence, “she isn’t such a fool. She is
perhaps wiser than you and me together.”
We were then asked into the dining-room. Kerensky was seated at the
head of the table, I at its opposite end. Rodzianko was on Kerensky’s
right, Kornilov was on my right. There were also three Allied Generals
present. One was on my left, and the other two were between Kerensky
and Kornilov.
The conversation was carried on mostly in a foreign tongue and I
understood nothing. Besides, I had my troubles with the dishes and
table etiquette. I did not know how to deal with the unfamiliar dishes,
and blushed deeply several times, while I watched my neighbours from
the corners of my eyes.
Now and then I engaged in conversation with Kornilov. He approved
my decided views about the necessity of discipline in the army, and
declared that if discipline were not restored, then Russia was lost.
The burden of Kerensky’s conversation at the table was, that in spite
of the considerable disintegration that was thinning the ranks of the
army, it was not too late as yet. He was contemplating a trip to the
front, feeling certain that it would lead to our troops taking the
offensive.
Finally Kerensky got up, and the luncheon was over. He told me before
leaving that there would be a solemn presentation to me of the two
standards and icons sent by the soldiers from the front. I replied that
I did not deserve such honours, but hoped to be able to justify his
trust in me.
Kornilov parted from me cordially, inviting me to call on him at his
headquarters when I arrived at the front. Rodzianko then escorted me
home and asked me to come to see him before leaving for the front.
The time remaining before the date fixed by Kerensky for the dedication
of the Battalion’s battle flag was spent in intensive training and
rifle practice. The women were almost ready to go to the front and
awaited June 25 with impatience.
Finally that day arrived. The women were in high spirits. My heart
was filled with expectation. The Battalion arose early. Every soldier
had a new uniform. The rifles were spick and span. There was a
holiday-feeling in the air. We were all cheerful, though nervous under
the weight of responsibility which the day was to bring.
At nine in the morning two bands arrived at our gates. They were
followed by Captain Kuzmin, assistant Commander of the Petrograd
Military District, with instructions for the Battalion to be at the St.
Isaac’s Cathedral at ten o’clock in full military array. We started out
almost immediately, led by the two military bands.
The throng of people moving in the direction of the Cathedral was
enormous. The entire neighbourhood was lined up with units of the
garrison. There were troops of all kinds. There was even a body
of Cossacks, with flags on the points of their spears. A group of
distinguished citizens and officers stood on the steps leading to the
entrance of the church. It included Kerensky, Rodzianko, Miliukov,
Kornilov, Polovtzev and others. The Battalion saluted as we marched
into the huge building.
The officiating clergy were two bishops and twelve priests. The church
was filled to overflowing. A hush fell on the vast gathering as I was
asked to step forward and give my name. I was seized with fear, as if
in the presence of God Himself. The standard that was to be consecrated
was placed in my hand and two old battle flags were crossed over it,
hiding me almost completely in their folds. The officiating bishops
then addressed me, dwelling upon the unprecedented honour implied in
the dedication of an army standard for a woman.
It was not customary to inscribe the name of a Commander on the flag
of a military unit, he explained, but the name of Maria Botchkareva
was emblazoned on this standard, which, in case of my death, would be
returned to the Cathedral and never used by another Commander. As he
spoke and said the prayers, in the course of which he sprinkled me
three times with holy water, I prayed to the Lord with all my heart and
might. The ceremony lasted about an hour, after which two soldiers,
delegates from the First and Third armies presented to me two icons,
given by fellow-soldiers, with inscriptions on the cases, expressing
their trust in me as the woman who would lead Russia to honour and
renown.
I was humbled. I did not consider myself worthy of such honours. When
asked to receive the two icons I fell on my knees before them and
prayed for God’s guidance. How could I, an ignorant woman, justify the
hope and trust of so many brave and enlightened sons of my country?
General Kornilov, representing the army, then presented me with a
revolver and sword with handles of gold.
“You have deserved these gallant weapons, and you will not disgrace
them,” he said, and kissed me on the cheek.
I kissed the sword, and pledged myself never to disgrace the weapons
and to use them in the defence of my country.
Kerensky then pinned the epaulets of a Lieutenant on my shoulders,
promoting me to the rank of an officer. He, also, kissed me, and was
followed by some of the distinguished guests, who congratulated me
warmly.
The high officials departed and General Polovtzev took charge for
the rest of the day. I was too overcome to regain my self-possession
quickly. I was raised up by the hands of General Polovtzev and General
Anosov first. Then some officers of junior rank carried me. Next I
was raised above the crowd by some enthusiastic soldiers, and dragged
out of their hands by even more jubilant sailors. All the time I was
very uncomfortable, but the ovation continued and the cheers would not
subside. Women in the throng forced their way to me, kissing my feet
and blessing me. It was a patriotic throng, and love for Russia was the
dominant note. Orators mounted improvised platforms and talked of the
coming offensive and the Battalion of Death, finishing with a “Long
live Botchkareva!” The emotion of the soldiers at the moment was such
that they cried: “We will go with Botchkareva to the front.” Speakers
pointed to the women as heroes, calling upon every able-bodied man to
rise to the defence of Russia.
It was a wonderful day: a dream, not a day. Had my fancy come true?
Had this group of women already accomplished the object for which it
was organized? It seemed so that day. I felt that Russia’s manhood
was ready to follow the Battalion and strike the final blow for the
salvation of the country.
It was an illusion, and my disenchantment was not very long delayed.
But it was such a beautiful illusion that I gained enough strength
from it to work patiently for its renewal and realization. What those
thousands of Russian soldiers, assembled in the neighbourhood of the
St. Isaac’s Cathedral, felt on June 25, 1917, was the thrill that
comes from self-sacrifice for the truth, from unselfish devotion to
the Motherland, from lofty idealism. It convinced me that the millions
of Russian soldiers, scattered over their vast country, were amenable
to the word of truth, and instilled into me faith in the ultimate
restoration of my country.
After the consecration of the Battalion’s standard, there remained
less than two days before leaving for the front. These were spent in
preparations. We had to organize a supply unit of our own, as we could
not take with us the kitchen of the Guard Regiment that we had used.
Also, every member of the Battalion received complete war equipment.
On June 29 we left the grounds of the Institute and marched to the
Kazan Cathedral, on the way to the railway station. The bishops
addressed us, dwelling upon the significance of the moment and blessing
us. Again large crowds followed us into the Cathedral and to the
station. When we started out from the church a group of Bolsheviks
blocked our way. The women immediately began to load their rifles. I
ordered them to stop this, put my sword in the scabbard, and marched
forward to the Bolsheviks.
“Why do you block the way? You scoff at us women, claiming that we
can’t do anything. Then, why did you come here to interfere with our
going? It is a sign that you are afraid of us,” I said to them. They
dispersed, jeering.
Accompanied by the hearty cheers of the people who lined the streets,
we marched to the station. Our train consisted of twelve vans and one
second-class passenger coach. We boarded the train under orders to
proceed to Molodechno, the headquarters of the First Siberian Corps, to
which the Battalion was to be attached.
The journey was a triumphal procession. At every station we were hailed
by crowds of soldiers and civilians. There were cheers, demonstrations
and speeches. My women had strict orders not to leave the cars without
permission. Our meals were provided for us at certain stations, through
telegraphic orders, and we alighted for our meals at those places. At
one stopping-place, while I was resting, a demonstration took place in
our honour, and I was suddenly taken out of bed and carried out in view
of the crowd.
Thus we moved to the front, arriving at Molodechno. I was met there
by a group of about twenty officers and taken to dine with the Staff.
The Battalion was quartered in two barracks upon our arrival at Corps
Headquarters.
There were about a score of barracks in Molodechno. Almost half of
these were filled with deserters from the front, former police and
gendarmes who had been impressed into the army at the outbreak of the
Revolution, and had soon escaped from the ranks. There were also some
criminals and a number of Bolshevist agitators. In a word, they were
the riff-raff of that sector of the front.
They soon got word of the arrival of the Battalion, and while I was
being driven to dinner they crowded round my women and began to curse
and molest them. The officer in charge perceived with alarm the
growing insolence of these ruffians, and hurried to the Commandant of
the station to beg protection.
“But what can I do?” answered the Commandant helplessly. “I am
powerless. There are fifteen hundred of them, and there is nothing
to be done but to submit patiently to their derision and win their
goodwill by kindness.”
The death penalty had already been abolished in the army.
The officer in charge returned with empty hands. She found a few of the
rioters in the barracks, behaving offensively towards the women. Having
tried vainly to get rid of them by persuasion she telephoned to me. I
had barely seated myself at the dinner table when her summons reached
me. I hastened into a motor and drove to the barracks.
“What are you doing here?” I asked sharply, as I jumped from the car
and ran inside. “What do you want? Go out of here! I will talk to you
outside if you want anything.”
“Ha, ha, ha!” the men jeered. “Who are you? What sort of a _baba_ is
this?”
“I am the Commander.”
“The Commander, eh? Ha, ha, ha! Look at this Commander!” they scoffed.
“Now,” I spoke slowly and firmly, “you have no business here whatever.
You have got to go away. I will be at your service outside. If you want
anything you can tell me there. But you must get out of here!”
The men, there were only a score of them, went towards the door, still
jeering and muttering curses. I followed them. Immediately outside a
large crowd had collected, attracted by the noise. As I faced these
depraved men in soldiers’ uniforms my heart was pained at the sight of
them. A more ragged, tattered, demoralized lot of soldiers I had never
seen. Most of them had the faces of murderers. Others were mere boys,
corrupted by the Bolshevist propaganda.
A little while ago, in the old days of January, 1917, it would have
been sufficient to execute a couple of them to transform the fifteen
hundred into respectable and obedient human beings. Now, the mighty
Russian military organization, while engaged in a mortal combat with
an enemy of stupendous strength, had been rendered incapable of coping
with even such a small group of recalcitrants! This was my first
experience of the front after an interval of two months. But what a
great stage the disintegrating influences had advanced in this short
period of time! It was four months since the Revolution, and the front
was already seriously infected by the blight of disobedience.
“Why did you come here? What devil brought you here? You want to fight?
We want peace! We have had enough fighting!” was shouted at me from
every side.
“Yes, I want to fight. How can we have peace save by fighting the
Germans? I have had more experience of war than you, and I want peace
as much as any one here. If you want me to talk more to you and answer
any questions you care to ask me, come to-morrow. It is getting late
now. I shall be at your disposal to-morrow.”
The gang drifted away in groups, some still scoffing, others arguing.
I transferred the women from the second barrack into the first for
greater safety, and posted sentinels at every entrance. This cheered up
the women somewhat, but they were even more encouraged when they heard
me refuse an invitation to spend the night at Staff Headquarters. How
could I leave my women alone with these fifteen hundred ruffians in
the neighbourhood? So I resolved to sleep with them, under the same
roof.
Night came and my soldiers went to bed. Many of us must have wondered
that evening whether the deserters would heed my words or return during
the night and attack the barrack. It was not yet midnight when a party
of them came knocking at the windows and the thin wooden walls. They
cursed us all, and particularly me. They tried to enter through the
doors, but were met by fixed bayonets. When their scoffing proved
ineffective, they stoned the barrack, breaking every pane of glass and
bruising about fifteen of my women.
Still we made no complaint. If the Commandant confessed his
powerlessness to control them, what could we do? Besides, we were going
to the front to fight the Germans, not to engage in a battle with three
times our number of desperadoes.
The more patience we exercised the bolder grew the attacks of the men.
Some of them would suddenly thrust their hands through the shattered
window-panes and seize some of the women by their hair, causing them
to cry out with pain. Nobody slept. All were excited and on edge. The
crashing of the stones against the wooden walls would every now and
then shake the whole building. It required a lot of patience to endure
it all, but my orders were not to provoke a fight.
However, as the night wore on and the noises and jeering did not cease,
my blood began to boil, and I finally lost control of myself. Hastily
putting on my overcoat I ran out of the barrack. The day was just
breaking, an early July day. The band of scoundrels, about fifty in
all, stood still for an instant.
“You villains, you rogues! What are you doing?” shouted with all my
strength. “Didn’t you want a rest on the way to the trenches? Can’t you
let us alone, or have you no sense of shame? Perhaps some of the women
here are your sisters. And I see that some of you are old men. If you
want anything, come to see me. I am always ready to talk and argue and
answer questions. But leave the women alone, you shameless ruffians!”
My tirade was met by an outburst of laughter and jeers that incensed me
even more.
“You will go away this instant or kill me here!” I shrieked, flinging
myself forward. “You hear? Kill me!” I was trembling with rage. The
roughs were impressed by my tone and words. They left one by one, and
we settled down for a couple of hours of sleep.
In the morning General Valuyev, now Commander of the Tenth Army,
reviewed the Battalion. He was greatly pleased and expressed his
gratification to me at the perfect discipline and bearing of the unit.
Our own two kitchens then prepared dinner, after they had received a
supply of food and provender. There were twelve horses attached to the
Battalion, six drivers, eight cooks, two shoemakers. In addition to
these sixteen men, there were two military instructors accompanying us.
The men were always kept separate from the women.
After dinner the deserters began to assemble around our barracks. I had
promised to debate with them on the preceding day, and they now took me
at my word.
“Where are you taking your soldiers? To fight for the bourgeoisie? What
for? You claim to be a peasant woman, then why do you want to shed the
peoples’ blood for the rich exploiters?”
These and many similar questions were fired at me from many directions.
I stood up, folded my arms and eyed the crowd sternly. I must confess
that a tremor ran over me as my eyes passed from one rascal to
another. They were a desperate lot, looking more like beasts than human
beings. The dregs of the army, truly.
“Look at yourselves,” I began, “and think what has become of you! You,
who once advanced like heroes against the enemy’s devastating fire and
suffered like faithful sons of the Motherland in the defence of Russia,
lying for weeks in the muddy, vermin-infested trenches, and crawling
through No Man’s Land. Consider for a moment what you are now and what
you were a little while ago. Only last winter you were the pride of
the country and the world. Now you are the execration of the army and
the nation. Surely there are some among you who belonged to the Fifth
Siberian Corps, aren’t there?”
“Yes, yes.”
“Then you ought to remember me--Yashka--or have heard of me.”
“Yes, we do! We know you!” came from several parts of the crowd.
“Well, if you know me, you ought also to know that I waded in the mud
of the trenches together with you; that I slept on the same wet ground
as you or your brother; that I faced the same dangers, suffered the
same hunger, shared the same cabbage soup that you had. Why then do
you attack me? Why do you jeer at me? How and when have I earned your
contempt and derision?”
“When you were a common soldier,” answered a couple of voices, “you
were like one of us. But now, being an officer, you are under the
influence of the bourgeoisie.”
“Who made me an officer if not you? Didn’t your comrades, the common
soldiers of the First and Tenth Armies, send special delegates to
honour me and present icons and standards to me, thus raising me
to the grade of officer? I am of the people, blood of your blood, a
toiling peasant girl.”
“But we are tired of war. We want peace,” they complained, unable to
find fault with me personally.
“I want peace, too. But how can you have peace? Show me how?” I
insisted vigorously, observing that my words were soothing the temper
of the crowd considerably.
“Why, simply by leaving the front and going home. That’s how we can
have peace.”
“Leave the front!” I shouted, with all the force at my command. “What
will happen then? Tell me! Will you have peace? Never! The Germans will
just walk over our defences and crush the people and their freedom.
This is war. You are soldiers and you know what war is. You know that
all is fair in war. To leave the trenches! Why not hand Russia over
to the Kaiser! It’s the same thing, and you know it as well as I.
No, there is no other way to peace than through an offensive and the
defeat of the enemy. Conquer the Germans and there will be peace! Shoot
them, kill them, stab them, but do not fraternize with the foes of our
beloved Russia!”
“But they fraternize with us. They are tired of the war, too. They want
peace as much as we,” said a few men.
“They are deceiving you. They fraternize here and send soldiers to
fight our Allies.”
“What are the Allies to us if they do not want peace?” some argued.
“They do not want peace now because they know that the Germans are
treacherous. You and I know it, too. Haven’t the Germans asphyxiated
thousands of our brethren with their deadly gases? Haven’t we all
suffered from their base tricks? Aren’t they now occupying a large
part of our country? Let’s drive them out and have peace!”
There was silence. Nobody had anything to say. Greatly encouraged, I
resumed, just as a happy idea dawned upon me.
“Yes, let us drive them out of Russia. Suppose I were to take you along
to the front, to feed you well, to equip you with new uniforms and
boots, would you go with me to attack the treacherous enemy?”
“Yes, yes! We will go! You are our comrade. You are not a bourgeois
vampire! With you, we will go!” many voices rang from all sides.
“But if you go with me,” I said, “I shall keep you under the severest
discipline. There can be no army without discipline. I am a peasant
like you, and I would take your word of honour to remain faithful.
But should any one of you attempt to escape, I would have him shot
promptly.”
“We agree! We are willing to follow you! You are one of us! Hurrah for
Yashka! Hurrah for Botchkareva!” the crowd roared almost unanimously.
It was a soul-stirring scene. But an hour ago these tattered men acted
as if their hearts were deadened. Now they were beating warmly. A short
time ago they looked like the most degraded ruffians; now their faces
were lit with the fire of humanity. It seemed a miracle. But it was
not. Such is the soul of the Russian; at one moment it is hardened and
brutal, at another it is full of devotion and love.
I spoke to General Valuyev and begged permission to take the body of
deserters to the front, asking for equipment for them. The General
refused. He was afraid that they would demoralize the rest of the men.
I offered to be responsible for their conduct, but I could not bring
over the General to my point of view.
So I had to return with empty hands, but I did not disclose the truth
to the men. I told them that there was no equipment available and that
as soon as it arrived they would be dispatched to the Battalion’s
sector. Meanwhile, I invited them to escort us out of Molodechno in the
morning.
We started out, in full array, at ten the following day. Each of the
girls carried her full equipment, a burden of about sixty-five pounds.
There were twenty miles ahead of us to Corps Headquarters. The road was
open, fields alternating with woods stretching on both sides of it.
I had telegraphed to Headquarters ordering supper, expecting to arrive
there early in the evening. But clouds gathered overhead and showers
impeded our progress to such an extent that the women could scarcely
keep up their strength. Whenever we passed a village, it was a great
temptation to let them take a rest in it, but I knew that I should
never be able to rally them again that day if I once allowed them to
break the ranks. So I was compelled to keep the Battalion on the march
and to press on regardless of the condition of the road or the weather.
It was eleven at night when we arrived at Corps Headquarters and were
met by General Kostiayev, Chief of Staff, who invited us to go to
eat the meal prepared for us. The General in command would review us
to-morrow, he said. The girls were too tired to eat. They fell like
logs in the barn assigned to the Battalion and slept all night in their
clothes.
The Corps Headquarters were situated at Redki. We breakfasted in the
barracks, after which we proceeded to prepare for review by the General
in command. I had been invited to lunch at Staff Headquarters after
review.
It was then that I found that several of my girls were suffering from
the effects of the arduous march on the preceding day. Two of them,
Skridlova, my adjutant, the daughter of an Admiral who had commanded
the Black Sea Fleet, and Dubrovskaya, the daughter of a General, were
too ill to remain in the ranks and were sent to a hospital. I appointed
Princess Tatuyeva, who belonged to a famous Grusin family in Tiflis, to
be my adjutant. She was a brave and loyal girl, of high education and
spoke fluently three foreign languages.
At twelve I formed the Battalion for review. Knowing how much the
women had gone through the previous day, I relaxed my sternness for
the moment and joked with my soldiers, coaxing them to make an effort
to make a good impression on the General. The girls did their best to
pull themselves together and were ready to show the General what the
Battalion was worth. The Corps Commander arrived soon. He reviewed my
soldiers, gave them a thorough examination, resorting even to some
catch tests.
“Magnificent!” he said enthusiastically at the conclusion of the test,
congratulating me and shaking my hand, “I would not have believed it
possible for men, let alone women, to master the training in four weeks
so well. Why, we have had recruits here who had undergone three months’
drilling, and they could not compare with your girls.”
He then spoke a few words of praise to the women themselves, and my
soldiers were immensely pleased. I proceeded with the General and his
suite to Headquarters, where luncheon was awaiting us. He nearly kissed
me when he learned that there were no committees in my Battalion, so
genuine was his delight.
“Since the committees were instituted in the army, everything has
changed,” he said. “I love the soldiers and they always loved me. But
now all is changed. There is endless trouble. Every day, almost every
hour, there come some impossible demands from the ranks. The front has
lost almost all of its former strength. It is a farce, not war.”
We had not had time to begin the luncheon when a telegram arrived
from Molodechno, notifying the Staff of Kerensky’s arrival there for
luncheon and requesting the General’s and my attendance. Losing no
time, the General ordered his car and we drove to Molodechno at top
speed.
There were about twenty persons present at the luncheon at Army
Headquarters. Kerensky sat at the head of the table. The Commander of
my Corps was on my right and another General on the left. During the
meal the conversation was about conditions at the front and the state
of preparedness for a general offensive. I took practically no part in
the discussion. At the end of the meal, when all arose, Kerensky walked
up to the Commander of my Corps and delivered himself unexpectedly of
the following peremptory speech:
“You must see to it that a committee is formed immediately in the
Battalion of Death, and that she,” pointing at me, “ceases to punish
the women!”
I was thunderstruck. All the officers in the room strained their ears.
There was a tense moment. I felt my blood rush to my head like a flame.
I was furious.
With two violent jerks I tore off my epaulets and threw them into the
face of the War Minister.
“I refuse to serve under you!” I exclaimed. “To-day you are one way,
to-morrow, the opposite. You allowed me once to run the Battalion
without a committee. I shall not form any committees! I am going home.”
I flung these words at Kerensky, who had turned very red, before any
one in the room had recovered from the shock, ran out of the house,
threw myself into the Corps Commander’s motor and ordered his chauffeur
to drive to Redki instantly.
A friend of the Chief of Staff, Kostiayev, told me later that there was
a great commotion as soon as I left the room. Kerensky was furious at
first.
“Shoot her!” he ordered in a fury.
“Minister,” said General Valuyev, the Commander of the Tenth Army, in
my defence, “I have known Botchkareva for three years. She first tasted
war as a member of my Corps. She suffered more than any other soldier
at the front, because she suffered both as a woman and as a soldier.
She was always the first to volunteer for any enterprise, thus serving
as an example. She is a plain soldier and a word is a pledge to her. If
she had been promised the command of the Battalion without the aid of a
committee, she would never understand a violation of the pledge.”
The Commander of my Corps and other officers also spoke up for me.
Finally some remembered that Kerensky had abolished capital punishment.
“Capital punishment has been abolished, Minister,” they said. “If
Botchkareva is to be shot, then why not let us shoot some of those
fifteen hundred deserters who are raising the devil here?”
Kerensky then abandoned the thought of shooting me, but insisted before
departing from Molodechno that I should be tried and punished. The
trial never took place.
The Corps Commander was very agitated when he discovered that I had
disappeared with his car. He had to borrow one to get to Redki, and
although pleased in his heart with my outburst he decided to give me
a scolding and remind me of discipline. I was too excited and nervous
to do anything when I returned from Molodechno, and so lay down in
my barrack, trying to picture what would now become of the Battalion.
I knew I had committed a serious breach of discipline and reproached
myself for it.
I was called before the Commander late in the afternoon, and he
reprimanded me for my unmilitary conduct. The General’s rebuff was
severe. I acknowledged every point of it without argument, recognizing
that my behaviour was unpardonable.
The hour for dinner came, and I went to Headquarters. The scene at
the table was one of suppressed merriment. Everybody knew of what had
happened at Molodechno. The officers winked knowingly and exchanged
smiles. I was the hero of the secret rejoicing. Nobody dared to laugh
out loud, for the General at the head of the table had assumed a grave
expression, as if struggling not to sanction by an incautious smile the
clandestine mirth of the Staff over my treatment of Kerensky. Finally
the General could not preserve his gravity any longer and joined in the
laughter. The restraint was removed.
“Bravo, Botchkareva!” one of the men exclaimed.
“That’s the way to treat him,” said another.
“As if there weren’t enough committees in the army, he wants still
more!” spoke a third.
“He himself abolished capital punishment, and now he orders her to be
shot!” laughed a fourth.
The officers were plainly hostile toward Kerensky. Why? Because
they saw that Kerensky did not understand the temper of the Russian
soldier. His flying excursions to the front perhaps left Kerensky and
the world with the impression that the army was a living, powerful,
intelligent organism. The officers who were with the soldiers day
and night knew that the same crowd which had given an enthusiastic
welcome to Kerensky an hour before would accord a similar reception
to a Bolshevist or Anarchist agitator. Above all, it was Kerensky’s
development of the committee system in the army that had undermined his
reputation with officers.
After dinner I applied to the General for seven officers and twelve
men instructors to accompany the Battalion to the trenches. One of
the officers, a young Lieutenant named Leonid Grigorievitch Filippov,
was recommended to me for the post of adjutant in battle. Filippov
was known as a brave fellow, as he had escaped from a German prison
camp. I addressed to the group of instructors a warning to the effect
that if any of them were unable to consider my soldiers as men it
would be better for them not to join the Battalion, and thus avoid
unpleasantness in the future.
The Battalion was assigned to the 172nd Division, situated within four
miles of Redki, in the village of Beloye. We were met by the units in
reserve, who were drawn up to welcome us, with great enthusiasm.
It was a sunny day in midsummer. We spent little time at Division
Headquarters. After lunching we resumed our march, having been further
assigned to the 525th Kuriag-Daryiuski Regiment, about a mile from
Beloye and a little over a mile from the fighting line. We arrived
at Senki, the Regimental Headquarters, after sunset and were met
by a “shock battalion,” formed of volunteer soldiers for offensive
warfare. There were many such battalions scattered throughout the army,
comprising in their ranks the best elements of the Russian forces.
Two barns were placed at the disposal of the Battalion and one dug-out
for the officers. Another dug-out was occupied by the instructors and
members of the supply detachment. However, as the men in the place
began to manifest a certain amount of curiosity in regard to my women,
I decided to sleep in one barn and let Tatuyeva take charge of the
second. At night a crowd of soldiers surrounded the barns and would not
let us sleep. They were inoffensive. They made no threats. They were
simply curious, intensely curious.
“We merely want to see. It is something new,” they replied to the
remonstrances of the sentinel: “_babas_ in breeches! And soldiers, as
well! Isn’t it extraordinary enough to attract attention?”
In the end I had to go out and talk with the soldiers. I sat down and
argued it out. Didn’t they think it right for the women to want a rest
after a day of marching? Yes, they did. Wouldn’t they admit that rest
was necessary before taking the offensive? Yes, they would. Then why
not suppress their curiosity and give the exhausted women a chance to
gather new strength? The men agreed and dispersed.
The girls were in high spirits the following day. The Russian artillery
had got to work early and poured a stream of fire into the enemy
positions. Of course, that meant an offensive. The Commander of the
Regiment came out to review us and made a cordial speech to the
Battalion, calling me their mother and expressing his hope that the
girls would love me as such. The firing increased in violence as the
6th of July, 1917, was drawing to a close. The German artillery did not
remain silent long. Shells began to fall round about us.
The night was passed in the same barns at Semki. How many of the girls
slept, I do not know. Certainly most of them must have been awed in
the actual presence of War. The guns were booming incessantly, but my
brave little soldiers, whatever they felt in their hearts, behaved with
fortitude. Were not they going to lead in a general attack against
the foe that would set the entire Russian front ablaze? Were not
they sacrificing their lives for beloved Russia, who would surely
remember with pride this gallant group of three hundred women? Death
was dreadful. But a hundred times more dreadful was the ruin of Mother
Russia. Besides, their Commander would lead them over the top, and with
her they would go anywhere.
And what was the Commander thinking about? I had a vision. I saw
millions of Russian soldiers rise in an invincible advance after I and
my three hundred women had disappeared in No Man’s Land on the way to
the German trenches. Surely, the men would be shamed at the sight of
their sisters going into battle. Surely, the front would awake and
rush forward like one man, to be followed by the powerful armies of
the rear. No force on earth could withstand the irresistible onrush of
fourteen million Russian soldiers. Then there would be peace....